Lance spotted the man with the gun just as Tori flew from her chair. With some unknown instinct choreographing his actions, he wrapped his arms around her and let her momentum carry them both to the ground. He covered her with his body, tensing in anticipation of the next shot. It came, drilling into the dirt inches from where they lay. Anger and helplessness swamped him.
Praying for help and wisdom, Lance shifted an unconscious Tori behind a nearby table that had tipped over as people scurried to safety. He hoped this would force the gunman to change positions and give them time for help to arrive. Where was the Chief when you needed him?
Peeking around the table’s edge, Lance watched the man working his way through abandoned chairs, getting closer to their hiding place. Oh Lord, help. What I wouldn’t give for a weapon right about now.
Lance pulled the table to the right, using it like a shield. As he scooted Tori into a safer position, his hand connected with a half-empty bottle of root beer – a glass bottle. Not exactly my weapon of choice, Lord, but I’ll take whatever you send. David used stones, I can use a bottle.
Lance dumped the remaining root beer into the dirt. The liquid would add weight, but could also cause the bottle to wobble as it flew threw the air. He grabbed the bottle by its neck, hefted it a couple times and sent up a multitude of prayers. He’d get only one chance, so he’d better hit his target the first time.
Movement to his left caught his eye. Sure enough, the man was stepping from behind a tree about forty feet away. Lance jumped to his feet, cocked his arm and let fly. In a continuance of motion, he pivoted and threw himself onto the ground between Tori and the gunman. Once again, he braced himself for the sound of gunfire. Nothing. Just silence. Then the wail of a siren pierced the quiet. People began to stir. Voices laced with panic and fear filled the air.
Lance heard bits and pieces of comments.
“...dude is down, man.”
“That bottle hit the...square between his eyes.”
“...guy fell over backwards and didn't move...”
The next thing Lance knew, he and Tori were pulled apart and swarmed by paramedics. One medic gently pushed him onto his back and jerked his shirt open, running gloved hands over his bloody chest. Lance recognized Brian and shoved at him. “It's not my blood, man. I’m not hurt…help Tori.” Waving them away, Lance lurched to his feet just as they lifted Tori onto a stretcher.
He looked to the last place he'd seen the armed man. All he could see was a still body on the ground, surrounded by police.
Lord, forgive me. I hope I didn't kill him, but right now, I don't really care. Please, let Tori be OK.
****
Lance paced the hospital waiting room floor. Bonnie and Carla huddled together on a worn, green, plastic-covered couch. The remainder of their group was gathered at the Manning's house, praying. Once again helplessness assailed him. Lord, please be with Tori and guide the doctor's hands. And can you give me something practical to do. This waiting is killing me.
He walked over the mud-colored, industrial- style tiles and squatted in front of Bonnie. “Hey, would you two like something to eat or drink?”
Bonnie lifted a pale face with tear tracks marring her smooth skin. Lance gazed into her blue eyes and thought once again how strange it was that Tori and her sister were so different in physical appearance. They were almost diametrically opposed – one petite, blond, blue-eyed, the other tall, slender, with almost black hair and dark brown eyes. He was so accustomed to looking exactly like his brother that he did a double-take every time he saw Bonnie and Tori together.
“Thank you, Lance. I don't need anything – just for Tori to be OK.” Bonnie choked on her words and more tears filled her eyes.
Carla hugged her. “Tori is going to be fine. I've prayed like you said and I know in here,” she patted her chest, “that God will heal her.”
Lance grasped and squeezed Bonnie's hand. “Carla is right, Bonnie. God loves to prove His faithfulness. Keep trusting. Now, how about...”
A heavy hand clamped Lance's shoulder, snagging his attention. He looked up from his squatting position, into Ron Kerwood's grim face.
“Hey, Chief.”
“How's Tori? Have the docs given you any information?” Ron patted his friend's arm, then took the seat next to Bonnie. With a tenderness belied by his tough-guy looks and physique, Ron cradled Bonnie's hand in his and bent to catch her gaze. “How you holding up? Can I help?”
Bonnie managed a smile and a shake of her head. When she didn't say anything, Lance stood and began to pace again.
“We haven't heard a word yet.” Anger tugged at the calm Lance worked hard to maintain. He locked eyes with Ron. “What kind of madman would do this to her?”
Ron put his arm around Bonnie and squeezed gently. “Will you be OK for a few minutes while I talk to Lance?”
Lance noticed Bonnie stiffen and the panic that lit her eyes. “It's fine, Bonnie. I'm sure Ron just needs to get my view of what happened. Right, Chief?”
