Last Breath (14 page)

He glanced up and down the street before sliding the paper bag from beneath the seat.

“Rayne, listen. I'm locking the doors. The minute I'm out of the truck, you slide behind the wheel. I'm going up to the house, make this deal, and come right back. But if anything happens to me, if you hear
anything
, I want you to drive away.”

“I can't—”

“Just do what I say.”

“But—”

Gary opened the door, hit the lock button, and got out. He shut the door and motioned to me furiously. “
Move
.”

I slid over.

As he walked around the front of the truck, I clutched the wheel, my heart pounding.

Gary reached the sidewalk—and an engine roared some distance behind me. Rap music burst in my ears. Gary swung toward the sound. I swiveled around in the seat.

A white sedan screeched to a stop behind the truck. In the rearview mirror I saw a blur of motion. Two men jumped from the front seat doors, one holding something low at his side. They ran toward Gary. He froze.

The house's front door smashed open, and another man rushed out. Something black was clutched in his hand. “Hey!” He flew off the porch, veering toward the two men from the car. He raised his arm.

A gun. He had a
gun
.

Gary pivoted toward the truck. “Open the door!”

My body wouldn't move. Then my fingers were fumbling for the lock button. Where was it? Where
was
it? Blood pounded in my ears.

Gary yelled again, his face at the window.

The button clicked.

A blast ripped the night. My eyes snapped to the man who'd run from the house.

His face exploded.

I screamed. Jerked a look over my shoulder. One of the men from the car was lowering a shotgun.

Gary threw open the passenger door, still gripping the paper bag. He jumped inside. “Go, go!”

In the same second two more men dashed out of the house's gaping door, weapons raised. Gunfire rat-tatted. The man with the shotgun collapsed to the ground.

“Rayne!” Gary's face creased with terror. “Get
out
of here!”

I jammed the truck into drive and hit the accelerator.

29

W
e careened down the street and around the corner. I screamed the whole time. Twice I almost wrecked the truck.

Gary shoved the paper bag under the seat. The bag with drugs. The bag that had just caused the death of at least two people.

A few blocks away, Gary barked at me to pull to the curb. I jerked from behind the wheel, and he climbed over me to drive.

No one had followed.

Maybe they were all dead. Maybe they shot each other. Panicked as I was, I hoped it was true. I just didn't want any of them coming after us.

Five minutes passed before I could speak. We were back on a main road, lots of traffic. My heart had slowed to triple time.

“What happened?”

Gary shook his head. “Rival gangs.”

Like one gang wasn't enough. I wiped my forehead. “What do we do now?”

“Take the stuff back to Bart. At least I didn't drop it on the street. If I returned without the money, without the drugs …”

A shudder clawed at me. “What's he going to do?”

“I don't know.”

When we got to Gary's house, Bart was standing on the lighted front porch. Waiting.

I gasped.
Grandma Donovon!
Gary yanked up the paper bag and leapt out of the truck. He strode toward Bart, arms pumping. Bart came down the steps.

“Somebody knew I was coming.”

“Yeah, I got a call.” Bart eyed the bag. “That better be full.”

Gary's face purpled. He thrust the bag at Bart. “Nothing's lost. Nearly got killed, but what's that to you?”

Bart's eyes narrowed. He pulled his head back like a snake. “Wouldn't be taking that tone if I were you.”

“Well, you're
not
me.”

“If that's the way you want it.” Bart shrieked a whistle. Immediately his two roommates stomped out their door, their figures barely visible in the dark. Bart gestured toward them. “You got somethin' else to say to us?”

I pressed my hand into the seat. The
coward
. Couldn't even take on Gary alone. He'd be squashed like a bug, and he knew it.

Bart's friends stalked across the lawn.

Gary held his ground. “You got what you wanted. Now get off my property.”

“I didn't get what I wanted. I expected cash. You brought me the bag.”

“What'd you think I'd do, stay there and get
shot
?”

A curtain edged back from Gary's front window. Grandma Donovon peeked out. Gary's head jerked toward her. She dropped the curtain and disappeared.

