by Kira Chase
“The house is clear. He'd been in it. He must have taken Johanna out through the back. They found a black wig and policeman's hat in the entryway. There's no sign of a struggle inside the house.” She exhaled slowly. “Johanna's cell phone was sitting on the kitchen counter and her gun was in the bedroom on the nightstand.”
Frankie trembled. “How could he have gotten past everyone if he had Johanna with him?”
She turned to look at her. “We heard a scream. It was Johanna's voice. He's got her in that building.” She pointed to a team of officers huddled together. “I think they're going to try calling him out. If that doesn't work they'll have to send in the swat team.”
“The tool shed. Has there been any sign of Fellows or Johanna? Has he made any demands? I mean after the scream?” Frankie's voice shook. “What did the scream sound like?” Her thoughts and words tumbled out in rapid succession.
“No. No sign of either of them. He hasn't made any demands.” She swallowed hard and her eyes filled as she looked at Frankie. “She screamed 'In here, Frankie!',” Kate said hoarsely. “That's all we heard.” Kate blinked rapidly.
Frankie emphatically shook her head back and forth as she looked at Kate's pale complexion. She sensed what Kate was thinking. “Don't say it, Kate. Please don't say it.” All of her bottled up emotions began to bubble to the surface. Her head swam and she felt sick to her stomach. “Johanna's not dead.” She swiped at her eyes. “She's got to be all right, Kate.”
A police officer hurried over to them. “We need you to clear this area.”
Frankie looked at the young officer's face. The strain he was under was evident in his eyes as he ordered them back toward the house.
“Has there been any communication from Fellows?”
“No. The Captain's going to try to talk to him using the bullhorn.”
Frankie nodded. She looked up at the threatening sky. “It's cold. Looks like rain, too. I hope Johanna's warm enough.” She bit down on her bottom lip.
Kate took her arm. “Come on, Frankie. Let's get out of their way and let them do what they need to.”
She glanced around. “I want to stay and watch them blow his fucking brains out.”
“When he comes out he's not going anywhere except into a pair of handcuffs, unless he resists.” Kate tilted her heard in the direction of a burly man who stood with a bullhorn. “The Captain's going to try to contact him. We've got to get out of the way in case Fellows comes out firing.”
Frankie felt the adrenalin rush through her as she removed her gun from her holster. “Johanna's got to be alright, Kate.”
Kate patted her shoulder. “It'll be over soon, Frankie. Let's go. Come on.”
As they began walking toward the house, they heard the Captain bellowing through the bullhorn.
Frankie stopped and turned staring at the tool shed. Come on out, Johanna . Please come walking through that door right now.
“Come on, Frankie.” Kate tugged on her arm. “We're not supposed to be here. It's not safe.”
“Just a minute.” Frankie stayed riveted to the spot. She couldn't leave. Her feet felt like they were glued to the grass beneath them. She needed to see Johanna walk safely through the door. As she waited, watching, the sense of foreboding grew more intense. Something was wrong. Her heart felt like it would explode. She knew what she had to do. Her gun was ready.
“Fellows, come out with your hands up. The house is surrounded. Give yourself up now,” the broad-shouldered captain shouted.
Frankie watched as the swat team got into position ready to make their move. She kept her eyes glued to the front door praying that any second now Fellows would walk through it followed by Johanna or vice versa. She waited, breathing shallowly, along with the others, but no response came from the tool shed.
Kate tugged at her arm again. “Frankie, it's not safe to be standing here. We need to go to the house right now.”
Frankie was frozen. “I can't, Kate. I…I can't.”
Kate looked around. “Well, don't go any closer.” She pulled out her gun. “Stay behind these officers.” She pointed to a line of men directly in front of them.
