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RANDALL WAS LOOKING forward to the weekend and spending some extra time with Traci. He was at her place finishing up a few small details on the Chevelle and sanding down the remaining rough spots. The color Traci picked out wasn’t that awful, but he was glad the shop didn’t have any in stock and she agreed to the Cordovan Maroon. He’d take it around to Paul’s Paint and Body Shop next weekend, and after that, she’d be the best looking thing on the road. At the Rust Heads Car Show at the Grotto, he planned to hand Traci the keys and the engagement ring he had locked in the glove box. He knew the DJ that was scheduled for the event and had it all worked out. His hands started sweating thinking about it, not from fear but adrenaline. He wanted to get on with it. He stopped to admire his work on the car and his love near the flower beds. Traci stood up from weeding the beds, rinsed her hands and started filling the bird bath with fresh water. She was in a fantastic mood.
“It’s going to be awesome,” he thought. But what if it was too much? What if he was making too big of a show? What if it made her nervous being the center of attention in front of all those strangers? What if she said, no ...? Okay, time to recalibrate. Keep it simple. Someplace quiet, maybe a picnic at a secluded spot near Bear Falls. Just the two of them. “Yeah, that’s it,” he nodded to himself. It was time to take the leap, together. This business with Charlotte Carter was like a dark cloud hovering over them. Hopefully, she would be apprehended soon. He was doing everything in his power to make that happen, but he couldn’t let that stop his plan for their lives. There was a meeting scheduled with the sheriffs from Xavier and Pekote Counties to coordinate the effort. In the meantime, he would order custom license plates and would check the weather app and settle on a date. The one thing being with her had taught him was patience. Everything about this had to be perfect. Everything.
“Hey angel, how about a cold drink for a thirsty man.”
She retrieved a bottle of water from the outdoor ice chest and brought it to him.
“Brand new springs and new foam,” he said, and pointed to the vinyl bucket seats.
“I can’t wait to take a ride. It looks beautiful inside now.”
“You’re going to look beautiful in it.”
“Before dinner can we ride over to Arrow Learning Center on Madison?”
“Sure. What’s going on over there?” He checked the oil and added a quart.
“Milo’s learning plan for school this fall is ready.”
“How much is that gonna cost?”
“What difference does it make?”
“What do you mean? Of course, it makes a difference. Things cost and depending on how much ...”
“Well, it's not going to cost you anything, if that's what you mean.”
“I didn't mean ... it was just a question.” He slammed the car hood. “Just a question, Traci.”
“It was the first thing you said, though. You didn't ask anything about the plan or what it could mean for him, for his future ...”
“It was just a question, Tracinda. Don't make this into another argument ...”
Randall’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Answer it.” Traci looked at him as if to dare him to do it.
It buzzed again.
“Go ahead, we know who it is. Answer it.” Traci turned to walk away. She was right, of course.
“Stop.” Randall grabbed her by the arm, tight. She winced, and he loosened his grip. He looked at the phone, it was one of the officers handling crowd control for a pee-wee football scrimmage. He closed his eyes and assessed the moment. Then he threw the phone onto the car seat and pulled her close by both shoulders. She turned her face away. This “punch and run” reflex was like a grizzly bear ready to pounce when he struck a certain nerve. And, anything connected to Milo rested on that nerve. He was fed up. It was time to face that bear.
“Tracinda, look at me.” He was already in the red zone. Fierceness flared in her eyes. “I'm going to have dinner with my love,” he said calmly. “I'm going to find out what it will take for Milo to get on the right path. And then, we are going to decide what is the best way to handle it ... together.”
Traci met his eyes and melted into his arms. She tucked her face under his chin and wrapped her arms around him so sweetly. “Oh, thank you.”
“Slay the bear, get the honey,” he thought while his muscles relaxed. “I tell you what, let’s take care of that business right now. Then, after dinner we can just ...”
She kissed him.
––––––––
THEY MADE THE TRIP over to Madison, and the Chevelle sounded perfect. Traci went inside the learning center to retrieve Milo and whatever paperwork was needed to help with fall enrollment. While she took care of that, Randall made a burger run to Red Roasters for the three of them. It was shaping up to be a nice start to the weekend even with Milo tagging along. Traci hopped in the car and started dividing up the orders. She tossed a pouch of hot wings and napkins to Milo in the back seat.
“Oh, babe,” she sighed. “They messed up our order. I wanted the vegan “Beef-less Burger” with mushroom sauce.”
“No worries,” Randall said and pulled up in front of the house on Spring Street. “You guys hop out and I’ll go back and get it sorted out.”
Traci gave him a quick kiss, gathered up the rest of the food and met Milo at the front door. He considered calling a KMP officer to roll by while he was across town, but it would only be twenty minutes or so. Plus, Milo would be home with her until he got picked up after dinner. He cranked up the radio to a local FM station with decent reception and headed back to get the fake meat and mushroom sandwich for Traci.
The young lady at the drive through window replaced the sandwich with a bubbly apology and coupon for extra fries. Randall felt his phone buzzing in his pants pocket. He grabbed the earbuds from the dash and plugged them in his ears, pulled out his phone and opened the screen. It was a message from Traci. Before he could tap the screen to respond an alert came across the KMP scanner.
Cars were dispatched to 220 Spring Street. Woman in distress. No further information. Caller not responding. Randall turned onto Parkgate Circle and cut through the high school parking lot and across the practice field. He could hear the dispatcher trying to reach Traci without success. “Why doesn’t she answer? Where’s Milo? If she can’t answer, he should pick up.”
He ran through the stop sign at Primrose just as he heard, “Possible active shooter. Cannot verify. Proceed with caution.” More cars were on the way. He swerved through a driveway and down the back alley. He eased along the abandoned house and parked. He unlatched his holster, checked the clip and flipped his badge onto his belt. Slowly, he crept into the shadows of the overgrown rhododendrons and Sweetbay magnolias. As he reached an opening between the branches, he heard gunfire and spotted the long barrel of a gun about ten yards away.
“Police. Stop.”
More gunfire. Several bullets hit the tree next to Randall. He returned fire and dropped to the ground. And waited. “Where was KMP?” He reached for his phone and held it pressed against his chest to block the light and proceeded cautiously forward.
“Good God ...”
Randall heard another car rumbling up the alley and within moments Officer Andrews was by his side. EMT workers were hovered over the body lying on the ground in front of him. He could hear the kitchen door at Traci's house slamming shut and a mixture of chatter and screams. Horrible screams. He rushed to her. At the back porch, he found several KMP officers updating dispatch and coordinating the response, and Milo. He tried to brush past him and get in the house, to the awful screaming. But Milo blocked the door.
“Stand down, son.” He holstered his weapon and took a step toward him.
Traci appeared behind Milo and tapped him on the shoulder. Her eyes were wide and blank.
“Tracinda ...”
She pulled Milo back toward her and stared at Randall. She took in a long slow breath, trembling. Then she slammed the door in his face. Randall pushed the door open and this time he was met by Lieutenant Hayden. He squared his shoulders and stepped inside toward the sound of her sobbing. “Let me pass ...”
“One of our team is with her. They’re trained to handle that.”
Officer Andrews stepped inside and joined them. “He's dead. Homicide investigator is on the way. I pulled the ID. St. John, Joshua Barnett. Forty-two year old male, carrying a Browning Long Range with scope, and ... Hey, isn’t this the guy from Wyman’s?”
“Captain, we need you to step outside,” Lieutenant Hayden said, “and surrender your weapon.”