five

I came to instantly, my heart banging against my rib cage. Every nerve in my body was alive and singing. There had been two, then a third. They were gunshots and they were close. Very close.

I leaped out of bed, pulling on my robe as I ran down the hallway and pushed through the door to the foyer. A lamp on the table cast a soft glow over the room. Mary Leary was standing on the stairway. She seemed groggy and confused.

“Mary, I heard something. I think it came from the garage. Can you wake Brooke and Rob up?” Mary nodded but continued to stand, transfixed. My tone firmer, I said, “Something’s really wrong, Mary. Please go get Rob and Brooke.”

Mary finally nodded. Her face was white with fright. She turned away and climbed the stairs. I headed for the hallway door that led to the garage and tried the knob. It was locked. Then I heard footsteps thundering down the stairs and Matt appeared beside me.

“What the hell was that?”

“Gunshots. I’m pretty sure.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and was rubbing his tousled head.

“I was in the den, right above the garage. I think that’s where they came from.”

Matt grabbed the doorknob and pulled, but the door didn’t budge. “It must be locked from the other side. Let’s see if we can get in there from the back yard.”

“Wait. I hear something.” We backed away in unison, unsure what to do. The door flew open. Rob stood in the darkened doorway, his face ashen. He stared at us for a long moment and finally said, “Call 911. I think I’ve shot an intruder.”

Matt and I stared at him, unable to speak.

“He … he shot at me first. I was in the library. I couldn’t sleep. I … I heard the door at the back of the house … the one that leads into the garage. It squeaks. I was afraid someone was trying to break in so I went down. Look, I’ll explain later. Can somebody please call 911?”

I glanced around and spotted a phone on the side table. My fingers were shaking but I managed to punch in the numbers. The operator answered immediately. “Please send someone to 793 Clay Street. There’s been a shooting.” The dispatcher wanted more details. I gave her my name, but kept telling her I didn’t have any answers.

I looked at Rob. “We have to go down. We need to see what’s happened there.”

Brooke had appeared at the top of the stairs. Her face was pale.

“I’ll go first,” Rob said. “There’s no light at all. The switch didn’t work for some reason. I’ll find the emergency light.” Matt and I descended the stairs, following him. The garage was pitch dark. I smelled engine oil and gunshot residue as I clung to the handrail to keep my balance.

“Stay put while I find the switch,” Rob said.

He moved quietly along the side wall. I heard a click and a large battery-operated emergency light came on. It was bright but didn’t illuminate the entire area.

A figure in black pants and a black hooded sweatshirt lay on the floor between Rob’s and David’s cars. A small pool of blood had formed under the intruder’s head. I turned and saw that Brooke
had followed us. She looked terrified. I moved toward the figure on
the floor very slowly. A lock of fair hair had slipped out of the hood.

“Rob,” I called. “You need to come here.”

Rob had backed up until he was against the stairway and could go no further. He gathered his courage and slowly approached. He knelt next to me as I pulled the hood back, revealing Moira’s face. Brooke screamed.

Rob jumped backward. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh my God. No!”

Mary had followed Brooke down and now clung to the railing at the bottom of the stairway. Her face had turned ghastly white. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp. Matt saw what was happening and rushed to her side, holding her upright.

Brooke screamed. “It’s Moira, Rob. You’ve shot Moira!”

Was I imagining it, or did Moira’s lips move? The pool of blood oozed slowly over the concrete floor. I leaned closer and whispered. “The ambulance is on its way, Moira. Hold on.”

Rob cried, “I’ll get a blanket.” He grabbed a rough blanket hanging on a peg and rushed over, covering Moira quickly. Matt ran upstairs and returned carrying several towels. I pressed one to the back of Moira’s head, afraid it was already too late. Brooke was making a sound deep in her throat that threatened to become a scream. Rob had sunk to the floor, his back against a car door.

