by Debby Giusti
Crawling from his truck, he flashed his badge to the closest officer and introduced himself. “Freemont police called. You’ve apprehended a possible suspect in a shooting?”
The cop nodded. “His rifle’s been fired recently. We received the BOLO. The latest update said he could be wearing a red plaid shirt.”
Frank nodded. “Take me to him.”
The officer led the way through a swarm of uniforms. Twenty feet from the road, a man sat on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back.
“Who’s in charge?” Frank asked.
The officer pointed to a big guy wearing a highway patrol uniform and a Smokey Bear hat. Again Frank showed his badge and provided his name.
“Trey Howard shot a military wife at a roadside park near Freemont. Army CID is working the investigation,” he quickly filled in.
“Can you ID the guy?” the patrolman asked. “His driver’s license says he’s Vince Lawson.”
The memory of the man in the white lab coat who threw the fire extinguisher appeared in his mind’s eye.
Frank nodded. “I can identify Trey Howard.”
“Come with me.”
Frank followed the patrolman to the suspect.
The guy turned and glared up at Frank. Brown hair. Dark eyes.
Frank shook his head. “That’s not Howard.”
“Then who is he?” the cop asked.
“I guess he’s who he said he was.”
Frustrated by the wild-goose chase, Frank walked back to his car and stared into the distance.
Where was Trey?
SIXTEEN
Duke whined at the door.
“Didn’t Frank take you for a walk earlier this morning? He’ll be home soon, but I know you want to go out now.”
The dog barked.
“You need another romp, right?” She laughed at Duke’s attempt to win her heart, which he’d already accomplished.
She unlocked and opened the door. Duke lunged onto the porch and bounded down the steps. He picked up a stick and returned to the open doorway where she stood.
Feeling her mood lighten, she took it from his mouth and threw it into the woods. He scurried off to retrieve the impromptu toy.
Colleen closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh air. The warm breeze brought thoughts of summer vacation when she and Briana were young. Life seemed full of promise then. Now Briana was gone and Colleen was stranded in Freemont.
As a youth, her younger sister had often complained that life wasn’t fair. Colleen had known that as soon as Briana had been born. Even at a young age, she’d struggled to accept her curly red hair and had been awed by her sister’s beauty right from the start.
Maybe it wasn’t fair, but it was also life. Some were given more, some less.
God loves all his children. Words from her Sunday school class played in her mind.
Duke barked.
“Fetch the stick.” She opened her eyes.
He barked again.
“Come, Duke.”
He refused to obey and stared at something in the woods. A skunk or raccoon? Neither of which she wanted to confront.
“Come on, boy.” She slapped her leg as she’d seen Frank do.
Duke growled at the underbrush and held his ground.
The afternoon turned ominously quiet. Birds stopped chirping. Even the cicadas went silent.
Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Colleen stepped back into the house. A sense of relief washed over her as she closed and locked the door. Duke would let her know when he wanted in.
Foolish of her to be so nervous. Trey had been apprehended, and Frank would return soon. She hadn’t told him about her being alone when he phoned. He had enough worries.
Once Trey was behind bars, her anxiety would ease, and she’d see everything in a new light.
Then she’d no longer be stranded in Freemont. She would testify when Trey stood trial, but that wouldn’t take more than a day or two. He’d trafficked drugs in Atlanta. The trial might be held there. Either way, she would take the stand and tell the truth so that Trey would be stopped forever.
The house phone rang. Maybe it was Frank with news of Trey’s arrest.
Evelyn’s voice was tight with concern when she greeted Colleen. “Ron’s clammy and doesn’t remember everything that happened to him. I’m afraid it’s his heart. I called an ambulance. Tell Frank when he gets home. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Take care of Ron.”
Duke barked.
Colleen returned the phone to the cradle and opened the door to get Duke. She stopped short. A man stood at the foot of the steps, dressed in a red plaid shirt, with a gun in his hand.
Trey.
* * *
Taking a step back, Colleen tried to close the door. Trey raced up the steps. His hand reached for her.
She screamed, anticipating his grasp.
Duke snarled, running toward Trey.
“What the—”
He stopped.
Seeing it unfold as if in slow motion, her heart broke.
Trey raised his gun, aimed at Duke and fired.
The dog yelped. His head flew back, his body twisted in air before he fell to the ground.
“No!”
Trey fired again. The shot went wide and hit the side of the porch. Wood splintered.
She pushed on the door that wouldn’t close. His foot was wedged across the threshold. She ground her heel into his toes. He growled and lunged.
The door flew open. The force threw her against the table in the foyer. A lamp overturned and crashed to the floor. She ran for the hallway, skidded around the corner.
Frank’s room.
His words played through her mind. Loaded gun...dresser drawer.
She slammed his bedroom door and turned the lock. Would it hold?
