by Suzi Weinert
He stood up to leave. But wait. She had just walked into the kitchen.
He centered her head in his rifle scope, but she seemed constantly in motion. At last she stopped for a moment and he pulled the trigger just as she turned to do something else.
Three things happened at once: the crack of the rifle shot, the shattering of the windowpane and Jennifer falling like a rock to the floor.
He must leave quickly. Neighbors watched out for each other in these communities. After the recent police presence here pursuant to the kidnapping, they’d be alert for the unusual.
He hurried back through the woods to his car, drove to the motel and reported his success.
94
Tuesday, 2:43 PM
Typing at her computer upstairs, Becca heard a gunshot and shattering glass. She jumped to her feet. “Mom? Mom?” she shouted, rushing down the stairs two at a time. She glanced into each room as she hurried past: the study, living room and dining room. In the kitchen, she saw her mother sprawled face down on the floor with blood in her hair. A glance at the spider web cracking around the hole in the window confirmed her worst fears.
“My God,” she cried, kneeling beside her mother, trying to remember the first-aid mantra, “A-B-C: Airways, Breathing, Circulation.” As she rolled her mother over, Jennifer’s arm reached up weakly to pull her to the floor.
Her mother’s hoarse voice whispered, “…Down, Becca. Shooter outside...”
“Mom, there’s blood. You’re hurt. We need help.”
“Blood?”
“Yes,” Becca whipped out her cell phone. “I’m calling 911. We need medical help and there’s a sniper in our back yard.” She held her mother’s hand and dialed.
Becca gave the emergency operator the address. “My mother’s been shot in the head. She’s on the floor bleeding but alive. Her name is Jennifer Shannon. I’m her daughter, Becca. Please send help, hurry!”
“What phone number are you calling from?”
Becca told the operator.
“Is the shooter still there?”
“I don’t know. He shot through the window from our back yard or the woods behind.”
“Get down low yourself in case he’s still out there. Stay on the phone with me until help arrives.”
“All right. Please hurry.”
“Help is on the way, Becca. Is your mom awake?”
“Yes.”
“Is she breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Has the bleeding stopped?
“I think so but it’s hard to tell. The wound’s in her hair.”
“Is she talking?”
“Yes.” Becca began to cry. “Oh, Mom, this can’t be happening.” Into the phone she said, “I think I hear sirens. Yes, they’re getting louder.”
“Good. Stay on the phone until help has arrived. Has her condition changed in any way?”
“I don’t think so. The sirens are loud now. Hold on. I’ll crawl to the front door.”
She stood at the door to open it. “Hurry, she’s in here,” she directed the first responder. And into the phone, “Thank you for sending help fast.” She barely heard the operator’s “You’re welcome” as she hurried to the kitchen.
The medics went straight to work, blocking Becca’s view as they evaluated and treated her mother. When a deep voice said, “We can’t go on meeting like this,” she spun around to look into Lt. Nathan Sommer’s face. She nodded agreement.
Becca knew to stay out of their way as the EMTs worked on their patient but smiled with relief at her mother’s lucid responses to their questions.
Ten minutes later, Nathan took Becca aside. “Your mother is one lucky lady. She faced away from the window when the pane shattered, propelling some glass fragments into her hair and skin. Miraculously, the bullet only grazed her scalp with a superficial flesh wound. Because head wounds tend to bleed a lot, it looked worse than it was. She didn’t lose consciousness and she’s talking normally. So far so good.”
Becca’s relief showed on her face. “Thank you, Nathan.”
“We’ve done our job.” He looked at the broken window. “Police will arrive any minute to deal with this. Meantime, where’s a couch for your mother to rest? She’s okay physically but pretty shaken up.”
“There’s a couch in the study.” They helped Jennifer stretch out there. “Feeling better, Mom?” she asked, holding her mother’s hand.
“Much better, Dear.” Jennifer’s voice was thin but steady.
When Becca and Nathan reached the foyer, he asked with concern, “Do you think you’re safe here?”
“I did until yesterday and today,” she said wryly.
“Wouldn’t want anything to…to interfere with that Thanksgiving meal you invited me to attend. That’s in just two days. Can you and your family stay afloat that long?”
“Not if today’s an example. Seriously, Nathan, I hope we’ll be okay. Mom looks forward to this event every year. It would take more than a shot in the head for her to cancel it.” Her sarcastic laugh at this absurdity covered her anxiety. “See you Thursday at one o’clock.” As he turned to go, she touched his arm. “Nathan, thanks for being here to help us through this.”
He squeezed her hand. “I hope you’ll get used to having me around. Until Thursday then?”
As he and the other firefighters and medics gathered their equipment and trooped out the front door, two policemen passed them on the way in.
Becca explained the situation, made a chalk outline showing where her mother had fallen and answered their questions.
“First we want to defuse any immediate danger. Then a detective will come out to investigate further. Is your mother up to talking with us about this?”
“Let’s find out.” She led the way to the couch.
By the time Jennifer explained the bank and kidnapping arrests followed by today’s incident, they advised police protection. She agreed.