Bart's two grunt friends planted themselves a foot from Gary, one on each side. Both of them folded their arms and glared, daring him to keep it up.

“What I
know
”—Bart shoved his face into Gary's—“is that you'll do this job tonight, like I tell you to.”

“No!” Gary slashed an arm through the air. “I'm not doing this
anymore
for you.”

“You don't have a choice!”

“I just made one!”

Bart held his position, breathing like a bull. Slowly, his body relaxed. He eased back, gave a lazy shrug. “Tony.” He raised his chin toward one of his friends. “Go get the old woman.”

Tony swiveled toward the house.

“Stop!” Gary jumped him.

They crashed to the ground, fists and curses flying. Bart jumped back as the second guy dove on top of Gary.

“No!” I scrambled out of the truck. My heels hit a bump in the grass, and I went sprawling. I landed hard, the wind knocked out of me. All I could hear was the sound of punches and grunts.

Gary
.

I flipped over and pushed myself to my feet. Tony and the other guy had Gary down, kicking and beating with all their might. I tottered over, screaming. Caught one by the arm and yanked. He threw me backward like I weighed nothing. I hit the ground on my side.

“Ungh.” Air forced out my lungs. My teeth clattered together.

Behind me the smacks grew louder. They were going to kill Gary.

No.
No
. I managed to get up again, shaking and bruised. My legs turned to water. Vaguely I registered Bart pulling Grandma Donovon out of the house. White-faced, she pleaded for them to stop.

Bart raised a hand. “Hold it.”

Tony and the other guy backed off, chests heaving.

“Gary!” I flailed over to him and dropped to the grass, sobbing. “Garyyyyy.” Blood covered his face, oozing from his nose and mouth. He barely moved.

Bart sauntered over like he was waiting for a bus. He sneered down at Gary and sniffed.

“I'm going to be
extra nice
and give you some time to think about your attitude.” He motioned to his two friends. “Let's go.”

As they walked away, Bart threw final words over his shoulder. “We'll be back.”

Part 11

Monday 2009

30

F
ranklin's plane took off from Phoenix on time.

He sat in an aisle seat near the back, his long legs cramped, and his brain crackling with anticipation. He'd waited for this chance for so long. But too many things could go wrong.

Stupid Jerry. Couldn't do a job right. Franklin should have known better than to trust the man.

At Franklin's gate at the airport, a TV mounted from the ceiling had been turned to CNN. Four times as he waited he'd seen footage of Rayne's accident and Shaley leaping from her limo, screaming.

Shaley. His daughter. He
knew
that, even though Rayne had never told him she was pregnant. The last time he saw her, she couldn't have known yet, he'd bet on that. August 30, 1992. A day he would never forget.

Franklin wondered how far the hospital was from the Denver airport.

He closed his eyes, chin lowered toward his chest. He needed a thorough plan, but it wouldn't come. He needed to get there first, see the layout and the odds against him.

Sometimes you needed to case the situation before deciding what to do.

Sloppiness is what got him caught for the armed robbery. He'd held up a convenience store at night, never thinking about the security cameras. Dumb, dumb.

The stewardess came around, taking drink orders and offering a bag of peanuts. Franklin crunched his snack, barely tasting it. His thoughts whirled, imagining scenarios. If he did this thing wrong, his life could end today. Just like Jerry's.

Franklin tipped up the bag of peanuts and shook the last ones into his mouth. He wadded the crackly container in his palm.

No. Failure was not an option. He
would
reach his goal. By the end of this day, he would find a way into the hospital room of Rayne O'Connor.

31

W
e'll be back …”

Mom's voice faded, and her eyelids fluttered. In my head pulsed the bloody picture of Gary on the ground, beaten and near senseless. I held Mom's hand, tears running down my face. I couldn't begin to imagine what she had gone through. To watch someone you love being hurt like that. To not be able to do anything about it.

How had that Gary become a criminal?

