Running Back to You (The Running Series, #1) (51 page)

“It sounds to me like Ms. DeVeau’s initial intention was to cause you
distress, Miss Fletcher, and in doing so, make you seem weak and vulnerable in
the eyes of Mr. McGuire.”  He pauses to let us consider his evaluation of our
situation. 

“Rather than creating a rift between the two of you, the events seem to
have brought out Mr. McGuire’s protective instinct and drawn the two of you
closer together.”  His observation is remarkably profound, considering the fact
that he’s never met any of us before. 

“Chief Bennett, can I ask you something?” I request.  “Do you have any
idea what’s happening now?  Why did she suddenly get violent and destructive?”

“I haven’t quite pieced that together yet.  Perhaps her lack of success
at attaining her personal goals made her increasingly frustrated and
desperate.  From what I know about her professional success, she’s not
accustomed to failure.  If she has some sort of a personality disorder, we may
be witnessing the beginning of her unraveling.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

He asks us questions about entrances and exits to the house.  Adam gives
him details about my newly installed security system.  He thanks us and asks us
to remain close by incase any additional information is needed.  We turn to
walk away, and I see the Chief immediately make a call, presumably to share his
new information.

As we get closer to Emmy, Derek and Marcus, I hear a familiar voice
calling to me.  It’s a voice that brings me some much-needed comfort.  It’s
Auggie.  I rush into his arms.  “Thank God you’re here.  I tried to call you. 
Where were you?”

“Brandon and I were in Atlantic City when Evan called me a little over an
hour ago.  He said the two of you were leaving the bar and that you were
coming home to pick up a few things.  He wanted to know if I was going to
be home.  He sounded a little weird, though, Jepetto.”

“He said he was
with me?  Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but like I said, it was weird.  He kept
calling you Jette.  He never calls you Jette.  I’ve only ever heard him
call you Juliette.  He kept saying ‘Jette and I are coming over to the house’,
and ‘Jette wants to pick up a few things’ and ‘Jette was wondering if you’ll be
home when we get there’.  Isn’t that strange?”

“Oh, Auggie, everything about this night is
strange, but I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell him.

“I had a feeling something was wrong.  Brandon and I
left right away and he dropped me off here.  There’s a barricade at the end of
the street.  He wanted to come, too, but there’s nowhere to park the car.  He’s
circling the block looking for a place to park.  What’s going on?  Where’s
Evan?”

Once again, I have to recount the entire story, but
this time I include Chief Bennett’s take on the situation, too.  “Auggie, would
you be willing to tell the Chief about Evan’s phone call?  I’m not sure if it’s
important, but I have a feeling it might help.”

As Auggie and I speak with the chief, I see inspiration
spark in his eye.  Chief Bennett asks Auggie to clarify something, “So, when
Mr. McGuire was in the car with Ms. DeVeau, he referred to her as ‘Jette’,
which is Miss Fletcher’s nickname.  Are you certain?”

“One hundred percent, sir.  Why?”  Auggie asks.

“This helps us to understand why Mr. McGuire may have
brought her here.  If she believes herself to be Miss Fletcher, then bringing
her here may have been his way of creating a cognitive dissonance.”

Auggie and I look at each other, shaking our heads. 
“I’m sorry, Chief, but I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a feeling of discomfort you experience when two
different sets of beliefs, or in this case, realities, come into conflict.  She
has altered her appearance to look like you, changed into a special article of
your clothing that was purchased by Mr. McGuire, and has taken on your role as
his girlfriend.  That’s her fantasy.  But being in your house presents her with
the reality that this is not her home.”   

I am speechless.  Auggie asks the Chief the question I’m wresting with,
but unable to verbalize.  “Sir, are you saying that Averee DeVeau thinks she’s
Juliette?”

“Only a medical professional can tell us that, but I do think it’s a very
likely scenario,” he explains.

“So, how does that help us, Chief?” I wonder.

“Well, it could complicate things significantly.  If Ms. DeVeau begins to
realize that her fantasy is in direct conflict with reality, she may become
increasingly violent.  Please excuse me.  I’d like to consult with someone from
the Crisis Unit at Jersey Shore Medical Center.”  Chief Bennett is back on the
phone, and we’re back to square one, helpless bystanders.

