Through the Storm (The Montclair Brothers)

by Terri Marie

  Emma shivered and made tight fists. When she opened them, her skin stuck together like that of a toddler after eating a dripping Popsicle. Jacob was wearing Renee's and Brian's blood as well. Not only had their vital fluid mixed on the floor of the van, but Emma had placed her hand on Jacob's cheek; her heart caved in. So many unanswered questions, and I wouldn't give him the time of day. She wiped more tears from her face with her red-stained hands. A nurse walked by and offered to get her a washcloth, or to escort her to the ladies room, but Emma shook her head. If they died, it would be all she had left of them to touch. The fire claimed the rest of it.

  Robert wanted to take their lives. They ran from the fire, but Renee, Jacob, and Brian, couldn't outrun the bullets. If they survived and Robert found out, Emma knew the bastard would come after them again. In her gut, she felt him coming. It's so easy to let your guard down. You could have a serial killer, three feet away from you and not even know it. Just like Robert and the cop sitting in the sedan by my apartment.

  Emma lifted her eyes, when she saw a pair of bloody jeans stop in front of her. She knew who it was and slowly lifted her gaze.

  "Sean, what's wrong. What happened?" She grabbed his hand to help herself stand up.

  "Em, I need Brian's information. They need it right now because he's a minor. He's fifteen, right? That's what I told the lady. What's his last name?"

  "I don't know Brian's last name, or how to contact his parents. He's fourteen, I think Renee said. Yeah, he's fourteen, almost fifteen." Emma worked hard to search her memory.

  "Shit. Come with me." Sean pulled her towards Admissions.

  As they got closer to the counter, Sean spotted two men in suits, standing next to the clerk. They were staring at them, while the woman pointed.

  Emma could sense Sean's nervousness, especially when he squeezed her hand tighter.

  Emma. "I'm Emma Ward, and this is Sean Montclair."

  "Are you related to Jacob Montclair?" asked Detective Delcan.

  "I'm Jacob's twin brother. Renee and Brian are our friends."

  "Tell us what happened." Detective Joy lifted his pen and began writing on a notepad. "Let's start with you, Sean."

  "Renee has a husband who's a lunatic. His name's Robert Preston. He's been after all of us. He shot out our van windows while we were driving on the highway, and he's been hunting us ever since. We escaped to our family home in Castle Lake, 61 Lake View Drive. Robert tracked us down tonight. While we were inside, he started the house on fire. As we ran out, he began shooting at us. Jacob, Renee, and Brian, were all hit. We escaped in the van." Sean put his arm around Emma and hugged her.

  "Where can we find this Robert Preston?" asked Detective Delcan.

  "He's at the end of the driveway. I ran him over by accident. I didn't know it was he who'd shot at us until I saw him after I'd backed out. He was lying there with a rifle." Sean's voice became rushed.

  "Why is it that you didn't call the police or an ambulance for him?" Detective Joy narrowed his eyes.

  "We don't have a land line and there's no cellphone service. Listen, we just got here, okay?" Sean raised his voice slightly. "My brother and friends might die. They've just been rushed into surgery."

  "So, you took a minor, who you didn't know—"

  Emma interrupted the detective. "Robert found out where I lived. I'd been hiding Renee. Brian was a homeless boy she'd started looking out for on the streets. There was no way Renee was going to leave the kid out there by himself, so she brought him with her to my apartment. I couldn't turn them away, nor could I call the cops! Robert is friends with lots of officers, who'd be more than willing to do his dirty work. You don't understand! He was in the parking lot where I live. A cop was with him, and—"

  Detective Delcan pushed a button on his cellphone and recited the address to the Montclair Estate.

  "I want the both of you to wait right over there. We're going to send emergency vehicles out to the house. Let's hope the fire hasn't spread to the neighboring homes, and that Robert Preston is still alive." Delcan eyed them suspiciously.

  "We didn't do anything wrong!" yelled Emma. She was bordering on hysteria.

  As Sean tried to quiet her and provide comfort, Vincent came bounding into the lobby.

