Lacy's End

by Victoria Schwimley

  “Hold it right there,” she said as he passed her hiding spot. She placed the pistol next to his head.

  He smiled. “Lacy.”

  “Where’s Ethan?”

  He turned around slowly, easing the gun from his head and stepping back. He faced her, the mocking grin still plastered on his face. “He’s safe in his uncle’s arms.”

  “Did you hurt him?”

  Her face was stern, jaw rock hard from gritting her teeth, eyes angry. He had never seen her so strong and steady. “This is a whole new Lacy. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

  “I asked if you hurt him.”

  He shook his head. “He’s safe. I’ve decided to keep him—after I kill the rest of you that is.”

  “I’m not going to let you do that.”

  He sighed. “Oh, Lacy—you and I both know you don’t have the guts to use that on your own father.”

  “Except you’re not really a father. You’re no more than a means to my existence. Real fathers love and care for their children. They don’t beat them and send them to the hospital.”

  “I was merely disciplining an unruly child. You and that slut of a mother of yours needed to be taught a lesson.”

  “Don’t call her that! She’s ten times the person you’ll ever be!”

  “Put down the gun, Lacy.”

  “No!”

  He raised the rifle into view, pointing it at her. “Well, well, it looks like we have ourselves a standoff.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Brenda raced down the stairs, coming face-to-face with Pammy, who was on her way up the stairs.

  “Any luck?” Pammy asked.

  Brenda shook her head. “No, and now I can’t find Lacy.”

  Pammy turned and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Brenda asked.

  “To find the men in the barn.”

  Alice entered the room. “Ethan isn’t anywhere in this house.” She saw Pammy’s hand on the doorknob. “Where are you going?”

  Brenda rushed toward Pammy. “We’re going to the barn, to see what’s going on.”

  “I’m coming, too.”

  Pammy grabbed a flashlight, and the three women cautiously opened the door. Seeing nothing unusual, they crept onto the porch. Pammy swung her flashlight around. The horses had been corralled, and light could be seen burning in the barn.

  Pammy led the way, and the other women followed. They entered the corral and she swept the light toward the door. A large barrel stood against it. “Help me move it,” she said. They made their way to the barn door.

  Brenda shuddered against a premonition of doom. “Should it be this quiet?”

  “Up here,” someone shouted from above them.

  The three women screamed. Pammy aimed the light upwards. “Allen? What are you guys doing in there?”

  “Trying to stay alive.”

  “Did you find Bradley?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t like the sound of Allen’s voice. “Is Ethan in there with you?” Pammy asked.

  “No. He was in the house with you guys.”

  Her voice cracked. “Lacy’s missing, too. Allen, I want to come in there. Why is this barrel against the door?”

  “He put it there.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “You girls need to get out of here. Some crazy guy's shooting at us.”

  “It’s Peter,” Brenda said.

  “Are you sure?” Allen said.

  “Pretty sure. Lacy said she’s seen him a couple times but didn’t want to tell us. She didn’t think he’d do anything.”

  “Look, Allen,” Pammy said. “I don’t think anyone’s out here, and we need to find Ethan and Lacy.”

  “The phone lines are down from the storm,” Allen said.

  “I know,” Pammy said. “I tried to call home a while ago but couldn’t get out.”

  “There’s no cell reception, either,” Alice added. “What do you want us to do?”

  “We need to call the sheriff.”

  “How do we do that without phone service?” Pammy asked, slightly exasperated.

  “That’s why I’m up here.” He held up a rope. “I was going to let myself down and use the CB radio in the truck.”

  “Is the back door blocked, too?” Alice asked.

  “That’s where he’s shooting.”

  “I really don’t think anyone’s out here,” Pammy said. She turned and began to make her way to the other side of the barn.

  “Pammy, don’t!” Allen called to her, but she continued. A few moments later, she returned. “Nobody’s there,” she said, “we’re coming in.”

  The three women walked to the backside of the barn, pushed open the door and walked inside. They made their way toward the front, taking Brett and Chase by surprise.

