Cheryl whirled and Joseph jerked back. “Stacy, what are you doing?”
“Going into the kitchen. I need to give Alan Jr. his medicine.”
“Leave Alan Jr. there. On the couch.”
Stacy paused, then sighed and set him down. He clung to her and said, “Don’t leave me.”
Grief spasmed her features. “All right, baby, I’ll stay with you.”
Joseph sucked in a relieved breath. She hadn’t given away his location yet. And they were still in the line of fire. She’d been trying to get the boy away from them, trying to open up the opportunity for Joseph to get Cheryl.
The child hadn’t seen him, so hopefully he would stay put on the couch. He reached around his mother to pick up a stuffed turtle, clutching it close while never taking his eyes from his grandmother and the gun.
Joseph stayed put behind the cover of the wall, tapping his radio twice to let Catelyn know he was in. She tapped back once. Good, she got his message.
“Cheryl,” he said. The woman whirled to stare at him in shock.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded.
He ignored her. “Why did you shoot Zachary?”
Catelyn figured her negotiating time had run out. Joseph was inside. She raced the few remaining steps to the broken window, doing her best to stay out of the line of fire should someone decide to send another bullet that way.
She knew Ethan had Joseph’s back.
Officers swarmed the house, weapons drawn.
Looking through the window, Catelyn saw the woman was distracted, noticed Joseph watching. Slowly, she reached through the broken window and silently unlatched it and raised it in one smooth movement. She slipped in and landed in the den—and came face-to-face with Cheryl Frazier as she whirled toward the noise. “Drop your gun, Cheryl.”
Tears of frustration streamed down the woman’s cheeks. Alan Jr. sat on his mother’s lap, his little hands covering his ears, eyes squeezed shut, as he rocked back and forth. Catelyn softened her voice. “Your family needs you, Cheryl. Don’t add anything else to your list of things to fight.”
Stacy begged, “Stop, Mama. I need you. Alan Jr. needs you. Look around you. You can’t fight them and win.”
The hand holding the pistol shook. Cheryl drew in a steadying breath. “Get them out of here.” She motioned to Stacy and Alan Jr.
Catelyn gave the order to the officers. Immediately, they ushered the two out of the house. The woman started moving toward the kitchen, the gun held out in front of her not aimed at anyone. Yet.
“Ma’am, I really need you to stop and put the gun down.”
“I really didn’t want to hurt anyone. I was just taking care of my family, just like I always have.”
Ethan appeared in the hallway. He looked at Catelyn and she could almost read his mind. He had a clean shot. She shook her head.
Joseph held his gun steady as he moved with the woman. “I understand that, ma’am. You were just protecting your family. But we can’t resolve any of this as long as you hold on to that gun.” Cheryl stepped into the kitchen, still facing Joseph and now Ethan.
Catelyn stepped next to Joseph so she could see the woman. “Cheryl, what are doing? You need to put the gun down.”
“I didn’t want to get blood on the carpet.” She spoke casually and it didn’t occur to Catelyn what she meant until she swung the gun up to rest the business end against her temple.
“Stop!”
Joseph had gone to his knees the moment the gun started moving. Ethan had pulled back around the corner against the wall and Catelyn had done the same move with the opposite wall. Now she realized what Cheryl meant when she said she didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. Kitchen linoleum was much easier to clean up.
For a brief moment, the woman’s face morphed into Catelyn’s father’s. She blinked. Joseph, still on his knees, kept his gun aimed just in case Mrs. Frazier decided to swing her weapon around and point it at him.
And Catelyn wanted to step in front of him.
The feeling stunned her; shook her to the core and swept her entire being with nausea.
She pushed it away. They had one more thing to deal with. “Mrs. Frazier, why did you shoot Zachary?”
Mrs. Frazier’s gun hand shook, tremor after tremor. Catelyn prayed she wouldn’t spasm and pull the trigger. “He was going to tell Alan that Stacy was going to divorce him. Alan Dillard was that boy’s hero. He never knew…”
“He never knew what Alan was, right? He never knew what was going on between Alan and Tracy? And he never told Stacy that Alan was having an affair, did he? She lied to us in the hospital to protect you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she lied. I think Tracy tried to tell Zachary that Alan wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, but the boy just wouldn’t listen. And when Stacy came home…the day of the visitation, right before the visitation…she was hysterical.”
Joseph asked, “Why?”
“She’d met with Zachary and tried to reason with him. He wouldn’t have any part of it. He was going to tell Alan the next time he saw him.”
“And Stacy was afraid of Alan’s reaction?”
The gun lowered a tad as her elbow drooped. Her arm was getting tired. Keep her talking, Joseph.
“Stacy was afraid of Alan, period.”
“He was abusive.”
With a tight jaw, the woman nodded. “In every way imaginable. But when Alan went after Alan Jr….”
Catelyn winced—every mother’s nightmare. “She’d had enough.”
Her arm trembled, the gun shifted. “He threatened to take Alan Jr. from her and never let her see him again.” A harsh laugh escaped her. “And I have no doubt he would have followed through with it. Stacy tried to find help, even went to the police to see what she could do.”
