The Shooting (17 page)

“Yes, dammit! Of course I’m talking about my dad! You know what he was, what he did to her, to us! He destroyed us! We were a family and he tore us apart. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful my mother left him and found us a better, safer life, but she shouldn’t have had to. I had a right to grow up with a mom and dad who loved me and loved each other. I had a right to feel safe and secure in my family home. He robbed me of that.”

“He was an alcoholic, Lily and a nasty one at that. Selfish and self-absorbed. It’s not fair to compare him to Tom. It just isn’t.”

Lily stared at him and tears burned in her eyes. What David said was true, but right here, right now, with her baby growing inside her, she couldn’t find the courage to agree with him.

* * *

Tom guzzled on yet another beer and set the empty bottle on the coffee table in front of him. With bleary eyes, he scanned the mess of bottles, food wrappers and the remainder of a super supreme pizza that littered the table. His gaze lifted and he absently noted night had settled in outside his window.

It had been a week since Lily had dropped the bombshell: She was too young to settle down. She wanted to concentrate on her studies. She wanted to date other men. It was her last want that had hurt the most. He couldn’t believe he’d misread her so badly. She’d been as crazy in love as he—or so he’d thought. Now he knew it had all been an elaborate façade. He wasn’t the love of her life. He’d been the love of her life
for now
—and that had just come to an ugly, screaming end.

Not that he’d screamed at her. He’d held back the tears. No matter that her words had devastated him, he’d maintained his dignity. For a wild moment, he’d wondered if there was something else behind her sudden change in heart. His thoughts had rested on the broken condom and he’d asked the question: ‘Was there a chance she might be pregnant? Were crazy baby hormones responsible for all of this?’

She’d looked horrified when he’d posed the questions, as if the very thought of carrying his child was abhorrent. The memory angered him as much now as it had then and with a vicious oath, he swiped at the bottles and food detritus and took immense satisfaction in the sight and sound of glass smashing on the living room tiles and flying every which way across the floor.

He stared at the mess and tried to care, but once again the anger and pain he’d been drowning in ever since she’d called things off overtook him. Long pent-up tears burned behind his eyes and spilled over. With fists clenched, he gritted his teeth against the sob that built up in his chest, but the effort was beyond him. With a tortured gasp, he bent at the waist, and bellowed out his torment, oblivious to the carnage of mess and glass that surrounded him.

* * *

Lily pressed herself up against the side of Tom’s front window and put her hand up to her chest in an effort to still her pounding heart. The sight of the man she loved, drunk and angry in his apartment, frightened her. She’d seen him drunk once before, but never angry and the combination turned her blood to ice.

Memories of her father crashed into her from every direction and she held her hands up over her face and shook her head in an effort to chase them away. Tom wasn’t her father, but right there in the shadows, the distinction didn’t seem to matter. He was a drinker. She’d known that from the start. The fact that he’d made an effort not to drink in front of her didn’t change anything. In his drunken state, he’d turned violent and it was a risk she couldn’t take.

With her hand now protectively cradling the tiny life inside her, she pushed away from the window and picked her way through the haphazard garden bed that edged the tired scrap of front lawn. Tears ran silently down her cheeks, but she refused to pay them heed. Ever since she’d broken things off with him, she’d been drowning in her guilt, but after seeing him now, she knew she’d made the right decision. Once a drinker, always a drinker. It was safer for her and her baby to stay well away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Royal North Shore Medical Center—present day

Tom stared at the tan and navy geometric pattern that made up the carpet in Doctor Slee’s waiting room and tried not to think about what the results of his biopsy might show. The fact that the doctor was concerned enough to even take a biopsy was enough to worry him. With Lily in a coma and Cassie acting out, the last thing he needed was another health crisis. Still, it was better that he deal with it now that he was here. If there were any nasties to be had, treating them sooner was better than later. Everyone knew that.

If his mom knew, she’d chew his ass, angry that he’d waited so long. Years earlier, she’d had a bout of breast cancer. The family was shocked and worried beyond belief, but she’d gotten treatment early and was lucky to be able to call herself a survivor. It didn’t always turn out like that.

Tom pulled out his phone to check for messages. He’d turned it on silent while he was with the doctor and he wanted to make sure Lily’s condition hadn’t changed. The screen was comfortingly blank and he sighed softly and clipped it back on his belt. It had been three days since the shooting and still his wife remained unconscious.

The doctors had assured him earlier that morning as they had every morning that she was doing absolutely fine. The bleeding had stopped, her wounds were healing. So far, infection had been kept away. There was no reason not to expect a full recovery, but she’d do it in her own time. There was nothing they could do to speed the process.

Their words provided him with comfort, but he still longed to hear her voice. He wouldn’t be completely reassured she was better until she opened her eyes and spoke to him—and smiled and laughed and teased him—just like the Lily of old.

“Mr Munro, Doctor Slee would like to see you again. She has your test results.”

The receptionist’s words suddenly registered and Tom blinked and focused on the woman behind the desk. It was the same one he’d spoken to on the phone.
Judith Bevan
. It was written on her name tag.

“Um…yes. All right. No problem.” Tom stood and drew in a deep breath and braced himself for whatever was to come.
Perhaps he was worrying for nothing?
There was always that possibility. With the comforting thought uppermost in his mind, he strode across the carpet and knocked on the doctor’s door.

“Come in.”

While his heart pounded out a staccato against his ribcage, Tom schooled his expression into one of calm indifference, not sure which one of them he was trying to impress. Good news or bad, he’d hold his shit together. He was thirty-nine and a veteran police officer, for Christ’s sake. Way old and experienced enough to handle a little bad news. If it
was
bad news.

