by K Elliott
Although Marissa had attended Vera’s funeral in California, she still hadn’t had a chance to sit down and talk to Brian since the day he’d learned about the accident. She’d left messages on his voicemail, leaving her new cell number, asking him to get in touch, but Brian had not returned the calls.
She was at her new place on a Thursday evening when she received an e-mail notice. She checked her inbox as she sat on her bed with a new iPad. It was a message from Dorothy Peekings, asking Susan to give her a call. Marissa smiled. The old lady remembered to cal her Susan.
Marissa used her cell phone to cal Dorothy.
After exchanging pleasantries Dorothy said, “You may already know that Joey’s expected to plead guilty to the murder charge.” “Yes, I read about it on the Internet.”
“Well, I want to thank you again. Rachael finally got the proper burial she deserved.”
“You’re certainly welcome Mrs. Peekings.”
The old lady hesitated a moment and then said, “There was no way I could afford to pay your fee of seventy-five thousand.” Marissa had been paid $75,000 in full, so she didn’t understand what the old lady was talking about.
Dorothy said, “Somebody gave me the money just to see if your agency was as good as someone had told them it was.” That still didn’t make sense to Marissa.
“I don’t know how they found me—might have been from a missing persons database or even the internet – but you’ve convinced them that you’re probably the best. They want you to work a case for them. They say they’ll pay $150,000 down and another $450,000 if you’re successful.
Marissa smiled, very much interested. “How do I contact theme”
“I’m afraid you don’t. They would like to run everything through me. They sort of trust me now and I feel like I owe them this favor.” “Did they say what kind of case it was?”
“A three year old child has been missing for more than a year, and the parents have every reason to believe that the little girl is still alive.”
Chapter Twelve
Brian answered the door carrying his forty-five month old daughter in his left arm. This had been Vera’s place, but he had been proud to be responsible for al the bills.
Marissa smiled at him and the baby. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” He backed away, inviting her inside.
As she entered she gently squeezed one of the baby’s cheeks and said, “Well hello LaRia.”
The baby snatched away but giggled. She squirmed and said, “I want down.”
Brian set her down. “Stay right here. Don’t leave this room, Ria.”
The little girl climbed up on the sofa and started playing with an iPad that use to be her mom’s. She didn’t know what she was doing but the gadget was still fun to mess with.
Marissa closed the door then walked up to Brian. She reached out and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”
He hugged her back and said, “I know I should have called, but I needed the time alone with Ria. I didn’t want to be bothered and didn’t want to bother anyone.” “I understand.” She released him and then took a seat in an armchair across from LaRia. “I got a lot of news, some too good to be true.”
He sat on the sofa, next to his daughter, and said, “You want something to eat, drink?”
“No, but thanks. Listen, Steve is in jail. He was arrested yesterday and even had some of the counterfeit money on him. I’m sure his mom will bail him out though.” “He’ll blame you. I mean, he’ll probably be mad enough to come after you.”
“I doubt he’ll find me. My new place is in my aunt’s name. And on top of that I plan to move to Lexington Kentucky in a few months.”
Brian’s eyebrows elevated.
She said, “This morning I requested a restraining order against him. I said he had previously threatened my life.”
“That would help to hurt his credibility more. Maybe—– “
LaRia interrupted Brian and said, “Da, look what I did.” She showed him some moving graphics on the screen.
“Woooh! My baby did that by herself?”
The little girl nodded proudly.
Brian hugged his daughter and wanted to cry again. He was thankful that Vera had blessed him with a child. He released LaRia and began staring at the carpet, almost blinking a tear.
Marissa said, “GPI has attracted another client, and this one has some correlation to the Peekings case.”
Brian shook his head. “I’m done. That’s it for me. I’m going to start a small business and make sure Ria is educated and happy. I’m going to do what a good single parent would do.”
Marissa looked at the beautiful child. She understood but thought Brian should know some more details. She would respect whatever decision he made. “Well, in case you were needing some extra money, these people are offering to pay $150,000 up front and $450,000 if we’re successful. It’s a missing per—“
“I’m declining. I have you as a good friend, a precious daughter, and my sister who knows everything that I don’t know about raising a child. Those things are worth more money than I can count.”
Marissa smiled. “I’m glad to be your friend.”
“If you need some money to get your online dating service started, I can help with about thirty grand cash.”
She said, “No. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s cool. I had a decent insurance policy for Vera and my daughter.”
“My answer won’t change,” she said, “and I want you to know that I have a lot of respect for you, even more than I had twenty minute ago.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next day Steve was out of jail. He had been figuring out how to find his wife after learning that she’d gotten a temporary restraining order against him. He had
plans to justify the lies she’d told to authorities. He was the legal owner of several handguns and rifles, which could not, be confiscated when the police had searched his home and broke into his gun cabinet.
He was now driving his Charger and had a loaded Glock .40 in the glove box. He pulled into the parking lot of Verizon shortly after five. He hurried inside because the place would close in less than thirty minutes.