We rejoin our friends who have gathered in the middle of the street.  Brandon
has joined them, too.  The retired couple across the street, Roger and Mary,
have brought out coffee for all of us.  It seems Emmy has made fast friends
with them and gave them all the details about our ordeal.  I’m actually
grateful for the jolt of caffeine.  They place lawn chairs for us on their
front lawn, and finally, after nearly an hour, it feels good to sit down. 
Every muscle in my body aches.  How much longer can this go on?

Finally, there’s some activity when I see a woman walk up to the front
door and engage someone in the house in a conversation.  We watch anxiously,
hoping that we’ll see the two of them emerge through the front door.  Instead,
after just a few minutes, we hear shouting and the slamming of a door.  The
woman walks away, momentarily defeated.

The police are doing a superior job of keeping the news crews at bay.  My
friends and I are permitted to stay within the barricade, so long as we remain
off the property. 

My phone rings and it’s Evan’s parents calling.  They’re here, but cannot
get past the barricade.  I tell them to stay in their car while I ask Chief
Bennett if they can join us.  Without hesitation, he agrees and sends an
officer to escort them through the police line. 

Physical and mental exhaustion has set in, and I’m afraid that the
evening’s events are clearly reflected on my face.  Jill takes one look at me
and knows immediately the gravity of the situation.

She asks, “Juliette, be honest with us, please.  How bad is it?  What’s
going on?”

“How we got here is a long story, but the end result is that Averee
DeVeau is locked in my house with Evan and she’s mentally unstable.  She’s got
a weapon, although no one will tell us exactly what,” I explain.

“I’d like to speak with someone in charge.  Would you please excuse me? 
Jill, stay here with Juliette.  I’ll be right back,” John states.  Adam offers
to introduce him to the Chief, and the two of them make their way to find him.

Jill joins me and takes a seat on an available lawn chair.  I give her
some more of the history that brought us here.  She knows about my stalker.  We
shared that with his parents during our Easter visit.  But she’s every bit as
surprised as we were to learn that it was one of Evan’s former girlfriends to
blame.

When John returns, he looks pensive and sullen.  He is running his hands
through his hair, and I’m immediately reminded of Evan.  He is so much like his
father.  Adam’s face is no better.  Whatever the Police Chief has shared with
them cannot be good.

Jill rises from her seat when John approaches and asks him for the latest
news.  “Nothing new, darling.  All I know is that the Crisis Unit is here and
they are negotiating with both Averee and Evan.  But no one will tell me what
they’re saying.”

For the next several hours, the nine of us sit around, waiting for the
occasional visit from one of the officers who’s been assigned with the task of
drip-feeding us useless information. 

We watch as the negotiator, whom I’ve nicknamed
The Closer
because
she looks like Kyra Sedgwick, makes numerous trips to the front porch and
back.  Each time she makes a move towards the house, our hopes rise; and every
time she walks away, our hopes are dashed.  This roller coaster ride is making
me physically sick.

As the sun begins to rise, we are all getting increasingly impatient and
frustrated.  Just as I’m about ready to demand that something be done, Chief
Bennett approaches our small group.  We haven’t heard from him in hours. 
Perhaps things are starting to accelerate.

“We are preparing to send in a tactical team through the rear of the
residence.  We’re hoping to bring this to an end within the hour.  We want you
to be prepared.  Ms. DeVeau’s delusional thinking is beginning to crack, and we
feel the likelihood of a peaceful resolution is dwindling.”  He states all of
this so matter-of-factly, it takes a full minute for his words to sink in.  Men
with guns are going to force their way into my home.

Jill and John hold onto each other for comfort.  Auggie comes to me,
places an arm around my waist, and pulls me close.  He whispers in my ear, “No
matter what happens, I’ll be right here, Jepetto.”

Derek, Emmy, Marcus and Adam gather around, too.  They all mutter words
of encouragement, but I cannot hear a word they are saying.  All I can hear is
the blood rushing through my veins and pounding in my ears.

