His Frozen Heart (15 page)

We were still peering like a couple of
peeping Toms. Several things happened at once: Dave righted himself
and stood tall, as if challenging whoever was inside. He cupped his
ear as if to tell the person inside he couldn’t hear him, then Dave
nodded and strolled back around to the front porch again. Before
his feet touched the first step, I felt the weight of the cell
phone in my shaky hand. I pressed “send.”

A nasally voice answered my call, “911
dispatch. What is your emergency?”

“
This is Candy Kane. I live
at 420 Elm Drive. There are two intruders in my house. Please send
the police.”

“
Are you in the residence
now?”

“
No. I’m across the street
with a neighbor. My roommate was attacked last night. Please send
someone right away.”

The dispatcher stayed on the line.
Mrs. Bavcock and I didn’t flinch, our eyes honed in on my childhood
home. A gray and black tiger striped cat launched himself onto the
window sill in front of us trying to get some attention. She
reached up and pulled the curious cat to her for comfort. Several
minutes passed with nothing to see, then a muffled bang sounded, as
a man darted out the front door. He ran full-speed down the steps
and up the street, passing directly in front of Mrs. Bavcock’s
window. My rapidly beating heart stopped completely as I saw the
face that was already burned in my memory for all time. The man who
had tried to shoot me last night was now fleeing up the street with
Dave in hot pursuit. Dave looked like he was on fire, rage etched
on his face.

The man who had tried to shoot me last
night had a gun in his hand and was firing wildly behind him as he
sprinted up the street, desperately trying to outpace Dave. His
bullets were hitting everywhere but Dave, lodging into trees and
cars lining the sleepy street. Dave seemed to pay no attention at
all to the bullets whizzing around him. He was running full
throttle, and as he passed Mrs. Bavcock’s house, I heard his
menacing warning, “If I catch you, I’ll tear you apart with my bare
hands.”

Mrs. Bavcock said, “He’s going to get
shot. Is that boy a friend of yours?”

“
Dave Brewer. I went to
high school with him.” The events made no sense. Was Dave mad
because the guy hadn’t killed me last night? Was I a loose end? A
calico cat jumped onto the window sill to get a better view of what
we were looking at. I reached up and moved her to the
floor.

The dispatcher was still on the phone.
I tried to keep her up to date with what was going on, so she could
relay it to the police en route. “There must have been some sort of
fight because one man has a gun and he’s shooting at the other man.
The one who just showed up is chasing the other one up the
street.”

The terrified man reached the end of
our street, stopped, went down on one knee and pulled the trigger
one last time. Dave grabbed his arm, hesitated for a half-second,
then launched himself at the man running away again. It was tough
to see what was going on because they were at the far end of the
street, so I repositioned myself to try to get a better view. I
caught just a glimpse of the man Dave was pursuing jumping over a
privacy fence as Dave stopped short at the fence. He put one hand
on his knee as if trying to catch his breath, while his other
wrapped itself around his bicep.

Dave stood up, holding his hand over
his arm, but started walking backward down the street toward my
house, keeping his eyes fixed on the place where the fleeing
shooter had gone. It was as if he didn’t want to turn his back on
where the man had fled. Halfway down the street, he must have
decided it was safe because he turned around and began loping back
toward my house. I expected Dave to slither back into his waiting
car and hightail it out of there, but he didn’t.

Before he even reached the bottom step
in front of my house, I heard his cry, “Candy!! Candy!!” He stood
waiting for some sort of a response, but when he didn’t hear any,
he ran back into my house, his hand still cradling his
bicep.

None of this made any sense to me.
What was he doing? His partner had just shot at him. The same guy
who tried to kill me last night was waiting for me to get home.
Dave knew him: the man had let him into the house. What was Dave
doing?

Two police cruisers pulled up in front
of my house, both blocking any potential traffic that wanted to
pass on the street. The dispatcher knew which house I was hiding
in, so the investigating police had to know I was safe, but both of
them approached my house with guns drawn.

One officer had gone around to the
back of my house while the other stood directly in front of it.
They would catch him if he tried to sneak away. Even with this
knowledge, my heart refused to slow down; blood pumped so
vigorously I could hear my heartbeat in my ear. My face was flushed
and my palms were sweating as I stayed riveted to the floor in
front of Mrs. Bavcock’s window.

Several minutes elapsed as other
familiar faces began emerging from houses along the street.
Curiosity was now getting the better of people. The commotion that
had initially kept everyone safely tucked inside had quieted, and
now interested bystanders were wanting to know what had happened to
disrupt their previously muted morning. One neighbor was inspecting
a bullet hole in his white Camry.

I watched as Dave walked through my
front door, both his hands clasped on top of his head. When he was
completely out of the house and standing on the porch, he knelt
down as instructed. The policeman who had been around the back of
the house put handcuffs on Dave while the first police officer kept
his gun trained directly on him.

It was over. The man who had tried to
kill me last night was long gone. Dave was in custody. Mrs. Bavcock
was the first to respond: she grabbed an end table for stability
and pulled herself back up to stand. I knew it was safe to get up,
to walk outside again, but my body didn’t want to move. I stayed
crouched down, still processing everything that had
happened.

More neighbors stood along the street,
watching as Dave was caged in the back of one of the cruisers. The
neighbors were probably speculating on what had happened. Had they
all been woken up last night when the emergency vehicles took Libby
away? Even those who had been able to sleep through it were surely
being filled in now.

I overheard an old man from the corner
lot say, “The block went to hell when the Kane’s left town without
taking that youngest daughter with them. It was bad enough she
didn’t mow the lawn. Now she has drug dealers shooting up the
neighborhood.”