Heart pounding, she pulled open the top drawer on the closest dresser. Socks and underwear neatly arranged. She threw them aside, searching for the gun she couldn’t find.
Frantic, she opened a second drawer. T-shirts and running shorts. No weapon.
Crossing the room, she grabbed the phone off the nightstand and yanked on the top drawer of the second dresser.
An army beret. Boxes of military medals. Searching, her hand connected with cold, hard metal.
Relief swept over her. Her fingers wrapped around the grip.
Trey’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. He jiggled the knob, pounded on the door.
“I know you’re in there, Colleen.”
She backed into the bathroom.
He threw himself against the bedroom door. Once, twice.
The wood buckled.
Colleen screamed. Trey crashed into the room.
She slammed the bathroom door. Mouth dry. Heart in her throat. Her hands shook. She could barely turn the lock.
Hitting 9-1-1, she raised the phone and her voice when the operator answered. “This is Colleen Brennan. I’m at Evelyn Gallagher’s house just off Amish Road. An intruder with a gun is after me. Send the police. His name is Trey Howard. I’m armed, and I’ll shoot if he comes near me.”
“Stay on the line—”
Trey threw his weight. The bathroom door flew open.
He stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, eyes wild with fury.
“I’ll kill you. Then I’ll go to the hospital and finish off Vivian. You can’t get away from me. I have too much power. The cops will never believe you. They didn’t believe the others.”
Like Briana.
He lunged for her.
No time to think. She squeezed the trigger.
Bam!
A deafening explosion. The gun kicked. She flinched. Her ears roared.
Blood darkened Trey’s shirt, but he kept coming.
Bam! A second round.
More blood. He grabbed his thigh.
“Why you—” Foul words spewed from his mouth.
Before she could fire again, he turned and hobbled from the bedroom and into the hallway.
Trembling, she stood in the bathroom, unable to breathe, unable to hear anything except for the ringing in her ears.
She slid to the floor, the gun still raised and aimed in case Trey returned. At her feet, she saw spatters of his blood.
SEVENTEEN
Frank saw the police cars as he pulled off the main road and headed back to Evelyn’s house. Heart in his throat, he floored the accelerator and screeched into the driveway, where a group of police officers stood. A body lay at their feet.
Colleen? He jumped from the car, pushed through the uniforms and almost cried out when he saw Trey.
“Where is she?”
“Your sister’s at the hospital.”
His worst fear. “What’s her condition?”
“She’s fine. Ron Malone may have suffered a heart attack.”
“Was he shot?”
“Negative.”
“What about Colleen Brennan?”
“She’s inside.”
Dead or alive? Frank was afraid to ask.
He pushed past two officers in the kitchen, wild to find her.
“Where is she?”
One of the men pointed to the hallway.
Frank tore around the corner. The door to his bedroom lay in pieces. His dresser drawers hung open. Stepping over the clothing scattered on the floor, he saw her.
She was alive.
He ran to where she sat on the bed, her eyes dull, her face pale.
“He hurt you?”
She shook her head and pointed to the bathroom, where two patrolmen were photographing the broken door and blood-covered tiles where his gun lay.
“You shot Trey?”
“He came after me. I called 911. I told them I’d shoot.”
“Having the gun saved her life,” one of the cops said from the bathroom. “She wounded him in his right arm and left thigh. He stumbled outside just as we pulled into the driveway.”
“We warned him to drop his gun,” a second officer volunteered. “Instead he opened fire.”
The police had taken Trey down, but only after Colleen had tried to protect herself.
“I remembered your gun, Frank.”
“Oh, honey, you did the right thing.” He pulled her into his arms, feeling the rapid beat of her heart.
Frank hadn’t been here to protect her. He should have waited until the cops determined if the guy on the highway was Trey. His impetuousness had almost cost Colleen her life.
He pulled her closer and whispered words of comfort, all the while chastising himself for failing her once again.
Colleen didn’t need him. She and the police had taken Trey down. She’d return to Atlanta and her life. What would Frank do?
He inhaled the sweet smell of her hair and pulled her even closer, knowing he had already lost Colleen before he’d even told her how he felt. Her life would go on. Frank would put in his papers to get out of the army and make a new life for himself.
He’d survived without Audrey, but he didn’t know if he could survive when Colleen walked out of his life.
* * *
“He tried to protect me,” Colleen told Frank as he knelt next to Duke.
“Good boy.” He rubbed Duke’s neck. “You’re going to be okay.”
Colleen wasn’t so sure. The bullet had grazed his hip, leaving him dazed and subdued.
One of the officers had wrapped the wound and placed him on a mat in the kitchen. “It’s a makeshift fix, but it’ll stop the bleeding until you can get him to the vet.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Evelyn rushed into the room. “The police told me.”
Her eyes were wide, her face drawn. She reached for Colleen and pulled her close. “Are you okay?”
The embrace, so nurturing, so comforting, brought tears to her eyes. She struggled to blink them back, needing to be strong.
