Turn for Home

by Lara Zielinsky

  Terry pulled out his cell phone as they walked hurriedly along the path. "What's Cassidy's cell number?" he asked.

  Brenna quickly gave it without slowing her pace. "What's up?"

  "Just thought I'd try the line. Pinnacle's a big place."

  "What if she's not wearing her phone?" Brenna asked worriedly.

  "You didn't see it in her trailer, did you?" Brenna shook her head. "Then let's just try it." Terry pressed the "send" button and put the device to his ear. "It's ringing."

  Chapter 10

  Cassidy's head felt like lead balls were rolling around inside. When she swallowed, she tasted blood in her mouth and smelled the coppery stuff filling her nose. Pinned under two fallen toy shelves, she could not recall anything about the last few minutes. Frantically she looked around the devastated classroom.

  Agony ripped through her and she retched, trying to turn over. One .toy shelf moved, freeing her left leg. Automatically she said, "Thank you."

  "Much better." Mitch scowled and yanked her to her feet.

  His face was bruised around the nose. She guessed she had managed to break his nose with one of her attempts at headbutting him.

  "Now let's talk custody."

  The pain in her chest was excruciating. Breathing shallowly, she shook her head. "You will never get Ryan!" She shook her head again, groaning at the sensation of her brain sloshing around in her skull. "Ever!"

  A dull ringing sounded in her ears. Her cell phone! She had forgotten she was wearing it. She fumbled the tiny phone from her hip, lost it, and watched it slide across the floor, making a scraping sound against the linoleum. Diving after it, she took her eyes from Mitch. Something struck her leg, and she turned to see Mitch wielding a short, dark blue baseball bat.

  "He's mine!" he snarled.

  The solid wooden bat aimed for her chest.

  Raising her arms defensively, she felt the bat land against her forearms instead. Winding up again, Mitch swung for her head. She ducked but felt the swoosh of air as the weapon passed over her. Inhaling sharply, she dove after the electronic lifeline.

  Mitch grabbed her ankle and her body slammed into the floor, breaths wheezing agonizingly from her lungs. The phone continued to ring. One chance. God, help me. As she lunged from Mitch's unrelenting grasp, her knee twisted and gave a sickening pop. With her other foot, she kicked him in the head. Her fingers wrapped around the cell phone.

  Just as she pressed the "talk" button, Mitch brought the bat down against her hand, crushing it and the phone. Bits of metal and plastic drove into her tightened fingers and she screamed.

  He hauled her up and threw her against the wall. "Who was that?"

  Clawing at his face, she screamed, "I don't know!" Her fingers left a red trail across his cheek.

  "You better hope they don't look for you." He raised his fist. "Especially your lesbian lover. All she'll find is a dead body!"

  A fever ripped through Cassidy. The cell phone had been her last chance at summoning help. She was on her own, alone, the only thing standing between her manic ex-husband and Ryan. It's him or me, she realized. Watching as he edged toward her, Cassidy propelled herself off of the wall and registered Mitch's wide eyes before she landed against him. The surprise took him down more than her weight. She clawed at his face as his flailing arms tried to block her way.

  He pushed at her. She pushed back. Her fingers dug into his cheeks, and she heard his howl with feral satisfaction. The only way she was going to get out of this was if he died first. It was up to her to save Ryan. She forced her hands into fists and smashed them into his face. His head snapped up and back, and his skull made a loud crack against the floor. She howled in animalistic delight as her prey struggled. She drove her fists again and again into his face, his arms, his upper body, landing punches solidly. The bones under her fingers crackled like paper. She snarled as Mitch reared up.

  "What the-"

  Clawing his face with her fingers, she felt the skin shred. She plowed her knee into his groin. As he hunched over, she bashed her fists to the back of his head and brought her knee up against his face.

  I will kill you! You will die! Her vision became red; her breathing suddenly seemed easier. Mitch fell to his knees before her. When she kicked him in the head, he dropped to the floor face first.

  She followed him to the ground, all fists and claws. Die!

  "Bitch!"

  His fist closed over her jaw. As she wrenched herself away, she distantly heard the bones separate.

  Terry frowned. "I had a connection, then the line went dead," he puzzled.