Steve found an available clerk and placed a few documents on the countertop before her. “Hi How may I help you?” she said.
He pushed a phone bill and his driver’s license across the counter to her. “My wife believes some unauthorized calls have recently been made on her cell phone.” He had a copy of their marriage license just in case the clerk asked for it. “This would have occurred over the last couple of days. I’d like to know if a statement is possible or whether we’d have to wait until the billing date.”
The woman compared the address on his license with the billing address on a two-month old bill to Marissa Dawson. She smiled at him and said, “One moment.” Steve watched her as she tapped away on the keys of her computer.
Marissa Dawson’s file revealed that she was married to Steve Dawson, which is what the clerk was looking for.
Minutes later Steve had a printout that included his wife’s new number. And just as he had expected, Marissa had given Verizon her new billing address. The statement covered the past sixteen days, and Steve saw a number that had been frequently called by his wife. He had just put two and two together.
At five minutes to eight Brian was getting LaRia out of the bathtub. He was drying her off when his cell phone rang. It was in his bedroom, and whoever was calling would either have to wait or cal back. Brian kept drying his daughter off. “Karrice is going to do your hair tomorrow. I want you to be a big girl and don’t cry, Okay?”
“I want momma do my hair.”
Brian had told her the truth about Vera twice already. He’d even tried to explain the concept of death to the child, using God and Heaven in ways which a nearly four year old child might appreciate. Tonight he would simply let LaRia’s request blow past him. He helped her into her pajamas, the ones with the big Tweety Bird feet
. “You still want me to get you a puppy?”
“Yeah. Puppy, puppy.”
He heard the cell phone ring again. “Come on. Let’s go.” Brian rushed to his bedroom and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. “Hello?” “Yes, I’m trying to reach Mr. Richard Gaston.”
Brian tensed up. He didn’t recognize the man’s voice. “I’m sorry but you have the wrong number.” He terminated the cal. He looked down and his daughter standing next to him. The child was sleepy. “Get your bear Ria. I’m taking you to Aunt Karrice’s tonight.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brian checked the rearview mirror and saw that LaRia was sound asleep in her car seat. He used his cell phone to call Marissa. When she answered he said, “Some guy just called me and asked for Richard Gaston. Any idea who that might be?”
“Brian, are you serious?” “Do I have to answer that?” “Well, what did he say?”
“I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. It has to be your husband, but how would he get my number? Was it in the GPI files?”
“No,” Marissa said. “There’s no way for him to connect you to Richard.”
“Obviously you’re wrong. I’m sure you had my number and Richard Gaston’s name somewhere written together.”
“No. I definitely did not.”
“Okay, forget the name. Where could he get my num—”, Brian thought about it. “Did you leave any old cell phone bills when you moved out?”
“That has to be how he got your number.”
Brian sighed. “He probably knows where you live too.”
That scared her. “I don’t see how.”
“Marissa, you couldn’t even see how he got my damn number. Leave your house and go get a room until we can figure this shit out.”
He checked on his daughter in the rearview mirror.
“Brian, Steve doesn’t know where I live. My aunt—”
“Marissa, get your ass out of that fuckin’ house.” Anger and frustration was in his voice, and if his daughter were not present he would have yelled at Marissa for the first time. “If you don’t cal me from a hotel within an hour, you won’t have to worry about hearing from me again.”
“Alright, alright. Calm down. I’ll go,” she said. She knew then that he was extremely concerned about her. “What about you? He may know where you live.” “I doubt it. My cell number doesn’t lead back to Vera’s place. Plus, I got a .45 and I’m in the mood use it.”
She said, “You know Steve has several guns and probably had more than enough practice in the Army.”
“That won’t be your problem if you do what I asked you to do.”
“I’m getting my things together as we speak.”
He said, “What does he drive?”
“A black Dodge Charger and a dark green Chevrolet truck that use to be his fathers’.”
“Keep your eyes open and cal me as soon as you get the room.”
Steve was on foot but his car was nearby. He walked casually down Jarret Street and spotted Marissa’s SUV about seventy yards away. He squinted and saw someone exiting the home, so he began walking faster. It was 8:51 but the street lights produced enough light for him to make out his wife getting in her Navigator. Steven then broke out into an al-out sprint.
Marissa backed her SUV out of her driveway. She threw the vehicle in Drive and suddenly saw a figure running in her direction. Before she could think to speed away in the reverse direction, a loud gunshot ruptured the night’s silence and a bullet pierced her front windshield. Another bullet came through and damaged her rearview mirror. She ducked and stepped on the gas pedal. As she drove blindly toward Steve, her heart beat as if she was having a heart attack.
Steve stepped from the path of his wife’s vehicle and fired three more shots, hitting a front side panel and the driver’s door. A few neighbors were alert now and were in their windows and another vehicle was turning onto the street, but Steve paid al of that no mind.
The Navigator jumped a curb and sped across a lawn until it crashed into the side of a Volvo S70.
Marissa’s airbag had deployed while she was hunched over and out of window view.