“Duke was hit,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.
“He’s a good watchdog.” Evelyn squeezed Colleen’s arm and stepped toward Frank. She rubbed her hand over his shoulder. “How is he?”
“Probably frustrated that he couldn’t take Trey down.”
Frank was transferring his own feelings to the dog. Colleen didn’t understand his need to be the hero. Trey was dead. Did it matter who had fired the fatal round?
“You’d better get him to the vet,” Evelyn suggested. “The police will be here for some time. I’ll fix coffee. Colleen can rest.”
“Probably a good idea,” the cop standing nearby said. “The wound needs to be cleaned. The vet might put him on an antibiotic. You don’t want to mess around with a gunshot wound.”
Frank glanced at Colleen. “You’ll be okay if I leave?”
No, but Duke needed treatment. She didn’t want anything to happen to that faithful dog who had tried to protect her. As much as she wanted to go with Frank, she knew there wouldn’t be room with Duke stretched out on the passenger seat. Plus, the police would probably have more questions for her to answer.
“Your sister’s right. Take Duke to the vet. The danger’s passed. Trey can’t hurt me now.”
* * *
Frank loaded Duke in his pickup and drove to the veterinary clinic on post.
“It looks worse than it is,” the doc said once he completed his examination. “I’ll keep Duke overnight for observation. He should be able to go home tomorrow with a slight limp that will improve with time.”
Frank knew about limps and walkers and reprogramming his mind to guard the weakened portion of his body. When Frank had finally walked without relying on a cane, he thought he was ready to go back to work. Then the raging fever and infection had landed him back in the hospital.
“One overnight seems doable.” He scratched the scruff on Duke’s neck. “You need to stay with the doc tonight.”
He licked Frank’s hand and laid his head on his paws as if to show he understood.
“See you in the morning, boy.” Frank had full confidence in the vet and was grateful Duke was in good hands.
Frank drove across post and parked in front of the CID Headquarters building.
Colby glanced up when Frank entered his cubicle. He looked tired and irritable.
“I take it your wife isn’t home yet.”
“Becca’s temporary duty was extended a few more days.”
“Tough break.”
Colby nodded. “I wander around the house not knowing what to do when she’s not there.”
Frank thought of how empty Evelyn’s house would seem today without Duke and, even more so, when Colleen returned to Atlanta. It was time for him to find his own place. A small condo that wouldn’t bring Colleen to mind.
“I wanted to talk to Wilson. Someone’s in his office. I told Sergeant Otis to let me know when he’s available.”
“Can I help?”
Frank shrugged. “I need to iron out my options.”
“You mean when you should come back to work?”
“More or less.”
Colby stared at him for a long moment. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“Because Duke was hurt?”
“That and because Trey came after Colleen. I heard she found one of your guns and wounded him.”
“All true. He stumbled out of the house and into the sights of the Freemont cops, only he made a fatal mistake and opened fire.”
Frank tossed the memory card on Colby’s desk. “This is what
she took from Trey’s office. I thought we needed to take a look.”
“She never mentioned a memory card the night we questioned her.”
“Colleen wasn’t sure she could trust me.”
Colby raised his brow and shrugged. “If that’s the way you see it.”
“You don’t?”
“Let’s check the photos on the card. We might learn more about why she withheld information.”
“A lot had happened. I’m sure she wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Colby pursed his lips. He didn’t appear to accept Frank’s explanation.
Sergeant Otis peered into the cubicle. “Sir, the chief can see you now.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
“While you’re talking to Wilson,” Colby said, “I’ll go over the memory card.”
Frank hurried to the chief’s office. Wilson was at his desk and glanced up when Frank knocked.
He entered and saluted. “Sir, we need to talk.”
Wilson pointed to a chair. “Colby updated me about Colleen Brennan. Sounds like the Freemont police got our man.”
Without Frank’s help. “Yes, sir. Trey Howard appears to have trafficked drugs into the US. Vivian Davis acted as his mule.”
“We haven’t been able to question her. The doctor said her condition has improved, but she’s still intubated and unable to talk.”
“Has her husband provided evidence?”
“Negative. He was completely in the dark. Tough place to be. Redeployed back to Fort Rickman and eager to move to his next duty station at Fort Hood, then his wife is shot and he learns she’s been involved in criminal activity.” Wilson sniffed. “That’s a hard homecoming.”
Frank thought of his own medical evacuation back to the States and his eagerness to see Audrey. “Life isn’t always fair.”
“Roger that.” The chief leaned back in his chair. “Thanks for all your help on the relief effort. Says a lot about you, Frank, that you rolled up your sleeves even though you were still on convalescent leave.”
“That’s what I want to discuss, sir.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Whether I should continue on active duty.”
* * *
Too much had happened too fast, and Colleen had a hard time trying to come to terms with Trey’s death.
