by Sarah Pawley
Just as he was about to jump in with her, someone called his name and he turned to look. It was an officer he’d seen around the neighborhood, though he could not recall his name at the moment. The man looked anxious, his breathing rapid.
“Mr. Shaw, they have a man in custody. He turned himself in right away. He was begging for the police to take him in.”
A violent urge welled up inside him.
“Where is he?” He did not have to hear the name to know who had done this deed
“They’re taking him to the station right away,” the officer said.
“Take me to him, now.”
The officer nodded, leading him to a police car. He wanted desperately to ride to the hospital. But she was in the hands of doctors now, and there was nothing he could do to help. But he would avenge her, even it meant murder. He asked himself…Should he make it slow and painful, or just snap the son of a bitch’s neck like a chicken? Either way, Charlie Hillard would pay for what he had done, and he would find joy in every minute of the suffering.
* * * * *
At the station, he stood at the desk as an officer took down his statement. "I want all contact through me," he told them. "Miss Langdon's sister-in-law is expecting, and I do not want her to answer the phone and hear any of this. Anything they need to know, I will tell them."
Even as spoke, all he could only think of was getting his hands on Charlie.
The bastard is here somewhere.
He ran a weary hand over his face, turning his head to look around…and a distance away, he saw him - being led by two officers. He did not pause for the slightest moment. He moved with animal speed as a leopard in the grass would swoop in on its prey. His attack was so swift the officers hardly had time to react. He spoke no words, letting his fists beat out their brutal message several times before the men managed to peel him away, and that with superhuman effort.
"This son of a bitch shot two of my workers, and I want him dead! I'll kill him myself!"
He fought the hands that held him back, watching as the other men took Charlie away. Just before they took him around the corner towards incarceration, he shouted at the top of his voice.
"She was mine first! No one else will have her! Not you, not anyone!"
Henry tried to lunge forward, but was held back…and then Charlie vanished from sight. Seeing him taken away, the madness in Henry seemed to fade enough for him to gain some control, and he shook off the hands of the officers. Having seen for himself that Charlie was locked up…having had a brief taste of physical vengeance, he was ready to finish his business here and be gone to the hospital. And, he realized with dread, he would have to tell the Langdon’s what had happened.
The officer gave him a ride back to the club, where the crowd of employees were waiting for information. They surrounded him, asking question after question. But as they closed in on him, he suddenly boiled over in anger.
“What the hell happened in there? How in God’s name can some nutcase walk in a building full of people and not one God-Damned person notices anything! Tell me! HOW!”
Their faces were awash with different expression. Concern…confusion…fear. Deep down, he knew they weren’t to blame. He shook his head, eager to escape their questions…and yet he told them what he could.
“I don’t know anything yet. I’ve got to get to the hospital. As soon as I find out anything, I’ll let you know.” He gave orders for one of his partners to see that the place was closed for the night. Then he got in his car and drove away.
* * * * *
Before making the evil journey to the Langdon’s, he had to pull himself together. When he got home, he went upstairs to bathe his face and change out of his dress clothes. Standing before the sink he looked in the mirror and saw his own appearance. The paleness of his face was almost staggering. But it was what he saw on his shirt that nearly buckled his knees.
There was blood all over him. Her blood. Suddenly he saw it on his hands too, from where he’d picked her up. Yanking furiously at the buttons of his shirt, he worked to get it off fast, and if he’d had a fireplace he would have burned it. Then the sight of his stained hands took hold of him, and he turned on the faucet and seized the soap, scrubbing his skin until it was raw. But after a few mad moments, the soap suddenly fell from his grip. He let the cold water run through his fingers before burying his face in his hands, tremors shaking him as he pressed his face against his palms.
Oh God, what if she died?
Just the thought of it nearly brought him to his knees. In his mind he tried to envision a world without her, and it was like looking into a fog. All he could see was a gray emptiness, devoid of life and sound, and his head spun from the disorientation. And if she lived, then what? How could he face her again when he’d failed her so miserably? His fingers clutched at his hair, pulling it in agonized frustration.
I’ve nearly killed her. I was supposed to take care of her, and now she lies helpless because of me.
He was hateful in his own eyes.
He wanted to sink to the floor and weep. But he knew there was something more important that he had to do.
Five minutes later he stood on the Langdon’s front stoop. For several long moments he paced back and forth, holding an anxious hand over his mouth. A light in the living room was on. It glowed through the front window, but instead of being a welcome, it was now just a chilling reminder of what he was about to do. He let out a breath that trembled, lifted his hand, and knocked. There was a long moment of silence, and then the door opened, and it was Jack. They looked at one another…and Jack could read the trouble in Henry's eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked, fear in every line of his face.
Henry knew he could not delay the truth, and stepping forward, his head lowered slightly, he heard himself say, "Grace is in the hospital. She's been…" He paused, unsure of how to continue.
Jack's expression grew darker, more frenzied. "What? She's been what?" He seemed to know what Henry would say, and needed only to hear it.
