Was the noise part of her dream? Or did the noise come from outside her room?
Heather bolted out of bed, and her feet landed with a thud on the floor. It sounded like someone had fallen. Did Evelyn fall out of bed? Or could it be an attacker breaking into the house again?
Her heart pounded like an African drum as she held her breath for what seemed like minutes, waiting for further signs of an intruder. But only the mournful howl of a distant coyote greeted her ears. She quickly threw on her robe and tiptoed quietly over to Evelyn’s room where she found the girl still fast asleep. Heather forced a sigh of relief, relieved nothing had happed to her.
But what was the noise she had heard?
She knew she hadn’t dreamt it, and she was determined to inspect the house to be sure everything was in order. As she pulled Evelyn’s door shut, a shadowy figure approached from the end of the hall. Heather felt the adrenaline surge through her body, and her muscles tightened, ready to sprint down the stairs.
Was her attacker returning a second time to finish the job?
Heather could only prepare for the worst and she sucked in a deep breath, ready to scream for help.
And that’s when Charlie’s face came into view. Air rushed past her lips as the muscles in her body began to relax.
“Charlie, am I so glad to see you.” Heather placed a hand against her chest.
“Why, what’s up, Miss Heather?” Charlie strolled up to her with a smile on his face.
“Did you hear a loud noise just a few minutes ago?”
Charlie furrowed his brows. “No, ma’am; I haven’t heard anything. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” He rested a hand on his metal flashlight.
“Yes, I’m sure it wasn’t a dream. I just checked on Evelyn, and she’s okay.” Have any of the other guards seen anything unusual?
“No one’s reported anything unusual to me.”
“Can you please have them double check the house for The Cove Thief just to be sure?” Heather looked at him with concern in her eyes.
“Sure, no problem,” Charlie said as he spoke into his intercom.
“Have you seen Michael ... I mean Mr. Robbins.”
“I thought I saw him earlier in the study. But the last time I walked past, it was dark inside.”
Heather felt a nauseating feeling inside her stomach. There was something wrong, seriously wrong, and she couldn’t fight the feeling that Michael needed her. “I’m going to look for Mr. Robbins.”
“Do you need me to go with you?”
“I’ll be okay. It’s better for you and your men to check the premises for any intruders.”
“Alright, just be safe. If you see anything strange, just scream for help and my men will be there in a heartbeat.” Charlie handed Heather his foot-long flashlight. “Here, take this, just in case you need to defend yourself.”
Heather grabbed the light and crept downstairs to the study. The hall outside the study was dark except for the path of light escaping from the half open door. The eerie silence sent a shiver down her spine as she tiptoed toward the door. Heather pressed a hand against the door, expecting to see Michael religiously absorbed with work behind his desk, but before she could push open the door, an ear deafening pop stopped her in her tracks. Heather’s body stiffened as her heart pounded like a cannonball inside her chest.
Was that a gunshot? Was Michael okay?
Without hesitation, she barged into the study; her eyes peered frantically into the darkness, looking for any sign of Michael, but he was nowhere to be seen. As her gaze bounced toward the moonlit window, she saw the silhouette of a large man slip out the window.
Heather opened her mouth to scream for help, but as her eyes drifted to the crumpled body on the floor, nothing came out of her mouth. Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw dropped as she saw Michael’s lifeless body lying in a pool of crimson.
A gasp escaped her lips, and Heather sprang into action, a reflex ingrained from all her years of training as a nurse. She rushed over to his body, and her eyes expanded like a snapping rubber band as they followed his fingers curled around a black handgun to a trail of crimson flowing from his chest.
“Michael ... Michael, are you okay? Who did this to you?”
But all Michael could do was flutter his eyelids in response.
Heather looked with disdain at the weapon in his hand. She had always been anxious around any type of gun. But tonight, she had no choice but to face her fears and do whatever it took to offer Michael the help he needed. She carefully reached out to extract the gun from his hand as if it were a sleeping rattlesnake. But her fingers stopped an inch short as she realized her fingerprints would be all over the weapon.
Think, Heather, think. How can you remove the gun without your fingerprints all over it?
She spotted a box of tissue on his nightstand and grabbed several sheets before carefully prying the weapon from Michael’s hand. Her eyes frantically searched the room, looking for a towel, cloth, or even a throw, anything she could use to stop the bleeding. In a hospital setting, it would have been easy to find something to treat a gunshot wound. But in Michael’s study, she could find nothing.
But Heather refused to give up. She knew Michael’s life depended on her, and she was determined she would do everything humanly possible to save his life.
Her gaze darted one last time around the room before settling on a small cushion propped in the corner of a leather sofa. A cry of relief escaped her lips, and Heather snatched the cushion and returned to his side. She set the flashlight down and pressed the cushion tightly against his chest, trying to stop the flow of crimson. Then she made another cry for help. Heather pressed a finger against his wrist and counted his pulse.
His pulse is weak.
Heather knew that meant Michael had lost a lot of blood and for the odds of survival to be in his favor, he needed to be transported to a hospital immediately. Her voice pierced the nighttime silence as she made another cry for help and a muffled moan from Michael’s lips pulled her head toward his face. She cradled his face between her hands.
