Authors: Becky Johnson
Stand (13 page)
It’s funny, your response to life threatening situations, time seems to slow down and speed up all at once.
My heart started thudding in my chest and my hands grew clammy. Cindy moved in front of me with the gun in her hand. My gaze took in Cindy in her light peach sweater with the dark gun in her hand. She stood next to a dark burly man who could only be her boyfriend.
Cindy’s boyfriend was someone you could imagine holding someone else at gun point. He was in his mid-fifties and those years looked as if they had been rough. He was big, not just tall but broad, someone who spent his days lifting heavy items, like a dock worker or a farmer. He had a full beard sprinkled with gray. His eyes were a dark, deep brown, so dark they almost looked black, and a scar bisected his right cheek. Despite his intimidating appearance, Cindy was the one who made my insides curl.
Her voice trembled and pitched betraying her emotional strain. “Get in the car, both of you.” She pointed to Skeet. “Drive.”
Skeet got in the front. Cindy, her boyfriend and I climbed in the back, the gun still pointed at my head. Skeet and I briefly made eye contact in the mirror.
“Cindy, what’s going on?”
“You and your boyfriend are going to get me out of here.” I wasn’t going to think about that boyfriend comment now. Really. I wasn’t.
“Okay, where do you want to go?” Look at me, being so rational and accommodating.
“Shut up. And you, drive.” This last order was directed at Skeet.
I stayed quiet. Cindy gave Skeet directions. Cindy’s boyfriend didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He just sat there. Cindy was definitely in charge. I still had a gun pointed at me.
My phone rang. I knew it was Jack. “Cindy,” I swallowed my voice sounded scrapped raw, “Cindy, I really need to answer that.”
She swung back to look at me the gun shaking in her hand. “You don’t answer anything. Where is it?”
“It’s in my pocket. Let me get it.”
“Don’t you move,” she warned, her voice rose and thinned with tension. “Don’t you even move. Donny, get the phone.”
So that was his name, Donny.
Donny didn’t get fresh or rough he just reached in my pocket and pulled out the phone.
“Give it here.” Cindy ordered.
By now it had stopped ringing. I didn’t think it would take long to start up again. Sure enough, the ringing started again.
“You should answer that.”
It was the first time Skeet had said anything. He sounded so calm, his tone was almost bored. We were all a little surprised. “It’s going to be the FBI. The best you can do for yourself is answer it and talk to them. There could still be a way out for you.”
Cindy’s laugh had a hysterical edge. “There hasn’t been a way out for me since I was twelve years old. Do you know what it is to be the smartest person in your class? To be the one most deserving of everything and lose it all?”
She had the look of a woman coming unraveled. “It has been over for me since I was twelve. Pull over. PULL OVER.” This last order was screamed.
Skeet pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. We had driven maybe twenty minutes out of suburbia and into the county. Virginia is like that. You can blink and go from city, to suburbia, to county side. We were on the shoulder of a four lane highway with a wide grass median. Traffic was light. I don’t think it would have mattered if we were in Times Square. Cindy was done.
Cindy, Donny and I got out. I still had a gun aimed at me. Cindy screamed for Skeet to get out too. He calmly obeyed and walked around the car to stand beside me. Both his hands were in the air. It looked like Cindy was going to shoot the two of us on the side of the highway. Not the way I wanted to go. I started praying that Jack would find us.
Skeet and I were standing with our backs to my SUV with Cindy and Donny in front of us. Nervous tension built in my throat. I could hear it in my voice when I asked “Why are you doing this, Cindy?”
I expected a confession, a rundown of everything she had done and why. I was shocked when she raised her gun her hand little steadier and pointed it at me. I heard the click of the hammer cocking.
