Paralyzed (A Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Novel Book 2)

by Alana Terry

  “I can stay here with Kennedy,” Sandy suggested.

  No. No, they couldn’t do that. Carl and Sandy needed to be together. They needed ...

  Sirens wailed outside and came to a stop. Their lights flashed through the window. Kennedy forced her eyes to focus on Carl. The top of his back was bloody, but there weren’t huge puddles on the floor as she had feared.

  “Is he going to be ok?” she whispered faintly as the policeman got up to show the paramedics in.

  Sandy kept her arms wrapped around Kennedy shoulders. “Of course, darling.”

  “What’s that you two yakking about over there?” Carl’s voice regained some of its usual jocularity.

  “Kennedy was just worried about you, that’s all. I told her they’d need a whole lot more than a bullet to take my husband down.”

  “You got that right.” Carl’s laugh sounded weak, but it still made Kennedy’s whole body fill with a delicious warmth. “Nobody better start planning my funeral yet. When my time comes, everyone here’s gonna know it, and there’s not going to be any doctors or nurses or policeman who are going to try to hold me back, I’m telling you that much. When God opens those gates for me, you bet your life I’ll be speeding on my way. I might look back once, but that would just be to say good-bye to my sweetheart.”

  Carl and Sandy exchanged a glance that was more radiant, more loving, more passionate than any kiss from those romance movies Kennedy’s mom liked to watch.

  “Let’s get out of these folks’ way and let them do their work.” Sandy helped Kennedy to her feet. “I should have asked you first if you wanted to go with us to the hospital. I just didn’t feel right about leaving you here all by yourself after everything. But then again, you’re so tired …”

  “No,” Kennedy interrupted. The idea of staying here alone was nearly paralyzing, but she wasn’t about to get in the way of Sandy riding with Carl in the ambulance. Besides, she was exhausted. “No, I don’t mind staying here.”

  Her voice must not have sounded very convincing, because Sandy cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “We could ask the policemen. They might be able to drop you off at the ER.”

  Kennedy and Sandy made way for the paramedics, who were getting ready to transfer Carl onto the stretcher.

  “That’s ok,” Kennedy replied. “I’m really tired.” She didn’t have to make that part up. In fact, once she got to sleep, she’d probably be able to snooze right through the apocalypse.

  “Besides,” Kennedy added, “I know you probably want to be with Carl. Just to make sure everything … Just to see that …”

  “What? Him?” Sandy waved her hand in the air. “God knows his work here is far from finished. He’s gonna be just fine.”

  “Amen!” boomed Carl’s loud voice from the stretcher. “So what’s the plan? You two ladies riding in style with us?”

  “Actually …” began one of the paramedics.

  “I know, I know.” Carl gave Kennedy a wink. “Immediate family members only.”

  She really hoped he wasn’t going to tell them she was his daughter.

  “Kennedy’s going to stay here and get some rest,” Sandy answered for her. “As long as you’re sure she’s safe,” she added with a nod to the police officer.

  “We’ll call someone to stay in the house just to cover all our bases.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Sandy looked down and brushed off her floral nightgown. “I guess I better go get dressed.”

  A few minutes later, a silence settled into the woodwork and paneling of the Lindgrens’ guest room, the eerie, almost ghostly quiet after a storm. If Kennedy had the energy to worry, she might have felt afraid. If she had the mental capacity, she might have stayed up praying for Carl’s healing, but the paramedics had seemed so calm. They joked with Carl as they wheeled him out the front door. Sandy followed them wearing a quiet, beautiful peace around her like a shawl. Or maybe a crown.

  Kennedy’s mind spun in small, lazy spirals, the same sensation she got after staying up way too late with her dad to watch a movie. She couldn’t string the whole plot together, but some of the chase scenes and more intense moments floated through her mind, letting her recapture the emotions she experienced even if she couldn’t remember the details.