Mrs. Bavcock gently squeezed my
shoulder. Until she did it, I was too focused on the people outside
to realize my whole body was shaking. She had heard him, too.
“Don’t mind him. You’re in shock, Candy. You need to lie down. Come
here.”

The lady gently guided me toward her
sofa. It was one of those old time sofas with the hideous chintz
pattern, built to last fifty years. As offensive as it was to look
at, I didn’t argue as she instructed me to lie down. She tucked a
throw pillow under my head, a second under my feet, and I grabbed a
third one, hugging it tightly to my body.

I closed my eyes, my mind remembering
the easy breezy days of high school. The most difficult part of my
life had been trying to fit studying in around my social schedule.
A few years later and I had almost gotten Libby and me both killed
because I was hungry. I needed a change of scenery. There was no
reason for me to stay here. My parents had left the cold winters
and months of gray skies behind them for New Mexico. I could run
away, make it to a warm beach before anyone even noticed I was
gone.

Libby and I had always talked about
taking off, but neither of us had a good reason to vanish – at
least not until last night. I may never be anyone important, I
won’t change the world, but my life was worth more than a few
hundred bucks.

A soft knock at the door sounded, and
Mrs. Bavcock, who I hadn’t noticed had been sitting beside me,
whispered, “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. You’re
safe.”

How did this crazy old
woman know the words that I needed to hear?
I’m safe
. Am I? Would I ever be
again?

Heavy footsteps came back into the
living room. A deep voice, tentative and kind asked, “Miss Kane, we
have apprehended one of the two men who broke into your
home.”

I swung my legs onto the floor,
embarrassed that the policeman had seen me not just hiding at a
neighbor’s house but probably looking like I was taking a nap. “Um,
thanks. Do you have to dust for prints or anything, or can I go
home now?”

“
Actually, there was a
mix-up at the station last night. A forensics team was to have been
at your house first thing this morning to collect evidence from
last night. That didn’t happen. Now we have two crime scenes at the
same place. Is there somewhere you can stay for a couple days while
we try to sort this out?”

No, there wasn’t. I had a few friends
sprinkled around town, but none I knew well enough to intrude on
their lives. When I didn’t answer, the officer suggested, “Maybe a
hotel?”

I nodded, knowing full well I couldn’t
afford more than Motel 6, and even that was only an option for a
night or two. Mrs. Bavcock must have been partly psychic, “You can
stay in my guest room, Candy. It’s yours for as long as you need
it.”

Her eyes were full of compassion. All
those times I’d begrudged her good nature and went out of my way to
avoid her – she had never let it color her opinion of me. Now, my
heart swelled at her offer, and I would never forget I owed her my
life. Even if I had the money to afford a week’s stay at the
Hilton, I would never turn this lady down for anything again. I
owed her and would owe her for the rest of my life. I gladly
accepted, “If it’s not too much trouble?”

Her sympathetic smile was all the
answer I needed, but she affirmed, “No trouble at all. We would
love to have you.”

I knew her well enough to know that
she wasn’t speaking about her late husband and her; the “we” who
would be glad to have me stay were the four-legged furry creatures
who consumed so much of her life. I was grateful, and I would find
a way to be extra nice to all of her roommates, too.

The officer seemed pleased with this
arrangement, but added, “There is one more thing, Miss Kane. The
man we took into custody says he’s a friend of yours.”

“
I saw him through the
window. It’s Dave Brewer.”

“
He says you stopped by to
see him this morning, and he was worried about you. He says he was
only here to make sure you were okay.”

“
I don’t believe it. The
guy who was in my house when I got home is the same guy who tried
to kill me last night at the gas station and beat my roommate into
the ICU. He knew Dave. He let Dave into my house. We both saw it.”
Mrs. Bavcock nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

The policeman’s eyebrows rose, “He
must have left that part out. Sorry to bother you, Miss.” He handed
me a business card with his name and phone number on it. “Do you
need to get anything out of the house before we seal it
up?”

“
Will Dave be able to see
me?”

“
We’ve got to take him to
get his arm stitched up. I’ll have my partner take him before I
take you back through your house.”

I shouldn’t have cared, but the words
were out before I could stifle them. “He was shot, wasn’t
he?”

Offering no concern at all, “The
bullet grazed him. He’ll be fine.” He reached down and stroked the
head of an orange tabby who was trying to leave her fur on his dark
blue uniform. “It wasn’t much worse than a cat’s
scratch.”

The officer excused himself and left
me with too many unanswered questions. Why would the man have shot
at Dave? For that matter, why was Dave chasing him to begin with?
Had my visit to Dave screwed up their plans? Had I thrown a wrench
into everything by living last night? Dave had seemed genuinely
happy to see me this morning: was he a great actor, or could that
have been for real? Maybe he knew I was supposed to be killed last
night, and after seeing me this morning, he had had second
thoughts, and that was what the two had quarreled about.

Chapter 10

I watched the squad car pull away
while I stood in the relative safety of Mrs. Bavcock’s house. The
police officer who had stopped by a few minutes before returned to
walk me into my house to watch me collect the things I would need.
He didn’t try to make light of the situation, nor did he speak to
me much at all. From the entryway, I went straight upstairs to my
room, the second door on the left.

My room was exactly as I had left it
last night. My covers were strewn in a large wad at the foot of my
bed from my abrupt departure. A pile of clean clothes that Libby
must have folded yesterday was perched on my dresser. I hadn’t
noticed them last night. I stared at the clothes, knowing the last
person to have touched them was Libby. It didn’t feel right to
disturb them. Instead I reached into my drawers and pulled out four
outfits. If I couldn’t come back in the next few days, I’m sure
Mrs. Bavcock would let me use her laundry.