Summer's Surrender

by LM Spangler

  “I’m leaving now, but I’m going to have a plainclothes cop in the area as well as an unmarked vehicle who will both be on the lookout for Carmichael. Please don’t assume that they will be enough. Be vigilant. Keep your eyes open. If a situation doesn’t feel right, then avoid it. Am I making myself clear?”

  The trio agreed.

  With that bit of advice, he took the envelope and its contents and left the shop. The three of them stood in stunned silence.

  “Jolene, have your brother come stay with you tonight. I should be with Ian, otherwise Carmichael might know we’re onto him.”

  “I’ll go call now.” Jolene stepped away to place the call.

  Summer waited until Jolene was out of earshot, then she faced Ian. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I know you, and I know you think you did something wrong. Listen to me. You. Did. Not. Do. Anything. Wrong.” Her hands went to her hips. “Am I making myself clear?”

  His brows rose. “Yes, crystal clear.” He pushed the chair back toward the desk and lowered himself into it. “It’s all too surreal.”

  She moved behind him and massaged his tense shoulder and neck muscles. “It’s a case of when past and present collide.”

  And she prayed that the present wouldn’t mimic the past.

  Chapter 7

  Summer spent the rest of the day looking over her shoulder, looking for Richard Carmichael, demented revenge seeker.

  Her emotions were nothing compared to what Ian must’ve been going through. To know your father was responsible for killing three innocent people, one of which was your mother.

  She also imagined he wanted to strangle his aunt and uncle for keeping the secret from him. He was twenty-four years old. He could’ve handled hearing the dreadful news.

  Glancing at the watch on her wrist, she saw that it was six-thirty. Ian would arrive at any minute to collect her. Carmichael wouldn’t dare to show up, would he?

  The front door opened, and thankfully it was Riley, Jolene’s brother. After Jolene explained the situation to him, he’d agreed to stay with her.

  Jolene hugged him. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I hope the cops catch the bastard. I’ll kill him if he lays a hand on either one of you.”

  “Get in line,” Summer said. She didn’t doubt that Riley could inflict some damage. The man was built like a linebacker.

  They chatted for twenty minutes before Ian joined them. Summer introduced him to Riley.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Ian said, nodding at Riley. Then he faced Summer. “Anything odd happen since we last met?” he asked.

  “No. Had a steady stream of customers this afternoon, but I knew each one of them.” Summer rubbed her arms. “This whole situation sucks.”

  “To some more than others,” Ian replied.

  Summer exhaled an exasperated sigh and stood with hands on her hips.

  He grimaced. “Er…maybe not.”

  A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

  He laughed. “You’re one tough cookie. Shall we leave, milady?”

  They followed Riley and Jolene out of the store. Summer activated the security system.

  Ian offered his arm and linked hers with his. They walked to Rosie’s Crafts, which took all of two minutes at a slow pace. They took their time shopping, all the while keeping an eye out for Richard Carmichael. And, not surprisingly, he was nowhere to be found. She, however, left with a bag full of items for her store.

  “Do you want to see the focal wall of the store? Or at least the start of it?” Ian asked.

  “Of course I do.”

  “It’s not finished yet, but your sister and Cale have been busting their humps.”

  They chatted on the short stroll to his store. Ian unlocked the front door, and he and Summer stood at the portion of his store that would be the sales floor.

  “Oh, wow.” She couldn’t resist running her hand over the soft, velvet covering. “So luxurious. I love it. The matte finished notes stand out against the plush background. Your contractor and Autumn have been off and running.”

  “Cale is impressive. He and Autumn mesh so well. I’ve been lucky. They work like a well-oiled machine.”

  Summer sniffed the air, making audible inhalation noises. The scent of lemon sugar cookies drifted from the back. Self-preservation kicked her instincts into high gear. “Oh shit. Let’s get out of here.” Grabbing his arm, she pulled him toward the door.

  “No one’s going anywhere,” said a male voice from the door between the front and rear.

  “Who’s there?” Ian asked.

  “Richard Carmichael.” Summer eyed the pistol aimed in their direction.

