by Skyla Madi
Grace couldn’t think about the possibility the bastard would come after her again. Perps usually didn’t do that after a bad encounter, but…She gasped. “Oh God, Mikey. How long ago did Cody call you?”
“Five, seven minutes max.”
“If he were threatening me, wouldn’t he have done that from inside the house or just around the corner? He’d be here already.”
“Shit. Where did you say your boyfriend was at? Christ…work. Hang up and call 9-1-1.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Mikey
The last of Mikey’s clients for the night paid and left his shop. Getting back to work after a week and a half made him feel almost normal. The police were finally off his back and he could breathe. Grace continued to live with Natalie but stayed over most every night. She and Brayden got along well, which was a relief.
Mikey walked behind the curtain in the back of the shop. He put his iPhone into the Bose speaker dock. The music blasted through the sound system while he logged his clients for the day at his desk. His receptionist’s job was to wipe off the glass counter and restock the body jewelry that had been sold. She was supposed to sweep and mop, but most of the time she avoided the chore. He hated to get on her but the floors needed some cleaning.
Mikey kept his back to the curtain and yelled. “Mandy!” With the heavy metal turned up so loud, he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. He turned down the music with the remote on his desk. “Mandy?”
Feet shuffled behind him and he swiveled around on the stool. All the blood drained from his head. Cody stood on Mikey’s side of the curtain, a yellow handled sledgehammer hanging from his right hand. Blood dripped from the head of the tool. Bodily fluid was splattered on his face and clothing.
Oh God.
Mikey’s heart raced. Even though he outweighed Cody by fifty pounds, there was no telling what other weapons he had in his possession. With a young son at home, Mikey wasn’t interested in taking any chances. He wasn’t a pussy, he just wanted to see Brayden again. He put up his palms.
“Cody, what’d ’ya need? Is there something I can do for you?”
Cody’s brow creased and he chuckled humorlessly. “See, I envy you.”
“Why? My life sucks.” Mikey placed his hands on the top of his thighs.
“No.” Cody shook his head. “You’re everything I want to be.”
“You can be anything you want.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.”
Mikey darted his eyes to the left. On the counter his phone rang, interrupting the song. At this distance he couldn’t read the screen. He hoped whoever it was figured out he needed help. Except how would they know that?
The cell chirped.
“Someone has voice mail. Probably that nice detective. Too bad he won’t get here in time. He’ll come to his daughter’s aid first. Funny how fathers are like that. So predictable.” Cody put his empty hand in his pocket.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure he already called for back-up.”
“Do you think he cares about you? You’re the man who’s fucking his daughter. A man he despises.”
Mikey said a prayer for Brayden. He’d have to move fast if he any chance of gaining control of the situation. He lunged for Cody’s middle. They hit the ground with a grunt and slid on their sides under the velvet curtain as one. The sledgehammer skidded across the floor and out of Cody’s reach. Mikey heard a click and something sharp jabbed him on the left side of his abdomen.
No…God…No…
He clutched his gut. Blood spread out from the stab wound on his shirt. All he could think was that this wasn’t fair. Was this how those women Cody killed felt? Tears rolled down his cheeks. Swearing and gasping, he tried to stand but only managed to get on his hands and knees. His vision wavered. The killer went in and out of focus.
Cody pushed him and Mikey landed on the floor. He lay sprawled out with his hand still on his wound. With his cheek flat against the cold cement, he blinked a couple of times and focused on his killer.
The switchblade still stuck out of Cody’s coat pocket. He threw the knife onto the cement floor and retrieved his heavy hammer, the metal head scraping over the floor. Mikey hoped he wasn’t imagining the faint police sirens growing louder.
Cody gripped his sledge in both hands, stomped back over, and stood looking down at him. Mikey moaned but couldn’t move much. Blood pooled beneath him. The sirens fell silent and no red and blue lights flashed through the glass front of the shop. The police had been after something else. His optimism faded and left him with despair. Mikey saw his son’s face and lopsided smile.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Out of corner of his eye, he watched as Cody swung the hammer over his head and without a sound, brought the heavy weight down.
Mikey closed his eyes.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Harry
The station responded to Harry’s call on the first ring. Must be some sort of record. That rarely happened.
Harry’s tires squealed. The rain made the lines in the road hard to see. “Come on. Come on!” He beat the wheel waiting for the light to turn green. He looked both ways and gunned it. The underside of his car sparked on the pavement as he bolted through the intersection. Someone honked their horn.
The car in front of him slowed. Harry blew his horn. “Get out of the way!” he screamed. The driver threw his hands up in the air as Harry passed him on the gravel shoulder, spraying the other driver’s car with rocks.
He called the station again to give them his location. A police escort would be a tremendous help now. At the next light a police cruiser joined him. He allowed the vehicle to pass. Water sprayed his car and the wipers struggled to keep up. A second car merged in line behind him, sirens blasting. He hoped the idiots cut the noise before they got any closer to the tattoo parlor.
Ink Addiction was still eight blocks away. Traffic became more congested toward the downtown area then dropped off closer to the place.