Steve rushed up to the wreck and bashed the driver’s window in on his wife’s SUV, using only his elbow. Marissa screamed but her on-looking neighbors would do nothing but watch. They had already called the police. Steve aimed his handgun at the back of her head and said, “Where the fuck is Richard? Is he in the house?” Marissa trembled. “I—I haven’t seen him. Please Steve—”
“Get up and get out.”
“I can’t.” And it wasn’t because she had wet her pants; she didn’t think her nerves would let her standup. To raise up and see Steve would be asking too much of her. “Please don’t shoot me Steve.”
He opened her door and yanked her ass out and on to the ground. “You’re going to show me where your boyfriend lives. Hurry up.” His plan was to get her to his car and leave the scene. If she didn’t cooperate, then he would kill her right there on the spot.
Marissa raised her head from the ground and saw Brian rushing out of his BMW. At least that’s what she thought she saw. Maybe her mind was trying to escape reality.
Steve looked back and saw a black man coming for him.
Brian fired two shots directly at Marissa’s husband, hitting him in the shoulder and then missing him altogether. Steve half spun and took two steps back. He looked down at Marissa and fired a single shot at her chest.
Brian shot Steve three more times, dropping him. When he was standing over Steve he shot him again, this time in the head. Then he kneeled before Marissa and picked her up. “Marissa, I need for you to stay awake.” He rushed her over to his car and placed her across the backseat. He heard sirens approaching but recognized them as belonging to police cars, not an ambulance.
Brian closed the door and shouted to a few neighbors on their doorsteps, “Let the police know that a blue BMW is rushing a gunshot victim to Knoxville General.”
A fifteen year old white kid ran off his parents’ small porch and up to Brian’s car. “Hey Mister, you want me to ride with you? I can make sure she doesn’t move while you drive.”
Brian said, “Get in.”
Seconds later the BMW tore out of the area.
Marissa was in the backseat wheezing and struggling to breathe.
“Stay awake Marissa. I’ll have you at the hospital in less than ten minutes.” He wasn’t lying to comfort her. Brian was hauling ass in a 740 IL. He said to the kid, “What’s your name?”
“Dustin.” The boy was twisted in the front passenger’s seat and extending himself toward the backseat with one hand on Marissa’s thigh and another holding her shoulder. Blood was all over her.
Brian said, “Dustin, can you hold her hand?” “Yeah.”
Brian put on his hazard lights, slowed for a red light, then dashed straight through it after seeing that he could beat a few cars, one of which was a police cruiser. He saw the overhead strobe lights flashing, but that didn’t mean a damn thing to him. “Marissa keep fighting. We’re almost there.”
Nearly twenty-one hours later, the six o’clock evening news credited Brian Cathcart with saving the life of Marissa Dawson. According to eyewitnesses, the enraged husband surely would have killed her if Cathcart hadn’t arrived and intervened with deadly gunfire.
Brian has been questioned at the hospital and downtown at the police department. The policeman who had been in pursuit of him last night had learned during the chase that the BMW was rushing a gunshot victim to the hospital. Once the police had questioned each witness at the crime scene, finding corroboration for Brian’s side of the story, he was released without charges.
Brian was a legal gun owner but the police kept his firearm. It would not be returned until the district attorney formally decides not to seek an indictment, which could take up to thirty days.
At 7:30 p.m. Brian entered Marissa’s room at the hospital for the first time. He didn’t even knock; he just walked in wi
th a card in one hand, three balloons in the other.
Marissa was in bed but reclined enough to see the television. She displayed a big smile when she saw Brian.
By the time Brian made it to her bedside he saw a tear escape her eye. He glanced at her IV bag then set the card on her nightstand. He released the balloon and allowed them to float to the ceiling. “How do you feel?”
She said, “It hurts to talk.”
He smiled, “I know. The nurse told me. A broken clavicle bone generally takes about six weeks to heal, so I guess you plan on having me run a bunch of damn errands.”
She smiled again. “Thank you.”
He sat in a chair on the other side of her nightstand. “When I dropped my daughter off at my sister’s, I asked myself why I was asking you to leave your house at night. I started thinking that your husband could be watching your place, if he knew where you lived.”
“It’s—over now,” she said.
He looked at the television. “You saw the news?”
She nodded her head but that hurt her more than talking.
“The cops think he got your address from a phone bill statement that was printed out yesterday.”
She didn’t respond.
“Your mom called and thanked me. She said she got my number from you, and that she had been here most of the day with your dad and aunt.” “Yes.”
“Your Nav is fucked up, you know? You need a Hyundai sedan or something, not a gas-guzzling SUV. And what do you plan to do about all that damn blood you left in my car?”
She smiled. “Don’t make me—laugh. Hurts.”
“Can I stay all night, keep you company?”
“Sure. LaRia?”
“She’s fine. My sister has her.” “You’re lucky—to—have her.” “Very lucky. Very blessed.”
Marissa said, “The case—made me—think about LaRia.”
