“Dad! Someone’s in the house!”
There was no response. Fear swept over her as she flipped the light switch on the wall next to the door. Her mother and father were lying partially beneath the blood-soaked covers. Her father appeared to have been stabbed in his sleep with a single stab wound to his neck. Her mother had obviously tried to defend herself, indicated by the cuts to her hands and arms, and was half off the bed. Casey stared at her butchered parents while frozen with fear. For a moment, it didn’t seem real. There was a thump against the door, jolting her out of her daze. She ran toward the bed and grabbed the bedside phone near her slain father. There was no dial tone. She cried out while tossing the phone aside then hesitated only a moment before removing a key from the bedside drawer. She ran for the nearby gun cabinet. The door vibrated again. Casey fumbled with the key in trembling hands and unlocked the cabinet as the bedroom doorframe suddenly splintered. She removed a double-barrel shotgun as the door flew open, turned toward the door, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
The intruder saw the shotgun and dove out of the room as buckshot from both barrels exploded the door. Casey tossed the shotgun aside and grabbed the .357 Magnum revolver. Her mind had momentarily shut down and she intended to shoot the first thing that moved. When nothing moved, she uncertainly approached the shattered door and steadied the massive gun as it trembled in her hands. There was no one there. She could barely control her heavy breathing as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. She looked both directions while steadying the gun then hurried along the hall with her back to the wall. She only paused once before her darkened, open bedroom door to peer inside. The sheer curtains fluttered inward from a breeze blowing through the open window. Nothing else moved within the darkened room. She hurried past her bedroom and for the back, kitchen stairs while attempting to make as little sound as possible.
Casey appeared on the backstairs with the gun leveled and her back to the wall. The dimly lit kitchen was empty and nothing moved. She looked at the closed kitchen door with the fear evident on her face. She considered her options only once and darted to the cupboard beneath the sink. She removed a first aid kit and hurried for the living room. She paused within the archway to the living room, looked around for signs of the intruder, and then hurried to Grey’s side. She set down the large gun and fumbled through the medical kit.
“I’m here. It’s okay,” she said softly to him.
Grey’s eyes were shut and he didn’t move. Casey stared at him with alarm as panic swept over her.
“Grey?”
He didn’t respond. Unbeknownst to her, the intruder crept down the main stairs behind her. He made his way quietly down the steps and approached her from behind with the bloody knife clutched in his hand. Although barely noticeable, the faint sound of his leather gloves gripping the knife sounded like a freight train to Casey. Casey suddenly grabbed the gun from the floor alongside her, spun on her hip, and fired wildly at the stairs. The startled intruder leapt behind her father’s lounge chair for shelter. Casey stood up, showed no emotion, and fired several shots into the chair. The .357 shells exploded through the chair and one or two shattered the window behind it. The gun clicked empty several times as she continued to squeeze the trigger. She finally gasped and returned from her rage-induced trance. Casey stared at the shredded chair with multiple bullet holes through it. There was no sound or movement. She had gotten him! She took a step toward the torn chair. The intruder suddenly leapt out from behind the chair and tackled her to the floor just past Grey’s motionless body. Casey screamed and held back the knife. He grabbed her throat to subdue her. She rammed her knee into his inner thigh, narrowly missing her intended target, and jolted him enough to loosen his grip on her throat. Having momentarily stunned him, she scrambled to her feet and ran into the kitchen.