  "What's going on?!" he firmly asked the detectives.

  "Do you know these two, and the shooting victims? Were you a witness? Let's start with your name." Detective Joy began to write again.

  "My name is Vincent Montclair. I'm the legal counsel for Emma Ward, Renee Preston, Sean, Jacob, and Tyler Montclair. If you have any further questions, you're to go through me, and I'll try my best to make arrangements for you to meet with my clients." Vincent handed the detectives his business card.

  "Wait a minute. Who's Tyler?" asked Delcan.

  Vincent sighed heavily as he looked over at Sean and Emma.

  "Tyler Montclair is our older brother. He's here, but he's not in any condition to be riddled with questions right now. Give him a few minutes to compose himself. The shooter, Robert Preston, is lying dead in the driveway at 61 Lake View Drive, in Castle Lake. We're all witnesses," explained Vincent.

  "And that old lady, Vinnie. What's her name?" asked Sean.

  "Angelique," offered Emma. "She should be around here somewhere. She was inside of the house with us when the fire started."

  Sean began to dart his eyes around, looking for her. "We picked Angelique up on the road when we saw her running. When we stopped outside of the emergency room, she got out of the van with us."

  "She probably climbed back inside the van!" exclaimed Emma.

  "No she isn't in there. I parked the van and locked it. I'm the only one with a key." Sean walked around the lobby.

  "Angelique, please come to Admissions," the clerk paged overhead, and then repeated it.

  After ten minutes, the clerk paged again, but Angelique, never appeared.

  "Okay," began Detective Delcan. "We need to gather everyone together and find out exactly what happened."

  "I'll round up Tyler, but I can't promise you that he'll be in any kind of shape to answer your questions," said Vincent as he walked off.

  The conference room was, basically, an ugly beige closet, with orange plastic chairs. Emma felt like she was cramped inside the van again; they were practically shoulder to shoulder. Her heart broke even more when she saw Tyler. He looked as if he'd aged ten years. He was facing the death of his brother, Jacob, and the love of his life, Renee, as well as the boy he'd grown so fond of, Brian. They still had no word on their conditions. Emma got up and asked Vincent if he'd swap places with her. She sat down next to Tyler and held his hand. His cheek was smeared with blood, but Emma didn't care. She kissed it anyway. The second she did, she realized that she'd have to muster up enough strength from within herself to share with this man.

  "I have to take this call, Delcan. I'll be right back." Detective Joy got up and stepped into the hallway.

  Delcan nodded, and then turned his attention back to the group. "Tyler Montclair, tell me what happened, from the beginning."

  "My brothers and I own a company a called Montclair Pharmaceuticals. We do summer cookouts to help out charities, mostly the homeless. That's where I first met Renee," Tyler smiled a little as his eyes watered.

  "You and Renee were having an affair? Are you married also?" Delcan slightly shook his head, which the rest of the group immediately spotted.

  "No! We weren't having an affair, and I'm not married. She told me about her husband Robert, and I felt the need to keep her safe." Tyler was starting to become defensive.

  As he talked, Emma realized that the detective was beginning to look at them with more suspicion. Where the hell was Angelique? She tried to replay the details of their confrontation with the older woman, and the drive to the hospital after picking her up.

  Emma cleared her throat and sat up straight. "When Jacob, Renee, and Brian, wake up, they can tell you what transpired. They were shooting victims, but we were all meant
to die in that fire. We have to find Angelique. She's about sixty-five years old, a little shorter than me, with long gray hair." Emma closed her eyes so she could think more clearly. "She was wearing a blue floral top and navy blue slacks. She's thin, almost frail looking. Her nails were polished pink. Angelique didn't knock on the door before coming inside the house. She claimed it was her house, but it isn't. I'm not completely convinced that Robert didn't pay her to start the fire."

  "Excuse me for a second," said Detective Delcan, when his partner motioned for him to step out into the hallway.

  "This isn't looking so good," warned Vincent. "From now on, you guys let me do all of the talking. Before you know it, the cops will read into everything you're saying…or not saying."