  Brenna was still trying to figure out what he meant when there was a thud against a wall somewhere close by, then another, followed by a scream of such raging volume and pitch that it sounded like an animal. Brenna leaped into action.

  "The childcare trailer!" Releasing Ryan's hand, she ordered, "Stay!" and was up the stairs to the trailer before anyone else could take another breath.

  Behind her she heard Terry yell, "Call 911!" She looked back to see him and Chapman bounding up the steps behind her. There was no guessing exactly what they would find, but Brenna feared Cassidy was in real trouble.

  Will reached the door Brenna had flung wide. "Bren!"

  Brenna ran headlong toward a hulking man wielding a baseball bat while Cassidy cowered on the floor, her blonde hair streaked with dark patches and matted with fresh blood. Her face was a mass of black and blue, and blood. So much blood! With surprising strength, Cassidy shoved a desk at her attacker.

  The man wasn't Cameron. Blond and muscular, there was something in the shape of his face that made Brenna think of Ryan. It had to be Cassidy's ex-husband.

  She yelled, "Mitch Hyland!" and green eyes swung toward her, gashes bleeding sluggishly in his cheeks and forehead.

  The bat in his hands continued its downward path toward Cassidy's head, and Brenna lunged to intercept his attack. She hit Mitch's legs with the full force of her lunging body, striking sideways at his knees. Mitch, the bat, and Brenna all hit the floor inches from Cassidy's head.

  "Run!" Brenna encouraged as she wrestled for possession of the bat. Her hands met Cassidy's, and she saw a wild, sightless glaze in her lover's eyes, one of which was nearly swollen shut. Cassidy's lips drew back, her jaw opened, and Brenna only just got out of the way as the woman's teeth closed on Mitch's forearm.

  Startled, Mitch reared up, and Brenna had her chance. Her hands closed around the bat and she looked down wild-eyed, seeing Mitch as if in the distance beneath her. She tried to swing the bat but caught a table's edge instead, jarring the muscles and bones in her shoulders, neck, and back.

  Mitch lurched up and threw her off.

  "The Security team is here."

  The sound behind Brenna was almost unintelligible. Immediately on her feet, she advanced on Mitch, still carrying the bat and ignoring the pain shooting down her back. Mitch's attention was on her. Hopefully Cassidy could catch her breath and somehow move away.

  Mitch moved to her left; Brenna followed, guarding Cassidy. People swarmed around her to the right and left. Mitch looked away from her, eyeing the newcomers with panic. Her lips drew back in a snarl as she spied the bleeding bite mark Cassidy had inflicted on his arm.

  Mitch lunged for Brenna, but the security guards, wielding nightsticks, wrestled him into submission between them.

  She heard the door open again and spun around to assess a new attack. Instantly she identified the tutor Grinaldi. "No! Stay with Ryan!"

  Mitch took advantage of the men's slackened holds and burst free. His momentum took him at top speed toward Cassidy, who was just beginning to rise shakily to her feet.

  "Cass!" Brenna yelled, rushing forward.

  Mitch's head and shoulders collided with Cassidy's chest. Everyone in the room heard the sickening crunch of ribs breaking. Cassidy's screams went silent. She coughed up an alarming amount of blood as she sank to the floor, head lolling.

  Brenna tried to go over Mitch to reach C
assidy, but his forearm slammed against her head, bringing her down and blinding her for a terrifying instant. She scrambled on the floor, blinking to clear her vision. Her fingers miraculously closed around the bat, her nails biting into the wood.

  Through narrowing vision, Brenna saw Mitch struggling between the two security guards who were pulling him away. Mitch's head snapped back as one of the men landed an upper cut. Brenna growled and launched herself at Mitch, bat raised over her head. She unleashed a scream with her swing. "Aiiiiieee!" Again the bat jarred in her arms as it failed to reach her quarry. She screamed in frustration, struggling to free her arms from a muscled grip.

  "Bren! Brenna! Stop!"

  She struggled wildly as the bat was stripped from her hands, and her thrashing hands curled into claws.

  "Bren!"

  Her head hit something. "Shit!" The arms around her adjusted, and she broke their hold, only to find herself in other arms.