Skeet moved so fast I could barely follow him. He grabbed Cindy’s gun hand and pushed the barrel to the side. I heard the bang and thwap of a bullet exiting the gun. It hit the side of my SUV inches from my head. With his other hand he struck her once in the throat and then on the side of the head. Cindy went down, hard. Donny charged. Skeet turned into the charge. Donny’s size and momentum worked against him. He flipped over Skeet’s hip, completely out of control. With Donny lying sprawled out on the ground, Skeet stomped on his groin and then punched his temple. The whole thing took less than a minute. Skeet collected the gun laying next Cindy. Both Cindy and Donny were out of commission. I’m ashamed to say I never even moved.
Inside the open SUV the phone continued to ring. I wondered distantly if it had been ringing the entire time. Skeet reached in and snatched up the phone. He answered and I could hear Jack. Skeet leaned against the car next to me. He told Jack our location and said that the “situation was handled.” I guess that is guy speak for I kicked some ass. After hanging up he handed the phone back to me.
“You okay?”
“Me yeah, I’m fine. You?”
“I’m good.”
Now that it was over I was starting to shake. My heart was thudding and the adrenaline was surging through my veins. “I think I’m going to call you Nate from now on, okay? I just don’t think I should call you Skeet after we were threatened together. You just saved my life.”
“Okay.”
We leaned against the car until the sirens signaled the arrival of the police and Jack.
Jack was the first to reach us. He stepped between Cindy, Donny, and I keeping his body between the two of them and me.
“Did you do this?” He motioned to Skeet,
no Nate, Nate now Char remember
. For a brief moment I wondered if I should be offended then I remembered how quickly Skeet,
no Nate, Darn it
, had moved. I decided not to be offended.
Nate, just shrugged.
Jack sighed. “I guess we better call an ambulance.”
“I didn’t hurt them,” Nate defended. “I just incapacitated them.”
“You hurt his balls.” I thought it was worth mentioning. Both Jack and Nate,
haha got it
, just stared at me.
Personally I thought I was being really calm about this whole thing. I was held at gunpoint and almost killed. With my history of PTSD and recent paranoia I was expecting a break down any minute. The fact that I was relatively calm was a miracle. Maybe I had reached a point where I just couldn’t absorb anymore. I think it was something else.
I survived. I proved to myself again and again that I could stand up for myself. That when trouble came, I would survive. I would trust myself. My hands may be shaking and sweaty. It might not be pretty, but I made it, and you know what else I learned? What I else I realized as I stood there between Frick and Frack? I could trust them too.
______
Jack, Nate,
I was getting good at thinking of him as Nate
, and I were leaning on my SUV while DCPD and emergency services processed Cindy and Donny. Cindy woke up, and other than some bruises she was in pretty good shape. Donny was still unconscious. They were taking him to the Emergency Room. Cindy was going to the police station.
The EMTs offered to look over Nate and I but we both said we were fine and refused treatment. Processing the scene took some time. These things don’t happen quickly. I took the time to touch base with Tammy. I told her I would be home late tonight. She assured me Max and Kitty were fine. She said Max seemed a little sad and Kitty kept hiding under the bed, but they were both eating and moving around. She would go back this afternoon and take Max out. I used my remote access to check on the house. Everything looked fine. I felt awful being away for so long. I would be back tonight though. I couldn’t imagine this taking much longer. Of course, I had been telling myself that since yesterday.
Back at the D.C. police station Nate and I settled in to wait. Cindy went through processing and then into interviewing. Elizabeth was led back into the second interrogation room. A uniformed officer took Nate and I to the observation room. It was ironic. After all the searching for answers, the instant each woman found out the other was there, they couldn’t tell their story fast enough.
Elizabeth and Cindy were childhood friends. They grew up together. When Cindy was twelve her father declared bankruptcy and abandoned her and her mother. Cindy and Elizabeth went from being equals to being the rich girl and her poor friend. Cindy grew up knowing she was smarter than Elizabeth and all of her privileged friends. She watched them have all kinds of opportunities while she struggled. Elizabeth still hung out with her, but only secretly. In public Elizabeth ignored her. It hurt. Elizabeth lived in the big beautiful home; Cindy lived in a small two bedroom apartment. Elizabeth was educated in the best private school. Cindy attended public school. Elizabeth had distant parents, divorced, cycling through various boyfriends or girlfriends. Cindy had a mother that worked two jobs to make ends meet. She spent most meals and evenings by herself. Elizabeth had everything. Cindy had nothing. They were best friends and yet they were deeply resentful of each other. No one in their respective lives knew they were acquainted. They had no ties and lived completely separate. They were the perfect co-conspirators.
