48

 

Mark slammed his fist on the steering wheel. Red flashing lights and a train signal teased him. His vehicle sat behind several others, awaiting a train he doubted would show up. All the while, Randy had Beth.

Mark stepped out of his van to stretch his legs. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anyway. Bill stayed on the phone with him and occasionally reminded him that his physical maladies were psychosomatic.

Once out of the vehicle, Mark took a few steps forward and to the left of his van. God, can it be? A green car like the one parked by Fishy Business…like the one that had been parked in front of his house. Somehow he’d overlooked the similarities.

Mark slipped back into the van. A train of cars sat wedged between his and Randy’s. “Bill, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re not going to believe this. I’m stopped at the train crossing by the abandoned paper mill near Citrus Avenue. A bunch of cars are in front of me. At the front of the line is Randy. I’m sure of it.”

“Hold on.” Bill mumbled something. “OK, Tim’s dialing 9-1-1 again. We’ll have someone meet you there. Maybe you should wait until the cops arrive. Don’t try to be heroic.”

Bill didn’t mean it in a bad way, but that word bothered him. He was no hero. He hadn’t saved Chris’s life. And maybe he’d fail to save Beth’s, too.

The whistle of an approaching train sounded. He sized up the oncoming locomotive. He could risk it and hope it’d buy him time until the cops arrived. God, please give me wisdom.

“Hey, Mark,” Bill said, “Tim says the evening trains aren’t that long.”

Mark shook his head. Not the best place for a rescue. His mind flashed to the night Chris died. Beth’s own brother had been killed by friendly fire. What if an innocent bystander, not to mention Beth, was injured, maybe even killed in the attempt to save her?

So many what ifs. Including what if Randy made off with Beth before the police or Mark could apprehend him. Mark shuddered. This might be the only chance for him to save the woman he loved. He’d try to disarm Randy without using a weapon if possible, but even if not, Mark still needed to take the chance. He flung open the van door and jogged several vehicles closer. Two cars remained between him and a madman.

He inched his way closer and stooped to pick up a rock. With great force, he threw it at the window of the car then crouched behind the vehicle.

Randy opened the driver’s side door and leaned toward the passenger’s side. “Beth, stay put,” he yelled.

Mark stood and moved toward Randy, gun at the ready.

The man stepped out of the car and began to turn around.

Mark slipped his gun in his waistband and jumped the man from behind. “Beth, duck!” He tackled Randy to the ground, preferring to subdue the man rather than shoot him, if possible.

The man moved his gun toward Mark.

Mark pushed the gun out of the way.

Randy struggled to move the firearm closer again.

Mark wrapped his hands around the gun, redirected it away from traffic, then pulled the trigger, firing a shot.

Randy tensed, and Mark slid the weapon across the pavement. The man scrambled toward it.

Mark pointed his gun at Randy. “Let it go.”

“Or what?” Randy reached for his weapon.

Time to stop the threat at hand. Mark aimed and fired.

Randy fell, and again, reached for his gun. He began to lift the weapon, swinging it toward Mark.

Mark fired again. The slug slammed into Randy’s chest. Mark dashed toward Randy and kicked the gun away. With the man subdued, Mark shifted his gaze toward the car.

Beth stood from a crouched position outside the vehicle and moved toward him.

“Are you OK?” Mark asked.

Beth nodded.

Mark leaned over to check Randy’s pulse. Faint but present. Mark’s head pounded. He visually measured Randy’s blood loss.

“Should we call 9-1-1?” Beth asked.

“Already on their way. Tim called them for me. And I’m sure some of the drivers in the others cars have phoned this in by now.” Sure help was coming, but from the looks of Randy’s wounds, it’d be too late. Another person dead on Mark’s watch. His hand shook as he tucked his gun in his waistband.

Beth grabbed his hand and rubbed it. “You had to do it. It was self-defense. If you didn’t shoot him, he would have shot us.”

“Is everyone OK? What’s going on here?” A stout older gentleman with squinty eyes glared at Mark.

Beth pointed at Randy. “That man has been sending me strange notes, and he kidnapped me.” She touched Mark’s shoulder. “But my boyfriend saved me.”