“Michael, are you okay? Can you talk?” She leaned over his face, trying to decipher the garbled sounds coming from his mouth. But Heather couldn’t make sense of his words.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Michael. Just stay with me.” She clutched his hand between hers. “Please, stay with me . . . stay with me.” Her vision began to cloud as a veil of tears drifted across her eyes. “Don’t leave me ...”
The unthinkable reality she could lose Michael forever brought anguish to her heart. How could something so tragic happen to the only man she had ever felt a true connection with? The only person she felt a soul connection with? Why had God brought him into her life only to allow some crazy lunatic, or The Cove Thief to take him away? She wondered if Mary had the same feelings when her son Jesus was crucified.
The sound of pounding footsteps from the hall pulled her from her musings.
Had the intruder returned to finish the job or eliminate her as a witness?
Her heart beat as if she had downed ten cups of coffee. She snatched the heavy flashlight and stood behind the door, holding the flashlight high above head, ready to take out her attacker. She only had one chance to take out her attacker, and she needed to make the first swing count.
The footsteps became louder and as a medium-sized figure stepped past the door, her arms shook as her muscles tensed, ready to send the unsuspecting attacker to the ground.
Give it all you’ve got girl! Make it count!
She gripped the flashlight tighter, but before she could seek justice for Michael, something made her stop.
Heather’s arms relaxed as she recognized Charlie’s face.
“Whoa, Heather! Take it easy, it’s just me.” Charlie held his hand up and gave her a nervous smile.
Heather let the air rush from her lungs as she lowered the flashlight before rushing back over to Michael’s side.
“What happened?” Charlie fell on one knee across from her.
“Someone came in and shot him. I think it must have been The Cove Thief.”
“The Cove Thief? Are you sure? Did you see what he looked like?” Charlie’s voice pitched higher as he lowered his brows at her.
Heather shook her head. “I saw him as he escaped out the window. I couldn’t make out his face. We need to call 911 now.”
Charlie gazed up and down Michael’s body as he reached for his cell phone. “How bad is it?”
Heather continued pressing on the cushion. “I don’t know. But if we don’t get him to the hospital immediately, we might lose him.”
“I’m on it.” Seconds later, Charlie began relaying the address to the dispatcher. When it was confirmed the police and paramedics were on their way, he radioed the other guards to secure the rest of the house.
Heather’s stomach began to burn as if she had just swallowed a hot chili pepper. She knew the bullet had pierced into his chest but wasn’t sure how close it was to his heart. She had treated several gunshot victims, and she knew the odds of survival were good if the bullet didn’t penetrate any major organs or blood vessels. But with the large pool of blood already next to his body, she couldn’t be certain what damage had been done and where the bullet was lodged.
Heather could feel her eyes swell as she fought back the flood of tears. She wanted to be strong for herself and for Michael. She had prided herself for being the rock her patients could lean on, the one strong person in their life that could give them hope during their darkest hour. But now that Michael was facing his darkest hour, her world had turned upside down, and she couldn’t find the strength within to be the rock he needed. The thought of losing him made her sick to her stomach. The only person who could help Michael was the one deity he had rejected. Heather could only hope this tragedy would bring him to his senses and help him realize how much he needed God in his life. She bowed her head and began to pray.
“Dear God, I know you’re watching what’s happening right now, and I lift up Michael to you. His life rests in your hands, and if it be your will, I pray you save him. Show him your mercy and your power and let him know You still love him. Let this be an opportunity for him to see the error of his ways and an opportunity for him to surrender his heart to you. Please give me strength to be there for him. He needs you.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I need him. Amen.”
Heather opened her eyes, placed two fingers on the side of his neck and felt his pulse grow weaker. Michael’s face had become ghostly white, and she knew time was running out. “Michael, stay with me,” she ordered. Charlie had called an ambulance, but what was taking so long? She cradled him in her arms as she waited, praying for it to come swiftly. She studied his face and watched as his eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. Heather could see the pain in his eyes.
“Don’t ... leave me, Heather ... please ...” Michael gasped. “Evelyn ... please check her.” His eyes winced with pain. “Reagan knows ... take care ... of you.” His voice faded away as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
“Michael.” Heather gently shook his body. “Michael.” But he remained unresponsive.
At that moment, another guard entered the room, and Heather motioned a hand toward the hall. “Ask Charlie to find out the status of the paramedics and tell him to watch over Evelyn. Michael wants to know that she’s being protected.”
The guard nodded his head, said, “Yes, ma’am,” and turned to rush down the hall.
Heather focused her attention back on Michael. “It’s okay, Michael. I sent someone to get Charlie to go stay with her. She’ll be fine, and no one will leave her side. I’ll make sure of it. Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re going to come out of this fine. Just trust God.”
But the only response she received was the imperceptible rise and fall of Michael’s chest.
A line of tears streamed down her face. “I need you Michael. You can’t leave me ... you can’t leave us.” Heather felt an overwhelming relief as her emotions broke free. For years, she had imprisoned the tender desires of her heart, afraid that if she surrendered them to the wrong man, they would be manipulated and trampled on, leaving her to suffer a slow and painful emotional death. But there was something different about Michael. She felt safe and protected by his quiet confidence and his genuine concern for her well-being, and he seemed to be the only one she could submit her heart to.
“I love you, and Evelyn needs you ... I need you. You make me crazy and happy at the same time. Just stay with me, Michael ... please.” She closed her eyes to pray again, hoping God could see how important Michael was to her, and that was when she heard the wail of the sirens approach the house.