Cindy’s bitterness with her life and situation grew. She was so much smarter than everyone around her and she was stuck as an assistant. She came up with the idea to kill Muriel, but Cindy made Elizabeth think it was hers. Elizabeth had lived her life rich, she couldn’t imagine not being rich. When she heard that her mother might not leave all her money to her, she freaked. She went to her old friend Cindy and ranted and raved. Cindy saw a perfect opportunity to get something, a perfect opportunity to get back what she deserved.
Killing Muriel was easy. She was old and sick. All they needed was someone to not watch her closely, someone to not give her all her medicine, someone to walk a fine line of neglect.
After Muriel’s death Elizabeth planned to hire Cindy’s law firm to handle the will. Since it was written after Muriel started getting sick, it was easy to negate.
Then they had to deal with Jimmy. That was one thing they never expected. Cindy and Elizabeth expected to walk away with the money and live easy. Jimmy complicated things. Elizabeth started to panic. Cindy was not going to give up.
That was where Donny came in. He threatened Jimmy, and later shot Jimmy.
Once they started talking, Cindy and Elizabeth didn’t stop for three hours straight. Of course, they both blamed each other. There was a lot of ‘I’m innocent, I never would have thought of this, but she came up it all.’ Sometimes friendship only goes so far.
In the end, it all came down to money. Two people were dead, one of them a helpless old woman, just for money. In a way I wished that there was some other reason, some other motivation that made more sense. Money was such a cold blooded reason to kill, to murder. I guess I wanted something more logical, but when does murder ever make sense?
Cindy, Elizabeth, and Donny were each arrested for two counts of murder and conspiracy to commit murder. It was a little after seven in the evening.
Nate, Jack, and I drove home. Nate and I were in Big Bertha, Jack was in his work car. I was exhausted. I actually let Nate drive. No, I’ll be honest I asked him to drive. I know, not at all like me. It had been a long forty-eight hours. I was really looking forward to being home. I sent Tammy a text saying I was on my way back. She replied that everything was settled at home, but Max and Kitty were ready for me to return.
The entire Jimmy case had overwhelmed me. It was just supposed to be a missing person case. I wonder how I was going to break it to Erin that I found my missing person and that now he was murdered. Oh well, that was a problem for tomorrow.
I let my head rest back against the seat. My body felt limp, worn out. I was just going close my eyes for a minute.
I woke up when we pulled into my driveway. I was so deep asleep that waking was disorienting. I didn’t know where I was, when I was, who I was. I think Nate was laughing at me, but he was pretty nice about my obvious confusion.
I only had my oversized shoulder bag and laptop bag to carry inside. Nate offered to help me, but I told him it wasn’t necessary. I really just wanted to crawl in bed. It was only about ten, but I was ready for bed right that minute.
We pulled Bertha into the garage, and said goodbye. It was a little awkward. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to him. He had saved my life. We had solved a case together. For the past forty-eight hours we had been inseparable. Did I shake his hand? Give him a hug? I settled for an awkward sort of wave. Ugh. I wonder at myself sometimes.
Nate walked down my driveway to his truck and I lowered the garage door. I sighed. Home, sweet home.
______
I called out for Max and Kitty as soon as I entered the house. I couldn’t wait to see them. The sound of nails on hardwood was the only warning I had before fifty pounds of excited pit-bull hit me full speed. I fell back on my butt laughing, my bags forgotten beside me. Max was wiggling so hard he was practically bending himself in half. We sat there on the entryway floor for a good ten minutes with Max welcoming me home, doing his best imitation of a lap dog. Kitty even made an appearance, flicked her tail a little at the lack of dignity inherent in dogs and wandered away. I guessed I would have to pet her later.
