CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 43
Luke’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he asked more questions, gleaning every bit of information he could about the situation from the terrified woman. Anything that would help the officers already en route to the location. It was possible she’d give them something they could use to diffuse the situation before anyone else was hurt—or worse.
“So, you’ll be a mom in a few weeks.”
“I’m scheduled for a C-section in one week.”
“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“It’s a boy.”
“Awesome. Man, I can’t wait to have a kid one day.” Keep her distracted and calm. “You know, Cori. You don’t have to talk. I can keep talking to you if you’re worried about them overhearing you.”
“I hear them yelling and cussing at each other out there, so I know I’m okay as long as I whisper.”
“Can you hear any of their conversation?”
“It sounds like they’re blaming each other. Do you want me to go to the door to hear more?”
“No. Just stay where you are. Do you have plenty of battery left on your phone?” He waited patiently while she checked.
“Shoot, I’ve only got about twenty-five percent left.”
“No charger with you?”
“Hang on,” she hissed.
After a minute of shuffling around, she came back on the phone. “I remembered to put it in my purse, thank goodness.”
“Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Look around for an outlet, preferably one you can plug into and keep talking to me.” Another minute and she came back on.
“I found one, Luke.”
“Can you plug into it and remain hidden?” More shuffling.
“There are several lightweight boxes I can stack to keep out of sight. I’m going to do that now. Don’t hang up on me, okay? You promise you’ll wait?”
“I’ll wait, I promise, but first, make sure your phone is set to silent. We don’t want any notification noises to alert them to your location.”
“Done, now hang on.”
* * * *
Cori moved around the room without making a sound, even though she still heard the two thieves throwing insults at each other. She checked every large box she found, careful not to choose anything too heavy. One particularly heavy box was already in place but needed a slight adjustment to its position. She finally managed to push it, using her knees for leverage. It took several minutes of huffing and puffing but she eventually built a fortress of boxes, a barrier to give her some semblance of security. Before hiding away, Cori peeked through the hinged side of the doorway to check out the situation at the front of the store. After a minute of listening and catching glimpses of the others, she returned to her spot behind the façade.
“Okay, I’m done. Luke? Are you there?”
“I’m here. I told you I wouldn’t go anywhere. Is it safe to talk?”
“Yes, they’re still blaming each other and they’ve shoved a large display case in front of the door. I guess so no one can see what’s going on inside the store.”
“You checked it out again?”
“Yes, but I was careful. I keep thinking how terrified that poor woman must be. The mean one keeps threatening to shoot his partner. The other guy wants them to give themselves up, but he didn’t shoot the cop. The one holding the woman did.”
“You said you saw them earlier and he said something to you?”
Her blood chilled at the thought. “Not to me. About me.” She related what the man had said to his buddy. “I don’t know . . . it’s like he hated me just for existing. And the way he laughed afterwards . . .” She shivered, remembering how terrified she’d been.
“You were right to hide, Cori. Do whatever you can to stay away from him.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“So, are you married?”
She listened to make sure she still heard their voices up front. Satisfied, she returned to her lifeline. “I was. He died before I discovered I was pregnant.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. How long after he passed away did you find out?”
“Three months and by then I was four months pregnant. I know, I know. You must be thinking how could I not know, right?”
“Not at all. That kind of emotional trauma can wreak havoc on a woman’s nervous system.”
“I thought it was stress. My doctor had told me I couldn’t get pregnant.” She smiled to herself, thinking about her visit to the gynecologist. “From the moment I saw that little life kicking and squirming on the ultrasound, heard his little heartbeat, I went from this deep, dark, void in my soul to a feeling of total fulfillment. I couldn’t believe it.” She rubbed her aching back and sat on a sturdy plastic storage container labeled “Christmas Decorations” in thick, black marker.
“How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The usual way. You know, one sperm out of millions courting a single egg.” She smiled at his laughter. “You have a pleasant laugh.”
“You have a fabulous sense of humor but I meant your husband’s death.”
“I know you did. I find it helps to see the humor in a situation or at least the irony, which in some cases, ends up being humorous whether you like it or not.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“My husband wrapped his car around a tree. His college student girlfriend was with him.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“It gets better. He’d left me because our fertility specialist said my chances of getting pregnant were slim to none. Jim said he needed to raise his odds of having a son. He cut me loose and moved on to more fertile ground.”
“Was he a farmer or a gambler?”
“My grandfather farmed. In my experience it’s the same thing, but no, neither. He was a college math teacher, but he was the only son of an only son and having a male heir was important to him.”
“Yeah. There’s your irony.”
“Oh. You have no idea.”
“Enlighten me.”
She bit her lip, wondering how much to tell him. Considering her situation, she decided she had nothing to lose. “He lost control of his car while his girlfriend gave him a blowjob.”
“Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Son of a . . .”
