Resurrecting Charlie's Girl (11 page)

In
the quiet of the car, even the sounds of Tom's phone on vibrate brought her to
the edge of her seat. He flipped it open, listened, and then shut the phone
down and stuffed it in his pocket. "Time to rock and roll."

Joe
and Pete pulled up behind them a few seconds later. Tom walked around the front
of the car and opened Charlise's door for her. She reached for his hand, but he
shook her off. "I need my hands, sweetheart."

Of
course, he did.

She
kept the gun pointed down with the safety off and her face angled toward the
front door. The walk to the house never seemed so long. She damned the high
heels and wished she wore sweat pants and sneakers. Her sneakers that Tom
bought her.

Joe
and Pete searched outside the house for any sign of Garrett. Tom searched the
inside. Charlise fell in line behind Tom. After checking the rest of the house,
Tom kicked the bedroom door open, and the force of it hitting the wall punched
a hole in the sheetrock. She stayed in the hallway, her arms wrapped around her
middle.

Tom
swept the room. "It's clear. Dammit, where's Garrett?"

Tom
hurried back to the living room with Charlise right behind him. Stopping at the
front door, he grabbed his flashlight off a shelf by the door and checked the
batteries. "I want you to lock the door behind me. Two short knocks, you
open it. Anything else—don't open it."

She
nodded. "Okay."

He
brushed his lips across her forehead. "Keep pulling that trigger if the
door opens without the knock. Shoot until the magazine is empty, you
hear?"

She
backed up into the wall and watched Tom lock the door and disappear from sight.
An eerie feeling that someone watched and waited had her raising the gun. She
gripped the handle so hard, her hand shook and she doubt she'd have the
strength to pull the trigger.

Soon,
her knees gave out and she sank to the floor. Garrett missing was not a good
sign. What if Tom and the other men disappear too?

Chapter Eleven

Tom
waited for his vision to adjust to the darkness and then he scoured the tree
line for Joe and Pete. A hundred yards ahead, he spotted them peering into the
trees. He whistled the call of a hawk to warn them of his approach.

"Anything?"
he whispered upon reaching them.

Joe
held up his right fist in a sign of negative. It wasn't normal for Garrett to
disappear without contact. Hell, Garrett taught him everything about
investigating.

Damnit,
Garrett. Where are you?

The
wild grass brushed against Tom's legs as he continued moving, and the noise of
the three men wading through the underbrush made it impossible to pick up any
sound of twigs breaking or a sense that someone stalked their every move. He halted
and cocked his head. Only Joe and Pete's footsteps came to him. He moved in the
opposite direction when he heard a purring sound coming from his left.

The
underbrush grew thicker the farther away from the house he walked.

The
sound came again, and this time Tom crouched low and made his way into the
brush.

"Hey,"
a raspy voice called.

Tom
halted, his heart beat hammering in his chest. That's no wild animal.

He
moved forward and called softly, "Garrett?"

A
cough sounded to the left of him. He aimed the beam of light into the brush and
began ducking under branches and around brush in a frenzy to find his boss. He
almost fell over the prone body hidden under the bushes.

Tom
fell to his knees. "What happened?"

Aiming
the flashlight toward Garrett, he searched for any sign of trauma. Over
Garrett's midsection, Tom's hands came away wet. It didn't take a rocket scientist
to figure out that blood covered the palms of his hands.

Tom
wasted no time. He picked his six-foot tall boss up and hefted him over his
shoulders in a fireman's carry. He ignored the noise he made scrambling through
the woods and willed his partners to hear the commotion and investigate.
Garrett needed a hospital now.

Chapter Twelve

Bang!

Bang!

Charlise's
breath whooshed out of her mouth.
She laid the pistol on the plant stand
by the front door and opened the door.

Garrett
lay unconscious in Tom's arms, Joe and Pete hurried ahead. Papers were swept
off the table, and the men helped Tom lay their boss down gently on the flat,
wooden surface. His clothes were covered in blood.

"Oh
God, what happened?" Charlise stepped closer. "What can I do?

Tom
gripped Garrett's coat and the shirt beneath it and ripped them open.
"Stay in the house, sweetheart."

Garrett's
wound covered his whole stomach. Shreds of skin and insides hung out. He was
bleeding profusely.

Charlise
gagged and shrank back, following Tom's advice.

"Goddammit!"
Tom spun around at the fresh onsloaught of blood, grabbed a handful of hand
towels off the counter and yelled, "Get more towels."

Pete
skidded to a halt at the table with an armful of towels. "Shit! That's an
exit wound. He was shot in the back."

"He
needed to go to the hospital twenty minutes ago." Joe grabbed a towel from
Pete and rolled it up. He pressed down on Garrett's midsection with all his
weight.

"I…I'll
call an ambulance." Charlise darted toward the kitchen phone, but Tom called
her back.

"It'll
take too long. We'll take him." Tom gripped the injured man under the
arms, and Pete picked up Garrett's feet. "Joe, whatever you do, don't let
up on that towel. Charlise, stay with me."

The
three men moved together out the door and settled Garrett in the backseat of
Tom's car with Joe bent over his body. "Get in the front Charlise."

Tom
opened the driver's door. She hurried to get in the passenger seat. He pulled
out of the driveway with Pete following in the other car.

"Is
he going to be all right?" Charlise turned in the seat to glance in the
back.

"He
has to be." Tom slammed his fist against the dash.