Mark hung his head. He was no hero. Thank you, God. You’re the one who saved us all. In more ways than one. He made eye contact with the elderly man. “The police should be here any minute.”

“I’ll give my statement to the authorities. Saw the whole thing.” The man held out his hand to Beth. “I’m Pete Brown, retired police officer, ma’am. If what you’re saying is true, young lady, then that’s quite a hero you’ve got here.” He thumbed toward Mark. “You better keep him around.”

Beth’s eyes twinkled. “That’s what I’d like to do.”

Mark wanted that as well, but even more than that, he wanted to get away from this scene and have a chance to talk to Beth, to discuss what happened.

The last of the train roared along the tracks.

“I’d move that vehicle,” Pete offered, “but it’d contaminate a crime scene. I’ll ask the other drivers to pull off to the side of the road and wait for the police to arrive.” Pete walked up to the car behind his to explain the situation to the driver then directed where to park. Other cars followed suit.

Mark handed Beth his keys. “Can you move the van, please?”

“Sure.” She walked off and parked the vehicle near the side of the road.

The paramedics arrived but waited off to the side, four police officers close behind. So much for discussing things with Beth.

Two of the officers worked to secure the scene. The first officer approached Mark. “I’ll need your weapon.”

Mark handed over the gun.

The second officer collected Randy’s weapon.

The first officer separated Mark and Beth. “Please go stand by the other police vehicle, ma’am. As for you, sir, I’m going to need you to put your hands behind your back and lean up against the vehicle.”

Mark did as told, and the officer patted him down, presumably ensuring he didn’t have another weapon. A moment later, the cold touch of metal handcuffs grazed Mark’s wrists. He’d done nothing wrong, and yet, once the officer cuffed Mark, he stowed him in the back of a police cruiser. “I need you to wait in here while we sort things out.”

Two other cops motioned for paramedics to enter the scene. They rushed in, examined Randy, loaded him onto a stretcher, and covered him with a white sheet. Not a bad idea considering the crowd that was forming. The two other cops appeared to be conversing with paramedics. No sirens blared as the ambulance left without Randy’s body, presumably for a medical examiner to contend with; the eerie absence of the siren jolted Mark back to the reality of what happened. He hadn’t been involved in a firefight in years. And yet, he didn’t suffer from an episode. One thing kept him going. The hope that Beth had truly forgiven him.

Meanwhile, the other officers walked around from car to car and appeared to be taking statements from the passengers.

The officer who had spoken to Mark opened the back of the adjacent police cruiser and escorted Beth inside. Must have been standard procedure, and yet, Mark clenched his jaw. Beth had been through enough in her life. She didn’t deserve this.

The other officer spoke to Beth for quite some time, at least while the three other officers released the bystanders from the scene and made their way back to their vehicles.

What would happen to him? He’d shot Randy for no other reason than to protect Beth and in self-defense. Surely, he wouldn’t be charged with excessive force. Lord, you know I acted in self-defense and to protect Beth. Please help the police to straighten things out.

The other officer released Beth then returned to his vehicle. Beth appeared to make a phone call. Several minutes later, Marisa arrived and hugged Beth.

Mark caught a glimpse of an unreadable look from Beth as she ducked into Marisa’s car. Was Beth angry with him? She’d said she’d forgiven him, but maybe only because of the heat of the moment. Perhaps she’d changed her mind. The officer cleared his throat before asking Mark another question, returning him to the reality of the present.

After what seemed like an eternity of interrogation, the officer stared down at Mark. “Let’s get these cuffs off of you. You’re free to go. The evidence shows you acted in self-defense as well as in defense of your girlfriend.”

As he left the crime scene, Mark realized there was only one place he wanted to be. And yet, Beth needed her rest. He’d visit her tomorrow. He rubbed a knot in his right shoulder. It wouldn’t hurt him to get some shut-eye, too.

As he got into his van, he realized how close he’d come to losing Beth. Losing Chris was one thing. Losing Beth, too, another. Mark’s body shook, and he tried to make sense of his feelings.