Casey ran from the house, leaping the four steps from the porch, and raced for the barn with the intruder only a few yards behind her. All the horses were immediately alerted and watched from the pasture. Casey reached the gate and attempted to unlatch it as Storm snorted loudly in panic from several feet away. The intruder roughly tackled Casey to the ground, and they rolled several times. She ended up on top and punched him in his masked face. As she attempted to leap off him, he grabbed her foot and pulled her to her hands and knees. Storm snorted, pinned his ears, and reared up in the paddock. Casey looked at the intruder on the ground behind her holding her ankle and kicked him in the shoulder. She jumped to her feet and again ran for the gate. Storm bolted back and forth before the gate with his head high while snorting loudly. The intruder tackled her roughly into the gate, vibrating it with a loud clatter. Storm’s ears were pinned back and his nostrils wrinkled as his teeth bared. Her horse had never shown such aggression before. As the horse lunged forward, the intruder slung Casey roughly to the ground and narrowly avoided the horse’s teeth. Casey rolled several times across the ground. She appeared disoriented as she slowly moved to her hands and knees. The man dressed entirely in black approached and kicked her in her side. Casey gasped, clutched her ribs, and nearly fell the rest of the way to the ground.
Storm continued to snort loudly and bolted past the fence. The intruder grabbed Casey’s hair and pulled her to her knees. She gasped painfully and looked at the man now standing over her. The sound of thundering hoof beats was all Casey heard. As she looked at the fence, the massive gray horse majestically jumped the tall gate and charged for them. The intruder saw the charging horse, gasped, and released Casey. Storm sideswiped the man with his shoulder and knocked him to the ground while sliding to a skidding stop. The horse pivoted on his hindquarters to face the man on the ground, pinned his ears, squealed loudly, and reared up over the fallen man. The alarmed intruder rolled out of the path of the thrashing hooves as they violently and repeatedly struck the ground in a purposeful attempt to crush him. Her horse had come to her defense, something Casey never would have imagined if she hadn’t seen if for herself.
Casey ran for Storm, steadied him as he danced in place, and easily swung onto him bareback. The intruder sprang to his feet as Casey sent the horse into a gallop. The intruder slashed his knife as they passed, slicing Casey’s leg and the horse’s hindquarters. Storm popped into a buck, thrashed his hind leg in response to the pain, and suddenly reared up, causing Casey to topple off his back. Storm raced down the driveway as blood ran down his leg from the gash. Casey appeared dazed while slowly moving to her hands and knees and watched the horse disappear down the driveway. Her attacker punched her on the side of the head. Casey collapsed to the ground and appeared to be out cold. He slung her over his shoulder and carried her back to the house.
†
It was a little after two o’clock in the morning. The police blazer drove along the dark back road past thick woods and large fields. It was a peaceful, quiet night with just enough humidity to bring about a storm closer to morning. The massive gray horse suddenly galloped onto the paved road in front of the blazer. The police blazer slammed on its brakes and skidded with a loud squeal. The horse reared up in the middle of the road directly in front of the vehicle with blood streaking its hind leg then bolted across the road and continued into the nearby field.
†
The masked attacker carried the motionless Casey into the kitchen and tossed her onto the table. She slowly woke with a look of disorientation. He placed the knife to her throat and grabbed for her jeans. Casey suddenly became alert, gasped with horror, and kicked him in the thigh. She once again missed her intended target. He was thrown backwards all the same, allowing her to leap off the table, and run for the backstairs. The killer knocked her forward into the island counter, spun her to face him, and grabbed her throat. Casey clutched his wrist while she gasped for air. He moved the knife to her pants and attempted to cut off her jeans. With every ounce of strength she had, she punched him in the face. He suddenly thrust the knife into her lower abdomen. Casey gasped from the sharp, excruciating pain of the knife piercing her bo
dy and stared into the killer’s eyes. The front door suddenly burst open to reveal Deputy Holt with his gun aimed.
“Police! Freeze!”
The intruder turned toward Vaughn with the knife dripping blood still in his hand. He slowly raised his hands preparing to surrender. Casey’s knees buckled and she sank while clutching the counter and her bleeding abdomen. Vaughn saw Casey clinging to the counter with her blood-soaked hands and appeared horrified. His look suddenly hardened. He straightened, turned toward the killer, and, without flinching, shot him three times in the chest. The intruder flew backwards through the archway and into the dining room. Vaughn appeared alarmed and ran for Casey. She looked at him with an almost blank expression, gasped painfully, and sank. Vaughn caught her while staring into her eyes with horror, lowered her to the floor, and immediately applied pressure to her lower abdomen while holding her. Casey clutched his neck with her bloodied hands and sobbed.
