The Shooting

THE SHOOTING

Book Nine of the Munro Family Series

Chris Taylor

All that glitters is not gold…

Tom and Lily Munro have been married for sixteen years. They love each other and are happy in their respective, successful careers. With a cute teenage daughter and a son who has never caused them any grief, their life is just about perfect.

Then Lily becomes a victim of a school shooting and is left fighting for her life. Tom’s beside himself with fear. What will he do if she dies? How will he live without her? And what about the suspicious lump he’s found in his breast? Does he have the courage to find out if it’s serious?

In the midst of his fear and panic and indecision, his daughter begins acting out. With Lily still gravely ill in hospital, Tom’s at a loss what to do. He has so much more going on right now. Finding time to delve into the reasons for Cassie’s behavior are almost beyond him. He wants to believe it’s nothing more than normal teenage rebellion, but his heart is telling him it’s so much more…

His once-perfect life is falling apart—shattering before his very eyes.

Can he stop the carnage before it’s too late? Will this Munro family ever be able to pick up the pieces?

This book is dedicated to my sister, Marina Wiggins and to my friend, Grace Anselmo and to all of the hardworking and committed teachers in our schools and as always, to my high school sweetheart, my husband, Linden.

The Munro Family Series

(in order)

THE PROFILER

(Book One—Clayton and Ellie)

THE INVESTIGATOR

(Book Two—Riley and Kate)

THE PREDATOR

(Book Three—Brandon and Alex)

THE BETRAYAL

(Book Four—Declan and Chloe)

THE DECEPTION

(Book Five—Will and Savannah)

THE NEGOTIATOR

(Book Six—Andy and Cally)

THE CHRISTMAS VIGIL

(A Munro Family Series Novella)

THE RANSOM

(Book Seven—Lane and Zara)

THE DEFENDANT

(Book Eight—Chase and Josie)

THE SHOOTING

(Book Nine—Tom and Lily)

THE MAKER

(Book Ten—Bryce and Chanel)

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Read the back cover blurb of each of the Munro Family stories by visiting Chris Taylor’s website at:
http://www.christaylorauthor.com.au/about/books

PROLOGUE

Roseville, Sydney—present day

Brady Sutton steadied both hands and pointed his virtual AK-47 machine gun at the television screen. A second later, his finger squeezed the trigger on the game console. It vibrated and throbbed in his hands. A sharp
rat a tat tat
echoed through his bedroom.
Man, the surround sound speakers his dad bought for him last Christmas were so cool.
It sounded so real, as if he were there, right in the thick of it.

The asshole he’d been pursuing in his virtual stolen car through the back alleys of Los Santos fell over in a lifeless heap on the road in front of him. Bullet holes peppered his chest, all of them leaking blood. Even more blood pooled on the ground beneath him.

Brady pumped the air with his fist. “Yeah! Take that, you son of a bitch.” A fierce surge of satisfaction rushed through him and left him tingling. He pulled the console toggle toward him and floored the accelerator pedal of his virtual car. He reversed out of the alley with a squeal of rubber, spinning his wheels. The body in the alley now forgotten, he went in search of another target, wishing that he could eradicate his real-life enemies as easily as he did playing on his PlayStation.

His dad had bought him a new game a few months ago. Brady couldn’t believe it when his father pulled the package out from behind his back and showed him.
Grand Theft Auto V
was all everyone talked about around the corridors of school. It was R rated for one and had been banned for sale in Australia by two department stores. Of course, that instantly made it the most desirable PlayStation game in the modern world. There wasn’t a kid at school who didn’t want it. Only a handful had played it.

Thanks to his dad, Brady was now among the elite. His mom would have been appalled if she knew about it. His dad wasn’t stupid. It was the reason he’d snuck it upstairs without her knowledge. He’d given it to Brady and had then sworn him to secrecy. They both knew what would happen if his mom found out.

Sometimes, Brady wished his dad still lived with them. He could be really cool. Like when he’d brought him the game. And sometimes Brady missed having him there at night, like when he woke up and thought he heard strange noises in the dark.

But there were plenty of things he didn’t miss: like the fighting and arguments between his parents and the days of cold silence when they wouldn’t speak to each other and it was like he was living sealed off from the world in a suffocating cocoon with no one to talk to.

Brady’s mom disapproved of him spending so much time on his PlayStation 4. She’d go ballistic if she knew about
GTA V
. He hadn’t been allowed to have any of the
GTA
games. His mom didn’t think they were appropriate for an eleven-year-old—or any kid, for that matter.

Lucky for him, his dad felt differently. Besides, she wasn’t here now and she’d never know. He didn’t have to worry about Vanessa, either. She was supposed to be babysitting him until his mom got home. From what he could tell, she spent all of her time texting on her phone or talking to her boyfriend. She barely paid Brady any mind other than to offer him a plate of cookies when he arrived home from school. She never ever ventured upstairs.

That suited him just fine. It meant he got to play
GTA V
all afternoon without fear of interruption. He didn’t care that the game was violent; in fact, he relished the fact he could hunt down anyone he chose and slaughter them without a backward glance. He even had the means to torture them. It was kind of fun to capture a crook and rough him up with a pipe wrench and then pull out most of the fucker’s teeth. It was great. It was empowering. Almost as good as strapping sticky bombs to a heap of cop cars outside the police station and then waiting for all the cops to come out before detonating them. He’d watch the bodies get ripped to shreds. Some of them were burned alive. It was sick. He couldn’t get enough.

