20

Paul had heard a shotgun fire a while ago, but not lately.

Freda must have followed Maven. He had to get to her—help her. He stood, his legs still weak. With determination, he moved step by step. He walked back into the milk house and out the other door.

Maven’s car was parked in front.

Certainly, Freda would have made sure it wasn’t in working condition. Sure enough, flat tires. That explained the gunshots. But he could still drive it—if the keys were in it. He looked inside. Thank You, God.

He opened the door, slid in, and turned the ignition. It started. He thumped his way down the dirt path. When he got to the main road, he stopped. Which way would Maven have gone on foot?

Probably into the woods. Trees were good cover. And he knew exactly where the woods would lead her. Unfortunately, Freda knew as well.

He turned left and drove to the nearest house.

Sure enough, the golf cart was parked in the drive.

Freda stood next to it, the shotgun pointed at Maven. Neither woman seemed to have noticed him or the car. They were completely focused on each other.

He pushed the gas and the car jerked forward.

****

Her feet were frozen to the ground. Freda had shot twice and missed. Maven doubted she would miss a third time. Something moved in her peripheral vision. It took every ounce of strength to turn her gaze from the gun to the car coming towards them. Her car.

Freda turned.

Relief flooded through Maven. Paul—still alive. The thought unfroze her feet. Maven ran towards the house as Freda raised her gun. An explosion split the serenity of the quiet afternoon.

Paul drove between Freda and Maven as Freda fired again. The window shattered. Paul slumped over.

“No.” Maven veered to the car, her heart thumping as she jumped in.

Blood oozed from his shoulder.

“Paul, can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just glad you’re not hurt.” His eyes fluttered shut.

“Freda, what are you doing?” A woman’s voice. “What’s going on?”

Maven tore her gaze from Paul.

“None of your business, Hallie. Go back inside. This is a family matter.” Freda aimed the gun at the woman. “Leave us alone.”

“I can’t do that.” The woman lifted her own gun up, aiming at Freda. “Put the gun down. The police are on their way.”

“You can either kill me or I’m killing him.” Freda turned her back on Hallie and moved towards their car. “I don’t care what happens to me. As long as he dies first.”

A gunshot shattered the air. The woman had aimed the gun in the air. “Freda. Please stop. The next time, I won’t miss. I’m not going to let you hurt them. Whatever they did, the police will take care of it. They’ll be here in a minute.” The woman on the porch spoke as she slowly brought the gun up to aim at Freda.

“And that will be a minute too late.” Freda advanced towards the car.

Maven jumped out and ran to the other side, putting herself between Paul and Freda. Hallie ran down and jumped in front of Maven.

“Get out of my way, Hallie.” Freda’s face scrunched up in anger when she saw Maven. “You just won’t give up, will you? Get out of my way both of you. He has to die.”

Maven stood her ground. “I know you are a good woman, Freda. Paul told me so many times. You need to put the gun down so no one else gets hurt.”

In the distance, sirens wailed.

A look of resignation and then peace crossed Freda’s face. “I’m done.” She moved the gun to her chest.

Maven lunged at Freda. Her hand pulled the gun away from her chest. The gun shot into the air as Hallie fell into the melee to help restrain Freda.

A police cruiser pulled in with an ambulance right behind.

Maven looked at Hallie. “Have you got her?”

“Go. Get help for him.”

Jumping up, Maven motioned to the EMT workers. “Over here. He’s been shot.”

Moments later, Paul was on a stretcher. Maven leaned down, whispering in Paul’s ear, “It’s over. You’re safe.”