“Mr Munro, please take a seat.”

“Tom. Call me Tom,” he mumbled and sat. Doctor Slee pushed back a strand of graying hair and then picked up the file in front of her.

“Okay, Tom. I have the results of your biopsy. I’m afraid it’s not good news. The lump in your left breast is malignant. We’re going to have to operate. The good news is that it hasn’t yet spread to any of the lymph glands.”

Tom’s mouth went dry at the instant he discovered it was cancer and now he licked his lips with a tongue that felt like sandpaper. His pulse thudded and the sound of blood rushed through his ears, almost drowning out the doctor’s words.

“What… What happens now?” he managed through a voice he barely recognized.

“We need to operate and remove the lump. The sooner we do it, the better. In fact, I’d like to put you on my theater list for tomorrow morning. I hope that’s okay with you?”

Tom nodded, his mind in a whirl at the speed with which things were happening. “Tomorrow morning? I-I guess that will work.”

The doctor looked at him kindly through pale blue eyes that had seen her fair share of sadness. “It really is important that we remove the tumor as quickly as possible, before it has a chance to spread. I’m sure you understand how much more serious this becomes when it reaches the lymph nodes.”

Tom nodded again. It was all he could manage.

“After the surgery, we’ll retest you again. With a bit of luck, you won’t need any other treatment.”

“You mean, I won’t need chemo?”

“Not at this stage. We may give you a short course of radiotherapy, just to make sure, but as I said, with the cancer contained to just the one area, more exhaustive treatment isn’t necessary. You’re very lucky you came to see me in time.”

Tom compressed his lips and didn’t answer, just grateful he hadn’t left it too late. He couldn’t imagine having to go back to his kids and tell them he was dying of cancer.

“Is there anyone you would like me to call, to explain what’s going to happen?” Doctor Slee asked, her eyes dark with compassion.

“No, I’m fine. I-I’ll let my family know.”

“Good. Then I guess I’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow. Have an early dinner and then nothing to eat or drink after seven tonight. I need you to fast for at least twelve hours before the operation.”

She made a note in the file in front of her and then looked up at him again. “Do you have any other questions?”

“H-how long does the operation take?”

“If all goes well, not more than an hour or two. There’ll be some time in recovery afterwards.”

“Will I have to stay overnight?”

“Yes, we’d rather you stay in, at least the first night. If all looks fine, you can go home the day after. You’ll feel a bit sore for a few days. Is there someone at home to look after you?”

Tom lowered his gaze and stared at her cherry walnut desk. “M-my parents are staying with me for a little while. I’m sure they’ll be willing to help out. My…my wife’s in the ICU. She was shot in the abdomen three days ago.”

Doctor Slee lifted a hand to her mouth and her eyes went wide with shock. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know. I heard about that school shooting on the news. I had no idea it was your wife.”

“Yes, well, she…she’s doing okay. I just want her to wake up.” His voice cracked on the last word and he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to contain the emotion that burned behind his eyes.

The doctor didn’t offer any well-meaning platitudes and for that, Tom was grateful. There was nothing she could say that Lily’s doctors hadn’t told him and he was sure she was more than aware of it. A few moments later, he dragged in a breath and blew it out on a heavy sigh.

“You’ve had more than your share of hardships lately, by the sound of it,” the doctor murmured, her voice filled with sympathy.

“You can say that again.” He offered her a wry grin and she smiled back at him, the action taking years off her face.

“Do you have any more questions, Tom?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll be happy to have it over and done with and not have to worry about it anymore.”

The doctor nodded and closed his file.
 
“Good. Then I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget—fasting from seven.”

“No problem. See you then.” With that, he let himself out and headed next door to the hospital and Lily. He wanted to spend as much time as possible beforehand with his wife. He could only pray that everything would work out all right—for both of them.

* * *

Brady Sutton scrolled through the pages of his Snapchat account with a growing sense of hopelessness. On every page, with every comment and picture, kids were talking about what he’d done. Most of them wrote about him with a snigger in their tone. There were too many comments to count that went something like this: ‘How about that kid from Chatswood Elementary who came to school with a gun? What a dickhead.’ The knowledge that he was a laughing stock made him shudder with despair.

It was one thing for his mom to be disappointed in him, even for his dad to yell and shout, but knowing the kids he went to school with, was bullied by, or played sport with, thought he was a joke was nearly too much to bear. The morning of the shooting, he’d gone into school sure in the knowledge that he was about to right a wrong. Good would prevail over evil. Justice would be done.

But it hadn’t worked out that way. It hadn’t worked out that way at all. From the very beginning, things hadn’t gone to plan. First, he couldn’t find Ian. Then Mrs Munro had gotten in the way. Now, the other kids were laughing at him. He’d never be able to show his face inside the schoolyard again. They’d have to move and probably to another part of Sydney, maybe even interstate. From what he’d seen on social media, word of his failure had spread to every kid who lived on the north shore.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. He was supposed to come home victorious, just like on his PS4 games and on the shows he watched on television. The bad guys always got what they had coming. The good guy got the girl.

He flopped over onto his stomach and buried his face into the softness of his pillow. It was way past late. His mom had come in and wished him goodnight hours ago. But he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t been able to sleep since it had happened. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to sleep again.

Everywhere he turned, there was disbelief and disappointment—in the eyes of his mom, in the voice of his dad. No one bothered to ask him how
he
was feeling. It was like they’d forgotten that he was disappointed, too. The asshole who had made his life a living hell from the day he’d started school was still walking the halls, a hero. He’d hidden like a girl beneath Mrs Munro’s desk, but nobody cared about that. The fact is, he’d dodged a bullet. Overnight, he was king of the school.