For once,
he
was the one in control. Brady Sutton was the one calling the shots and the fuckers he captured and killed were the ones who were begging for his mercy. Too bad he couldn’t do it to the cocksuckers who walked the corridors of his school. Now, that would be something.

He smiled at the use of the obscene language. The words felt good on his tongue: sophisticated, mean and nasty. It was “don’t fuck with me” language. He wished he was brave enough to say it at school—like Michael and Franklin and Trevor were on
GTA V
. They didn’t put up with any shit. How sick would it be to swagger up to Ian Little and give him a mouthful of cheek before whipping out an assault rifle and blasting the fucker’s head off?

It would feel fucking fantastic, that’s how it would feel. If it weren’t for the fact he didn’t have an automatic weapon and he’d be called up to face his mother, he could almost bring himself to do it.

Most kids would think having a mother who was the deputy principal would be kind of cool, but Brady knew the truth: It sucked, big time. Kids picked on him because of it; others accused him of getting special treatment. There was always someone who’d been hauled before Ms Sutton for bad behavior who took it out on him at every opportunity. Sometimes he didn’t even know the kids who cornered him down near the bike sheds and pummeled him into the wall.

His mom never said much about it. Most times, she didn’t even know. The bullies took care to hit him in his chest or his belly or his back, where the bruises were concealed beneath his school shirt. He’d given up trying to talk to his mom about it. She worked long hours and by the time she set aside the never-ending pile of paperwork she lugged home with her every night, he’d often gone to bed.

Sometimes he wished he had a brother or even a sister to share the time, but his parents had struggled to have him. Even then, he’d been born ten weeks early and most everybody thought he would die.

His mom used to love telling visitors the story about how she’d watch him in the neonatal intensive care unit, or NICU as it was called by those in the know at the Royal North Shore Hospital. He weighed less than four hundred grams and battled for every breath. Against all odds, he rose to the challenge and survived the critical first weeks. His mom would shake her head and laugh when she got to that bit and say that right from the beginning he was a fighter and that nothing would ever get in his way.

He wished it were true. He wished he was a fighter like Michael or Franklin or even Trevor, the heroes of
GTA V
. They knew how to stand up for themselves. They never let anyone get in their way. So what if they went on crime sprees for the fun of it?

They went after what they wanted. No one pushed them around. No one dug a sly elbow in Michael’s ribs or stuck out a foot and tripped Trevor over, laughing hysterically when he fell flat on his face.

No, the heroes of
GTA
didn’t take shit from anyone. They knew how to get on in the world: with a revolver in one hand and a machine gun in the other. That was the way to do it. Nobody fucked with you then.

Brady chuckled at the thought and imagined the look on Ian Little’s face if he fronted up to school like that. He could almost picture himself calling out to the bully from across the playground and waiting for the cocksucker to get close. He’d probably be flanked by his suck-up buddies. Russell Smith and Cory James rarely left his side. In fact, it would be even better if they were with him. Brady could take out all three.

He’d have his weapons hidden behind his back and would wait until the very last second. Escape would be impossible. Then he’d whip out his guns and blow them to pieces, just like he had in the game. Blood would pour out of the bullet holes and pool all over the grass. He’d stare down at what was left of their bodies, pleased and exhilarated, and wishing he’d done it years earlier.

His mother would be mad, but she was the one who kept telling people how stubborn and determined he was. Forget about trying to get her to intervene, he’d fight his own battles, thank you very much and boy, word would soon get around. The bullies would learn to steer well clear of him. School would become a whole lot more fun.

The more he thought about it, the more excited he felt.
He could do this. He could take control.
He didn’t have an AK-47, but he did have the .22 caliber rifle his dad had given him. He even had a box of ammunition. His dad had told him to hide the gun and the bullets underneath his bed and not tell his mom. She took things way too seriously and she’d be furious if she found out.

Ever since his dad had been convicted of assaulting Brady’s mom, his dad wasn’t allowed to keep firearms or ammunition in his house. At least, that’s what his dad said. Brady was more than happy to look after them for him. It just went to show how much his dad trusted him. It made him feel grown up and important. It made him feel good.

In a few more months, he’d be allowed to get his own gun license. He’d looked it up on the Internet. He could get a minor’s gun license at twelve. It wasn’t too far away. In the meantime, he’d learned how to load the .22 by watching videos on YouTube and thanks to
GTA V
, he’d had plenty of practice firing one. By the time he was old enough to get his license, he’d be an expert.

Setting aside the PS4 game console, he lifted his bedspread and wriggled under his bed and reached for the gun case on the floor. It wasn’t heavy and he easily managed to drag it out and put it on his bed. The sight of the camo-patterned case made him smile, like it usually did. His father really was way cool.

Taking his time, Brady unzipped the bag and lifted the gun out of its case. He ran his hand over the smooth wooden stock. His dad had told him the gun had been his grandfather’s and was a treasured family heirloom. It was one of the reasons why Brady’s dad had given it to him. He said if the cops found it, they’d take it and he wouldn’t get it back.