Never Be Safe: A Suspense Thriller
Page 24
It really was over.
“What . . . what happened?” Cath heard herself asking.
“I wish I knew,” Dan said. “I wish I knew. But I can’t say I care.”
“Well, did you shoot him?”
Dan shook his head. “His gun was pressed against my head. There was nothing I could do. I’d made peace with my maker, thought I was about to bite it. And then I heard the shot, opened my eyes, and thought I might be in heaven. But there he was, blood coming from a neck wound, his gun at his feet. I did the only thing I could.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never gave anyone a headbutt before. Don’t plan on doing it again. But hell, it felt so good. He staggered back, till he was right on the ledge, then Phoebe ran up to him and kicked his shin, and he fell.”
“So, where did the shot come from?”
“I have no idea. And right at this moment I don’t think it matters. Oh, Cath, I thought I’d never set eyes on you and the children again, but here I am. We’re all safe. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Mommy, Daddy.” Phoebe pulled their arms to get attention. “Look over there.”
They both turned to face where Phoebe was pointing: the wooded area to the side, where three figures were stomping through the knee-high grasses in the foreground.
“Who the hell are they?” Cath said.
“Let’s go,” Dan said, grabbing Phoebe and Benjie by the hand. “Run for cover. Behind the hotel.”
“What’s wrong?” Cath said.
“Two of them have rifles, that’s what’s wrong.”
“But they’re . . .” Cath waited a few moments, slitting her eyes to focus. “I think they’re police.”
They waited a few seconds, then Dan looked more closely and said, “Oh, God. I think you’re right.”
“And is that . . .? It looks a bit like . . . it is, it’s Susan Jones. I don’t get it. I really don’t understand, but hell, am I glad to see her.”
A few minutes later, Susan Jones and two marksmen were standing in front of them.
Cath was the first to thank her, and threw her arms around her, almost taking her off the ground.
“Would you mind telling us what the hell’s going on here?” Dan said.
“Do you have a big black car?” Phoebe asked.
“How did you know that?” Jones said.
“I saw it earlier on the road.”
Jones smiled at her. “Guess we weren’t as stealthy as we thought.” She looked up at Dan and Cath. “I guess I owed you, Cath. In a way, this is all my fault. And I’m so sorry.”
“Why is it your fault?” Dan asked.
“Vinnie told me,” Cath said. “He told me about your, uh . . . your friend’s husband – the guy who sold on the information to pay off his gambling debts.”
Jones smiled awkwardly. “Truth is, she wasn’t exactly a friend of mine.”
“I guessed that.”
“And he’ll get what’s coming to him. Me too, I guess.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it. I figure you saved four lives today.”
“I had a little help.” Susan glanced at the marksmen. “I just drove them here.”
“But how did you know where we were?”
“Like I said, I knew I owed you. I put everything I had into tracking down what remained of Vinnie’s old friends. We knew Jonathan Dee had been visiting Vinnie in prison – that they were friends – so we kept our eye on him. And when he started out on the road up here, we followed.”
“Jonathan?” Dan said. “You mean, Johnny? The big guy?”
Jones nodded and said, “Where is he?”
“His body’s in the old hotel. Vinnie shot him in the head.”
“He shot his only friend.” Susan shook her head in despair. “You know, that sounds just like Vinnie. By all accounts he was always pretty mean that way.”
In her back yard, Cath was broken from her reverie by a head leaning down and a kiss on the lips.
Dan sat next to her, front row seats to watch the children, and motioned to take the soda from her hand. “Had a good day?”
She let him take it. “Oh, definitely making progress. You?”
“Just about found my feet again. I’m not sure anyone even remembers the month I took off recovering.”
“I’ve been thinking. I might not want to go back to Verusian; I might take that job at the women’s shelter instead.”
“Whatever you want.” Dan put his arm around her, and they both sat quietly watching their children play.
Cath’s grandma had once told her that for a house to count as a true home, it had to hold one or two bad memories as well as good ones. Cath now felt that forty-one Lancaster Drive was her true home.
Their neighbors were none the wiser about what had happened, so after discussions, Cath and Dan had decided to stay at the same house and carry on exactly as they had before. If nothing else, that would help the children settle back down to a normal existence. During the month Dan had taken off work, he and Cath opened out the hidden room in the basement and converted it to a play-den for Phoebe and Benjie.
In time, Susan Jones went through a tribunal regarding the disclosure of confidential information, where Cath insisted on speaking in her defense. She received an official warning and put in for a transfer to Seattle, which was granted. Her husband ended up in Terminal Island – a low security prison, but still a prison, and soon after that became her ex-husband. Before Susan left to start her new life in Seattle, she and Cath agreed to stay in touch. They were all pleased to hear that Jonathan received the religious burial he would have wanted, but they never spoke of him again.
And after all of that, the four members of the Brewer family were now starting to settle back into their previous normal, humdrum life together, because normal was all Cath had ever wanted out of life. Cath and Dan knew that with the passing of time, lots of love, and just a little counselling, the children would get over the whole incident with no evident mental scars.
Cath accepted that she and Dan would always have the occasional argument, just like any regular couple, but knew that they would forever agree on one thing in particular, that on that momentous day back at the old hotel, three people had died: Jonathan Dee, Vincent Lemont, and Karen Fisher.
Most importantly, they agreed never to speak of Karen Fisher again.
About the Author
Ray Backley writes fiction in a variety of genres under a variety of pen names. Please visit www.raybackley.com to read more about him, and feel free to email him at raybackley@gmail.com
By the Same Author
If you enjoyed this story please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads, and feel free to check out Ray Backley’s other titles:
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