Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island

by Cara C. Putman

“I’ve got the gun.”

  “You don’t want to use it.” Jonathan raised his hands in front of him.

  Brendan lifted his arm, and the gun steadied. “Quite a gamble.” He eyed Jonathan with a hard glint. Then he pivoted to Alanna and cocked the hammer. “Want to test your theory?”

  “Nope.” He held up three fingers, and Alanna closed her eyes slowly. He lowered one finger, and Brendan turned toward him. He dropped his hand and tapped his side once, twice. Alanna collapsed, and Jonathan launched at Brendan. The man hit the floor.

  Jonathan landed on top of him. Felt the barrel jam his side. Twisted.

  He had to move. Now. Before the gun exploded.

  Alanna screamed.

  “Call. Help.” Jonathan bit the words out.

  Brendan jammed the gun deeper. “You should have left this alone.”

  Jonathan made a desperate twist. A flame of fire blazed across him as his world exploded.

  Jonathan groaned, ears ringing as he slumped to the side.

  Alanna.

  He had to help her. Couldn’t protect her if the blackness won. He fought the heaviness. It pressed harder.

  Chapter 35

  The monster shot Jonathan.

  The thought pounded her even as her ears rang and she braced for him to shoot her. She should move but felt frozen in place, shock warring with impotence.

  Clutching her cell phone wouldn’t shield her from a bullet. Yet as Brendan lunged to his feet, Alanna stared at him, the blood splatter across his shirt choking off her oxygen. Jonathan’s blood.

  Her gaze strayed to where he lay still, so pale on the floor. Then bounced back to Brendan. This man wasn’t anything like the kid she remembered from school. The arrogant yet insecure kid had disappeared. In his place stood a monster. A monster with a gun.

  The cold steel drew her attention. She had to get out. Now.

  She fidgeted with the phone as she backed toward the door.

  If she left, would Brendan follow her?

  She couldn’t help Jonathan if she waited. The touch screen made it impossible to dial 911 without looking.

  “Nowhere to run, Alanna. Not this time.” Brendan’s face twisted into a mask. “You should have stayed away. Left everything alone. She wouldn’t have come back if you hadn’t got her thinking.”

  Alanna reached behind her and connected with the doorknob. Just twist it and fly. Fast as she could. Down the stairs. Without tripping. That’s all. Praying that someone in the real-estate office below had called the police.

  “Everybody forgot Grady. Not hard to do with a loser like him.”

  “Loser? Really? He had big plans.”

  “Never would have done anything with them.”

  “Like you did?” Alanna twisted the knob, freezing when it squeaked.

  “I’ve had good jobs. Made good money when I wasn’t paying her off. Then I got the great idea to help myself to some money. Seemed like the perfect way to have her dad pay her off.”

  She had to make it across the street. Someone would be at the police station. It wasn’t even a block. Her gaze tripped down to Jonathan. The red had spread across his shoulder. She couldn’t let him die without trying. This time she wouldn’t stand on the side watching. This time she would act.

  “You know what it’s like? You get a wad of cash only to have some sniveling woman come along and take it. Over. And over. And over. Each time I’d get so mad. But I’d give her the money like a fool. Well, I’m done. Thanks to you. It ends here.”

  “Why would you pay, Brendan? What did you do that gave her that power?”

  “Somehow she saw Grady and me wrestling.”

  “Trevor never said anything.”

  “Course not. The fool kid actually believed it was a race. The competition really was for Ginger. To think I thought that girl was someone I wanted. She deceived us all—and I’d decided Grady couldn’t have her anymore.”

  Alanna nodded. She’d seen the hate in his eyes, just hadn’t understood the reason. “Wrestling isn’t murder.”

  “It is if you hold your opponent underwater. Then I hauled him back to shore. Trevor even thought he’d help. Just made it easier to question what he’d done.”

  Alanna choked back her anger at his callous words. Instead, she sipped in a breath. Now or never.

  She spun open the door and ducked as she raced out. Hobbled over like a turtle, she hurried down the stairs.

  A roar braced the air.

  Can’t stop.