  Her body was heavy, but her mind was surprisingly light. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the security that came from knowing her attackers were all in custody and there was an armed officer sitting on the Lindgrens’ couch. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  Never before had she been more grateful for a pillow and blankets.

  Never before had she been more ready to sleep.

  CHAPTER 26

  The sun was streaming in through the bedroom window when the doorbell woke Kennedy up the next morning.

  Her heart leaped up to her trachea for just a moment as all the memories from the previous night crashed and collided into her thoughts at once. She stood up. Who could it be?

  She held her breath as she tiptoed down the hall. There was a different policeman in the living room now, and he stood and nodded at the window. “You know that guy?”

  She glanced and saw the painted youth group van parked in the Lindgrens’ driveway, the winter sun reflecting off its bright tie-dye swirls. She peeked through the window near the front door. The first thing she saw was the blond dreadlocks.

  “Yeah, I know him.” She ran her fingers through her hair as the officer fidgeted with the deadbolt on the Lindgrens’ front door.

  “Nick!” She smiled at the St. Margaret’s youth pastor, trying to remember how long it had been since the last time she saw him.

  “Sandy called me. Said you might want a ride over to Providence.” His hair reached nearly down to his waist. It was always a temptation for Kennedy to reach out and give it a good, strong tug. “I tried calling your cell, but it kept going right to voicemail.”

  “Yeah, that’s the dumb battery. Sorry about that.”

  Nick turned his head from one side to the other to stretch. “Hey, it’s no problem. I was gonna stop and see if they needed anything anyway. It’s not even out of my way to swing by here first. I can take you now, or wait in the van if you need time to get ready.”

  Kennedy had slept in her clothes. Her bag was in Carl’s car, but she wasn’t sure if the police still had everything roped off.

  “I just need to use the bathroom. What time is it?”

  Nick stuck his hands in his pockets. “Almost one. Did I wake you up?”

  It must have been pretty obvious by the way she looked.

  “Hey, don’t worry,” Nick added. “I would have slept in, too. Sounds like you had a crazy night.”

  “Something like that. If you don’t mind waiting, I can be out in just a minute or two.”

  He jingled the keys in his hand. They were attached to a lanyard with patterns of Jesus fish and surfboards in all the colors of the rainbow. “Sure thing. I’ll be in the van. I just got a new Christmas album, so take your time.”

  “If you’re headed out, I’ll check everything one last time and be on my way,” the policeman replied.

  Kennedy thanked him and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she was in the old VW bus with Nick, headed toward the hospital. “How’s Carl doing?” Kennedy was almost too afraid to ask, but the uncertainty would have eventually erupted into hundreds of worry pimples all over her body if she didn’t find out soon. Had he made it through the night ok? Had he lost too much blood?

  “From what Sandy said on the phone, sounds like he’s doing great. You know Carl. Already invited one of the nurses to Christmas Eve service. Got another one interested in doing ultrasounds once the new pregnancy center ever gets its own machine.”

  Kennedy’s shoulders relaxed. So he couldn’t be that bad.

  “What about you?” Nick asked. “You holding up all right?”

  Kennedy hadn’t bothered to ask herself that question yet today. She knew it would take a while to process
everything she had gone through. Logically, it all sounded like great news, all except for the part about Carl getting shot and his car so banged up. But Vinny and Gino were both behind bars, and as far as she knew, there was no one else around who had any reason to harm her.

  “I’m just glad it’s finally over.”

  It was over, wasn’t it? She already felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. How long had it been since she slept in so late?

  Nick strummed the steering wheel as if he were playing an imaginary guitar along with his acoustic Christmas CD. Kennedy had never heard of the band, but she liked the simple, folksy sound. The bobble-head set of Peter, James, and John on the dashboard jiggled when he slowed down to turn toward Providence.

  “What about … I don’t know … all the stuff you went through earlier? Was it hard for you yesterday, reliving that all over again?”