  Chase jumped to his feet and ran to stand in front of something lying on the ground, covered by a tarp. Pammy gasped. “What is that?” she asked, her heart thumping.

  Chase looked down at the ground. Brett went and put an arm around Pammy. “It’s Jackson.”

  “Oh, no!” Alice wailed. “What happened?”

  “Someone shot him.”

  Allen returned from the loft. “You left before I could warn you. We tried to help him, but there was just too much damage.”

  “But, you’re a doctor. Couldn’t you have saved him?”

  “I’m sorry, Pammy,” he said, shaking his head.

  Pammy began to cry.

  “This is all my fault,” Brenda whispered.

  They all looked at her. “No, it isn’t,” Alice said, anger flushing her cheeks. “You didn’t ask to be abused by your husband. It’s his fault. You’re a victim, just like the rest of us.”

  “If I hadn’t come here he wouldn’t have followed me.”

  Allen put an arm around Brenda’s waist. “Are you supposed to let that man control the rest of your life?”

  Brenda looked down at the ground.

  “We need to find the kids,” Pammy reminded them.

  “The kids are missing?” Brett asked.

  “Ethan first, and then Lacy disappeared,” Alice said. “Lacy was helping us look for Ethan, and then nothing.”

  Chase gulped, drawing everyone’s attention to him. He wore a guilty expression. “Spill it, Chase,” his grandfather said.

  “I showed Lacy where you keep your gun in the house, and I showed her how to use it. I think she’s gone after her father.”

  “That gun is in a locked cabinet,” Brett said, although he lacked conviction.

  Chase sighed. “I know where you keep the key.”

  “Oh, God,” Alice groaned.

  They all began chattering at once, directing their comments toward Chase, who took a step back and held up his hands.”I’m sorry!” he screamed.

  “Hold it!” Alice screamed. “We have three people missing and one dead man. We need to get the sheriff out here. Now, this is the way it’s going to be. Allen, Brett—you two get a couple rifles and head out. My guess is they’ve headed for the old shack on the west side of the forest.”

  “That makes sense,” Brett said. “He would have needed to find someplace dry to hole up in.”

  “I’m going, too,” Brenda said.

  Allen shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s my daughter,” Brenda said, setting her jaw with firm determination.

  “You’re what he wants. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “That’s true, but it’s also true I might be able to get through to him—or Lacy,” she added.

  “Let her go,” Pammy said.

  “I’m going, too.” Chase put in.

  His grandfather started to protest. Seeing the boy’s face reminded him Chase’s father was also among the missing. He nodded. “Okay.”

  “We’ll summon the sheriff,” Pammy said, “and wait for him here. Then we’ll bring him up to the shack.” At the look of protest on her father’s face, she sai
d, “It will be faster if we can bring him there, instead of him wandering around the forest in the dark.”

  He nodded, disappeared to the tack room and came back with four large battery-operated lanterns and five rifles. He handed a lantern and rifle to Alice. He turned to Chase, Allen, and Brenda, handing them each a gun. Brenda held back her hands, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to use it,” she said, “I might kill someone.”

  “That’s the point,” Pammy said, vehemently, yanking the rifle from Allen. She looked directly in Brenda’s face, challenging her. “I don’t give a damn who he is. He has my little boy, and if I get close enough to him, I won’t hesitate to blow the son-of-a-bitch’s head off.” She turned and stalked off. “Are you coming, Mother?” Alice looked sympathetically at Brenda and then hurried after her daughter.

  “I’m sorry about that—” Allen began, but Brenda cut him off.

  “Don’t be. I don’t blame her one bit. Can we just go now?”

  They made their way from the barn. The two groups headed in opposite directions. Brenda held the lantern high, illuminating the trail, while the other group made their way to the truck and the CB radio, after getting the spare truck keys from the tack room.

  Pammy didn’t like leaving Jackson’s body lying untended on the barn floor, but there was no other choice. As much as it pained her to abandon her long-time friend, rescuing the living was her primary goal. She only hoped his daughter wouldn’t come looking for him.

