Dead Enemies

by K. E. Garvey

  “Seriously, I’d be afraid of disconnecting something; you’re hooked to like a half a dozen machines.”

  Amy glanced around the room as far as she could see without turning her head. Her gaze settled on her sister who was wiping salty streaks from her face. “Sorry.”

  “What? Sorry? No.” Sali stood. “Honey, I’m the one who should be sorry for dragging you there to begin with. You never would have been there and this never would have happened to you if it weren’t for me. I’m the one who is so, so sorry. I just hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, and I thought we could spend the day together once I did what I had to do. Please don’t say you’re sorry, it’ll make me feel even worse than I already do.”

  Unable to lift her arm, she raised her hand in an attempt to stop Sali’s apology. Then, she turned it over and held it out. Sali took it and returned to a seated position next to her.

  “Tell me.” Her words came out soft, but she knew Sali had heard and understood.

  Sali looked around the room as if to find her starting point. She drew a deep breath, exhaled, and began. “I don’t know how much I can tell you. Someone had a gun. They only fired once, and hit you. It was… surreal. You dropped the medal box, and just as it hit the step there was a blast and you went down. At first, I thought the box had exploded when it landed. It all happened so fast.”

  Whatever had happened remained a blur to her. She remembered approaching the steps, and holding the box so that Sali could shake the winner’s hand. Everything beyond that was still a colorless blur.

  Sali stroked her hand. “I did speak with a Detective named Johnston while you were in surgery. He wasn’t able to tell me much, just that they believe the shooter was in the brick building across the street. He said it’s an ongoing investigation, and he’d be in touch.” Sali puckered one side of her mouth, and added, “To be honest, I don’t think they know a whole lot at this point.”

  She nodded as she had nothing to add.

  There was one, sharp knock before the door swung open. Stella carried a pad and pen in one hand and a cup of ice chips in the other.

  “The doctor will talk to you when he comes in, but if you have any specific questions or concerns for him, write them down so you don’t forget to ask, and here…” she set the pad and pen on the bedside table and handed the Styrofoam cup to Sali, “…she can’t drink yet, but she can suck on these if she’s thirsty.”

  Once the door closed behind Stella, Sali held the cup toward Amy who gave a soft shake of her head. She lifted her hand off the bed and spread her fingers. She felt the warmth of her sister’s hand radiate up her arm when she took it. Amy smiled, exhaled a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Wanda - 1997

  The weathered chair on the front porch had become uncomfortable some time ago, but Wanda couldn’t will herself to move. Each time she caught herself rocking in the stationary chair, she’d stop only to begin moving again moments later. Of all nights for Warren to be late he’d pick tonight. She caught herself rocking again and grabbed hold of the armrests.

  She didn’t know where she’d begin when he did arrive. She couldn’t burst out with an accusation even though in her heart, she knew he was guilty. If she struck fast and forcefully, she’d leave him no option but to go into defense mode and strike back. But how could she broach such a delicate subject calmly? Her veins felt like they housed fire ants, scurrying along and stinging her furiously along their way. No matter where she began or what direction they took from there, she had visions of killing him in the end. He wasn’t worth jail time, but killing him would bring about a certain satisfaction she’d find no other way.

  She heard his arrival before she saw him. He had the radio turned up, the voice of Conway Twitty reaching her before the sound of the engine. He pulled into the driveway at an angle, his truck jerking toward the house three times before he got it into park and cut the engine. Half stepping, half falling out when he opened the door, she suddenly felt a bit better about having to have such a loaded conversation with him. Although he was more violent when angered, his attacks were much less accurate when drunk.

  “What’s on the table?” He glanced around the yard, stumbling in whichever direction he happened to be looking. “And where’s Mooshie and Kitten?”

  “In their bedrooms. I told them not to come out until I called for them.”

  He came to a jerky stop and took another look around the yard as if he would find them and prove she’d been lying.

  “Warren, we’re going to have us a talk. Only once we’re done will I tell you whether I’m going to allow you back in the house.”

  He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stared off to her left. She held her breath until he began to speak.

  “Who the… who the hell do you think you are to… to tell me whether I can enter my own goddam house?”

  “You’re drunk and I won’t have it. You and me, we’re going to talk right here, right now.”

  He kicked at the ground stirring a cloud of dust, and then stepped through it to catch his balance. “I stop for a few beers and you crown yourself Queen Bitch, is that it? Fuck you, woman. Oprah might want to stop filling your head with shit before you get yourself hurt bad. The mouth on you, I oughta—”

  She slowly pulled a gun from underneath her apron and pointed it at his torso. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing.

  “Sit down, Warren.” Her hand trembled, but her words came out firm and clear.

  “What? Right here?”

  “Right there. Sit.”

  His brow knitted together and his fists balled. She leaned forward. They stared each other down until his shoulders relaxed, and he said, “Can I at least grab a beer to get me through this?”

  He flinched when she yelled, “Gail, get your father a beer,” and slid the gun back to its hiding spot under her apron.