***

There
were a few people in the waiting room of a local county hospital. Each person
caught up in their own personal tragedy or nightmare. A mother held a child who
must've cried himself to sleep snuggled down in her lap. The tear tracks on the
boy's chubby cheeks told of the stressful night. An older couple sat across the
room, the woman's hands clasped in front of her in prayer and her husband
sitting with his eyes closed, either slept or praying.

Charlise
stayed behind in the waiting room, and the three men disappeared down the
hallway to the Emergency area. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. The
amount of blood Garrett lost scared her.

The
doctors needed to work fast. How much can a person lose without…?

She
moaned.
Don't think about the if's…

Charlise
found a seat away from the others and cradled her head in her hands. She'd give
anything to take back the bullet that made Garrett fight for his life. First
Julie, Bill, and now Garrett suffered for the dumbest mistake she'd ever made.
Who would be next?

Never
in a million years had she considered that the man she'd married years ago
would develop into the monster of today. She'd ignored all the signs that Jared
displayed, and for what? Love? What she thought she possessed with Jared never
amounted to love.

Love
didn't hurt. She sniffed and wiped her face with her hands.

The
only way to stop the madness and keep everyone she cared about safe was if she
confronted Jared on her own. She inhaled and shivered at the thought. She
either needed to go back to Jared and submit herself to his abuse or kill him.

The
overhead speaker announced a code blue in room two-twelve. Charlise leaned over
in her chair to look down the hospital corridor. A mob of nurses ran into one
of the rooms. Did they rush into Garrett's room? Maybe it was better that she
didn't know.

She
stood and wandered down the hall. The white light above the door the nurses disappeared
into flashed. She hurried back to the waiting room and paced.
What do I do?

The
pistol Tom gave her earlier was at the house. She still wore the evening dress
from her date with Tom. She paced faster.
Come on,  think. What would Tom
do?

Making
her decision, Charlise walked out of the hospital without a second thought.
Only she held the power to save them all.

Tom's
car was unlocked and she found the pistol under the driver's seat where Tom put
it earlier, before going inside the hospital. She slipped the clip out, and
pulled her shoulders back at the fully loaded magazine. She'd need every bullet
to get the job done.

Chapter Twelve

The
safe house sat ablaze with lights from inside. Charlise paid the cab driver and
walked down the concrete path toward the front door. The pistol she'd wrapped
in an old fast food bag gave her a little security.

One
of the guys must have locked the house, because the handle didn't budge in her
hand. She searched for anything that she could use to break the window in the
door and found a stone praying angel in the flowerbed. She hurled the angel at
the door and turned to shield her face from the breaking glass.

She
walked over the broken glass and gingerly reached through the window to unlock
the door. Her steady nerves surprised her, but determination to succeed drove
her forward. She stepped inside.

Evidence
of their medical emergency showed in little ways around the house. A tipped
over plant, blood splatters trailed into the kitchen, and the gun Tom gave her
sat out in the open on the plant stand told the story of this hellish evening.

She
kicked off her heels and ran upstairs to change clothes. She needed clothes
that gave with the movement of her body and hid the pistol.

The
bag from Sally lay on the bed where she'd left it, and she rummaged for a pair
of jeans, T-shirt, and baggy sweatshirt. She tucked the pistol in the front
pocket of the jeans and pulled the sweatshirt over the bulky pocket. She patted
her front.
Good.

 Jared
would have to frisk me to find the gun.

The
tennis shoes Tom gave her lay on the floor. Charlise sat on the bed, fully
dressed, and stared down at the shoes. She sucked in a deep breath, drawing
oxygen into the deep recesses of her lungs. No, she couldn't think of Tom and
all he'd done for her.

Determination
surged and she slid her feet into the shoes and tied the laces. She'd end this
nightmare for everyone tonight.

Back
downstairs, she debated on leaving a note for Tom. She tugged at the skin at
the base of her neck, picked up the phone, and called for a cab. The only way
to succeed with her plan was if she made a clean break. Tom would follow her if
she left a hint.

A
different cab driver arrived a half-hour later, and she slipped into the
backseat. "The nearest bus station, please."

The
driver started the clock, and they set off. She balled her hands into fists and
stared out the window. Confident that Jared studied her every move from afar
without showing his face, she wondered exactly what time he'd show his hand and
make his move.

Of
course, she didn't have enough money for a bus trip, but Jared didn't know
that. She hoped he stopped her before she needed to find a way to pay for a
ticket home, and she could put an end to running.

Whatever
happened, she promised herself she'd no longer play the victim. No longer would
she forget that she was Charlie's girl.

The
woman she used to be, who huddled on the bed subjected to the rage and
frustration of her husband didn't exist. She'd grown up. She'd found a part of
herself she'd lost and thought gone forever.

The
man who stood beside his best friend's bedside at the hospital, praying for him
to live, had shown her the parts of herself she'd thought dead, but were only
hidden deep inside. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand slid over her lap to caress
the hidden weapon.

"Here
you are, ma'am," the cabby said, pulling up to the curb of the bus depot.
"That'll be eight-fifty."

Charlise's
hand brushed against the cold metal of the cage that separated her from the
driver when she gave him a ten-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. No
sooner had her foot hit the cement of the sidewalk and the hair rose on the
back of her neck. She raised her head and spotted the reason for the fear
racing through her bloodstream.

Jared
Blatwell leaned against his car with his legs crossed at the ankles and his
arms folded across his chest.

The
night air was thick with noise and exhaust fumes from the buses lined up in the
loading zone. She forced in a breath to steady her nerves and stepped forward.
The whole scene reminded her of dreams where her legs refused to move no matter
how hard she tried to run.