“She’s been shot. Charlie's been arrested for it."
He watched as Jack took a slight step back, shaking his head in denial. For several moments he just stood there, staring with empty eyes as the words registered. Henry looked over Jack’s shoulder and saw Alice appear in the foyer behind her husband.
“Jack, what is it?”
He turned to her, looking at her for a long moment, before he went to her.
Henry watched as Jack took his wife by the hand, telling her that something had happened to Grace, but not wanting to give all of the truth at once. But Alice demanded the truth, and as Jack slowly spoke the words to her, Henry saw the lady’s hand come up to cover her mouth. He waited for the explosion of tears, the doubling over of agony, or the cry of denial that would come from her lips. But he was stunned and amazed when she rushed forward and demanded that she be taken to the hospital immediately. But Jack refused.
“I don’t want you there, seeing her that way! I won’t have you putting yourself and the baby through that hell!”
“Better there than here, waiting and worrying myself crazy!” Alice shouted back at him. “That is a kind of hell, Jack Langdon, and I won’t stay here for it. Now you either take me to that hospital, or I’ll take myself!” She meant it. Henry could see it in the set of her jaw, the firmness of her stance, and for a moment he fell in love with her.
“Get dressed as quick as you can,” he said. “I’ll drive you.” He turned and hurried out the door, across the street to his car, and pulled it quickly to the curb of the house. A few minutes later the couple was rushing out, Jack helping his wife in and then climbing in to sit beside her. A moment later they sped away towards the hospital.
* * * * *
Henry’s foot was nearly on the floor as he drove, his eyes intense and focused on the road ahead, and his voice was raw as he told Alice what had happened. Jack sat silently beside his wife, refusing to look anywhere but out the window. He was quie
t and still as the grave, and no amount of questioning or prodding could get him to speak. But in his eyes there stirred a deep, black fury, and both Henry and Alice could feel the tension and anger emanating from him.
Henry’s rage had simmered down into a deep, painful, and numbing worry. What would happen when they got to that hospital? What soul shattering news would be waiting for them? All he could do was silently pray, over and over, for a miracle, as the helplessness dug deep into his soul like sharp claws.
Inside the hospital, the three of them hurried to the desk where a nurse was sitting, and Jack was the first to demand her attention.
"Nurse, excuse me," he said quickly. When the woman did not turn right away, he began banging on the desk impatiently. "Nurse!" he shouted, and now the woman turned to look at him with an odd expression.
"Can I help you?"
"My sister was brought here and I want to see her.”
"The name, sir?"
It was Henry who stepped forward now.
"The shooting victims from the theatre. The lady and gentleman were brought in about an hour ago."
Instantly the woman's face lit with recognition and concern. "Oh, yes. Dr. Brown has been asking about relatives or friends. I'll get him right away."
She hurried away, and the three took to walking to and fro in front of the desk. Alice took a seat in a chair, her hand resting on her belly, and Jack came and quickly sat beside her.
"Are you all right?" he asked, the concern on his face intensifying.
She reached up to rest a hand on his cheek. "We're fine. And Gracie will be fine. I know she will be." Jack put his arms around her, and they held each other close.
Henry listened to her encouraging tone of voice, and shook his head. He had seen what she had not…the blood, the coldness and paleness of her skin. The image was seared in his mind, and as he thought of it again and again, his hand came up over his mouth to stifle a shudder of fear and horror. For what seemed like an eternity he paced the floor. Then at last, they heard the tread of heavy footsteps, and looked up to see the doctor approaching. Jack and Alice rose to their feet, coming to stand beside Henry as he reached out to shake the doctor's hand.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Are you a family member?"
"We are," Jack declared, stepping forward with Alice next to him, and he moved Henry to the side so he might speak to the doctor more closely. "I'm her brother."
"And you, sir?" he asked Henry.
"What does it matter?"
"Only family members are being allowed in at this time," the doctor stated. "We've been turning people away left and right over the last hour or so."
"This is Mr. Shaw. He's family," Alice lied. "Now, what about Grace?"
"She will recover in time, but right now she’s in poor condition," the doctor said. "The bullet did not strike any major organs, but it both entered and exited the body through her left side, causing a very serious wound. The loss of blood was extensive, but we've brought that under control. What we're concerned about now is the risk of infection. We've given her medication to ward it off, but there is always the possibility of complications."
"How is she now?" Alice asked. "When can we see her?"
"I'll take you in now," the doctor said, leading them down the hall. "She's asleep, and may not wake up for some time.” They approached the room. "The shock to the body was extreme, and she has been heavily medicated."
He opened the door to the room, and Jack and Alice went in quickly. Both gave slight, soft cries as they saw Grace lying there in her hospital bed. Henry felt a wave of nausea hit him as he looked at her.