“Okay.” Frankie shivered. A light drizzle began to fall. It chilled her to the bone. She thought about Johanna, in her pajamas and robe, in the cold damp shed. Had he let her put on her shoes? Had she dressed after Kate and she had left? Or had that bastard forced her out into the cold in her bare feet? She didn't want to think about what else he may have done to her. Every second that passed seemed like hours. As cold as she was, her palms were sweating. She held tightly to her gun. The drizzle quickly turned into a steady downpour. Her hair was plastered to her face and the rain soaked through her clothes.
After a couple of minutes had passed the captain signaled to the swat team as he made a final appeal. “Fellows, this is your last chance. We're coming in. You have one minute to surrender.”
* * * *
Fellows jumped when he heard the bullhorn. Johanna knew this was the chance she'd been waiting for as he peeked around the crates and looked anxiously toward the door. He moved his arm and pointed the gun at the door. He fired a shot through the door.
Johanna gritted her teeth, jumped up, and sprinted to the wall yanking down the pick-ax. As Fellows turned to look at her, she swung blindly hoping to connect the sharp spiked end with his flesh.
Fellows, caught off guard, fired his gun again. He screamed, “You fucking bitch!” as he clutched his shoulder. With an unsteady hand he pointed the gun at her, but she crouched low and the bullet went crashing into the back wall. She still had hold of the pick-ax handle and yanked the spiky end out of Fellows. He screamed as she pulled it out, blood oozing from his shoulder. Pain was crushing her body, but she had to try. With all the strength she had left in her body, she swung again. This time her weapon connected with his leg. His gun went clattering to the floor as he screamed in pain. She started to run, half limping past him as he writhed in pain. She was going to make it. She was at the door when she felt his hand like a vise clamping onto her already injured arm. He twisted it until she heard it snap. She let out a piercing scream.
“I'll kill you,” he snarled as he pulled himself to his feet. He winced in pain as he retrieved his gun and knife. His hand shook as he poised the knife above her, the blade pointing toward her throat.
Johanna looked into his cold evil eyes as the blade moved closer. She forced her body to roll to her side. She felt the sensation of the blade making contact with her flesh. She tried to scream again, but nothing came out. Everything started to dim. She was falling, slowly, then rapidly as the light faded and then went black.
* * * *
“He's shooting,” Frankie cried. “Let's go.”
“No. We need to stay behind these officers, Frankie.”
Johanna's blood curdling scream suddenly filled the night.
“Oh God, no,” Frankie moaned. “No, Kate, I'm not staying here. I'll take the fucking bastard out myself,” she cried. She sprinted between the lines of officers with Kate on her heels. Kate grabbed her shoulders.
“Stop, Frankie!” she ordered as she tried to pull her to a safer location. “This won't do Johanna any good if you put yourself in the line of fire.”
“I'm coming out!” Fellows’ voice called from inside the tool shed.
Frankie's heart thudded. Johanna better be coming out, too. She began shaking violently as each second that passed seemed like hours. The rain beating down on her blurred her vision, mixing with the tears pouring from her eyes.
The swat team held their fire as they waited for Fellows to come out. The door slowly opened.
Frankie kept her eyes glued to the entrance.
Instead of Fellows, a spray of bullets greeted them.
“Oh my God!” Frankie screamed. “What's he done to Johanna? Kate, what's he done?” she choked.
When Kate didn't respond, she turned to look at her friend and was shocked to see her lying on the ground with blood seeping
from her shoulder. “No, Kate,” she cried as she knelt down to her. “Officer down!” she shouted. “Get some help over here!” She tried to keep her eyes on the tool shed and attend to Kate at the same time.
“I'm fine,” Kate mumbled.
As she waited for help, she watched Fellows run out of the tool shed brandishing a long knife in one hand and a gun in the other. From the spotlight aimed at the tool shed, she glimpsed blood dripping from the knife before the rain washed it away. She choked. “No, Johanna!” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Where is she?” Fellows screamed. “Where's Francine Barker?”
“Put the weapons down,” the captain ordered. “Now!”
Fellows aimed his gun toward the officers, but before he could get off a shot, he was met with a spray of bullets.