  Steely eyes bore into them, and a sadistic smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “So nice to see you. Hands where I can see them.” Richard moved the gun from Summer to Ian and back again.

  “What do you want?” she asked. Her voice held confidence, but her insides quaked. Her heart slammed in her chest while she fought the urge to squirm under the madman’s scrutiny.

  “You are a wicked wench, aren’t you?” Richard asked.

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “We’ll have to get to know each other. Come over here,” he instructed her.

  “Leave her out of this, Carmichael. It’s me you want.”

  “Ah, I planned on focusing on you. By the way, you need a better security system. I was able to pick the lock and disable it in seconds.”

  “How did you manage it?” Ian asked, the whip of anger apparent in his voice.

  “I’m a computer programmer and know how those things work,” Richard replied. He leveled the gun at Summer. “I told you to come over here.”

  “Fine. Don’t hurt us.” Summer managed to move toward their assailant though her limbs were leaden, fear making them cumbersome.

  Carmichael used his free hand to spin her around, his strong arm surrounding her neck. He pressed the gun against her temple. When she struggled against the chokehold, he increased the pressure, making her whimper.

  “Don’t hurt her, Carmichael. It’s me you have a beef with,” Ian said. “Let her go.”

  “No, I don’t think I will,” Richard spat. “My first plan was going to be killing you, Mr. Jacobs.”

  Fetid breath washed over her neck. Bile threatened to rise to her throat, but she fought it off. Showing her fear would only serve to entice the maniac who had her in his grasp.

  “But now I think I’ll take from you what you cherish the most. That’s what your dad did to me,” Richard continued. “He hit our car so hard it flipped over and over.” He rubbed the scar on his forehead.

  “That was my dad, not me. I’m not my father.”

  “Aren’t you? A tisket, a tasket. He was an alcoholic. You’re an alcoholic. Like father, like son.”

  “It was his dad who hit your family’s car, not Ian. He wasn’t even there,” Summer argued, trying to get through to the madman.

  “Sure, he was. I remember hearing him cry out for the first time when they cut him from the womb. I was fortunate enough to have access to the accident’s case file. I knew exactly who murdered my parents. I couldn’t get to his father before he drank himself to death, so Ian became my target. I followed his career in Los Angeles. Went backstage at some of his shows. You were never too far away from your bottle of whiskey, were you, Ian?”

  “No, I wasn’t,” he agreed. “But I never hurt you. You’re blaming the wrong Jacobs.”

  Richard half-shrugged. “Sorry. You’re the only one left. No, that’s incorrect. Now you have Summer.”

  She couldn’t suppress a whimper of pain when he jabbed the barrel of the pistol harder against her temple. Cold sweat wetted her brow.

  “Summer’s innocent. She had nothing to do with this.”

  “Oh, I’m not blaming her. She’s a pawn. Now she’s going to be your downfall.”

  “What do you mean?” Ian demanded.

  “It’s simple. Yo
u’re in love with Mr. Jacobs, aren’t you, Summer?” He caressed the side of her face with the cool gun barrel.

  Her gaze went to Ian’s and their eyes locked. “Yes, I love him. I never stopped.” Emotions swamped Ian’s eyes—anger, regret, and something else she couldn’t identify.

  “You see, if I kill her, you lose the woman who loves you. My family loved me, and they were taken away.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!”

  “Maybe not, but since you’re the only one remaining, then by default the blame falls on you.”

  “Your logic is twisted,” Summer said, trying to find a way to reason with Richard. “Ian, at most, was just born when this happened. He’s still blameless.”

  “Doesn’t make a difference now. I’ll have my revenge, which means you, my dear, will die tonight,” Richard stated, leaving little doubt of his intentions.

  “How do you expect to get away with this? You’re going to have to kill me too,” Ian said.

  “No. You’re going to live. I’ve been living an empty life until now. After she dies, I’ll end my own existence knowing I caused you pain and misery. I will take the knowledge of your empty life to my grave.”

  “You’re insane,” Summer said. “This is worth killing yourself?”