  Delcan and Joy, walked back into the conference room and sat down. They looked at each other, and then at the group.

  "So far," began Delcan, "there is only one person named Angelique in Castle Lake. She's two months old. Now, your house has been completely destroyed in the fire. No surrounding dwellings were damaged, but a large chunk of land is nothing but cinders. However, you all have some explaining to do. There was no body found on, or around, your home. What really happened?" Delcan flipped the page in his notebook and glared at each of them.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Robert coughed and gagged, as he came to in the thick smoke. The sound of tires screeching awoke him. Staggering to his feet, he saw the rifle on the ground and remembered what had happened. He recalled one of those sons of bitches hitting him in the back of his head. As he lifted his left hand to feel the wound, pain shot up his arm, causing him to scream. Seeing the brush blazing, Robert hurried and grabbed his rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and then picked up the empty gasoline can. As the ground spun underneath him, he stumbled to his rental car, which was parked a little ways down the road, hidden in the trees.

  When he got behind the wheel, the interior light revealed the bone in his forearm sticking out of the skin, like a piece of rice in red gravy. He knew it wasn't anything he couldn't fix. Hell, that's what sticks are for! He wasn't going to spend the rest of his money from Ron the Cop, on no rip off doctors. A little whiskey for the pain, and a little twisting here and there, and then pop! The bones would fit together like puzzle pieces. Even though the throbbing in his arm was causing sweat to drip off his face, like he was in a damn sauna, he smiled, knowing he'd killed one man on the porch, and shot Renee in the chest. Shit, when that other man dove on top of her to save her ass, he threw a bullet in him too. Bam! He'd gladly break his other arm to have seen their faces go slack. But noooo. Someone ruined his fun, and he'd find out exactly who that someone was.

  Robert thought about throwing his rifle in the lake, but figured he'd need it again, real soon. They must have run my freakin' arm over! That was okay though. He'd done the most damage, so he'd won. But, that also made him aware that someone had escaped the blaze. I'll get em', laughed Robert. He couldn't crack up too much, because it made his arm jiggle.

  As he reached the outskirts of Castle Lake, he saw a large, Victorian house, painted in a putrid blue and cream, with girly trim, and a sign out front. "Doctor Vegas. Office hours 9am to 4pm." That's too big of a place for some dinky, ear infection doctor. Robert shut his lights off and drove up the driveway, pulling the car around to the back. If his good arm wasn't so muscular, he'd reach up and pat himself on the back. It was just too easy to outsmart folks. He got out and lifted the rifle off of the back seat.

  Robert walked around front and rang the doorbell. A little light came on in the front room. Finally a middle-aged man answered the door, wearing hideous, blue-striped pajamas. He matches his house, thought Robert, as he laughed. He couldn't contain it.

  "Can I help you?" said the man with a long thin nose and wire-framed glasses.

  "I need to see the doc!" Robert demanded.

  "I'm sorry. My office is closed, but the hospital isn't too far." The weird looking man pointed to the left.

  Robert smiled and pushed his way inside.

  "What are you doing? I said the office is closed!" The man started to whine, which made Robert laugh harder.

  "Is anyone else in this house?!" He was more than willing to lay them to rest.

  "No," answered the doctor. His face went white.

  "Fix my arm!" He showed the moron the protruding bone sticking out of his forearm, and shoved the rifle at him.

  "I can't fix that in an office setting. You're going to need surgery!" The doctor rushed to the phone, but was tripped by Robert's dirty, size fifteen, high-tops.

  "You are breaking the law!" yelled Dr. Girly Pants, whose name was neatly engraved on a wooden plaque by the receptionist counter.

  Like people can't see the big ass sign in the yard. Robert cracked himself up. "Doctor Loser Boy, you seem to not be aware of the gun that I'm pointing at you." He reached over and cuffed him on the back of the head. "You're going to Viva. Las. Fix. My. Damn. Arm!" he shouted as he tightly grabbed the doctor's throat and pushed him into an exam room. "Turn the light on! If you do anything stupid, Doctor Asshat, I'll blow your brains out." Robert gave him a genuine smile.