Frankie watched as he fell to the ground. She looked at the entrance. She waited for Johanna to walk through the door. It was safe now. Where was she? Her heart was in her throat.
She watched as several officers ran into the tool shed.
“Get an ambulance,” an officer ordered from inside.
Frankie screamed. “Johanna!”
Arlan and George had mysteriously appeared at her side. She didn't know how long they'd been there. Arlan was bending down cradling Kate's head on his lap. George was holding tightly to Frankie as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp and run into the tool shed.
“Let me go,” she shouted. “Let me go, George. I need to see Johanna.”
George's voice wobbled when he spoke. “No, Frankie. That's not a good idea. Let the paramedics do their job.”
Frankie sank to her knees on the cold wet grass as the rain poured down on her. A bright flash of lightning lit up the sky. She was weeping uncontrollably as she pounded the grass with her fists. “Johanna!” she screamed.
Chapter 17
Frankie's hands were rammed into her pockets as she paced the waiting room floor. They'd been given a small room to wait in next to the emergency room. Frankie suspected George had requested it due to the media attention the case had invoked. Arlan sat with his head in his hands staring at the floor. George and a few deputies sat talking quietly. Frankie's eyes kept drifting to the emergency room doors. Johanna and Kate were behind those doors being tended to by a team of doctors and nurses. No one had come out in over an hour to update them on the status.
“Frankie, you're going to wear a hole in the floor,” George called to her. “Why don't you sit down? Let me get you a cup of coffee.”
Frankie shook her head. “I'm okay. I don't want any coffee, thanks anyway.”
George walked over to her and led her to a couple of seats away from the others. He motioned with his hand for her to sit then sat next to her. “Frankie, it's over.” His normally gruff voice was soft. “These last few days have taken a toll on all of us. Fellows can never hurt anyone again.”
Frankie looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I should have stayed in the house. If I had, then maybe no one else would have been hurt.”
“No, you can't blame yourself. Kate knew better than to leave the house.”
“Please don't blame her, George.” She clasped her hands tightly together. “It's my fault Kate got shot. I refused to listen to her.”
George patted her shoulder. “I've been giving it a lot of thought. If Kate hadn't checked on the officers, then we may have had more victims. As Arlan pointed out to me, Fellows could have easily gotten in the house posing as a cop while you were all there.” He scratched his head. “There's nothing more to be said on the topic.” He peered into her eyes. “And you, Frankie, are not responsible for Kate getting shot.”
“Thank you, George. But I should have listened to Kate when she told me to move back.” She blinked back fresh tears that threatened to fall. “He hit, shot and stabbed Johanna. I have so much anger inside of me. I know he's dead, but I want to beat him with my bare fists and make him suffer for everything he's done. Being shot to death was too good for him.” She swept a hand through her hair. “Johanna still hasn't regained consciousness, George. What if—”
George put an arm around her. “We've got to think positive. From what I was told, Johanna managed to injure Fellows pretty good. She stabbed him in the leg and shoulder with a pick-ax.”
A smile tugged at the edges of Frankie's mouth. “Thank you for telling me that, George.”
“So what do you think of Arlan and Kate's news?”
Frankie looked quizzically at him. “What news?”
“It's okay. It's not a secret anymore. Arlan told me that he and Kate are getting married. Kate told him that she, you, and Johanna were already making plans.”
“They were going to run away some weekend, but we convinced her to have a traditional wedding.”
“Good.” He tilted his head in Arlan's direction. “He asked me to be best man,” George said proudly.
“Johanna and I are going to be her matrons of honor.”
“As soon as those two are back on their feet, I'm looking forward to that party you promised us.”
Her eyes shifted. “Why haven't they come out to tell us their conditions?”
“They will, Frankie. It takes time to evaluate their injuries. Now think positive.”
Her jaw twitched. “I'm trying, George. Until someone tells me how Johanna is, though, I'm going to worry.” She looked up towards the entrance to the waiting room. Trey and Will frantically ran to her and George.