“Why is there no record of this on file? We did an extensive background check on Alan.”
“Did you come across who Alan’s favorite poker buddy was?” she snapped.
“No.”
“Try Mayor McCloud.”
Understanding darkened Catelyn’s brain. She made a mental note to do a little research into Mayor McCloud’s life. She watched the gun in the woman’s hand. It was almost pointing to the ceiling at this stage. She was so busy telling her story, she wasn’t paying attention to the weapon. Just a little bit more and she could…
“So, Zachary and Stacy met the afternoon of the visitation. Stacy tried to talk him out of telling Alan about the divorce. But, wait a minute…how did Zachary know about it in the first place?”
“That stupid kid went over to my Stacy’s house looking for Alan one afternoon after his sister was killed. Just walked right in. Stacy was in the kitchen going over the papers. Zachary saw them and stormed out with Stacy yelling at him not to tell, that she was just thinking about it and didn’t really mean it.”
“So she came to you, and you decided to take care of the situation.”
She closed her eyes as though pained at the memory.
And Catelyn struck.
She gave a flying tackle and clipped the woman around the knees. Shrieking, Mrs. Frazier went down, Catelyn landing on top of her.
Joseph was beside them in a heartbeat, kicking the weapon aside. Ethan grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back.
And then all the fight went out of her.
Panting, Catelyn rose to her feet and helped Joseph pull the weeping Mrs. Frazier to hers. Ethan went to tell everyone that it was over.
Catelyn said, “Just one more question, how did you get off the balcony of the funeral home without anyone seeing you?”
Tears dripped off the woman’s chin and she sniffed. “It was so easy. I simply crawled into one of the coffins in the room off the balcony. There were plenty to choose from.” Hands now cuffed behind her back, she shrugged. “I chose an empty one.”
Joseph spoke up. “You used Alan’s gun to shoot Zachary. How did you get your hands on it and how did it wind up back at his house? Our CSU guys
found it.”
“I have a key to the house. I simply went by when no one was home. I was hoping you would find the gun and blame the shooting on Alan.”
Catelyn shook her head. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…
Now that the case was officially closed, Catelyn had one last thing to take care of. She had to decide if she was strong enough to love a cop—and if she could be the kind of wife Joseph wanted.
She finally admitted it to herself.
She loved Joseph. Had loved him for a long time.
But did she love him enough?
She wanted to. And that scared her and yet thrilled her all at the same time. And Sandy was right. She and Joseph did have something her parents had neglected from the start of their relationship.
God.
But could she quit her job for him? She just didn’t know.
She dreaded the next item on her to-do list for the day, yet was determined to get through it. Please, Jesus, I need Your strength.
She thought she heard someone call her name, but not in the mood for conversation, she ignored it and continued on like she hadn’t heard. Climbing into her car, she cranked it and took off. In the rearview mirror, she could see Joseph standing in the parking lot, hand raised.
Guilt hammered her. That was really rude. She was going to have to talk to him at some point. But she just wasn’t ready for the conversation she knew he wanted to have.
And she wanted to be ready.
I could have just talked to the man. Told him I needed some space. Lord, what do I do? What do You want? I’m so messed up inside over my parents, I just don’t know if I can ever have a normal relationship with another cop. Especially an overprotective one. But I do know what I need to do right now. I need to let go of my anger, Lord. I need to let it go and I need Your help to do that.
She picked up her phone and punched in Joseph’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“For ignoring you in the parking lot. I just…I’ve got something I need to do and I…want to do it alone.”
“All you had to do was say something.” She winced at the hurt in his voice.
“I know. I had a brief moment of cowardice. That’s why I’m calling. I owed you an apology.”
“Apology accepted. So when do you think you’ll be ready to talk?”
“Soon, okay?”
“Do you want me to come with you wherever you’re going?”
She thought about what she was going to do. “Yes. No. I’m not sure.”
He gave a small laugh. “Okay, that’s clear.”
Heaving a sigh, Catelyn turned to make her way through the gates of the cemetery. Winding around the narrow paths, she said, “I guess not. Maybe I need to do this on my own. Face my demon, so to speak.”
“Call me when you’re done?”
“Yes. Yes, I will.”
“All right. See you soon.”
She hung up and turned right. She’d only been here one other time, the day of the funeral, but the way to her father’s grave was permanently embedded in her mind.
Parking to the side, she slowly climbed from her vehicle. Not really sure why she felt the need to do this to herself, she kept a prayer on her lips as she made her way over to the grave.
Someone had left fresh flowers. Who? A buddy from the force, no doubt.
Catelyn knelt, not caring if the grass left a stain on the knees of her faded jeans. She touched the headstone. Traced the words that had been carved into it.
Harold James Clark. Family man and devoted defender of the peace. Gone too early.
Yeah. Too early. Well, whose fault is that?
Then the grief hit her.
And the memories flooded her. The good ones. Ones she hadn’t thought about in over a decade. The ones that had been overshadowed by the anger she felt toward the man who’d given up and killed himself. The ones recorded in the “fun book” she’d taken to her mother the day after they’d arrested Cheryl Frazier.
“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, “I miss you.”