  “Yes, it is. I’ve been waiting many years to get my revenge, and tonight I’ll have it. Ian Jacobs will watch the woman who loves him die before his eyes. He’ll suffer for the rest of his days.” Richard let out a wretched laugh.

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Summer tried to explain. “What will killing me solve? Ian will live, and I’m sure another woman will fall in love with him. The only people who lose are you and I. He loses nothing. Your revenge will be empty.”

  Summer risked a glance at Ian. He was shaking, and she was sure it was with anger. His eyes betrayed nothing.

  “Nice try. Who else would have a drunkard? You’re a weak woman for falling for an alcoholic. What’s the matter, Summer? You’re trembling.”

  “I’m shaking. There’s a difference.”

  She was indeed quivering. Her anger spiked to a fever pitch. Only on rare occasions did she lose her temper, but she was on the edge of a major meltdown that could result in her death. The man knew nothing about Ian—who he was or what he’d become. In Richard’s eyes, he was a scapegoat. A means to a maniacal end.

  “Ian is more of a man than you’ll ever be,” she stated through clenched teeth.

  “Ah, sticks and stones,” Richard replied. “I’m going to take great pleasure in killing you, Summer. It’s a shame though. You’re a beautiful woman. Fitting for someone of Mr. Jacobs’ caliber.”

  “Is there no reasoning with you?” Ian asked.

  Ian was trying to buy time. She searched her mind for a plan, something that would turn the tables on her captor.

  Richard released her and pushed her in front of him. “I’m going to kill her.” He raised the gun, aimed...and all hell broke loose.

  “Don’t you dare hurt my granddaughter!” Nana shouted before unleashing a banshee yell.

  Richard crashed to the ground in a heap. Nana hit him with her oversized handbag. Again, and again, and again. Thud after thud after thud. He tried to get up, but Nana swung the purse like a baseball bat, knocking him to the ground again.

  Ian raced to them, carrying a cord of rope. “Enough, Nana.” He pulled her away. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  He pulled Richard upright. The deranged man broke free, swinging his fist toward Ian. Ian evaded the blow, and his hand shot out like lightning, connecting with Richard’s nose. Blood spewed from his wound.

  Ian pulled Richard to him. “That’s for threatening the woman I love.” He pulled Richard’s hands behind his back and secured them with the rope. The man crumpled, crying silent tears.

  A moment later, Ian called 9-1-1, requesting Officer Burkhardt.

  “What a shame, Richard. You survived a horrific crash, which was a miracle. You should have counted your blessings instead of counting the days until you could enact your revenge.” Summer shook her head before facing Nana, who looked like a warrior with her disheveled hair and wild eyes. Her lethal bag of death hung from her shoulder. Her chest heaved with every hard breath. “How did you get in here, Nana?” she asked as she massaged the area where Richard had jammed the barrel of his gun.

  “I went to your house to yell at you for not telling me about this afternoon. I saw this man fidgeting with the back door, so I moved slowly in hopes of finding out who was breaking in. He went inside, and I waited until I thought the coast was clear. I picked the lock and slipped inside. Luckily, the alarm didn’t go off. Then I heard him hurting you, and I knew I had to do something.”

  Summer’s brows furrowed. “Where did you learn to pick a lock?” she asked Nana, and then held up a hand. “Wait. I don’t want to know.” She faced Ian and blew her hair out of her face. “What a night.”

  “How did you know he was here?” Ian asked Summer.

  “I smelled the candles Jolene sold him this afternoon,” Summer answered.

  “You always were a smart one,” Nana said.

  Summer grabbed her in a bear hug. “I love you, Nana.”

  “I love you too, child.”

  * * * *

  Two hours later, the cops, paramedics, and Summer’s family had left the music store. She and Ian were hugged and told that if something like this ever happened again, they’d better tell everyone.

  “Are you okay to walk home?” Ian asked Summer.

  “I only live across the street. I’ll be fine. I’ve got a slight headache, but I can walk. You have blood on your shirt. I think we both need a hot shower and a change of clothes.”

  Ian looked down. His shirt was covered in Richard’s blood. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

  “Come over when you’ve changed. The door will be unlocked.”

  She left the shop, and within a minute, she stepped into her house.