She was a sickly shade of pale...so much so, he almost swore she was dead. Lying on her back, her eyes closed, she was eerily still. Her dress had been replaced by a stark hospital gown. Her hair, removed from its decorative upsweep, was clean and combed down smooth. Her little sequined hair combs were lying on the bedside table, along with her little gold bracelet.
Sweet Jesus, why have they left her this way?
It all looked so cold, so set...so final. As if they were making her ready for the grave.
Standing in the doorway, he couldn't bear to take a step closer to her. If he did, he feared he would fall at her side and weep. It was all he could do to remain upright as the doctor came near, preparing to go. Henry placed a hand on the man's arm.
"What about the gentleman who was brought in with her?" he asked. "How is he?"
The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr. Shaw.” His voice was low. "The gentleman was dead on arrival."
Henry felt himself lean heavily against the door frame, his whole body feeling like a massive lead weight. He brought his hands up to cover his face and slowly sank down to a spot on the floor, feeling as if the whole world was coming down around him
* * * * *
For nearly an hour Jack and Alice remained at her bedside, as Henry remained sitting on the floor near the doorway. After a long time, a nurse came into the room, and Henry rose from the floor and followed her.
"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Langdon," she said. "It's nearly dawn. The doctor asks that Miss Grace be left alone for a time, so we can tend to her and allow her time to rest."
Jack, who had been sitting beside Alice and holding her hand, grumbled a curse under his breath.
"How soon can we come back?" Alice asked for him.
"This afternoon will be fine," the nurse replied kindly.
Alice nodded her head, rising to her feet, and gently she prodded Jack to do the same. Reluctantly he stood, leaning down to place a kiss on Grace's forehead. Alice did the same, and together they turned and walked past Henry into the hall. Henry gave a last long look into the room at Grace, then slowly turned and followed the couple out.
* * * * *
The drive home was a silent one. Not a word was spoken between the three of them, even when Henry pulled into the driveway to let Jack and Alice out of the car. It wasn't until Jack got out and slammed his door, and headed around to help his wife out on her side that Alice finally turned to Henry and spoke.
"This isn't your fault. It just happened, and that's all there is to say about it. Grace would not want you to blame yourself. Remember that."
Such words were of little comfort to him, though he nodded his head in response. As Jack helped his wife out of the car, Henry saw from the corner of his eye that the man stood waiting for something. Something told him that Jack was waiting until his wife was out of earshot, and Henry braced for what he knew would come next. A moment later, Jack stood by the car door, waiting, and Henry stepped out to stand before him. Neither man looked at each other, until Jack turned with blazing eyes of fury.
"You have no idea what it would mean to me to break your neck right now.” His hands were clenched in fists of rage. "You promised to take care of my sister, and you didn't." He clenched his jaw, and the muscle in it throbbed a little. "But I will not put my wife through anything else. And my sister, sick as she is, would be angry at me for trying to get rid of you. So you’re going to do something to make it up to her."
Stunned, Henry looked at him. "What?"
"I want you to get the best lawyer you can find, and see that Charlie Hillard never sees the light of day again. If he is shot by a firing squad, or strung up from a gallows, all the better. Just see that he gets exactly what he deserves."
Without another word, Jack turned and walked across the street into his house. Henry turned to his own door, and as he did, the housekeeper came to meet him, telling him he had an important phone call. He hurried inside to answer it, and it was a policeman on the other end.
"Mr. Shaw, this is Detective Taylor at the Cook County jail. We have some urgent news about Charlie Hillard."
Henry snorted. "What about him?" he asked.
"We're calling to inform you that Mr. Hillard is dead. He hung himself in his jail cell last night."
Chapter 22
“The Shadow of Death”
She could hea
r voices. She knew the familiar sound of Jack's voice, speaking to Alice. Henry's voice too, deep and soothing. They were all speaking, and yet she couldn’t answer them, and there was darkness all around. Then a voice she didn’t know started giving her orders, commanding her to wake up and open her eyes.
Who are you? She wondered. The voice became more demanding. She grew frustrated and angry. Why won't you go away and leave me alone? All I want is to sleep.
But the voice was unrelenting, and her muddled and throbbing brain began to stir. She couldn’t ignore the commands any longer. Her eyes started to perceive light as they opened heavily. All she wanted was to sleep, but a great burning pain seized her left side, knifing from front to back. She groaned, whimpered, and then she felt a presence at her side. Her eyes opened fully and she saw Jack standing there. Alice was beside him, and at the foot of the bed, she recognized Henry. She tried to speak, but her mouth was as dry as cotton. Jack came to her aid.
"Get a glass of water, quick.”
It was Alice who brought it to her, holding it to her parched lips, and she drank heartily. But before her thirst was quenched, the nurse ordered the water away.
"Only give her a little, or she'll bring it back up."
Almost at the moment the nurse said it, Grace felt her insides do a violent summersault. And then her nose was burning with fluid, her mouth tasting vile as she emptied her stomach into a pan put before her. A wet cloth was put to her, helping her wipe the mess from her face. But feeling mortified, she pushed the nurse's hands away.