When Max had adequately expressed his joy that I was home I got up from the floor and hung up my coat and bag. I made myself a cup of tea. I needed a long hot shower to wash the last few days away. I felt tainted by greed. Max was panting by the door.
“Did all your enthusiasm wear you out? Poor baby.” He put his head down and panted up at me. I laughed at him as I took my tea upstairs.
I sipped my tea as I walked through the upstairs turning on lights and humming to myself. I got out shorts and a tank top, and dropped my dirty clothing in the hamper. I put on some Enya. As I stepped into the shower I made a conscious choice to let the last few days go. At least Jimmy’s family had some answers. It was an ugly answer to an ugly situation, but I had done the best I could.
Let it go, Char, let it go.
With the scent of lavender body wash and the sound of Enya singing throughout the bedroom, I did my best to let the last few days go.
Afterward I sipped my tea and toweled off. The tension still clung to me.
Breathe, just breathe.
This was a night where I needed my routine and ritual. Once I was dressed in my tank and shorts I went through some slow yoga poses, mountain pose, tree pose, down dog, child’s pose. Breathe. When I stood back up I was so relaxed I was ready to sleep. I turned off Enya, pulled on a thick white robe, slid my feet into comfortable slippers, and plodded down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Max, you wanna go out?”
I rinsed my cup in the sink and placed it on the drain board.
“Max?”
Usually just calling his name had him vibrating at my side.
“Max?”
Nothing. Immediately the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My gut twisted.
“Max? Where are you?”
Max is incapable of ignoring me. I call, he comes. It is the great thing about a relationship with a dog. The fact that I was calling and he wasn’t coming lead me to one conclusion: something was very wrong.
My intuition was ringing alarm bells of imminent danger. I slipped my feet out of my slippers. I had mace and a small baton in my purse, which was in the closet. My gun was upstairs.
I silently slid along the kitchen wall and peeked around the corner. I could see through to the living room. Max lay in a heap on the floor. My heart lurched. My instinct was to run to him. My feet started to step, but I stopped myself.
I stared hard at him. I could see his chest rise and fall. He was alive, if unconscious. In order to get to him I needed to go past the hall to the bathroom and pantry. It was one of the few places on the first floor that I couldn’t clearly see. My shoulder bag was around the kitchen island to the right. My first goal was to get there. At least I could get a weapon and my car keys. Although, getting to the garage would mean getting past several doorways and hiding places.
I had to get to my bag. The tension in my gut and prickling skin convinced me that I needed to move and move right now. Deep down in my gut I could feel the presence of someone else, like a dark taint inside my home.
I took my robe off and wrapped it around my left arm, which would give me something to block any attacks with. I grabbed a knife from the block on the counter in my right hand. Keeping my back to the wall, I crept out of the kitchen and slid along the side of the island separating the kitchen from the living room. The closet with my bag was about fifteen feet to my right. Just before the closet to the left was a bathroom.
I slid in a crouch along the island. I kept looking back and forth. I could practically feel their breathing disrupting the air. There was a heavy weight of another’s presence stifling the calm of my sanctuary. My only focus was getting to my bag and getting my weapons. I had a knife, but I wasn’t good at defending myself with a blade. I was more likely to have it taken from me and used against me. My baton and mace, now those I could use. If I could upstairs to my gun, I’d be in good shape.
One thing at time, Char, get to your bag
.
I was just about even with the bathroom. I hadn’t seen anyone or anything. If he was inside the dark bathroom I would be most vulnerable just before the doorway. I paused for a second undecided. Should I go into the bathroom? It wasn’t large, just a powder room. It would be just a quick check to make sure no one was hiding there. Should I reach out and close the door as I went past? This was never a scenario covered by Moshe in our training.
I couldn’t stay where I was, crouched against the island. I decided to pull the door shut. I slid along the island to the bathroom door and leaned forward to grab the handle with the same hand that clutched the knife.