“We want to check the back yard before dark. We’ll do that now. Then one of us will stay until the detective arrives. A patrolman will park his cruiser in front of your house during the time you need protection.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. Now I think I’ll rest a few minutes because Becca and I need to visit someone at the hospital tonight.”
The policemen gave her a quizzical look.
“My dad,” Becca explained in the foyer. “He was injured in an auto accident earlier today.”
“Sounds like your family better start taking life a whole lot easier.”
95
Tuesday, 6:04 PM
After the detective came and went, Becca and Jennifer drove to the hospital. “Honey, let’s not tell Dad about the gunshot,” Jennifer suggested before they entered Jason’s room. “He’ll just worry while stuck here in the hospital, and we know I’m fine and the situation is under control until he returns. Okay?”
Under control? Still, Becca agreed reluctantly, led the way to her father’s room and hugged him.
Jennifer gave him a kiss. “You seem much livelier now. Do you feel as good as you look?”
“No more dizziness, my balance is back, the headache’s gone and my vision’s normal. I feel great. Don’t know why they won’t let me out right now.”
“Your impatience is good but we want you strong and steady for Thanksgiving. After all, you’re our trusty wine steward.”
“I’ll be more than ready then. Heck, I’m ready now. Any news about Tony?”
Was there ever! She scarcely comprehended Tony’s murderous tale herself, never mind telling anyone else. “No, we just got here but I…I’ll check with the nurse while you and Becca visit.”
The Neuro station nurse made a phone call. “He’s still in ICU,” she told Jennifer.
At ICU Jennifer identified herself to a nurse and explained her relationship to Tony. “One of his children is with him. He’s a very sick man. We allow two visitors at a time, so I’ll take you in.”
They started down the hall of curtained cubi
cles but stopped when a flurry of activity ahead sent medical personnel scurrying to one of the patients. “Code Blue,” one shouted and the nurse accompanying Jennifer hurried to help, leaving her standing awkwardly in the corridor.
As the others rushed into the cubicle, one woman stepped out and stood frozen while activity and commands punctuated the air from the curtained room. The woman looked familiar, but at this distance Jennifer couldn’t be sure so she waited, uncertain what to do next. Then a nurse came from behind the curtain, put her arm around the woman and spoke to her.
Suddenly the woman collapsed in sobs and Jennifer hurried toward her. Approaching close enough to recognize Tony’s grown daughter, she said, “Catherine? Honey, what is it?”
“He’s dead,” she sobbed. “Dad’s dead. First Mom, then Dad—all in one week. I can’t believe this. It’s just too much.” She buried her face against Jennifer’s shoulder and wept as Jennifer tried to comfort her. When the crying lessened, Jennifer found a place for them to sit.
The doctor came out, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “We had him stabilized, but I think the femur fracture he sustained in the car accident must have released bone marrow into his blood. This can cause a fat-embolism. The resulting clots travel up through the venous system to block the entrance to the lungs. When that happened, we couldn’t stop it. We did everything medically possible to save him, but we can’t control every outcome. All I can say is that we tried…. These things happen.”
Catherine sobbed as the doctor and Jennifer exchanged looks and he left.
“Let’s sit here a few minutes,” Jennifer suggested. When Catherine quieted, she said, “Becca and I are visiting Jason in another ward. Would you like to spend a little time with us? Could we help you call your brothers about this?”
“Yes, thank you. Mom would be so glad you’re here just when I need you most.”
“Your mom was a wonderful person and my dear friend. It’s the least I can do.”
A nurse approached them. “You can go in now.” She gestured to the curtained cubicle.
Catherine reached for Jennifer’s hand. “Please, will you come with me?”
Steeling herself to view the man who told her he was a murderer, Jennifer put an arm around the grief-stricken girl. “Of course. Let’s go in together.”
96
Tuesday, 7:03 PM
“May I have your car keys, Abdul?” Ahmed asked.
“But you told me you can’t run the risk of driving. I can take you wherever you wish to go.”
“You are correct I said this, but things have changed.”
Abdul looked nervous. “Do you…have you had practice driving?”
“Of course. Choosing not to drive here was a matter of tactic, not skill.”
“I…I planned to leave my extra keys with a note for my wife telling her to find the car here after the jihad. She will need it when I am gone.”
“Don’t worry, I will take good care of your car. Now, please, the keys.”
Ahmed drove straight to Khadija’s house, used the garage door opener and parked inside.
Zayneb met him in the house. “Will you have dinner with us?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He basked in the family atmosphere missing most of his life. He smiled at Safia, chatted with Zayneb and looked lovingly at Khadija. Heba seemed pleased to see him also. With time running out, he risked bolder conversation than in the past.
When Heba returned to the kitchen after serving them dinner, he asked Zayneb, “Do you know this woman’s story?”
“She arrived here as my husband’s servant, but she and I became friends. She said as a young child she visited cousins and for some reason stayed with them instead of returning to her family. Life was hard in that village so when an older man offered a dowry for her in marriage and a job for the father, as was custom in her country, they basically sold her to him when she was eight years old. He kept her for a time, but as a plaything not a wife. When he finished with her, he sold her to someone else. In both these cases she was raped and treated with scorn.”