“You got it. We won't be but a minute and we'll stay where you can see us.” The big man stood and cocked his head to the side. “Let's talk out in the hall.”
Lance gave Bonnie and Carla what he hoped was a confident smile before following the Chief of Police. The two life-long friends stepped into a secluded corner by the emergency exit and leaned against the pale blue wall. Both tall men, one lean and muscular, the other bulky, sent quick glances at Bonnie, then faced away.
“Lance, what I'm going to say isn't easy, so you might want to prepare yourself. Don't go slamming your fist into the wall, or anything. OK? We don't want Bonnie and Carla more upset than they are right now.”
Every nerve in Lance's body jerked to attention. He couldn't imagine what Ron was about to impart, but his good friend didn't make jokes about serious issues. Lance waited as Ron shuffled his booted feet and pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket. Seconds felt like hours.
“For crying out loud, Ron, get on with it. How long am I supposed to stay emotionless, huh?”
Ron almost grinned at his impatient friend then flipped the pages to the spot he wanted. “OK, here it is. The guy's name is Hector Renteros. Last known address was San Diego County Jail. He's a member of, what I call, the Pen Society.”
“The what society?”
“The Pen. He's served time in more than half the prisons in California – Folsom and San Quentin included. Places of residence, before San Diego nabbed him, are too numerous to mention. He's hired muscle for a small-time mob. Not too successful and usually gets caught, hence his long list of penal addresses.”
Lance's brain was running wild. Why would a mob enforcer, or whatever they're called, come after Tori? She hadn't shared her background, but he couldn't believe she was a criminal.
“Lance, this was not ordered by the mob, this was personal.”
“Personal? What do you mean? The guy just wanted to put some bullets in Tori for personal reasons? How crazy is that? Why Tori?”
“Calm down, dude.” Ron gripped Lance's arm hard enough to leave finger marks.
Lance sucked in air and clinched his teeth. “Fine. Right. I'm calm.”
“How much do you know about Tori? Do you know where she came from? What she did before coming to Bisbee?”
Lance dropped his head and focused on the toe of his boot. “No.”
“No – what?”
“No, I don't know much of anything. She said she came from San Diego and worked for a landscaping company. She can sure drive any of my equipment.”
“In other words, you know diddly squat about Tori. Right?” Ron snorted like an angry bull.
Lance went nose to nose with his friend and growled. “Yeah, right. And how much do you know about the sister you're sweet on, big, tough policeman?”
Ron grimaced, then shook his head. “Point taken. Neither of us is well informed. Now we know more – a whole lot more. We can meet for coffee later in the week and I'll fill you in on what I do know, but for now we focus on this situation with Tori. OK?”
Lanced nodded.
“Tori did work for a successful landscaping company.” Ron hesitated, looked at Lance, took a deep breath, then rushed on. “Seems she caught the boss's eye and...married him.”
Lance felt like he'd taken a sucker punch to the stomach. Tori married? Everything in him wanted to deny it. Married? How could she? She'd attracted him from the beginning and in just over a month, his heart had become more and more drawn to her.
He'd spent hours praying for her to come to faith in Jesus. Though she had never said anything, he felt betrayed. Well, he better begin to pluck out any fledgling feelings he had for her, and do it quickly and thoroughly. Distracted by the turmoil roiling in his gut from the information Ron just imparted, Lance turned to walk away.
“Stay here and listen, Lance. You need to hear this.” Once again Ron latched onto Lance's muscled arm.
Lance glared into Ron's face. “Fine. I'll listen – for all the good it will do.”
“It was a short courtship. Very short. Almost as short as the marriage.”
“Huh?” Confusion filled Lance.
Ron read from his notebook. “Tori married Richardo Dominguez Ryder after a two week courtship. Wedding night – at a local, fancy hotel. At midnight the honeymooning couple had a visitor – Ryder's wife, Delia,”
“Wife?”
Ron gave a quick nod of his head. “Yep – wife. Legal...first wife...still living. Anyway, she entered the room, shot Ryder twice in the chest. He's dead in the bed. Tori was in the bathroom. Delia unloaded three more rounds at Tori then put the last one in her own head. Two dead.
“Tori survived. According to the SDPD, what saved her life was that Delia mistakenly aimed at Tori's mirror image. The mirror shattered, sending daggers of glass around the room. Tori was cut up pretty badly. Medics arrived and hauled Richardo and Delia Ryder to the morgue and Tori to the hospital. They did surgery and stitched her up, but evidently they couldn't keep Tori in the hospital. While in recovery, she disconnected the IV and monitors, grabbed some scrubs off a cart and disappeared. Three days later she drives into Bisbee.”
