The gun quickly swung toward her. Then the door burst open. The gun started back, wavering uncertainly.
“Kay!” Bill screamed. He tried to spin back out of the doorway.
The gun decided on his direction just as Jane grabbed for the barrel. The blast was more a roar than a sharp crack. The door exploded into splinters. The doorframe to the right of the opening tore away, and the narrow window next to it simply vanished. Jane sprawled on top of Kay as the two women slammed to the floor. The shotgun bounced against the wall.
“Kay! Don’t!” It was Bill’s voice screaming outside the door. A second later he turned in through the battered opening, braced himself for a second to catch his balance, and dropped the pistol he had been cradling. He saw the women rolling over each other as they both tried to reach for the shotgun. Bill pushed the shotgun away with his foot. He held out a hand to Jane, and she jumped up to take it.
“Get the gun,” Bill told her, pointing to the revolver he had let fall by the door. Jane took just an instant to make sure he was steady on his feet. Then she scooped up the gun she had fired at him only minutes earlier. She didn’t aim it at the woman who had now gotten to her feet.
Bill pushed away from the wall and made his way to a chair, where he let himself collapse. At the sight of his effort, Jane no longer cared about Kay Parker. At that moment, Bill was all that was important to her. She picked up the telephone, taking glimpses up from the dial pad to keep track of Kay Parker. Kay was standing in the entrance foyer, glaring back at her. The discarded shotgun was a good two paces away from her.
“I need an ambulance—my husband has been shot,” Jane snapped into the telephone. A brief pause, and then she gave her name and the address of the chalet. “And call the police. The person who shot him is still here.” Another pause. “Don’t tell me about the roads. It’s a critical wound. Life or death. Hurry!” She listened and then hung up the phone.
Her husband needed her full attention, but she was afraid to take her eyes off Kay Parker. “Get a towel from the kitchen,” she ordered.
Kay laughed scornfully. “Get it yourself!”
Jane raised the pistol in both hands. “I’ll fire this before I have to put it down.”
The smirk disappeared from Kay’s face. Would Jane really fire? She saw her take careful aim, pointing the gun at her knees. “I’ll get it,” she said, already starting toward the kitchen. The pistol panned to follow her movements.
Jane glanced down at Bill. His face was white and his jaw set with pain. She approached cautiously and unzipped the windbreaker. She tried not to react to the bloodstain that was spread across his left shoulder, down across his chest and into his sleeve. She could see the entry wound, just under his shoulder.
She pulled back quickly when Kay approached with a stack of dishtowels. “Put them in his lap,” she ordered. Then she gestured with the gun. “Stand over there by the door. Away from that shotgun.” Her tone was all business. Kay obeyed quietly. Jane went to one knee next to her husband, folded a towel, and pressed it against the wound. He winced, but then forced a smile. Jane didn’t know the extent of the damage, but she knew she had to stop the bleeding. Gently, she titled him forward. There was more blood on the back of his shirt, surrounding a broad tear. The bullet had done more damage coming out than it had going in. She folded another towel, again stealing glances at the woman by the door. It was difficult to hold the gun while she worked to cover the wounds, but she was afraid to put it down. The muzzle waved randomly.
Jane settled him so that the back of the chair held the packing against the exit wound. She raised Bill’s right hand across his chest. “What do I do now?” she asked him. “Whiskey … painkiller?”
“I’m okay,” he managed. “It hurts like a bitch, but I’m still
strong … still thinking.” He didn’t look strong, and she wasn’t sure he was thinking.
“I’ll get you a drink, I think. That’s right, isn’t it?”
He smiled. “As long as the sun is over the yardarm.”
She aimed again, assuring Kay that she hadn’t forgotten about her. Then she leaned into the dining room to get the liquor bottle. At that moment Kay Parker leaped out through the open doorway.
“Jesus!” Jane raced after her. Before she reached the splintered door, she heard the car door slam. When she turned through the doorway, the engine growled and started. The car went into reverse and backed away, its rear wheels spinning as they buzzed across the snow. Jane stopped and set herself in firing position.
Kay was totally vulnerable. She was leaning forward, trying to see out the windowshield, which her breath was quickly fogging. When she shifted into drive, the rear end began to fishtail. She was plowing forward slowly; slow enough for Jane to have gotten off three or four clear shots through the windshield and side window. But she couldn’t force herself to squeeze the trigger.
“Let her go!” It was Bill, who had gotten as far as the front steps, his hand still up to his chest. “Just let her go.” This time it wasn’t an order but rather a plea.
Jane kept the gun raised. “I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t change her mind. She can go all the way to hell as far as I’m concerned.”
He went down the steps, reached around, and took the gun out of her hand. He tried to turn her and lead her back into the house, but Jane kept glaring until the back of the car disappeared around the turnoff and onto the main road.