Finally, Harry saw the shop and the blaring sirens stopped. The only lights he saw from the down the street were a purple neon sign and tubing around the front window. He put his foot to the floor and whipped into the slanted parking spots two doors down. He drew his gun as he jumped out of his car. One of the police vehicles went around to the alley behind the strip mall.
Blood-splatters were on the glass door of the shop. Through the window, a few feet to the right, lay a motionless woman on the floor, a red pool spreading beneath her head.
Cody was poised over Mikey with a sledgehammer raised high above his head. The hammer started to descend.
Harry flung the door open.
***
Mikey
BANG! BANG!
Mikey covered his head with his free hand and grunted when a heavy weight collapsed onto his back. As far as he could tell, he was still alive. The weight lifting off his body relieved him although his side burned. He opened his eyes and found Cody moaning beside him a few feet away.
Someone above him was calling his name. Who the person was didn’t matter, he was still alive. He was rolled over and a board was placed under him.
Ouch! Mother! Fu…
Bright light was shined in his face a couple of times. The voices sounded friendly but semi-frantic. Intense pressure replaced his displaced hand on the wound above his stomach and he could suddenly breathe better. A mask covered his nose and mouth.
“B-B-Brayden…G-Gra…”
“Mikey try not to talk. We’re going to take good care of you.” The woman’s voice soothed him. Who was she and how had she known that’s exactly what he needed to hear? “We’re taking you to the hospital? Do you understand?”
He nodded.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Grace
Grace began pacing the second her father had hung up. The frantic phone call to 9-1-1 hadn’t slowed her down, it only increased her pounding movements.
Brayden woke up and came into the hallway
by the front door. The lights were still out. Candles burned in the kitchen, living room, and on the slim table in the front hall.
“I heard you talking,” he said.
The doorbell rang. Grace glanced out the window more out of habit than necessity. The strobes gave away the visitors.
When she opened the door, Officer Rudy and his partner’s serious expressions stared back at her.
“Everything all right in here?” Rudy asked.
Grace opened the screen door to invite them inside.
“Have you witnessed anything suspicious?” the other officer asked.
“No, but the power went out.”
“Yeah, the lightning took out some power lines in the neighborhood.” Rudy’s shoulder radio chattered. How in the world they could understand anything the person on the other end said was a mystery. He responded with ‘10-4’. “Grace, Detective Hunter—”
“Oh God, what? Is Mikey all right? Is—oh my God.” She leaned on the wall for support.
Brayden reached for her hand. “Relax.”
She blew out a shaky breath. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“It’s all right. He said to tell you everything is secured,” Rudy said.
There sounded like a “but” in Rudy’s statement. “What the hell does that mean?” She looked at Brayden. They both paled but Brayden remained firmly planted to the floor. Grace held onto his hand. The wording her father used caused her panic to control her imagination. “Secured? Why not say everything is fine or Mikey’s alive? Or false alarm?
“Grace,” Rudy said, “that’s the only message, it means he’s fine.”
“How come I’m hearing a ‘but’ in your tone? What about my boyfriend? His father?” Her eyes misted over and Brayden squeezed her hand.
“He said the situation is secure. I’m sure—”
Grace glared at the cop. “You don’t know. You don’t know anything!”
“My dad’s fine,” Brayden told her.
“How do you know?” Grace spat out before she realized that wasn’t the best thing to ask a ten-year-old who’d just lost his mother, regardless of how precocious the kid.
“Because being an orphan is not a thing for me.”
“We don’t know what’s going on yet, let’s wait and see.” Rudy said. His radio chirped something unintelligible again. “10-4,” he replied into the handset.
Grace shook her hands at Rudy. “10-4, 10-4, what?”
“They are taking Mr. Hardin to the hospital to treat his injuries.”
“What kind of injuries? What the hell?” Grace’s nostrils flared as she breathed in and out of her nose. “Brayden, grab your shoes and…” She ran off toward the kitchen for her purse.
“We’ll drive you,” Rudy called to her as she dashed away.
When she returned to the front hallway, her hands trembling, one of the cops was tying Brayden’s shoes. He glanced up at her with shiny slate-blue eyes. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” The sureness of his earlier tone had diminished.
They rode to the hospital with the siren wailing. The cops hardly had the car in park when Brayden screamed to be let out. Grace felt the same way too.
The white and red emergency sign shone brightly over the entrance. The fluorescent bulbs under the permanent awning hurt her eyes.
She and Brayden ran to the automatic doors faster than the sensor detected their motion and they had to wait for the door to slide open. Grace thought the Jeopardy! theme should have been piped in.
They rushed the triage station outside the doors leading to the ER. Her knees banged into the desk. Brayden’s fingers gripped the edge.
“Mikey Hardin, please. How is he?”
“How’s my dad?” Brayden said at the same time Grace spoke.
“He’s up in surgery,” the nurse replied after typing into her computer for his status. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re here. Are you family?”
“Yeah. This is his son and I’m his fiancé.” She wasn’t sure if they would allow her to see him if she hadn’t told the lie. And who knew what her dad may have told them. She looked down at Brayden and winked. His mouth formed an “O” as he caught her meaning.