Suddenly the door slammed forward into me, pushing me backward. It knocked the knife out of my hand. I hit the island with my back and fell to the side, away from the closet and my weapons.
A living nightmare burst out of the bathroom. He was huge. Over six feet tall, broad as a bear, with hands like dinner plates. If he got hold of me I was finished.
He stood over me and in a voice like gravel declared. “Georgia sends her regards.”
My heart seized in my chest and terror threatened to take over. My nightmare come to claim me. He took a step looming above me. In the next heartbeat all those training sessions and muscle memory kicked in. I pushed myself back along the island and threw the robe at him. My right foot and hands came up to defend my body. My left foot anchored to the ground to keep me moving and facing him. The robe hit him in the face, but deterred him for only a second. Then he turned and charged straight towards me. I drove my right leg into his abdomen. It felt like striking a brick wall. He bellowed, but barely even stopped. I drew my knee back to kick again. I had to stand up. On the ground I was dead.
I kicked him again. He grunted and took a step back. I wasn’t strong enough to do much damage. He was a bull charging right back. I pulled my knee up again. This time I aimed a little lower. I drove my right foot heel first into his groin with every ounce of strength I had. He made a noise like a scalded cat and stumbled backward several steps. It was enough for me to react. Plant the right hand, lift the hips, swing the right leg back, plant the right leg, stand, back away. I was up. He was still recovering.
I ran for the steps.
I took them two at a time. The stairs curve halfway up. I slammed into the wall at the halfway point. I heard him at the bottom. I threw myself up the stairs, my breath sawing in and out. He leapt from the landing and grabbed my calf, tripping me. As I fell I kicked my heels, trying to inflict as much damage as possible. I hit his nose. He barely made a sound as blood gushed, but it gave me enough leverage to get loose. I crawled away then jumped up and ran down the hallway. I was only seconds in front of him.
I fell through my bedroom door, slammed it shut and locked behind me. The gun safe was across the room. It opened with my thumb print. The gun inside was loaded. It had a trigger safety. All I had to do was pull it out and fire. I had timed myself. It would take me four seconds to get it out of the case. It could take him less than that to break through the door. My cell phone was plugged into the charger on the nightstand. I grabbed my cell phone and gun case and raced into the bathroom. I locked that door behind me. I dialed Jack. I probably should have called 911, but my mind has a link between help and Jack, it goes there automatically.
Jack answered on the second ring. Three things happened at the same time. I got the gun case open, Jack said hello, and the sudden eerie silence caught my attention. He should have broken into the bedroom by now. He should be banging on the bathroom door, but everything was quiet. There was not a sound in the house. Somehow that silence was more terrifying than if I had heard him banging down the door.
“Charlotte, Char, what’s going on? Char.”
“There’s someone in my house.” I whispered, the words barely discernible.
“Are you okay? I’m calling the police.”
“He was right outside the bedroom. I don’t know where he is anymore.”
“Where are you?”
“Locked in the bathroom.”
“I’m on my way. I’m five minutes away… less than that.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Stay where you are.”
“He did something to Max,” and my voice caught as my heart broke, just a little.
“Charlotte, stay where you are.”
I had my gun in my hand. I didn’t hear the intruder. Now all I could think about was Max. What if he did something else to Max.
“I don’t hear him anymore.”
“Charlotte. I will be there any minute. Stay where you are.”
“Okay.” I feel bad, because that was a lie. As I said it I was easing open the bathroom door and creeping back into the bedroom. Not knowing where he was located felt worse than being chased by him. When he was chasing me I knew right where he was. Now he could be anywhere. I know I was acting like one of those terribly stupid horror movie characters who go down in the basement right after the lights go out. In my defense, at least I had a gun.
I listened at the bedroom door and didn’t hear anything. I listened a little more. Should I try and get to my car? Jack was still on the phone.
“You are still in the bathroom, right?”
“Right.”
The bedroom door shattered.
I screamed.
I could hear Jack yelling in my ear.
I pulled the trigger.