“You can say it.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah. Here’s a tad more irony for you. There he was, wanting to procreate, but his last DNA ends up . . . well, one can only assume where it ended up, I guess.” She grinned as his chuckle rumbled in her ear.
“I’m sorry; I know it’s callous to laugh. Are you always this funny, or is it a trait that pops up during intense situations?”
Cori passed a hand over her belly. “Always, I guess; enough to be voted wittiest girl by my peers in high school. I figure that’s about the only senior superlative with any kind of stick-to-it-iveness. You should see our handsomest boy.”
“Early balding?”
“Much worse. Guys can’t help from going bald, that’s just genetics. Besides, I know lots of sexy bald guys. No, old Jerry got hooked on crack and rotted all his teeth out of his head. The dude could pass for sixty at thirty-two years old. And the most spirited girl walks around in an anti-depressant induced state of semi-zombie-ism. Did you catch that? I think I just made up a new word there . . . semi-zombie-ism.”
“I’ll expect to see it in Funk & Wagnall’s by the end of next year.”
She snorted. “Wikipedia, at best.”
“It may be your second of the evening. I think stick-to-it-iveness is your first.”
“Nah, somebody beat me to it. Google it, you’ll see.”
He was one-step ahead of her. “I’ll be damned. There it is, right there in Merriam-Webster’s dictionary.”
“Told ya. How the hell did we get on this subject anyway?”
“I believe you were commenting on your husband’s wasted DNA.”
“Oh, yeah.” She turned her head, listening for two male voices in the store section. The thug’s foul responses to the Crises Negotiations Team set her teeth on edge. “I got the best of my husband.” Along with the one million dollar life insurance policy—of course, it hadn’t meant a thing to her until she’d discovered the pregnancy. Now, it ensured a good future for her son.
“What about his paternal grandparents? Are they still alive?”
“I’ve only seen them twice. They’re homesteading in Alaska, believe it or not.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I kid about lots of things, but not when it comes to my in-laws—both doctors and lovely people, by the way. I admire them for doing what they did. They love to travel and have been all over the world. They spent a month in Alaska about six years ago and called Jim to let him know they weren’t coming home. Said they were tired of the big house, fancy cars, and keeping up with the Joneses. They live a simple life over there.”
“Do they live along the coast like Anchorage or Juneau?”
“Heck no. They’re closer to the interior where it gets really cold, like thirty below cold.”
“Damn!”
“I know, right? I don’t think they’ll be the doting grandparents type. They’re too worried about reducing their carbon footprint, and trying not to starve or freeze to death.” She released a long sigh. “It’s just as well. I don’t want to share my son with them, anyway. My parents are both still around and my sister and I are close, so I’m good for family.”
“You’re a strong person, Cori.”
She paused a moment. What is it about life-threatening situations that made a girl want to bare her soul to a complete stranger? “I nearly wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this conversation being recorded?” She hadn’t told anyone. Figured she’d go to her grave without telling another person.
“No, not for a while, now.”
“I nearly killed myself. I propped myself up in my big old bed, with a bottle of sleeping pills in one hand and a single glass of wine in the other. The letter to my family sat on the nightstand. An old friend was supposed to come by the next day, so I knew someone would find me. I didn’t want family to find me.”
“But you didn’t do it.”
“No, I didn’t. I poured a handful of the pills into my left hand and I felt this fluttering inside me. The quickening, they call it. I knew it wasn’t gas because I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in two days. It was strong enough to make me wonder if my lack of appetite, nausea, and missed periods were more than depression or trauma. Turned out I was already seventeen weeks pregnant.”
“That’s amazing. God is good.”
“Are you a believer?”
“I am. Are you?”
“I admit I’ve been skeptical over the years. I’d been married since I was twenty-five, and trying to get pregnant for six years. I prayed so hard for it to happen but it never did. It was easier to start thinking he didn’t exist than to think he’d purposely deny me a child.”
“The magic is in the timing.”
“So it is, but I believe He definitely had a hand in making me feel life when I did.”
“That’s a good story.”
“That I’ve never shared with another living soul until you.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Cori. I promise.”
She had no way of knowing for sure if he meant it, of course. Something in his voice told her she could trust him. “Thanks.” She shifted on the container, trying to get comfortable. “Oh, God . . .”
“Is something wrong, other than the obvious, of course?”
“I’ve got some serious lower back pain.”
* * * *
Luke sat up in his chair, his senses sharpening. “More than usual?”
“The backaches have gotten increasingly worse since the sixth month or so, but this is the worst. Of course, I’m sitting in a cold stock room with bare concrete walls and floors, with nothing but storage containers and boxes of toys for furniture. I guess that’s to be expected, right?”
“Understandably.” He notified EMT’s to be on standby, just in case. “Maybe open up a box of stuffed animals and use them to support your back.” Another groan from Cori and her horrified gasp had his fingers hovering in frozen animation over the keyboard. “What?”