  "Bren." This voice was calm. "It's over. He's down. You're safe. Cassidy is safe."

  She screamed, and the haze slowly cleared as the arms gradually loosened. "Oh...God..." Brenna's knees buckled and she fell to the floor beside Cassidy. "Oh...God...Cass..."

  Tenderly she brushed aside the blood-matted hair to examine the blue, black, and purple face. With shaking fingers she checked the pale throat for a pulse.

  There was a faint flutter under her fingertips. She tried to carefully rearrange the still body, feeling the heat and softness in Cassidy's ribs. Moving the torn blouse aside, she found mottled bruises covering most of Cassidy's chest and stomach.

  "Ambulance! We need an ambulance!" Turning around, she kept a hand supporting Cassidy's wrist and hand with its puffy fingers and blue knuckles; it looked broken.

  "Already called." A security guard fastened handcuffs on Mitch and shoved his prisoner toward the other officers, then approached Brenna. "What the hell happened here?"

  "He," Brenna spat, "is her ex-husband." She stroked Cassidy's face and hair. "How in the hell did he get on site?" Fury warred with worry that deepened the longer Cassidy remained unconscious. There was a disturbingly soft, spongy area on the right side of Cassidy's head. She bent close to the blonde hair and nuzzled her lover, hiding her tears.

  Will appeared at the officer's shoulder. "Bren, the paramedics are here."

  "I don't think she can be moved," Brenna worried.

  "We'll take it from here." A medical technician carrying a kit came around the other side of the overturned table. He moved it aside and surveyed Cassidy, then reached for her limp hand. Brenna did not move and did not release the hand.

  "Ma'am, I really need her hand."

  "Her, her wrist, I think it's broken."

  "Hand, too, I'm guessing," he considered, pressing gingerly around the knuckles. Brenna felt the blood drain from her face. "Ma'am, listen, we'll get her fixed up. It's what we do." He patted her shoulder, and she eyed his hand, disconnected from the sensation.

  "Bren?" Will's voice sounded behind her, then his hands were on her shoulders.

  She jerked her gaze to Cassidy. Pulling away from Will, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Cassidy's forehead and whispered fiercely, "You'll be all right. I love you."

  A flash of light drew her eyes to the side. Terry Brown wrestled a camera from a reporter who had somehow gained entrance to the small trailer in the confusion.

  He protested, "I've got a valid pass!"

  "Then have some respect," Chapman barked.

  "Who is it?"

  "Cassidy Hyland," Brenna informed him sharply. Shaking as she stood, she looked down at Cassidy, hugging herself in an attempt to hold herself together.

  "Who's he?"

  Brenna spun to Mitch Hyland, seated in a chair, handcuffed and being treated for his broken nose and the cuts on his face. "Don't you treat him!" She rushed over and batted the medic's hand away. "He tried to kill her!"

  Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, and she couldn't shake them off.

  "Let me go!" She covered her face, crying her pent up anguish. "Let me go!" She fought harder. Arms wrapped around her chest, and she struggled to breathe. She spun away, gaining her freedom and falling to the floor. The position put her next to Cassidy.

  Cassidy had been moved onto her back and an apparatus supported her head and neck. The medic held her right arm in his lap, swabbing something over her inner forearm. Then he pulled out a syringe, removed the plastic covering and tapped the needle clear.

  "What is that?" Brenna demanded. He didn't answer and Brenna watched the injection. The plunger tube was removed and another tube inserted, this one connected to a bag of fluid. Saline solution, she realized, a part of her mind seizing on the knowledge like a lifeline.

  "You need to move now, ma'am. We need to get her onto a backboard."

  Brenna stood up, still shaking. As the haze left her, she saw Will staring at her.

  A loud thunk behind her made her spin. The second EMT had set down the backboard. Her heart pounded in her throat as she considered the paralysis Cassidy could suffer if anything went wrong. Brenna covered her mouth to stop the helpless sounds from escaping as she watched the medical personnel secure Cassidy and the board to the gurney with straps.

  "Time to go," one said to the other.

  "We'll clear the way." Brenna's rough voice was unfamiliar to her own ears. "Will and Terry, help me." She grabbed the reporter and shoved him out ahead of her. Stepping outside, she was blinded by flashbulbs and bludgeoned by questions.