  She opened the truck door and climbed inside. Alice shined the flashlight around, watching for any sign of movement. Pammy adjusted the CB until the squelching stopped, and a clear voice came over the radio. She pressed the call button and called, “This is Petoro’s ranch looking for Sheriff Long, come back.” She let go and waited. She pressed again, “Petoro Ranch to Sheriff Long, come in.”

  She was about to press the button again when a voice came back to her, “This is Sheriff Long—that you, Pammy? Over.”

  She sighed with relief. “It’s me, Cary. We need you out here badly. Over.”

  “Someone hurt? Over.”

  “My brother’s girlfriend’s crazy husband is here shooting up the ranch. He’s killed Jackson and we’ve got three people missing. Over.”

  “Shit, Pammy. What’s going on? Over.”

  “Dad, Chase, and Allen have gone to track him down. They’re headed toward the old shack. Please hurry, Cary! Over.”

  “I’m five minutes from the ranch. Hold on tight. Over and out.”

  Pammy placed the transmitter back in its holder. “That’s that. Now, what do we do?”

  “We wait,” Alice said.

  Pammy looked intently at her. “How am I supposed to just wait when my son is out there and needs me?”

  Alice didn’t feel a need to answer the rhetorical question. She held her daughter’s hand. The two made their way to the old covered bus stop that lay at the foot of the drive. Brett had made it for the children many years ago, so they could escape the snow, rain, and the wind while waiting for the school bus. As they walked down the drive, Alice was reminded of all the times she had walked her children to the bus stop, she and Pammy holding hands while the boys played kick-the-rock. She felt a touch of pain from the nostalgia, a sign of aging, she thought. Then she wondered how many more crises she and Brett would be around for to help her children through and realized with alarm that this could be the last one.

  ***

  Lacy and Peter stood at a standoff, neither moving, neither speaking, neither flinching. Peter was the one who finally broke the silence. “Do you think I won’t put a bullet in my own daughter’s betraying heart?”

  “You’re the one who has done the betraying,” she said, holding her chin high.

  “Your mother has brainwashed you.”

  “My mother has finally made me realize I don’t have to be a punching bag.”

  He laughed. “She'd always had a soft spot when it came to disciplining you.”

  “Perhaps she thought you were doing more than your share already.”

  He grinned. “Well, well, Lacy—is that a backbone I see coming out in you? It took you long enough to grow one.”

  She didn’t respond to the taunt but stood and stared at him again, her body holding the pistol that was getting heavier by the moment. Could he see her trembling hand?

  “What’s the matter, Lacy—is your arm getting tired?”

  “My arm is just fine.”

  “Do you really think you know how the world is, Lacy? Is it picturesque in your baby-doll mind?”

  “I know how it’s supposed to be,” she said, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. “I know how my friends describe their relationships with their fathers, and they’re nothing like ours.”

  “Friends?” He asked. “Do you really think you have friends, Lacy? I don’t think so—I drove them all away.”

  She knew he was right. He had driven them all away, and the ones he hadn’t driven away, she had pushed away. A vision of Millie the last time she had seen her flashed through her mind, and the first tear fell. She hoped he couldn’t see it, but knew the moonlight would betray her.

  “Aw, did I make my little Lacy cry?” he taunted. “Do you want Daddy to wipe your tears?” He took a step toward her.

  She lifted the pistol higher. “Stay where you are!” she commanded.

  “Or…”

  From the corners of their eyes, they both saw the bobbing light coming their way. “They’re coming for us, Lacy,” her father said, his teeth glowing eerily against the glow of the moonlight. “I’m wondering which one of us is going out in a body bag.” He laughed, and Lacy felt her skin crawl, little prickly jolts shooting through her scalp.

  She pulled back the hammer on the gun, felt the jerk as it locked into place, felt the power of the weapon surge through her. “I think it will be you,” she said.