“That's unbelievable!”
“Oh, it might seem that way, but these are facts straight from the San Diego police department.”
Lance started to speak, then couldn't find words to express all he was feeling and thinking. Lord, help her. “What happens now? Is Tori in trouble? Is she wanted by the police?”
“They've got a lot of blanks in their paperwork, so, in a sense, yes. They'd like to get more info from her, but she hasn't actually broken any laws.”
“So she was never legally married to Ryder? How can a man have a wife, then lead another young woman into a fake marriage. It's not like Tori is an heiress or anything. At least, I don 't think she is. Looks to me like all she and Bonnie have between them is that new SUV, and they may owe the bank a lot of money for it.”
“Well, you can at least thank the creep for that. He bought the SUV, paid cash, and put it in Tori's name before marrying her. That vehicle is legally hers – no strings attached, so to speak.”
“Good. But who is the dude that shot at Tori in the park tonight?”
“He happens to be the wife's brother.”
“Oh, that explains the personal angle. He blames Tori for his sister's death? Dumb, but who else can he take his anger out on with his sister and her two-timing husband both dead? It's sad. Sounds like some sicko soap opera.”
Lance hoped that Tori wouldn't have to go back to San Diego and be tied up testifying in court. Remembering all the details of her experience would be pretty painful for her. “So what will happen to him – the brother?”
“Don't waste any compassion on this guy, Lance. He's prison fodder. We have enough against Renteros to send him to several states that plan to keep him off the streets for a long time.”
Lance shook his head. All he'd heard from Ron was settling like a heavy blanket across his shoulders, weighing him down. He couldn't imagine how it must affect Tori.
Suddenly Ron chuckled.
Lance looked at his friend as if he'd lost his marbles. “What's to laugh about? I must be missing something.”
“I was just thinking how the headline might read – MOBSTER FELLED BY ROOTBEER BOTTLE, or how about...BOTTLE TRUMPS GUN.” Ron let out one of his signature, belly laughs, causing more than one head to turn their way.
Lance's answering grin was too tired to look natural.
Ron stepped close and put his hand on Lance's shoulder. “In all seriousness, buddy, you took a heck of a chance facing a gunman, unarmed.”
Lance ducked his head. In his mind, he hadn't had a lot of choices at the time.
“I've seen you pitch rocks and take out rabbits and even a rattler one time, but using an empty bottle to knock out a gunman? Way too chancy. I've thanked God more times than I can count that you're still here for me to tease about it.”
Lance's shoulder would probably have a bruise tomorrow from Ron's tense grip. “Thanks for caring, Bro.” The prickly sensation in his nose told him tears were trying to form, so Lance sought to lighten the atmosphere. “You'd better pray they don't replace your pistol with a bottle. If I remember correctly, you're better at breaking windows than hitting the target.”
Ron shoved away with a grin. “Hey, those are episodes best forgotten. I paid plenty in sweat equity and coin to replace old man Keller's window.”
Their shared laughter was interrupted by a soft voice.
“Lance?”
He was glad he and Ron were finished discussing the grim details of the shooting and related topics because he hadn't seen Bonnie's approach. He certainly didn't want her to hear things that would upset her. “What is it, Bonnie?”
“The doctor wants to talk to us. Would you come, too?”
“You bet.” Lance turned immediately and walked with Bonnie toward the white-haired man in green scrubs. “Well, Doc Bently, how is Tori? Will she be all right?”
The doctor smiled. “Always impatient aren't you, Lance?”
“No sense wasting time. Now tell us how Tori is, please. It seems we've been waiting forever.”
“Tori will be fine. She'll make a complete recovery. The bullet passed through her upper arm without hitting bone. Of course, it tore its way through some muscle and the heavy bleeding was due to a nick in a major vein. We've repaired everything, and now it is up to our patient to BE PATIENT and give the arm time to heel. She's in recovery right now, but in a half-hour, you can go back and see her. We'll keep her tonight and if her blood counts are normal tomorrow, we'll release her.”
“Praise God,” breathed Lance.
“I'll take good care of her, doctor. She won't have to do anything until she's able,” said Bonnie. She hugged Carla, who nodded in agreement.
The doctor chuckled. “From what little I've seen of Tori, the trick will be in convincing her she's NOT ABLE. I imagine you'll have a tough job keeping her down.”
Lance shook the doctor's hand. “Thanks, Doc. I'm sure you did a great job, and we'll do our best to make certain Tori doesn't undo your work.”
“Good. Now, give it a half hour, then you can go into recovery to check on her. We'll move her to a room as soon as we can.”