“He killed them! They’re all dead!”
Vaughn stared into her eyes with his mouth hanging open in apparent shock. He fumbled for his words. “An ambulance is coming,” he finally gasped. “Just stay with me, okay?”
Casey clung to him, buried her face into his neck, and fell silent. Her blood-covered hand slowly fell down his chest. Vaughn tensed with horror while staring at the motionless woman in his arms.
“Casey? Don’t you dare die!” he gasped. Tears streaked his face. “Don’t do this to me! Please, Casey, stay with me!”
She didn’t respond; just remained limp in his arms. Vaughn held Casey’s head to his neck and sobbed softly.
†
Less than thirty minutes had passed, although it seemed longer, before the paramedics raced Casey out of the kitchen on a stretcher. She was completely white and appeared lifeless, although the actions of the paramedics suggested she was still clinging to life. Sheriff Wiley stood alongside Vaughn, who leaned his back against the bloody island counter and stared blankly at the large amount of blood on the floor. His arms, neck, shirt, and pants were also covered in Casey’s blood. Vaughn uncertainly looked at the blood on his hands and started to tremble. Wiley placed his hand on Vaughn’s shoulder. Vaughn didn’t even seem to realize he was standing alongside him.
“You okay?”
For a moment, Vaughn appeared unable to respond. He finally managed a weak, “Yeah, I’m--I’m fine.”
Wiley firmly massaged Vaughn’s shoulder and weakly smiled. “Let’s have a look at our bad guy.”
Vaughn uncertainly walked alongside Sheriff Wiley to the dining room archway. The intruder was gone without a trace of blood! Both appeared alarmed as they stared at the emptiness of the dining room.
Vaughn vigorously shook his head and stared through wide, horror-filled eyes. “He went down right there!”
“Are you sure you hit him?” the sheriff asked and seemed reluctant to look at his deputy.
Vaughn suddenly spun to face the sheriff with a frightening look of rage in his eyes. “Three times in the chest--dead center!”
Wiley looked at him from his sudden outburst then appeared to consider. “No blood. Bulletproof vest?”
Vaughn vigorously shook his head and remained unpredictably hostile. “This was no random home invasion,” he exploded. “He knew the Remington’s were armed!”
“He couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll find him,” Wiley assured him then turned fatherly and sympathetic. “You should go home and rest.”
“No, damn it, I want that bastard!”
†
It was a little after four in the morning. Casey’s gray horse grazed in a lush field not far from an old, abandoned barn. The house had been torn down years earlier. The barn wasn’t in great shape and had seen better days. Blood from the gash saturated the horse’s hindquarters and ran down its leg. Storm stomped his hind leg several times while grazing. A police blazer pulled up the overgrown dirt lane and stopped several yards away from the horse. As Vaughn got out of the blazer, Storm lifted his head and looked at the deputy. Vaughn removed a halter and lead rope from the blazer then approached the horse. Storm snorted while watching him. As he got closer, Storm took off across the field. Vaughn, still in his bloodstained uniform, appeared defeated, shook his head, and returned to his blazer.
†
It was five in the morning and the approaching sunrise was overshadowed by storm clouds rolling in. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed. The large gray horse galloped across the field toward the back of the fairgrounds. The faint whinnying of another horse was heard calling out. Storm suddenly slowed while turning toward the distant woods. A horse and rider emerged from the woods. Storm snorted with his head high in the air and pranced a few steps before galloping toward them. The large gray horse slowed before the horse and rider and snickered a long, loud greeting to the other horse, who returned the snickers. They touched noses and snorted their greetings. Vaughn dismounted the mare from the Remington farm and approached Storm with the halter and lead rope. He easily slipped the halter over the horse’s head as the two horses continued to snicker and snort to each other. It started raining as he led both horses across the fairgrounds toward the distant arena barn. Moments later, Vaughn approached the large barn with both horses as the rain poured down upon them. A pick-up truck arrived at the barn as he was about to enter. The local veterinarian, Dr. Stein, got out of the truck and hurried toward them and the barn with his medical bag.