  She fought the urge to turn around. The thumping above gave every indication Brendan was on his way. She had to get out of the stairway before he entered or there’d be nothing to stop the bullet he’d fire from that awful gun.

  Her foot caught, and she stumbled.

  She yanked against the handrail and kept moving as her ankle throbbed. Where were the people from the real-estate office? She had to move. Finally, she reached the bottom step and crashed against the door as she felt a bullet whiz past.

  She ducked and slammed outside.

  The light blinded her, but she kept her feet pumping. She had to get lost in the crowd. But no one seemed nearby. She raced past the darkened real-estate office below Jonathan’s and across the street, sidestepping a horse-drawn taxi.

  The door opened again. She glanced over her shoulder long enough to confirm Brendan followed. Gulping in oxygen, she poured on speed as she darted around a couple kids on her way up Market to the police station. It felt like she slogged through a quagmire that sucked her down. She hurried past the normally serene scene. Tourists on bikes and horses stood in front of the bright buildings lined with beautiful flower boxes oblivious to the scene she’d just left. Finally, the two-story structure came into view. Now to get up the steps and inside before Brendan broke across the street and reached her.

  A few more feet.

  She scrambled toward the steps. Slipped on a step. Crashed to her knees. Scurried back up and threw open the door.

  “Help!” She tried to scream the word, but it barely scratched out. “Gun. He’s got a gun.”

  The lady behind the counter jerked to attention. Ginger’s eyes widened. “Gun? Here?”

  “He’s right behind me.” Alanna searched for someplace to hide. “You’ve got to move.”

  Ginger grabbed the phone and punched a couple buttons. “Chief, Alanna Stone claims someone’s after her with a gun.”

  “Not anyone. Brendan Tomkin.”

  Ginger’s face drained of color so fast that Alanna wondered if she’d faint. “I’ve got to hide.”

  “Yeah. He’s not happy with you.”

  “Then why lead him here?” Ginger’s gaze darted, and she pushed from the seat.

  “I focused on surviving. He’s already shot Jonathan.” A tremble coursed through her. Jonathan needed help. She tapped in 911 on her phone. “Need the ambulance.” She slid behind the counter as she relayed the information. The island’s nod to modern transportation was the ambulance. No horse-drawn vehicle when lives were at stake. She’d never been more grateful.

  Chief Ryan stuck his head around the corner. “What did you do now, Alanna?”

  “Please hurry. Jonathan was bleeding when I escaped.” She kept the phone pressed to her ear as she turned to the chief. His hand rested on his gun, but she wished he had it out and ready. Where was Brendan? “Brendan Tomkin shot Jonathan. Threatened me.” She gulped air.

  “Where is he?”

  “Right behind me.” Maybe he wasn’t dumb enough to follow her into the police station with a gun and fresh gun powder residue on his hands. Would they even test for that here? “Maybe he’s headed to a ferry.”

  “Stay put.” The chief edged down the hallway. “I’ll slip out back. See if I spot him.”

  “Don’t you need someone with you?”

  “Not a civilian.”

  Before Alanna could beg, he disappeared. She turned to Ginger. “Braces?”

  A blank expression covered the woman’s face. “There are bet
ter ways to get even than making him pay for your kid’s braces.”

  “If you had kids, you’d understand how expensive those pieces of metal are.”

  “Seriously? Brendan shot Jonathan. Because you demanded more money.” Alanna wanted to shake her. Might as well go for the jugular. “What about your dad?”

  Ginger’s expression remained blank. “What about him?”

  “What if Brendan killed him because of you?”

  “Then he’ll go to jail for a long time.” Ginger glanced away. “Maybe you killed him.”

  Alanna snorted. “Sure you believe that.”

  “The police looked at you. I heard it all.”

  “They had to, but your dad was alive when I left.” Alanna did not want to have this conversation now. Not when every fiber of her heart wanted to make sure Jonathan was still alive. She felt woozy around the edges as his red-stained shirt filled her mind. Static filtered from her phone. Sliding to the floor, Alanna pulled the cell back to her ear.

  “You there, Ms. Stone?”