“I'm sorry,” Mom whispered. “All of a sudden I'm so tired.” She swallowed.

“It's probably the medication.” Half an hour ago a nurse had been in to bring her two more pills.

I picked up Mom's water glass and held the straw to her lips. She took a long drink.

With a sad smile, I set the glass down. “You want to sleep for awhile?”

Her mouth twisted. “Yeah. But I know you want to hear the end. I'll finish, then rest.”

Our eyes locked, and I knew she meant more than simply take a nap. After seventeen years, telling the story she'd bottled up for so long had drained her. She wanted to be done with it. I had the fleeting thought that once she finished, she'd never want to mention my father's name again.

And why would I want to hear it? Now I just wanted him sent back to prison. Maybe he and Cat would end up in the same cell. Wouldn't they have a great time.

My eyes filled with fresh tears.

“What is it, Shaley?”

“Nothing.” I blinked hard. “Just … tell me the rest. I have to know.”

Mom put her hand on my knee. “Like I said, people can change a lot in seventeen years.”

But how? What happened then that made my father go bad?

“Did Bart and his friends come back?” I asked.

The pained look returned to Mom's eyes. She rubbed the bump on her head. “It was way more than just ‘coming back' … ”

Part 12

Rayne 1992

32

G
ary.” I leaned over him, my tears falling on his bloodied shirt. “Can you hear me?”

Grandma Donovon sank to her knees on his other side. She slipped a hand beneath his head and cradled it. “Gary.” Even though she was crying too, her voice was amazingly calm. “You need to get up. We've got to get you out of here.”

Rage exploded within me. I wanted to run after Bart and tear his eyes out. “Shouldn't we call the cops?” I demanded. Who cared about Bart's threats? I'd have stepped in front of a train at that moment if it meant seeing Bart and his lowlife friends behind bars.

Grandma Donovon gave me a hard look. “You see my grandson? This is what happens when you stand up to these people.”

Gary groaned. “Rayne?” His eyes were still closed, his voice breathy.

My heart leapt. “I'm here.”

“Help me up.”

I threw a terrified look at Grandma Donovon. She couldn't really mean he should move. What if he had broken bones? What if moving him injured him more?

She nodded. “It's our only choice. Or they'll kill him.”

That's the first time in my life I remember sincerely praying for God's help. I begged him to let the two of us get Gary out of there. Then slowly, carefully, we supported Gary as he sat up and struggled to his feet. He was badly bruised and sore, but nothing seemed broken. We got him in the passenger seat of the truck. I climbed into the driver's seat and scooted to the middle. Grandma Donovon drove.

I gave her directions to my house.

When we pulled into the driveway my mom was still gone. She'd made plans to go out with friends that night. Grandma Donovon and I eased Gary out of the truck and up our front porch. I unlocked the door, and we walked him inside and to the couch.

“I need clean cloths and warm water.” Grandma Donovon rolled up the sleeves of her casual shirt.

When I brought the large pan of water and washcloths, she began cleaning off the blood. Then she probed his face, neck, ribs, and arms with efficient, gentle fingers. I gave her a questioning look.

“Used to be a nurse.” She sat back on her haunches, gazing at Gary with glistening eyes. “Before my heart condition made me have to quit.”

“I'm sorry.” Gary moved his head and winced. “Grandma, I don't … I should have just done what they said.”

“And go to jail for
their
crimes?”

Gary's eyes opened. He looked at her in dull surprise.

She snorted. “Don't think I don't know what you've been doing. Thinking you were protecting me. But it's not going to happen again.
No more
.”

Gary's eyes slipped shut. “We can't go back home.”

The phone rang. I ignored it.

“That's not your fault.” Grandma Donovon wiped her brow. The edges of her rolled-up sleeves were wet.

In the kitchen the phone kept ringing. I made a face at it. After six rings it cut off, sat silent a few seconds, then started ringing again.

“We'll have to move.” Gary swallowed. “I have to get our stuff out of there somehow …”

Three rings.

A startling thought rattled through my brain.

Four.