  “No, Lacy,” a gentle voice crooned in her ear as hands tenderly slid down her arms, cupping his hands around her hands over the trigger of the gun. “He’s not worth it,” he whispered, his breath a mere wind hissing.

  “Jake,” she moaned, as the tears began to flow. But she didn’t let go.

  “Who are you talking to?” her father asked, sounding and looking confused. “Who’s Jake?”

  “Shut up!” she yelled, the gun waving wildly in her arms, the barrel feeling heavier with each passing moment.

  Jake steadied her hands. “Easy, there, my friend.”

  “I want to so badly,” she said.

  “Of course, you do,” Jake said. “He’s had it coming for years.”

  “All I ever wanted was a father to love me,” she cried.

  “You’re scaring me, Lacy. Who are you talking to?”

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  The lights began to bob faster as the approaching group began to run. Relief flooded through Lacy as they came into view. She lowered the pistol. Peter turned toward the group as Brenda, lantern held high and illuminating her face, came into view. He raised the shotgun and aimed.

  “No!” Lacy cried, as she raised the pistol again—and fired.

  Epilogue

  Lacy stepped onto the stage, nearly tripping over her gown. The audience giggled and for once she could laugh with them. She turned to seek her mother, her eyes roaming until she finally found her. Her new stepfather sat next to her, his hand resting lovingly on the belly that protected his son. He stroked it, which apparently encouraged a response of some sort from the inhabitant inside because both Allen and her mother jumped and laughed.

  Brenda and Allen had completely renovated the empty room at their house, turning it into a grand nursery. They had offered it to her, but as she soon would be going off to college, she was happy to let the new baby have it. Besides, somehow she felt comforted in the room that had once belonged to Allen’s grandmother, almost as if she had a kinship with her. Allen said it was because they both were brave, free-spirited women. Sh
e had blushed at the compliment, but she was learning to accept the fact that she had many good things to offer the world.

  On the other side of her mother sat Angela, Chase, Pammy, Ethan, Charles, Bradley, Alice and, finally, Brett. They still hadn’t met Christopher, although he had promised to be home for Christmas. They all would turn around next week and do this for Chase’s graduation. Then she and Chase would be spending the summer at the ranch. At least until the new baby arrived sometime in late August—just in time to say goodbye to his new big sister as she headed off to college.

  She would study sociology at San Francisco State University while Chase stdied animal science at The University of California, Davis. At least they’d be in the same area.

  Chase stood, started clapping and wolf-whistling, and then everyone was making whooping noises and clapping. Someone nudged her from behind. She turned to look at Millie. “It’s your turn,” she was saying. “Go on.” She stepped up to the podium and accepted her diploma as a roar of applause thundered through the stadium.

  That’s another thing that had changed. Suddenly, Lacy had more friends than she could count. It seemed ever since she shot her father she was a hero. Funny—she didn’t feel like a hero.

  Whether or not she purposely missed her father’s heart—nobody knew—not even Lacy. It had been dark out, and he had been moving at the time. However, she had missed, the bullet going in a mere two inches above the heart. Fortunately for him, Allen had been there to save his life. If anyone had asked him if he wished he would have let him die, Allen would have had to lie. Thankfully, for Allen, nobody asked.

  She did not regret pulling the trigger, since her father hadn’t given her a choice. She certainly wasn’t going to let him shoot her mother.

  He had pleaded guilty to the charge of involuntary manslaughter, saving his daughter the ordeal of a jury trial—a moment of compassion for his own flesh and blood? Who really knew? More likely his lawyer convinced him he didn’t have a chance against a jury.

  Lacy hadn’t been to see him and had no plans to do so. Brenda had gone, though—a cleansing act she had said. She said he had grown first angry and then sad when he had seen her rounded belly, which, she had to admit, she had proudly displayed. When Brenda had first discovered her pregnancy, she'd momentarily feared it might be Peter’s baby. But when the doctors confirmed her November conception date, she heaved a huge sigh, knowing it could only be Allen’s.