  He didn’t sit, but he didn’t make a move toward the porch. Gail appeared with a mug that was already forming condensation in the heat.

  “Please walk it to your father.”

  Gail hesitated, but did as she was told. He looked at Gail briefly before returning his attention to Wanda. As Gail walked past her on her way into the house, Wanda said, “Go back to your room and wait until I call you down for supper. Your father and I have a little business to take care of.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Wanda gave Gail enough time to get to her bedroom before she began to speak.

  “We’re going to start by you telling me what you’ve been doing to our daughter. And might I suggest you give me the truth. You see, I’m already mad. If you lie to me, I’m liable to cross over the line from mad to angry.” She leaned back and pulled the gun into view. “You don’t want to make me angry.”

  His eyes fixed on the gun pointed at him, his hand lowered spilling half the beer from his mug. The parched ground soaked it up before it could spread.

  She lifted the gun a little higher. “Start talking, Warren.”

  Switching his attention between her and the gun, he said, “I don’t know what she’s been filling your head with, but if the way you’re acting has anything to do with it, she’s lying. I ain’t done nothing. Not a friggin’ thing.”

  She chose her words carefully. “The fact that you didn’t feel the need to ask which daughter I was referring to tells me what I already knew in my heart to be true.”

  “You don’t know a goddam thing. Which kid doesn’t matter. Kids lie all the time. All kids. You bring her lying ass out here right now and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  A determined calm washed over her. The trembling subsided and she annunciated her words more clearly than she ever had. “We hit the bottom when Dr. Haas informed me my daughter had miscarried. Not only did you molest our daughter, but you impregnated her. What kind of a father—”

  “This is bullshit and you know it. She’s coming up on fourteen, and what fourteen-year-old isn’t curious about
boys? She’s probably sneaking off with some boy from school. For crissakes where do you get this shit from?”

  She stood and stepped off the porch, the gun pointed directly at her husband. “I warned you not to lie to me, didn’t I?”

  Warren took several steps back before stumbling and falling onto his backside and dropping the mug beside him. He slid backward on his butt, turned to his side and tried to lift himself off the ground, falling to his knees. He raised a hand between them as she took a step closer. “Wait, listen. I’ll tell you, but it ain’t what you think.”

  Keeping the gun pointed directly at his head, she said, “Go on. Make your words count.”

  He placed both hands on his thighs and pulled in several deep breaths. His eyes flitted back and forth. “I suppose some might consider what I did wrong, but I did it for her.”

  She raised her free hand and used it to help steady her other hand as she pulled back the exposed hammer.

  “Are you crazy? Listen to me. She had to know what to expect. Boys are soon going to be all over her, it’s just what boys of this age do. They’re horny, curious, and eager to get laid for the first time and as soon as they do they’ll tell all their friends and call her names. I wanted her to know what to expect. What can I say, I went too far. I’ll make it up to her.”

  The blast sent Warren scurrying to his feet. Before she could pull the hammer back and aim again, he had made it to his truck. The next shot opened a hole in the truck’s fender three times the size of the bullet. Warren was backing out of the driveway when she fired the final shot. She heard it strike metal, but was unable to see the damage through the cloud of dust kicked up by his tires. When she turned around, Gail and Cheryl were standing as still as statues on the porch, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

  She approached them calmly, the empty gun hanging at her side. As she walked past them, she said, “I don’t know when he’ll be back, but he will. I want you girls to go in and fill your suitcases with as much as you can fit, starting with your clothes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wanda - 1997

  They sat in silence. Wanda drew all the comfort she needed from their joined hands. She had shared the short version of what Warren had done during the call she made to Katherine while waiting for him to come home. At the moment, she saw no need to add the sickening details. There would be time for that later.

  “Mommy, why are the police here?” Cheryl said from the doorway into the kitchen.

  “What police?”

  “The ones in the driveway. The lights were flashing in our bedroom.”

  Wanda looked to Katherine, fear gripping her heart. Katherine said, “Cheryl, honey, you go back upstairs with Gail and stay put until your mother comes for you, OK? You be a good girl and mind me, you hear?”

  She hated to see such intense worry in her daughter’s eyes, but she nodded when Cheryl looked to her. She followed Cheryl into the living room and watched as she disappeared up the stairs. She made her way to the door and opened it before either of the two officers could knock.

  “Hello, can I help you?”

  “Mrs. Grissom?”

  “Yes.”

  The taller of the two offered a perfunctory smile, and said, “May we come in?”

  She looked to the stairs and then to Katherine. Fearing Warren had turned her in for shooting at him, she whispered, “I’d prefer to speak outside if you don’t mind. I tend to be careful what I discuss in front of my daughters, and I don’t know why you’re here.”

  “Certainly.” Both men turned and descended the stairs stopping only feet from them before turning around to face her. She cast a side glance back to see if Katherine had followed her out. She had.

  Convinced this had to do with the shots she had fired at Warren, she began to tremble. What would they charge her with? Attempted murder? Assault with a deadly weapon? She saw it as standing her ground. Protecting her children. And she hadn’t killed him although Lord knew he deserved to burn in the fiery pits of hell. She let out a slight gasp when she heard her name spoken.