  “Yes, yes I am.” Her breath caught as if she wore a corset.

  “The ambulance is at the office. They’ll transport him to the Mackinac Island Medical Center.”

  “Is he okay?” Was there any way that facility could handle a gunshot wound?

  “We’ll know soon. He’s got to stabilize before he’s transported to the hospital in the Upper Peninsula.”

  “So he’ll be here for a bit? Until he’s stabilized?” Her throat closed as the paramedic relayed the information. Nothing sounded good. “Thank you.”

  Alanna stood. Waiting here wouldn’t work. She had to get to Jonathan. See for herself the doctors could save him.

  Ginger skidded back. “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t sit here.” Jonathan needed her. And she needed him.

  “You can’t leave. The chief doesn’t have Brendan.”

  “That we know of.” Alanna brushed past Ginger and around the corner. She tried to stay aware of whether Brendan might wait, but she wanted Jonathan. She eased open the door and saw a clear hallway. She hurried to the outside door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and poked her head out. No Brendan.

  She slipped into the flow of foot traffic down Market up the few buildings to the clinic.

  Shouts caught her attention. She slid behind a bench, hoping it would provide some protection.

  “Brendan, stop right there.” Chief Ryan thundered across the street. Brendan Tomkin kept running, gun held in his hand but pointed down. The officer swore and took off after him.

  Alanna watched a moment. Brendan ran down an alley. If she remembered, that one dead-ended at the lake. Right next to the ferry. A taxi clopped through with a bell ringing. Good thing she didn’t need that one. She’d gladly leave Brendan to the police. For now she had to get to the clinic.

  After running the distance to the medical center, Alanna rushed to the receptionist. “Can you tell me where Jonathan Covington is?”

  The woman studied her with a professional detachment. “Are you a family member?”

  “No, a good friend.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

  Alanna leaned on the counter. “Could you tell me if he’s alive? Please?”

  The woman shook her head, gray curls swaying. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’re welcome to wait in the lobby.”

  Alanna didn’t want to wait. If she couldn’t see him, was there anyone who could? He didn’t have family on the island. By the time she could track someone down, surely they’d transport him elsewhere. A clinic this size couldn’t provide too much in the way of trauma care.

  Pacing, Alanna edged closer to the door that led to the ER beds. He had to be in one of those. As soon as the receptionist turned to the side to work on her computer while answering a phone question, Alanna eased through the doors. The serenity ended abruptly as a nurse bustled past her, arms loaded with IV bags.

  “Push more fluids.” A woman’s voice held the calm command of one who knew what needed to happen.

  A young man in a paramedic jacket stood against a wall, watching the action. The way his eyes darted, he didn’t miss a thing happening behind the curtain. He pushed off the wall and headed her direction. “You are?”

  “Alanna Stone. I placed the 911 call.”

  “You shouldn’t be back here.”

  “I have to see Jonathan.”

  “You’ll get in the way. Look, the best thing you can do is let the doc and nurses work their magic. Once they do, we’ll transport him to the ferry and across to St. Ignace where another ambulance will meet us.” He gently turned her and steered her back toward the lobby. “What’s your number?”

  Alanna rattled it off.

  “I’ll call when we leave. Now go wait by the docks.”

  “Which ferry will you use?”

  “Whichever is slated to leave next. Getting him to a trauma hospital is our number one objective.” He gave her a slight push. “Let us take care of him.”

  She was through the door, and when she turned around, the paramedic had already returned to his post. Alanna pulled out her cell, checked the volume, then sank onto a chair in the waiting room. Guess she’d have to pray.

  Her thoughts refused to form coherent streams of prayers. Instead, it felt like she groaned as she begged God to spare Jonathan.

  She couldn’t lose him. Not like this.

  Chapter 36

  The next hours passed in a blur. Waiting for the ambulance. Hurrying to purchase a ticket on the Star Line. Praying the ferry wouldn’t leave without her, while also praying it wouldn’t delay. Begging the ambulance driver for a ride. She could figure out how to get back to Mackinac later. For now she wanted to make sure hers was the first face Jonathan saw.