She closed her eyes and let the tears fall. She’d been his pride and joy when she’d been small, riding on his shoulders, laughing, giggling and wearing his uniform hat.
Why was she just now remembering this?
She remembered the swing in their big backyard. He’d pushed her to the sky, so high her toes could “touch God.”
She remembered his big booming voice every day, the minute he walked in the door. “Gimme a hug, kiddo!” And she’d run to him and he’d swing her up in his big muscular arms and squeeze the breath out of her. She remembered her mother watching the two of them and smiling. Catelyn let out a sob. She remembered her mother smiling. Oh, thank you, God, for that.
The rush of memories tripped over themselves in her mind, stealing the hate and anger from her heart.
Not caring if she looked like a fool, not concerned about who might be watching, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the cold headstone, wishing it was her daddy’s warm hard chest. She lay her head against the smoothly carved words and pretended she could hear his heart beating one last time. Pretended she could feel his arms wrapped around her in one last breath-stealing squeeze.
“I’ve hated you for so long, been so filled with anger that I’m not sure how to do this, but I hope this is a start.” She took a deep breath, smelled the scent of freshly turned dirt, a hint of rain and felt the possibility of the sun as it struggled to peek through the clouds. “I forgive you, Daddy. I have to. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to love someone of my own. It’s the only way I’ll ever have peace.”
Tears dripped to the soft green earth. The wind blew, and time passed as she prayed and talked to her dad. Finally, bones creaking and muscles aching, she let go of the headstone—and her anger—to sit back on her heels and caress the letters etched into the head stone. “I love you, Daddy, and I miss you.”
She raised her eyes toward heaven and let the tears continue to fall.
Joseph stood against his vehicle, arms folded across his chest as he watched the scene play out before him. Never had he witnessed such an outpouring of grief. He felt like an intruder. And yet he couldn’t leave her. She might need him.
Right, he mocked himself, when has she ever needed you?
But she might—this time.
Hopefully.
Anxiety tightened his gut as he watched her weep, her silent tears nearly ripping his heart out. And when she’d wrapped her arms around the headstone, he couldn’t stand it and had to turn away from the scene.
Forcing himself not to go to her, he let her have her moments with her father, praying, crying out that somehow God would give her the peace she so desperately needed.
Finally, he turned back to see her sitting on her heels, mopping up her face, the emotional devastation of the storm passed.
He took several steps in her direction, then stopped, wondering if he should intrude. Wondering if she needed more time.
She pushed herself up to her feet, and he closed the gap placing his hands on her shoulders.
Catelyn didn’t even jump as she felt a pair of hands lightly fall on her shoulders. She’d smelled Joseph’s cologne, a woodsy, masculine scent that she never tired of, about thirty seconds ago and knew he stood behind her.
Shuddering, broken and yet finally at peace, she felt cleansed. Ready to make a new start in life.
But was Joseph the right person to make that start with?
She hoped so.
As long as he understood some things.
Sucking in a deep breath, she turned, looked into his eyes—and nearly felt her knees buckle at the look of love shining there. Tears of sympathy glistened, and she simply wanted to melt into his arms and let the world fade away.
Oh, Lord, help me.
He smiled. “Hey, can I do anything to help?”
“You followed me—again,” she said, referencing the nursin
g home incident. “And it’s the second time you’ve found me in tears.”
“I want to be there for you, Catelyn.”
She swallowed hard. “I know you do, Joseph, but I don’t know that you can do that without wanting to protect me. I don’t want to compare you to my father, but…” She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and started walking.
Joseph followed her behind her. “Catelyn, I’m not your father.”
“You stepped in front of me. A fellow cop. And one with a gun at that. What if I’d chosen to pull the trigger at that moment?” She shuddered at the thought.
“You wouldn’t have. You’re too good a cop.”
“Then why did you feel the need to step in front of me?” she demanded.
“Catelyn, I told you I wasn’t protecting the cop. I was protecting the woman I love.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, causing a sprig to stand up. “Excuse me for that being a crime.”
“Oh, Joseph, it’s not a crime. It’s…it’s…”
“What I’m supposed to do. I’m wired that way, both by God and by my upbringing. I could no more let you stand in the path of a bullet than I could sprout wings and fly. I don’t know what else to say to convince you.”
And it hit her. She remembered in the house when he was in the line of fire. She remembered the urge she felt to step in front of him, get him out of the path should the woman decide to pull the trigger.
Why? Because she loved him. Would she have felt that way if it had been another cop standing there?
No.
Suddenly, she saw things in a different light, from a whole different perspective. His perspective.
He loved her. Really, truly, loved her.
Loved her enough to step in front of a bullet for her.
Loved her enough to die for her.
Just like she felt for him.
Excitement swirled within her. “How can we make this work?”
“Well, we can’t work together, that’s for sure.”
She choked out a laugh. “Okay.”
“You’ve been under the impression that I don’t want you to be a cop. And I’ll admit, two years ago you that would have been the case. But recently, I’ve been thinking, praying, picturing us together…and I realize I tried to make you into someone you’re not. And that’s okay, but I fell in love with who you are, not who I wanted you to be.”
A Silent Fury Page 18
