by Diana Orgain
My head was throbbing and the shed seemed even darker than before. I realized my eyes were closed. I forced them open.
I must stay awake!
I banged on the door and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Jason! Buddy!” repeatedly.
Finally I slumped to the floor, exhausted and in pain. I thought of Laurie and sobs wracked my body.
My hands squeezed the dirt. Could I dig my way out? I scrapped and pushed the dirt around. Digging as quickly as I could. The effort was making me dizzy, but I chanted, “Laurie, Jim,” over and over again to keep myself going.
My tongue felt thick with thirst and bending forward to dig was making the dizziness worse.
I couldn’t stop though, I had to keep digging. Fearing that if I stopped I’d pass out again, I persisted until finally the ground seemed to tilt up to meet me and darkness ensconced me.
Sounds.
I heard sounds. Was it gravel crunching?
My eyes fluttered open and I screamed out and resumed my banging on the door.
Footsteps approached. A man’s voice called out. “Hello?”
“Help me! Oh God. I’m locked in here. Please help me.”
“One moment, ma’ am,” the voice said. “Hey. I need bolt cutters over here.”
I closed my eyes, rested my head against the door, and prayed.
I couldn’t make out who was outside or how many people but when the door opened I was relieved to feel the cold night breeze on my face.
Strong hands grabbed at my arms. “Are you injured?”
“Yes. My head . . .”
“Hold still. I need a gurney.”
There were more voices. It was dark and things were fuzzy to me, but I could make out a star on a uniform.
“Are you . . . ?”
“I’m Bill O’Sullivan. San Carlos PD. We’re going to take you to emergency. Okay? Is there someone I can call?”
I was being lifted on a gurney. I was able to squeak out Jim’s name before blankness overtook me again.
I opened my eyes and took in the bright surroundings. A hospital room, someone holding my hand.
Jim!
He was sitting on a chair next to my bed, clasping my hand in both of his. His head was lowered in prayer.
I squeezed his hand, but emotion overtook me and I cried out before I could speak.
Jim’s head popped up and clutched my hand. “Kate!”
“Where’s Laurie!” I sobbed.
“Laurie’s fine. She’s great. She’s with your mom.”
“I want to see her. What am I doing here?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I think I do. I remember the shed and Jean-Luc, the cops. I guess I don’t remember coming to the hospital. When can I go home?”
“The doctor has to release you. I hope soon. How do you feel?”
“My head hurts.”
Jim laughed and rubbed my cheek. “I would think so. They did an MRI, you have a slight concussion, but the overall opinion was that we’re lucky you have such a hard head.”
“What day is it?” I asked.
“Christmas Eve,” he said.
“Did they catch Jean-Luc?” I asked.
Jim’s expression grew grave. “Yeah. Honey, they got him.”
“Is he here at the hospital, too? He was bleeding pretty bad—”
He squeezed my hand again. “Kate, he’s dead.”
• CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT •
I stared at Jim, the news sinking in slowly. “Wh . . .what do you mean? Do you mean that I . . .”
“He died of a head injury. One of the neighbors saw him slumped over the steering wheel of his car and she called the police. That’s how they found you. He’d left a trail of blood to the potting shed. He was rushed to ICU, but he didn’t make it.”
Jim and I looked at each other for a few moments.
“I killed him,” I whispered.
Jim nodded solemnly. “It was him or you, Kate. He left you to die.”
I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath. There was a strange pressure over my heart, a fear, an indescribable heaviness. In a matter of a few life-altering moments, I had become another person. I’d become a killer.
“Don’t get stuck in that place, Kate,” Jim said.
I opened my eyes. “What place?”
“You’re thinking that somehow you’re a bad person.”
“I just killed a man.”
“We can regret that he’s dead, the loss of life, but you can’t regret defending yourself. You can’t apologize for saving your own life,” Jim said.
He stared into my eyes and I knew he was right as I held on to his hand. “I love you,” he said.
“No matter what?” I asked, starting to cry.
“No matter what,” he replied.
“I got two tickets the other day. One for an expired meter and the other for not curbing my tires,” I said through my tears.
Jim burst out laughing.
The door to my room opened and Galigani peeked in. “Kid! You’re awake!”
He held the door open for Mom, who was cradling Laurie.
Tears poured from my eyes. I tried to jump out of bed to grab Laurie, but Jim stopped me.
Mom placed Laurie in my arms and hugged us both. I squeezed Laurie to me and wept. Laurie’s blue eyes peered up at me, her hands pulling at my hair. She smiled and cooed.
I held her to my heart, feeling all her goodness and trying to absorb her innocence.
Suddenly I remembered Kevin Gibson. “Galigani, did they search Kevin’s house? Is he in the Bahamas?”
Galigani and Jim exchanged looks.
My heart sank
“Gibson was strangled to death. They found his body in a bedroom closet,” Galigani said.