  She’d sat in the waiting room outside surgery alone. Her phone in her hand, she couldn’t think of anyone to call. Certainly not anyone who could reach her while it mattered. Mom and Dad were in Grand Rapids, and she wasn’t sure where Trevor lived. Her few friends lived in Grand Rapids, too, and she didn’t know how to reach Jonathan’s family. She didn’t even know who to call to find out. She might have called Mr. Hoffmeister, and Mr. Tomkin had enough to deal with, though he and Jonathan didn’t seem that close.

  Then she thought of Jaclyn. Surely she would want to know. And if not, she might know how to reach his parents.

  What was her last name?

  Reeder? No, Raeder.

  Alanna dialed 411 then paused. Wasn’t there anyone else she could try? The thought that Jaclyn might come, and Jonathan might want her, pierced Alanna.

  Could she handle the reality Jonathan might not choose her? What her future would look like without him? A dismal reflection of the past?

  She breathed deeply then hit CALL. Her wants didn’t matter as much as getting Jonathan’s family here. A minute later, the automated system connected her to Jaclyn’s phone. As it rang, Alanna prayed for wisdom and peace.

  “Hello?” Jaclyn’s voice sounded strained.

  “Jaclyn? This is Alanna Stone.”

  Silence lengthened. “What do you want?”

  “Jonathan’s been shot. I don’t know how to reach his family. Do you have a number?”

  “What happened?” Jaclyn’s voice rose. Alanna filled her in then asked for the number again. “I might have it.”

  “Thank you.” Alanna waited as papers rustled.

  “Try this.” Jaclyn listed a string of numbers. “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know. They haven’t let me see him since I’m not family.”

  “Yet.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” The girl cleared her throat. “Tell him we’ll pray for him. Hope everything goes well.”

  “You won’t come up?”

  “Not unless he asks for me. I don’t want Dylan in that kind of environment. Too much like when his father died.”

  She didn’t know as much about Jaclyn as she’d surmised. “Thanks
for the number.”

  A minute later, she dialed the number Jaclyn had given her and left a voice mail asking for a return call. Then she stood and walked to the window. It looked over the parking lot, gray and metallic, but all she saw was Jonathan at his dock. He shouldn’t be trapped in here. Instead, he should be outside bird watching or fishing. And if not that, then planning the most wonderful events for his clients.

  Would he do any of that again?

  Or had he sacrificed himself so she could escape?

  Darkness weighted him. Tugged him back. Cloaked him.

  Jonathan tried to swim against its midnight pull but sagged against the heaviness.

  He wanted to open his eyes but couldn’t. A knife of pain sliced through his torso. The darkness offered relief. Maybe he should succumb. Give up. Let the darkness win.

  A cool hand touched his forehead. It felt good, like when his mother used to care for him.

  “You may stay five minutes. Then he’ll need to rest.” The words sounded distant. Remote.

  Why five minutes? Why rest? Would that relieve the searing pain?

  Jonathan fought to crack his eyelids. The brightness blinded him, and they fell shut.

  A soft hand touched his. Held it lightly. “Jonathan, you made it through surgery. The doctor says you’ll be okay. Really sore but okay. Your mom and dad are on the way.”

  Silence settled as Alanna stroked his hand.

  “I’m so glad you didn’t die. There’s been too much death, and I need you, Jonathan. So much. Get better.”

  Something soft brushed his hand. Hair? Then he felt soft skin and dampness. Her cheek? A tear? He forced his eyes to open, and as they focused, he saw Alanna leaning against his hand. He licked his lips. So dry. So very dry. Tried to speak but croaked.

  She sat up, studied him with large eyes. “Jonathan?”

  He croaked again.

  She pressed the nurse call button then jumped up and ran to the door. “He’s awake. He’s awake!”

  A moment later, a woman in scrubs entered the room. He tried to focus on her, but the more he tried, the less defined she was until he faded back to blackness.

  Alanna left Jonathan’s side only when the nurse insisted. She wanted the rights of a wife to stay next to her man. To watch each time he inhaled. To assure herself he still lived.