Without warning or preparation, signs of a conflict begin.  The first
thing I hear is the violent crashing in of my back door, followed by the loud,
territorial barking of Maddy.  Shouting ensues, and I notice that the barking
has abruptly stopped.  Images begin rushing through my mind of my dog being
silenced, brutally.  I don’t remember telling the police about Maddy.  How
could I be so irresponsible?  They don’t know if she’s a dangerous animal or a
gentle family pet. I bury my face in Auggie’s shirt, terrified for what may
come next.

Shouting, shattering, and smashing echo into the streets.  Then, a rush
of medical personnel burst across the lawn and in through the front door.  Men
and women carrying medical equipment and pushing a gurney hurry into the house.

Time seems to be standing still.  A dozen or so men and women have
entered, but none have come out.  My imagination is running wild.  The shouting
has stopped and now all we hear is a painful, dreadful silence.  We turn to ask
the Chief what’s happening, but he’s nowhere to be seen.  There is no one to
here to tell us anything.

I want to run to the door and force myself inside.  I tried that once
before and I almost made it.  Perhaps Adam and the others sense my intention,
because I’m now surrounded by my friends, all trying to comfort me, and one
another.

The first to emerge from the house are members of the tactical team. 
They are dressed in black fatigues, all toting some sort of guns or rifles.  I
see one man at the rear of the brigade, and he is not carrying a gun, but
rather, a rope.  Following dutifully behind is Maddy, looking slightly
shell-shocked, but no worse for the weather.  Unable to speak, I look at
Auggie.  Not needing a prompt, Auggie goes to collect Maddy for us.  Thank God
she’s okay. 

Next to exit is a medical team, scurrying with a gurney.  They are all
hovering over their patient, and there is no way we can see who that may be. 
There are no less than five people attending, and all we can see is a white
cloth covering the torso.  They seem to be speaking with whoever is lying on
the stretcher.  I hold my breath, unable to force my lungs to do their job. 
There is a fifty-fifty chance that the person they are wheeling away is
Evan. 

Before I can will my legs to move, the patient is loaded into the back of
an ambulance that just pulled up.  The doors slam shut and off they go, sirens
wailing and lights flashing.  Gone.  No one speaks a word.  No one moves.

All of us look at each other, unable to process what’s happening around
us.  One person came out of the house.  We don’t yet know if it’s Evan.  Where
is the second person?  Why hasn’t anyone come over to talk with us?  What does
all of this mean?

No sooner have the thoughts swirled in my mind, when I see Chief Bennett
striding straight towards us.  In the short time I’ve known him, his expression
has remained stoic, not revealing or indicating any clue as to his true
emotions.  I would imagine he’s very good at poker.

“Okay,” he begins.  “That was Miss DeVeau being taken to Jersey Shore
Medical Center.  She has received some injuries and has been sedated by the
medical team to assist in her transport.  Her wounds do not seem to be life
threatening.”

It’s Evan’s father who speaks.  “And my son?  What can you tell me about
Evan?”  His normally strong and commanding voice is barely above a whisper. 
He’s scared.

“He’s being checked by the medical team now.  He also received some
physical injuries, and they are preparing to transport him to Jersey Shore
Medical Center as well,” Chief Bennett explains.

My knees feel weak.  I don’t know if I can hold myself up any longer.  I
grab tight onto Auggie.  Everything seems to be closing in on me.  All I can
hear is a ringing in my ears.  My vision is starting to narrow.  Darkness is
closing in.  I struggle to keep focused on the front door, waiting for some
sign of him, something to hold onto.  I barely hear the chief talking anymore. 
They’re still talking, but I can no longer hear their voices. 

Just before my entire field of vision dissolves, I see the front door
open.  An EMT is holding the door open, waiting for someone to pass through.  I
force myself to stay alert, maintaining my attention on the events taking place
on my front porch.  Moving slowly but steadily through the front door, taking
one cautious step at a time is Evan!  His right hand is wrapped in bandages,
and he looks like he’s been through a warzone, but he’s walking on his own two
feet.

A new wave of adrenaline shoots through my system, and I bolt away like a
freight train, heading straight for him.  He’s holding his injured hand
gingerly, keeping it elevated.  Just as I’m about to crash into him, the EMT
steps between us, stopping me.  “Slow down,” he says.