“Your name?”
“Grace Bell.”
“Okay, Grace, you can have a seat in Surgery Four’s waiting room. The nurses at the desk up there will be expecting you both.” The woman in the pink scrubs told them what floor and color line to follow to get there.
The surgery level was too quiet, the mood somber. The waiting room consisted of emerald green office guest chairs screwed together around the perimeter of the room. A phone hung on the wall by the door. In two corners where the chairs came together were tables littered with outdated magazines and pamphlets about grief counseling. She couldn’t even look at them for more than two seconds before her intestines twisted into knots. She swallowed hard. Every time someone walked by she leapt out of her chair. Twice she and Brayden left the room to bug the nurses at their station. They politely told Grace and Brayden to wait longer and someone would be out to talk to them as soon as possible.
To pass the time, she and Brayden played I Spy, but that quickly got old.
Grace got her hopes up when she heard a man and a woman talking out in the hallway. Although she was grateful for Andrea and Brad’s arrival, they weren’t who she wanted to see.
Brayden went to Andrea. They hugged and Brad shook his hand. A sign of respect for Brayden, after all he wasn’t a baby anymore. Andrea glowered at her husband.
What? he mouthed. She shook her head mildly.
“Heard anything yet?” Andrea asked.
“Nope. And I can’t take much more of this.” Grace hunched over in her seat. Good under pressure, she was not. She’d always been one to get flustered without warning. She fidgeted in her seat and sighed repeatedly.
“Breathe,” Andrea told her.
Brad sat next to Brayden across the room, the whole ten feet. He handed his phone to Mikey’s son. Brayden played Angry Birds from the sounds the game made. Andrea asked him to turn down the volume. He complied without any complaints. Man, this kid amazed her. She was never that awesome.
Grace wrung her hands. Andrea flipped through a Glamour magazine. Brad occasionally blew hair off his forehead with an exhale. Brayden focused on his game.
The digital clock on the wall displayed the seconds. Grace watched the numbers increase then start back at one. She didn’t take her eyes off the seconds because knowing how much time had passed didn’t work for her. 1…2…3…4…5…As hard as she stared, she didn’t see the man in scrubs appear in the doorway until he spoke.
“Hardin family? I’m Dr. Slone. I’ve got some good news. Mikey did well in surgery. Fortunately, the stab wound—”
“S-Stab wound?” Grace stuttered; Brayden’s eyes teared.
“Didn’t anyone tell you?” The doctor looked from face-to-face.
“Nobody told us shit,” Brad chimed.
“Mr. Hardin was stabbed on the left side of his ribcage, but fortunately the knife missed most of anything vital. I had to remove his spleen, but he should make a full recovery.”
“Can you live without a spleen?” Brayden asked.
The doctor smiled. “Yes, absolutely. He just has to make sure he stays up on all his vaccinations for things like pneumonia and stuff like that. But he should be fine.”
“Can we see him now?” Grace asked, wringing her hands.
“He’s still in recovery. As soon as you can see him someone will come get you.”
“How long will that be?” Grace knew she was being pushy, but she didn’t care.
Dr. Slone smiled. “Not too much longer.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Grace
Brayden held Grace’s hand as they walked into Mikey’s hospital room. She imagined there would be all sorts of tubes hooked up and stuck out of him, or maybe a ventilator. A nasal cannula, an IV, and a heart monitor were the only things attached to him. His eyes were
closed. Brayden slipped past her and took his father’s hand.
“Dad?”
Mikey’s eyes opened to slits. From what she could see of them, they were glassy. “Hey,” he said groggily. His eyes darted toward her. A lopsided smile picked at the corner of his mouth then faded as his eyes drooped.
Grace joined Brayden at the side of the bed. “What happened? No one told us anything?”
Mikey closed his eyes.
Oh, right, stupid question to ask right now. Even if Brayden weren’t in the room, this wasn’t the right time to talk about his stabbing.
Mikey’s unsteady hand reached for her own. “Grace…” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“You’re cry…ing. Don’t…cry.”
“S-Sorry,” she croaked. God, she wanted to throw herself onto the bed and wrap her arms around him. The massive bandage on his side was the only thing stopping her.
Brayden climbed onto the bed and made himself comfortable. She looked away and sniffled.
“What’s wrong?”
Grace snapped her head back up. “Wha—oh, nothing. I just—never mind.”
“No. What?” Mikey’s voice sounded hoarse.
“You need to get some sleep. I’m fine,” she said, choking on her sobs.
Brayden jumped off the bed. “Here, Grace, sit down. I think you need this more than me.”
“No, Bray, he’s your dad. I’m fine, really.”
“You keep saying that but I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t e-either.” Mikey tried to smile widely, but wound up squeezing his eyes shut. He took a deep breath which ended with a low groan. “Sit, Gra…”
Her eyes teared up and she carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “Should we call the nurse? Are you in pain?” Grace wasn’t aware she was holding her breath until she exhaled. The room spun. Mikey’s hand reached out for her again. He wanted to steady her, but wasn’t she supposed to be doing that for him? She squeezed his hand and let go.