  "Who was hurt?"

  "What do the medics say?"

  The medics bearing Cassidy behind her, Brenna tried to descend and clear a path. Someone jostled her; she shoved back. "Get the hell out of the way!"

  "You're covered in blood. Were you hurt as well?"

  "It's not me I'm worried about," she barked. "Now leave us alone." She hovered as the medical personnel lifted the gurney into the back of the waiting ambulance.

  At the doors, Brenna grabbed an arm and demanded, "Why is she still unconscious?"

  "She suffered several major traumas. Actually, being unconscious is the best thing for her."

  "She's...it's not a coma, is it?"

  "Her pupils are reactive."

  Brenna had no idea what that meant, but the ambulance engine roared once and the EMT pulled away from her before she could ask.

  "Gotta roll," he said with an apologetic shrug.

  "What hospital?" She grabbed the outer bar to haul herself into the back.

  "Get down," he ordered. "Pasadena General."

  Brenna shouted the information back to Will Chapman and then tried to follow the paramedic into the rear of the ambulance with Cassidy. Someone behind her grabbed her shoulder.

  "No, ma'am," a male voice said firmly.

  She turned furiously. "I'm going."

  "She's critical, ma'am. They can't take you in this one." The policeman looked her up and down. "Are you hurt?" His gaze paused at her face and a frown furrowed his brow. He reached up and touched her cheek.

  Ducking away from his touch, Brenna tried again to mount the truck. He held her back and she began to panic; she could hear the ambulance had just changed gears. "I'm fine."

  "Nasty shiner. You sure you don't need treatment?"

  She looked at him. Something in the way he said "sure" suggested there might be a way around the regulations, and she waited.

  "If I get an ice pack," he said with a smile, "maybe they'll take you up front."

  A monitor's sudden beeping accompanied a rough command from inside the ambulance. "I need help here."

  "Help her," she begged of the paramedic, while the police officer looked to him to defer to his judgment.

  The medic growled under his breath but rummaged in his bag and handed her a chemical ice pack. "You take that up front with you. The hospital can check you when we get there."

  He was already half inside after handing her the cold bag. Just before he slammed the door, she caught a glimpse of Cassidy
's face as it was obscured by a hand-pump and mask. Brenna hurried to the front of the truck and banged on the door.

  "Let me in!"

  The third man up front behind the wheel leaned over and pushed the door open. "What the hell?"

  "They said I'm to ride up front with you," she said as business-like-I-do-this-all-the-time as she could manage.

  "Well, get in. We gotta get outta here."

  Brenna exhaled quickly and pulled herself into the high seat.

  "Seatbelt," he ordered. She complied just as the ambulance followed a police cruiser out through the back gate.

  "How long?"

  "Depends. Five to eight minutes." He grabbed the radio microphone and barked into it, "Pasadena General, this is Rescue 1-8. We're transporting a beating victim. ETA in five."

  A disembodied voice confirmed. "Roger, 1-8. ETA in five. Already in communication."

  "Great." Putting down the microphone, he concentrated on driving.

  Brenna turned to look into the back, straining to see through the thick distortion of the window separating the cab from the back compartment.

  "Friend of yours?"

  "I...uh, yeah. She's a friend."

  "What's your name?"

  "Brenna."

  He concentrated on a turn for a second, the ambulance siren on as he moved against the traffic signals through an intersection. "What's your friend's name?"

  Brenna continued trying to look into the back. "What are they doing?" she asked.

  "Stabilizing her." He asked again, "What's her name?"

  "Cassidy."

  "How's your head?" he asked. "Need the ice pack anymore?"

  Brenna looked at the bag resting on her lap. Her face did throb. Sheepishly she put the ice bag against her face. "I'll be fine. What's going to happen?"

  There was a faint sound from the back. Brenna looked quickly to make out Cassidy struggling with the paramedics before being restrained. Her own panic resurged. "What's going on back there?"

  The driving paramedic tapped the window with his fist, then the radio next to him crackled and he picked up the mouthpiece. "Can you give us a status on our patient? Lady up here wants to know."

  "Briefly conscious. She wanted to know where someone named Ryan is."