“Luke. I think my water just broke.”
He made a face as Byron re-entered the room. “You think or you’re sure your water broke?”
“I’m sure. That’s what happened all right. Oh my God. This can’t happen here. I’m scheduled for a C-section for a reason. I have severe uterine scarring from fibroid removal surgery. My OB worried my uterus could tear during normal labor.”
His training went into overdrive as her whispers turned to panicked hysteria. “Shhh . . . hush, now. You don’t want to get anyone’s attention. You’re going to stay calm. Remember, I’ll be here for you every step of the way, and I’ve already alerted the paramedics to your condition. They’ll be there to help at the earliest possibility.” He looked up at Byron.
“Sorry, Luke. I think I’ll be okay for a while. Catch me up and I’ll take over for you. You need to get out of here.”
“What?” Cori hissed on the other end of the phone. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Luke shook his head at Byron as he muted his mic. “Not possible, I’ve got a thirty-five week pregnant woman hiding out in a hostage situation, with one deputy down and another whose wife is the hostage. The pregnant woman’s water just broke and she’s experiencing severe back pains. Early labor but she’s scheduled for a necessary C-section in a week.”
With Byron looking on, Luke continued to update the situation to the EMT’s and members of law enforcement agencies gathered around the building.
“Holy crap! This is the kind of call you live for, man.”
He grinned. “You know me well, buddy. I’m not leaving until I’ve seen her through this. Now get the hell out of here before you get me sick with whatever it is you’ve got.”
“Are you sure? What about your flight?”
“There’ll be other flights. Get your ass in one of those cots in the break room. Quit contaminating my airspace, dammit.” He picked up the can of sanitizer and sprayed the air around him.
Byron backed out of the room, holding his arm over his mouth as he coughed and choked on the spray. “Just keep me posted on the situation.”
“Luke?”
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Now, listen to me. I want you to start looking around for anything that could help your situation. Tarps or anything you can put on the floor to cushion it or create some kind of insulation.”
“Shh . . .”
He held his breath at her whispered command, wishing he could do more for this poor woman. The two minutes he sat there waiting felt more like fifteen. When she finally spoke again, he released his breath.
“Okay they’re at the front of the store again. I can talk.”
“Start looking around for items you can use, Cori. Anything at all you think would make your situation more comfortable.”
“You won’t hang up?”
“Nope, I’ll be here when you get back.”
Several minutes later, she came back on the phone, out of breath, but her voice carried a note of success. “I hit the jackpot. I found kiddie sleeping bags, a case of those blankets that fold into pets, and I found a box cutter.”
“Hang on to that.”
“I found something else.”
“What’s that?”
“One of them set a bag down by the door. I checked it out and it’s full of ammo. No guns, just ammo.”
“No kidding?”
“I have it. I hid it from them.”
“Are you sure you’re hidden well? I’d hate for them to get suspicious and go snooping around your hiding place.”
“I’m well hidden. From the door or even the center of the room you can’t see the nest I’ve made for myself.”
“Can you tell me what kind of ammo?” He listened as she read off the descriptions, and then entered the info into the computer system. The multiple units outside the building would be glad to get this particular information. He’d bet anything they were carrying Hi-point 9 mm pistols—most likely 8 shot. “How many shots were fired?”
“Just the one that injured the deputy. Do you . . . do you know if he’s alive?”
Fifteen left between the two of them, that’s assuming the guns were fully loaded. Here’s hoping they didn’t have any more on them. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I know he was picked up and brought to the hospital for emergency surgery, but I have no way of knowing how that turned out.”
“Oh, I was just wond—oh . . . oooh . . .”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, God . . . I’m no expert on labor and delivery but I think I may be experiencing my first contraction.”
Well, hell. Of course she is. No way will this go easy for her. “I’d say it’s possible since your water broke. On a scale of one to ten, how bad was it?”
“Mm, a point-five maybe.”
He smiled as he wrote down the time and her pain rating. Her answer told him she more than likely had a background in some kind of math or engineering field. “What do you do for a living, Cori?”
“I’m a drafter for a civil engineering firm back home in Sulphur, Louisiana.”
“I thought so. Most women would have said one-half rather than point five.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s second nature, now. That and using tenths of a mile,” she whispered. “Oh, shhh . . .”
He sat there, eyes squeezed shut, whispering a silent prayer for this to have a good outcome. The chances of her remaining undiscovered in a building the size of Viv’s would get slimmer by the hour. He’d looked it up, and the building was approximately eight thousand square feet. A good percentage of that was the storage area where she’d hidden herself.
“It’s okay.”
“Do you live in Sulphur?”
“Yes.”
He opened another tab and typed in the info he had on her. In seconds, he’d accessed her driver’s license. “Are you still living at 1026 Montferro?”
“Y-y-es. God, please tell me you didn’t pull up my driver’s license. That picture is awful.”