  Summer reeked of Richard Carmichael. Her stomach roiled, so she made her way to her bathroom, desperate to cleanse herself of the madman’s stench. She turned on all four showerheads and adjusted the water temperature to one hundred ten degrees. When the shower came up to temperature, she stepped into the enclosure.

  “Oh,” she moaned as heaven rained over her. She closed her eyes and stood statue-still while the hot water cascaded down her body.

  Her mind rewound itself to earlier in the evening. She’d never known fear like that. She had wanted to pass out, to escape what she’d assumed would happen. Her body had become leaded, barely cooperating with her brain. She couldn’t fight, couldn’t move.

  And then Nana had come in like gangbusters. Wielding her purse as a deadly weapon. Summer laughed despite nearly getting killed.

  Ten minutes later, Summer stepped out of the shower. She turban-wrapped her hair, dried her body, slid a loose, oversized t-shirt over her head, and then pulled on a pair of boxer style shorts. The towel around her hair had absorbed as much water as it could, so she placed both towels on the rack to dry.

  Padding barefoot over the hardwood floors, she made her way to the kitchen. A cup of chamomile tea was in order, and she put a mug of water in the microwave to heat. Three and a half minutes later, she steeped the tea bag in the hot liquid.

  Her doorbell rang. The spoon she’d been holding clattered on the countertop. “Damn it!” Her nerves were still ramped.

  As she strode toward the front of the house, she wondered when she’d feel normal again. Having a gun jammed in your temple was not normal.

  When she reached the door, she peeked through the peephole. Officer Burkhardt. She opened the door. “Hi. What can I do for you?” she asked with a hint of surprise in her voice.

  The officer removed his hat. “I have a few more questions to ask you. Do you mind if I come in?”

  Summer stepped aside. “Sure. Let’s go to the kitchen. I have a cup of tea steeping. Would you like a drink?”

  “No. Thank yo
u though.”

  After shutting the door, Summer led Officer Burkhardt to the kitchen.

  “Please sit,” Summer offered, motioning toward the dining table.

  He shook his head. “Again, no, thank you.”

  Reaching toward his chest, he pulled his notebook from his pocket and laid it on the island. He then reached behind his back and produced a gun that must have been tucked in his waistband. The pistol was placed next to the notepad.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What does the gun have to do with anything?”

  Officer Burkhardt’s face contorted, becoming a twisted mask of anger, the change Jekyll and Hyde like. His eyes matched the wildness of Nana’s only hours ago. “No. You wouldn’t understand, would you, Ms. Duncan? You’ve never had to console a young boy who’d just lost his parents because a drunken sot killed them, have you?” He lifted the pistol and trained it on Summer.

  For the second time in one night, Summer stared down the barrel of a gun. She opened her mouth to answer, but only a squeak escaped. She settled on shaking her head.

  Summer had a smack-her-forehead moment. “Duh. How could I have missed it? Only someone close to the situation could have known to check California for Richard’s driver’s license. There was never a return address on the packages. Only a person who was close to the incident would know where to look. Plus, he had access to the police files.” The puzzle pieces fell into place

  “Very astute of you, Ms. Duncan. His parents didn’t just die—the father of the man you’re dating murdered them. Richard told me what happened when I took him to the police station. He’d originally planned on murdering Mr. Jacobs, but killing you would have damaged Mr. Jacobs more than any bullet could.”

  Summer raised her hands in surrender. “You are as demented as Richard is.”

  Officer Burkhardt threw his head back and laughed. “Where do you think the idea came from?”

  Chills raced up her spine as the knot in her stomach grew, threatening to revolt. “You?” Disbelief replaced gut-wrenching fear. “You groomed him to do this? To murder?”

  “Let me tell you a story. Twenty-four years ago, I rolled up at an accident scene with fatalities. Both cars were mangled, destroyed. As I walked past an ambulance, I noticed a young boy sitting in the back. A white bandage crossed his forehead. He stared at one vehicle—the vehicle with his dead parents. He fought to be tough, not to cry. I vowed that day that I’d take care of the boy, take him in. And I did.”