“Frankie, we got here as soon as we could. How are Johanna and Kate?” Trey asked taking her hands in his.
“No one has told us much of anything. Johanna was in pretty bad shape.” Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. “I don't know what that bastard did to her.”
“As soon as we know Johanna and Kate's conditions, and that they'll be alright, which I'm sure they will be, we're taking you home with us,” Will said. “And we don't want any arguments about it.”
“That's a good idea. You shouldn't be alone tonight,” George said as he rose. “I'm going to grab some coffee. Anybody want some?”
They all declined. As he walked away, Trey and Will took seats on either side of Frankie. “You've had quite an ordeal, sweetie,” Trey said.
Frankie shook her head. “No, Johanna went through the worst of it. I don't know what he did to her. The paramedics said because of the head injury, broken arm, and stab wounds that she probably went into shock. I can only imagine the vile things that piece of garbage said and did to her. Her lip was split open so I know that he struck her.” She balled her hands into fists.
Will exhaled loudly. “Thank God the police got there when they did.” He put an arm around her. “Just remember that we're here for you always.”
“I don't know what I'd do without you two.” She glanced at Arlan who was still sitting staring at the floor. “Would you two excuse me for a minute?”
She walked over to Arlan and sat next to him. “Are you okay, Arlan?” she asked quietly.
He looked up at her. His eyes were red rimmed. He'd been crying. Never in a million years would she have ever thought Arlan was capable of such emotion. But Kate had said he had a much softer side. The side he hid from most people. Kate had brought that out in him. And the love he had for her was evident. His grief was etched all over his face.
“I love her so much, Frankie.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “She loves you, too, Arlan. She's going to be okay. She has to be. After all, she's asked Johanna and me to be her matrons of honor. The ring you gave her is beautiful. You have very good taste.” She cocked an eye. “Who would have known?”
He flashed a weak smile. “I feel so useless just sitting here doing nothing.”
She nodded. “I know.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the door open and a doctor coming towards them.
“Frankie Barker? And Sheriff Ryker?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, I'm Frankie Barker. How's Johanna?” she asked, rising. “Is she going to be okay? Can I see her?”
She could read nothing in the doctor's expression.
George walked over, with his paper cup of coffee, to where Frankie and the doctor stood. Trey and Will followed. Arlan also rose, looking expectantly at the doctor.
The doctor glanced at a report then addressed George. “Deputy Allen should make a complete recovery. The bullet grazed her left shoulder. She'll be released shortly.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” George replied.
Frankie and Arlan embraced. Frankie saw the tears of joy in Arlan's eyes. Her own eyes had brimmed and spilled over for the hundredth time that night.
“May I speak to you privately, Ms. Barker?” The doctor motioned to two vacant chairs at the far end of the room.
Frankie's body trembled. “George,” she said hoarsely. “George, please come with me,” she said through trembling lips.
The doctor nodded and George took Frankie's arm, walked to one of the chairs, and eased her into it. George stood next to her.
The doctor's eyes were sympathetic as he looked at Frankie. “Her shoulder wounds required six stitches. Her shoulder will be sore, but I don't foresee any permanent damage. Her left arm has been broken and is being casted. She does have severe bruising on her back.” He paused. “I'm concerned that she hasn't regained consciousness. She's suffered a severe concussion. I've ordered some scans and x-rays.”
“Will she make it?” Frankie choked as she reached for George's large hand. “Is she going to be okay?”
“I'll know more after the tests.”
Sobs racked Frankie. “I want to see her,” she cried.
“We'll be putting her in the ICU. I'll talk to the head nurse and tell her to come get you as soon as she's settled. But you'll only be able to stay for a few minutes.” He patted her shoulder.
“You should notify Gracelyn,” George said after the doctor had left. “Or would you like me to?” he asked gently.
Frankie had completely forgotten about their mothers. Guilt washed over her. “I don't know if I can handle it, George. But I should do it.”
“Frankie, I can tell by the look on your face that you're still blaming yourself. Stop. None of this is your fault.”