Moments later, Vaughn held the gray horse in the barn aisle while Dr. Stein cleaned the gash on its hindquarters. Storm snorted and thrashed his leg in response to the pain. He nearly clipped the vet with his hoof. Vaughn held onto the lead rope and attempted to keep the horse from bolting. Storm reared slightly and nearly pulled Vaughn off his feet. Dr. Stein jumped out of the way while Vaughn attempted to control the panicking horse.
“Whoa, easy, boy,” Vaughn said in a soothing tone to the large horse. The horse snorted and tossed his head. Vaughn gently caressed the horse’s nose. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
Dr. Stein watched Vaughn clinging to the horse’s head as his forehead touched the horse’s forehead. The horse snorted softly in response. The vet patted the horse’s neck while producing a syringe. He gently slapped the horse’s neck then stuck it with the syringe. The horse barely flinched.
“What was that?” Vaughn asked.
“A horsey Valium,” Dr. Stein replied. He drew solution into another syringe, waited a few minutes, and then approached the horse’s neck. “Once I give him this, he’s going to be heavily sedated. It should last long enough for me to stitch the cut.”
The vet inserted the needle into the horse’s neck vein and dispensed the contents directly into the horse’s bloodstream. Storm’s head almost immediately lowered and his large body sagged. Vaughn appeared surprised by the sudden sedation. Dr. Stein cleaned the gash on the horse’s hindquarters and shook his head with disgust.
“I’m beyond shocked,” Dr. Stein remarked softly. “Who would go after the Remington’s like that? Are they really dead?”
Vaughn clung to the horse’s lowered head and stroked its forehead. He stared off and didn’t answer at first. “There’s still no word on Casey’s condition,” he replied softly. “Last I heard; she was still in emergency surgery.” He trembled slightly and drew a shallow breath. “There was so much blood--”
Dr. Stein glanced at the distant look in Vaughn’s eyes and the pink stains on his uniform then returned to stitching the gash on the horse’s hindquarters. “Do me a favor, Deputy?”
Vaughn gently cleared his throat and came back to life. He sniffed and wiped his tears. “Yeah, sure. What do you want me to do?”
The vet focused on suturing the gash and responded without emotion, “Kill the bastard who murdered the Remington’s.”
“I thought I did,” he replied softly.
Chapter Eight
The rain poured down in the early morning hour, drenching the cemetery grounds. A sea of large, black umbrellas su
rrounded the three caskets awaiting burial. Casey stood in the pouring rain, her black, leather jacket and jeans soaking wet, as she stared blankly at the three caskets. The reverend was speaking, but his words were inaudible to her. She could hear the voices of others talking over her, but she couldn’t make out their words. She heard Dina’s voice as she repeatedly said the same thing over and over. Her voice seemed so garbled--so far away. Casey just stared at the caskets and kept thinking this was just some cruel joke being played on her. She had no family; there was no one left. The voices seemed much louder now. She wished everyone would stop talking over her. She just wanted to be left alone with her grief. Images from that godforsaken night kept repeating in her mind--playing out in an endless loop of terror, pain, and tremendous sorrow. She subconsciously rubbed her lower abdomen and felt the gut-wrenching pain as the killer stabbed her. It was over, but it felt so real. She uncertainly looked at her hand. Blood seeped between her fingers as she clutched herself. Casey suddenly gasped and removed her trembling hand from her bleeding abdomen. There was so much blood!
“Don’t do this to me!” Deputy Vaughn’s voice called out. “Please, Casey, stay with me!”
She lowered her bloodied hand and looked around the cemetery. It was still raining, but everyone was gone. She was now standing alone before the three caskets. She heard Dina’s muffled voice still speaking over her. Her voice was louder now and the words were become clearer.
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