  "Okay! Stop pointing the gun at me. I'll work on your arm the best I can. I'm going to have to inject you with some pain medicine first, though. This is really going to hurt. You won't be able to stand it without passing out." The doctor explained what he had to do.

  "Oh I see. You think you're going to drug me up, then call the cops. Not happening!! Fix my arm!!"

  "Let go of me! I'll just numb the area then, as best as I can. But you're still going to feel a lot of pain. You seem to not understand how serious of an injury you have." Dr. Vegas folded his arms in front of his chest.

  "Let's go get the numbing stuff. The first time I feel a little fuzzy in the head, I'm going to put a hole through your face!" Robert shoved the gun into his chest.

  The doctor backed up out of the room, and walked slowly to a desk. He pulled out a set of keys from the drawer, and then continued down the hall to another room.

  "Turn the light on!" screamed Robert.

  Dr. Vegas turned on the light. As soon as the room lit, Robert saw him slinging a metal basin right towards his head. Did the stupid doctor think he was slow? Did the Puny Jackass think he could be stopped by a bowl? Robert didn't mean for the gun to go off at that second, but it did. He felt good, knowing he'd protected himself. He'd never seen a hole through someone's throat before, but there it was. It seemed to be staring back at him like a third eye. You don't bring a bowl to a gunfight, Robert laughed hysterically.

  Chapter 3

  The detectives had asked to speak with Tyler alone, so Vincent insisted on accompanying him to a different conference room as opposed to going to the police station. Emma watched as Delcan and Joy walked down the hall with the two Montclair men. Law enforcement must believe them to some extent, or they'd have all been arrested already. Sean sat beside her, and normally there would be a light conversation between the two, but now, there was nothing to say; all they could do was wait.

  "I'm going to go back downstairs and see if there's any news on Jacob. Renee and Brian should be moved into their rooms soon." Sean kept his voice quiet.

  Emma quickly reached for his hand. "They said they'd call you about your brother, Sean. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be there by yourself. Wait here with me. Once Renee and Brian are out of the woods, and we know they're okay, I'll go with you to wait for a progress report on Jacob." Truth be told, Emma was the one who didn't want to be by herself. What if something happened? What if they weren't okay?

  "I know you're scared, Em. We all are. When you find out their room numbers, I want you to call me." Without waiting for a reply, Sean walked towards the elevator with his shoulders slumped.

  While Emma sat in the lounge, she became aware of other people staring at her. This was a small town after all. Certainly a stranger would be noticed. But it wasn't until she picked up a white sheet of paper listing the visitin
g hours, that she saw the dried blood on her hands. Emma closed her fists and hid them as best she could. In her mind, it was the only way to be with her friends. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approach her.

  "Are you with Renee Preston and Brian?" asked the nurse.

  "Yes. Are they here?" Emma stood up and her mouth went dry.

  "They should be arriving within the next thirty to forty-five minutes. I'm June. I'll be Brian's nurse. Did you find out his last name?" She slowly held out a washcloth, towel, and a pair of scrubs. "These should fit. I read the reports, and I'm sorry you guys had to go through such a tragedy tonight. The detective was here and said there'd be police officers stationed outside of the victims' rooms, so you don't have to worry about the shooter returning. I asked Detective Delcan if you could get cleaned up, and he said it was okay. I think it'll make you feel better."

  "It won't be a good idea for me to be gone right now. I want to be here when they arrive." Emma didn't take the items the nurse was offering to her.

  "What's your name?" June opened up the chart and began writing. "We don't have an emergency contact listed."

  "I'm Emma, a close friend to both of them. I won't be leaving the unit. You may also call Tyler, Sean, and Vincent Montclair. They'll be on hand as well." She recited their cellphone numbers as June wrote them down.

  "Come with me, Emma, you have plenty of time to take a relaxing shower. Besides, once they arrive on the unit, the staff and I will have a lot of work to do. It'll be a bit before you can visit." She motioned for Emma to follow.