We heard sirens in the distance. Rob leapt up, hurried to the garage control, and pressed in his code. Nothing happened. “Damn! There’s no electricity to the door. Wait. There’s a release here. I’ll get it open.”

Matt called out, “I’ll check the fuse box.” We heard a squeak as he cracked the metal box open. He fiddled with the fuses. “One’s loose.”

Rob found the release and pushed the garage door open just as the power came on. The entire garage was now brilliantly lit. Outside on the curb, the flashing lights of a patrol car and an ambulance throbbed blood-red against the night. Two patrolmen emerged from their car and walked slowly toward the garage opening. Rob stopped in his tracks as the patrolmen approached.

“Sir, can you tell me what happened?”

“I … I shot her.” Tears were streaming down Rob’s face. “It was an accident … I mean … I thought someone was trying to break in … I came down to the garage. I heard whispering. There was someone else here.”

“Where’s the weapon now, sir? Can you tell me where you left it?”

“Yes. Yes. It’s …” Rob moved slowly, a naked look of confusion on his face. “It’s my Glock. I dropped it on the floor … over here.” He walked toward the gun lying on the concrete and reached for it.

“Sir, don’t touch that. Leave it right where it is.” The officer turned and gave a signal to the two paramedics standing at a safe distance. They rushed in with their equipment.

Brooke turned to Matt. “Take my mother upstairs. Please, Matt. She shouldn’t be here.”

I stepped back and watched as the two men knelt next to Moira. One of them swore under his breath. There was no need for questions. The position of the body, the blood, and the acrid smell still lingered. They started an IV in one of Moira’s arms and, placing her on a board, rushed her to the waiting van.

Brooke followed them, tears streaking her face. “Where are you taking her?”

His eyes never leaving his charge, the paramedic replied, “Mount Sinai. It’s close and they’re better equipped for gunshot wounds.”

“I’m going with you,” Brooke announced.

“Right now, lady. It’s load and go. There’s no time to waste,” he replied.

Tying her robe tightly around her waist, Brooke clambered into the back with the second paramedic.

“Brooke!” Rob stepped forward. “I’ll meet you there.”

She turned back to him. “No. Stay here. Make sure Ashley doesn’t wake up.”

One of the officers took Rob carefully by the arm and turned him toward the stairway to the house. “You’ll have to stay here for the time being, sir. The detectives are on the way now. They’ll want to talk to you.”

Andy stood by the stairway. I hadn’t seen him arrive. His face was drained of color. He stepped back as Rob and his escort climbed the stairway to the foyer. The other officer stood in the opening to the garage, the night still dark behind him. Two shadows moved on the street, perhaps curious neighbors who’d been wakened by the sirens.

“Please follow the others,” the second officer said to me and Andy.

“Shouldn’t we shut the garage door?” Andy asked.

I thought Andy seemed remarkably calm under the circumstances. Or maybe he was in shock and wasn’t able to take everything in.

“No, sir. The detectives will want to see this when they arrive. They’ll be here very soon.”

Andy nodded and started toward the stairway. He stopped and stared at me. “Julia,” he said, looking at my robe and slippers. “I think you better take those off.”

I looked down at the robe I’d borrowed from Brooke. Large spots of blood stained the hem where I’d knelt on the floor. My slippers had left dark tracks on the floor.

“Oh God.” I started to cry. I felt as if I hadn’t taken a breath since I heard the gunshots. I untied the robe and Andy lifted it away from my shoulders. I kicked off the bloodied slippers and left them in a small pile with the robe on the concrete. Could they be cleaned? Would Brooke even want to see them again? My mind was occupied with the trivia of what a good houseguest should do in such a situation. For some reason, my pajamas were clean, and at least I was clothed. I shivered violently and followed Andy upstairs.

Andy slipped out of his jacket. “You’re cold. Put this over your shoulders.”

“Thanks.”

He dropped his jacket around me. “Moira’s tough,” he said. “She’ll pull through. Everything will be okay.”

I looked up at him, still unable to speak. I doubted anything would ever again be okay.