“Was Jean-Luc working alone?” Jim asked. “Or was the consul behind it?”
“Looks like the consul was ignorant of everything. When he found out from Kate that Kimberly had been banged around he started cooperating with homicide. Apparently, Jean-Luc had paid a visit to Kimberly to pry information out of her. She didn’t know much but that didn’t stop him from giving her a black eye. She ran to the press guy, Christophe, to try and piece things together and, mostly, I think keep her name clean,” Galigani said.
“Will the consul still be ambassador?” I asked.
“They’re transferring him to Sudan,” Galigani said.
“To a comparable post?” Jim asked.
“I’m not sure,” Galigani said. “It’s clear they want him out of the U.S. He obviously wasn’t watching things too closely and they won’t want to reward that. We don’t know who will get the ambassador post yet, but word has it that Christophe will be the new consul here,” Galigani said.
“What about Kimberly? Will she go to Sudan?” I asked.
Galigani shook his head. “No. She’s all over the papers. Calvin Rabara announced their engagement and his intention to run for mayor next year.”
“What?” I asked.
Galigani laughed and patted my shoulder. “Oh, kid, you’ve only seen a tiny bit of the city’s political underbelly; it could always be worse.”
Silence took over the room, each one of us reflecting on the unnecessary loss of life.
Galigani cleared his throat. “McNearny’s not happy about the extra paperwork, but he did call me to make sure I wish you a merry Christmas.”
Several hours passed and while waiting for my doctor to release me from the hospital, Galigani and I conferred with Gary Barramendi. Barramendi agreed to provide San Carlos PD. with a carefully crafted statement that he, Galigani, and I had worked on.
Finally the doctor gave me a clean bill of health, along with some strong pain relievers and we were on our way.
Jim tried to reassure me on our way home that Christmas dinner could still be salvaged. Our tradition was a honey-baked ham on Christmas Eve, and fortunately all that was required for that was a bit of warming.
“Anyhow, Galigani and Mom will be happy just to b
e with you,” Jim said.
As we approached our house we saw someone standing on our front steps.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
The man turned and waved at us as we pulled into our driveway. He was holding something in his hands.
“That’s Ramon,” Jim said.
We got out of the car and greeted him.
“Kate! Your head! Are you all right?”
I absently touched the bandages. “Yeah.”
Jim carried Laurie up the steps and opened the door. We all marched inside and settled into the living room. Ramon set the tray he was carrying on my coffee table, and then fussed over me while Jim put Laurie down in her crib.
“I saw the story on the news. You’re amazing,” he said, propping up my feet and sticking a pillow behind my head. “I brought this for you and your family.” He pulled the tinfoil off the tray. “Traditional Mexican Christmas dinner. Tamales!”
The aroma filled the room.
Jim returned to the living room; his jaw dropped. “You shouldn’t have. Let me get some plates,” he said.
The bell rang.
“Do you want me to get that?” Ramon asked.
I nodded.
Ramon let Galigani and Mom inside. Mom was holding a shopping bag full of wrapped presents that she popped under the tree. She eyed the tray of tamales and clapped her hands. “What a treat!”
The doorbell rang again. Mom and I looked at each other. We were all present and accounted for, so I couldn’t guess who it could be.
“I’ll get it,” Mom said.
Paula, David, and Danny marched in.
David was carrying two brown sacks from the grocery store. “Merry Christmas! I brought beer,” he said.
Before I could introduce Paula to Ramon, she was already digging into the tamales. Danny came to sit on my lap and play with my head bandage. He kept repeating, “Auntie Kate have an owie?”
“This is a surprise,” I said to Paula.
“We heard about your near miss,” Paula said. “Celebrating with you trumped eating David’s mother’s driedout dinner. We didn’t know about the tamales, that’s just a bonus.” She smiled at Ramon.
The doorbell sounded again. I smiled to myself. It had to be Kenny. That boy could smell a party a mile away. Mom opened the door. Kenny and, to my surprise, Butterfly marched in.
Kenny was holding a gold envelope. His eyes danced when he saw the tray of tamales.
Jim, who had made several trips to the kitchen for plates, now placed one in Kenny’s hand. “Here, bud.”
Kenny handed the envelope to Jim. “The ballet called. I play tomorrow. Closing show of The Nutcracker. These are comps for you and Kate. Merry Christmas!”
Suddenly my throat closed up and tears sprang to my eyes.
Jim’s hand shot toward me and he squeezed it. “Honey, what’s the matter? Is it your head?”
The room was silent; all eyes were on me.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “You all are the best family and friends anyone could ever ask for.”
To Do:
1. Eat (all the leftovers).
2. Love (the wonderful people in my life).
3. Sleep (until New Year’s).
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Diana Orgain
BUNDLE OF TROUBLE
MOTHERHOOD IS MURDER
FORMULA FOR MURDER