  The unseen fist that had taken residence in her gut for the past half a semester seized her insides and wrenched them in its iron grasp. So much for that sense of tranquility.

  “It wasn’t easy.” She forced a little laugh that was far too high pitched for her vocal range. “Just pray you never have to face Carl while he’s waving around a gun.”

  Nick slowed to a stop at a red light. “What?”

  Kennedy told him how Carl had been in the kitchen, blocking the way before Gino could get her into the garage.

  “He’s really still got that thing?” Nick asked. “After all these years?”

  “What thing?” Kennedy stared at the van’s paint job through the side mirror. The kaleidoscope of colors almost made her dizzy. On her door was a scene of Moses parting a sea full of tropical fish, with surfing flamingos riding the waves.

  “Oh, he never told you the story behind that gun?” Nick turned down the music. “Well, he and Sandy had their share of issues when they first got married. Stupid people would give them a hard time — bunch of racist bigots, really.”

  Kennedy nodded.

  “Well, it got so bad in one instance, Carl got himself a license and a gun and took a firearms safety class.”

  “I never realized it got that bad,” Kennedy admitted, trying to figure out who could have made the Lindgrens feel so unsafe Carl would have resorted to such measures.

  “I know, right?” Nick asked. “I mean, when he tells these stories, it’s like I’m living back in the dark ages. But they were in the south back then. And you know Carl. He’d do just about anything to protect his family.”

  Kennedy thought about last night, how he had dived at her to get her out of the way. How would she have felt if he really had died for her? How could she ever have looked Sandy in the eye again?

  “Well, so he had this gun, and as time went on people became more and more accepting of others, so he never really needed it. Then one winter — I think it was my first Christmas at St. Margaret’s — someone breaks in to the Lindgrens’ home. Just a kid, really. Seventeen or eighteen, I don’t remember all the details, but not a hardened crook or anything. He was just looking for a few quick things he could sell for easy money around Christmastime. I don’t think he realized the Lindgrens were home. Probably thought they were on vacation or something. Anyway, Carl hears the noise in the living room, comes out with his gun, and sees this kid poking around under the Christmas tree. And the boy stands up and recognizes Carl and says, ‘Aren’t you that guy from that big church off the Red Line? My grandma makes me go there every Christmas.’ So of course Carl puts the gun away, and then he and Sandy sit him down and he ends up accepting Christ, they invite him and his mom and his grandma over for Christmas dinner, and it’s all one big happy ending. But after that, at least as Carl explains it, he decided he just couldn’t be a pastor and keep a gun at the same time. He got rid of all the ammo, but he joked about holding onto the pistol just for show if he ever needed to scare someone away. I guess he was serious, though, if he still had it last night.”

  Kennedy was trembling again. Would she ever be able to talk about the things she had gone through without her muscles all spasming at once? It made more sense now, at least logically, how Carl could have stood there with his gun pointed at her. Part of her had known the whole time he was bluffing, but that wasn’t enough to stop her insides from quivering with the memories.

  “What about you?” Nick asked as he pulled the van into the Providence parking garage. “You have big plans for Christmas or anything?”

  Kennedy hadn’t thought that far ahead but was glad to change the subject and talk about something more mundane. “I’m supposed to fly to Baltimore to visit my aunt for a few weeks, but now I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  She’d have to get her phone charged and get in touch with Aunt Lilian. Her parents, too. And she could only guess how many phone calls she had missed from Detective Drisklay by now. With so many meetings and deadlines and demands on her time, it almost felt as if she was still in the middle of her semester at Harvard.

  The chances of her getting to the airport in time for her four o’clock flight today were pretty slim. She didn’t want to leave until she was convinced Carl was better, and she had enough experience with the police department to know she’d have to answer a lot of questions over the next few days. Maybe she would stay at the Lindgrens’ and help take care of Carl while he healed. There had to be some way to repay him for his courage.

  Nick maneuvered the VW bus in between a flower delivery van and a pickup. Peter, James, and John kept bobbling even after he parked.