  “I’m sorry, officer. What is this about?”

  Once again, the officers looked at each other before fixing their gaze on her. “Mrs. Grissom, there’s been an accident, and—”

  “Warren?”

  This time it was the shorter man that offered a consoling smile, although his tone remained serious. “I’m afraid so. We’re still looking into it, but what we do know is that your husband crossed over the center line on Marburg Road and into the path of an oncoming vehicle.”

  Her first thought was of Warren’s death, and she suddenly felt guilty. It wasn’t guilt for wishing him dead, but sorrow for the innocent people he had hit. “Is everyone OK? The people in the other car?”

  The shorter officer took control of the conversation. “Ma’am, your husband was taken to the hospital and released into police custody, but… I’m afraid the four passengers in the other vehicle were pronounced dead at the scene.”

  She tried desperately to breathe in, but her lungs burned as if she were suffocating. Reaching back for Katherine’s hand, she began to cry silent tears.

  “Ma’am, your husband will have to appear in front of the Magistrate for a preliminary arraignment in the morning. His bail will be decided at that time.”

  Lost in a river of her own thoughts, she didn’t notice that Katherine had stepped forward to thank them.

  “Will you be OK?” Asked one of the officers, she wasn’t sure which.

  She looked back to the house, and turned toward them. She replied with a nod, and thought, We will now.

  If Gail and Cheryl had overheard her conversation with the officers, they hadn’t let on. Neither seemed upset or confused when she brought them down for dessert before bed, just quiet. The only one to speak was Gail when she asked why the police had been there. She told the girls they were looking for a runaway and wanted to know if she’d seen or heard anything. She then told them she had a migraine and too much talking was aggravating it.

  She spent the next hour washing the dishes and doing laundry. Katherine had stayed, but left her to her thoughts. The girls had been in bed for about an hour before both women took seats at the kitchen table and poured coffee from the pot Wanda had just made.

  “How long do you think you’re going to keep this from them?” Katherine asked.

  “I’m not trying to keep it from them, exactly. I’m just trying to decide how much of it I want them to know.”

  “Keep in mind, whatever you leave blank their friends will fill in. Or they’ll hear it on the news, or—”

  “You’re not helping.”

  Katherine reached across the table and took hold of her hand. Her gaze became so intense, Wanda thought she’d be pulled out of her chair by the pull of her stare. Finally, Katherine said in low, but clear voice, “But I can…if you’ll let me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Amy - 2018

  “What are you doing here on a school day?” Although speaking still winded her, she was so grateful to be alive and able to speak that she talked to herself a time or two when she had no one else in the room. “I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  “Keeping you company, baby-sitting, call it what you will, but I know if it were me lying in that bed, I’d be happy to have company.” Sali said as she set her purse on the foot of the bed. “Has the doctor been by yet?”

  Amy shook her head. “But that detective called. He wants to come by later this morning.”

  “He’s been good about giving you time and space, but I suppose this wasn’t going to be avoided indefinitely. How do you feel? Were you able to sleep or did they have you up every fifteen?”

  “Not bad, and off and on.”

  Amy followed Sali’s stare to the far side of the room.

  “Who are the flowers from?” Sali asked.

  “Don’t know. Must have come while I was sleeping.” She breathed in as deeply as she was able. Maybe she should
rest her lungs until the detective showed up.

  Sali rounded the foot of the bed. She bent to smell the bouquet of yellow Midday flowers, and plucked the card from the center as she straightened. Her brow furrowed as she read it, but she said nothing.

  “Who sent them?” Amy asked and turned her head to remove the kink in her neck.

  “It’s not signed.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Just an oversight, I’m sure.”

  They both turned toward the knock on the door. “Hello, ladies. Am I interrupting?”

  Sali said, “Not at all. Amy, this is Detective Johnston. Detective, this is my sister, Amy.”

  Amy noticed Sali slipping the card into her back pocket, but turned toward the man standing at the foot of her bed. “Hello. My sister said you’ve been coming by since I was brought in.”

  He looked from Sali to Amy. “I have, but I wanted to give you a little time. You’ve been through an ordeal. How are you feeling…” he offered a sympathetic smile, “…under the circumstances?”

  “Been better, but I’ll make it through.”

  His smile vanished and his tone deepened, as he said, “I would have been by yesterday, but we spent most of the day at the scene. We found the gun used in the shooting.”

  Sali said, “They left it for you to find. Isn’t that odd?”

  “Usually, but in this case, I think the shooter realized carrying the gun out of the building would have greatly increased the chance of being spotted. It was taped to the underside of a steel table. Probably planned on coming back for it once things settled.”

  Amy said, “Fingerprints?”

  “We’ve sent it out but haven’t heard back yet. They’re still going over the crime scene. It seems the shooter made use of two floors of the building and they’re fingerprinting every square inch of it.” Again, he looked from one woman to the other, and then pulled a pad and stubby pencil from his jacket pocket. “I have a few questions. Are you up to answering them?”