Ahmed blanched. “Life is sometimes cruel.”
“The second owner sold her to the sex trade. Her life was unspeakable. One group smuggled her to the U. S., forcing her to work as a prostitute until someone bought her. Then she passed from owner to owner until Mahmud brought her to our household. She’s had a horrible life, but she tells me the last twenty-four years here were the best since she was a child. She’s intelligent. With my husband…away…she wants to get an education. I can help her do that. She has survival skills and shows an amazing spark of life, considering all she’s been through.”
“I see. Thank you for telling me this.” They talked amiably as they finished their meal and at the end, Ahmed said, “May I speak privately with Khadija for a short while?”
They all looked at him in surprise but Khadija stood and nodded to him. “I’d like that. Shall we go into the study, Ahmed?”
Once seated there, Ahmed didn’t know how to begin what he wanted to tell this beautiful woman about whom he cared so much. His future rode on what he said next.
“Khadija, tonight I speak from the heart. First, you must give me your oath you will never repeat what I’m about to tell you…to anyone…ever.”
She looked puzzled. “I promise to tell no one else.”
“You will hear good and bad things. Please remember, as I talk, that I love you and ask you to be my wife.” She beamed. “You are the most intelligent, kind, remarkable person I have ever known. Your beauty encircles my heart. Your mind touches my thinking in ways I could not imagine possible. This is good news, but I also bring bad news. I share with you now secrets I have sworn to keep but cannot hide from you if our lives are to intertwine.”
She smiled her love and reached out to hold his hand.
“Growing up, I knew only what others taught me, so I believed those teachings true and right. The man controlling my life groomed me to become a terrorist.”
Khadija flinched at these words. Ahmed rushed on before he lost his nerve.
“He and those around him convinced me and others like me that we were fighters for Allah, bravely escalating the coming of the one Islamic world. But you showed me terrorism is only one possibility in a larger group of choices. I do not want to blow up women and children even if they are infidels. I want to build, not destroy. I want to live, not die. I want to offer my love to you, to build a happy family like the one stolen from me by the leader, his liars and his murderers. I am a man at a crossroad, a man wanting to walk a new path with your hand in mine.”
Khadija gave him a thin smile.
“Shall I stop now or do you wish to hear more?”
“I…I want to hear what you have to say.”
“My job here is to lead a cell of terrorists on a jihad right here in northern Virginia. The Great Leader provided money to do this and men to accomplish it. If he heard me speak these words he would strike me dead himself or have others do it in the most painful way possible. They would think me too weak to carry out my task, a frightened coward afraid to sacrifice himself. Worse, they would label me a reviled traitor.”
Khadija swallowed hard but said nothing.
“This is what I propose: I would like to defect, tell my story to the authorities and ask for the witness protection program. I would like to ask you to come with me as my bride. We could make a new life together in a new place. We could use our love to create precious children who we will teach to ‘question everything.’ But this means you must leave your home and your family. You could not see them or communicate with them again, for our new location must remain forever a secret. Why? The all-powerful Great Leader will scour the earth to find and punish me. He ruthlessly eliminates those who embarrass him, defy his wishes or interfere with his plans.”
Khadija’s eyes filled with tears. She stared at her hands as he continued.
“Normally, a man offers the bride of his dreams posi
tive rewards. Sadly, I offer you nothing positive…and, worse, I introduce risk and danger into your life along with my love and loyalty to you forever.”
She cried softly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
“I cannot blame you for choosing instead to continue a normal life with your mother and sister. I understand you may not love me enough to share this meager, uncertain life I offer you. One way or the other, I will disappear from your life, but wherever I am, you will always live in my soul.”
Khadija now wept openly. He hated bringing such grief to the woman he loved, but only if she knew the truth could she make an informed choice.
He squeezed her hand. When she stopped crying enough to speak, she managed, “Ahmed, thank you for telling this incredible story. In the week since we first met, I found you an appealing person who I care very much about, but this future you describe…you’re asking me to leave all that’s familiar—plus everyone I know and love—for a life with you in which we’re always looking over our shoulders for danger. That fear would increase for our children, who we’d never want harmed or at risk. Our strong attraction makes it seem we know each other well, but in only one week we’re still more strangers than friends. Marrying someone under perfect circumstances is risky enough but under these circumstances…”
His eyes brimmed at the answer he’d feared. “I apologize for creating this impossible situation, but because of my love for you, I had to ask if you could make this difficult choice. You are right. You are young, beautiful and smart. You will find an American well-suited to you and live a good, safe life with your family’s blessings. I wish you many children and great happiness.”
He stood. “As for me…” he choked with emotion, “…no woman could ever measure up to you.”
“I’m so sorry, Ahmed.” She circled her arms around him and they stood, holding each other. After a moment, she broke away.
“Wait,” he said. “Here is my cell phone number. If…if ever you want to reach me. I will answer it if I can. Also I have a strong warning for you and your family: Don’t go to any shopping malls in three days—on Black Friday. Do you understand?” She nodded, grateful at his parting gift—protecting her from danger.