  “You ready?”

  She nodded. Twenty-four hours ago, she had been preparing to take her last final of the semester. Now she was about to go visit the man who had saved her life from a dangerous criminal. Out of the dozens or maybe even hundreds of thrillers she had read over the years, none of them had prepared her for the relief, the almost euphoric release that came from knowing her captors were in custody. But the joy was tarnished, polluted by the guilt that had glared her in the face ever since she saw Carl’s bloody shirt. That bullet had been meant for her. How could she be happy, how could she be relieved when her pastor was in the hospital recovering from a bullet wound — a bullet wound he would have never suffered if it hadn’t been for her?

  “You ok?” Nick asked. “You look pretty serious.”

  Kennedy forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She followed him toward the hospital entrance, each of her footsteps shouting hostile accusations in her ear.

  The wind from last night had died down, and the sky was gray and overcast.

  “I’m glad you were able to come with me.” Nick let Kennedy go first through the hospital entrance.

  Providence’s interior was decorated with blue and silver tinsel, with large red Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling.

  He unbuttoned his coat. “I’m sure Carl and Sandy will be excited to see you.”

  Kennedy wasn’t that certain, but she kept the thought to herself.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Nick! Kennedy!” Sandy rushed toward them with open arms. After hugging Kennedy, she turned to Nick and put both hands on his shoulders. “What’s the deal with this shirt? You relearning your ABCs?”

  Nick grinned and pointed to the two sets of alphabets. “The first one’s missing the L. Get it? The first … No el. Like the carol.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes and tucked her arm around Kennedy’s waist. “Well, at least you guys are here. Carl’s been worrying about you.”

  “I have not,” came the gruff voice from the hospital bed.

  Kennedy was used to seeing Carl in button-down shirts and slacks. She was almost embarrassed to witness him lying there in the blue and white floral hospital gown.

  “Come on, I don’t look that bad, do I?” He stretched one arm out to give Kennedy a hug and turned to Nick. “Gonna shake you left-handed today, if you don’t mind.”

  “How you doing, Pastor Carl?”

  It was weird to hear Nick call him Pastor, but Kennedy couldn’t figure out why. Maybe because Nick wa
s older than she was, and she had dropped the pastor title almost immediately after reconnecting with him here in the States.

  “I’m all right.” Carl’s voice was strong. Booming. That in itself sent waves of relief coursing through her veins. “Doctor said I’ve got a fractured shoulder blade, but I’m just thankful to be alive and kicking.”

  “Daddy?”

  Kennedy didn’t recognize the woman standing in the doorway. Her heels made her look at least three inches taller than she really was. She rushed past Kennedy and Nick to Carl’s bedside.

  “I got Mom’s text this morning, but I’m out of sick days, so I had to wait for my lunch break.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “The T took forever. I’ve only got ten minutes before I have to head back.”

  “You didn’t have to come all this way, sweetie.” Sandy gave the woman a loving pat on the back. “You could have just called to talk to him.”

  She sniffed. “I wanted to come by in person. Make sure … You know, make sure …”

  “Your old man’s not about to croak?” Carl laughed. “Not anytime soon, babe. You’re just gonna have to wait three or four more decades to get that massive inheritance check.”

  “Dad!” Her tone made her sound like an exasperated teenager.

  Sandy took a deep breath. “Well, sweetie, now you’re here. You can see your father’s fine.” She smiled at Kennedy and Nick. “This is our daughter, Blessing. And you remember our youth pastor, right?”

  Blessing gave a little smirk and crossed her arms. “Yeah, I remember you.”

  Nick replied with something of a half-smile of his own and didn’t say anything.

  “And this,” Sandy went on, “is the Sterns’ daughter. You remember Roger and Juliette Stern from the church back in the city?”

  “No.” Blessing shrugged at Kennedy. “But I remember hearing all about you on the news.”