“Austin, are you alright?” I asked.
His eyes told me he wasn’t. I was about to take off the tape from his mouth, when he groaned and made me look down at his hands. Between them, he was holding a hand-grenade. The pin had been pulled out. The only thing hindering it from exploding was him holding the striker lever down. His hands were shaking with restraint. He was whimpering behind the tape and had tears flooding from his eyes, screaming desperately for my help.
Chapter Seventy-One
May 2015
“I’m going to take the tape off your mouth, now, alright?” I said, my voice shaking in fear. “It will hurt a little, but it is important that whatever you do, you don’t let go of the grenade, alright? Nod to let me know you understand, Austin.”
Austin nodded.
“Good,” I said, and grabbed the edge of the tape. I pulled it as fast as I could. Austin screamed. I stared at the grenade and his hands, but they didn’t move. I was sweating heavily now. My hands were clammy and drops of sweat rolled from my forehead to my nose. The air was very moist and it was hard to breathe properly.
“Dad,” Austin said, his voice trembling in fear. “I’m scared.”
I forced a smile to try and calm him down. “I know, son. Me too. But we’ll find a solution.”
I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my arm and looked at my son. I cursed those women for what they had done to him.
“Now, I’ll untie your feet,” I said and grabbed the tape used to hold his feet together, making sure he didn’t move or try to get out of there. It was so brutal, so cruel to put him in this position. I could hardly restrain my anger.
Why would anyone do this to a child? Why? Just to get back at me? It made them no better than the people they tried to fight, in my opinion. I pulled off the tape carefully, while Austin tried to lie still. He hardly moved.
I looked at my poor son, who was clutching the grenade between his hands. He too was sweating heavily. I kneeled next to him on the bed and stroked his hair.
“You’re doing great here, Austin,” I said. “You’re doing really great.” My voice was trembling too. I couldn’t hide how scared I was. Austin knew me well enough to be able to tell. “Now, the next thing I am going to ask you to do is to get up on your feet. Do you think you can do that without letting go of the lever?”
Austin looked into my eyes. Never had I seen such an expression on his face before. It was heartbreaking.
“Do you think you can do that?” I asked again.
He swallowed hard, then nodded cautiously.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s try, then. Remember, if you let go of the lever, it explodes after four seconds, all right? So, don’t let go.”
Austin nodded again to show me he understood. My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched him swing his legs to the floor and slowly raise his body from the bed. Tears were rolling across his cheeks, and I could tell the fear had a firm grasp on him.
“Look at me, Austin. Look into my eyes,” I said, when he managed to sit up. His eyes met mine. His entire upper body was shaking. “You’re doing great,” I said. “You’re doing really great.”
Austin gasped for air. I could tell the fear was overpowering him now. I forced him to keep looking at me.
“Now, try and stand up,” I said. “I’ll help you.”
He lifted the hands with the grenade up in front of him, and I grabbed him around the waist. I lifted him up till he was on his feet. Austin whimpered when I let go. I stared at his hands. They were still firmly attached around the grenade.
“Okay,” I said. “So far so good. You’re standing up now. You’re up. I haven’t been this excited about you standing up on your own since you were a one-year-old.”
My comment made Austin chuckle. I looked into his eyes to make sure he knew I had this under control. I was trying to ease his fear and I believed I succeeded. At least for a few seconds. Up until the first bullet hissed through the air and hit the wall behind me.
Chapter Seventy-Two
May 2015
“GET DOWN!”
It was my first reaction as another bullet hit the wall and left a deep hole. It was my instinct to react like this, but Austin didn’t throw himself on the ground. Due to the grenade, he didn’t dare to. He kept standing on the carpet. He was a sitting duck.
I reacted fast. I grabbed him in my arms and lifted him into the air. Grenade or no grenade, he had to get out of there. But as I grabbed him, the next bullet entered the room and hit me in the shoulder, forcing me to let go of Austin, who fell to the floor. He screamed. I gasped and looked at his hands. They were still in place, holding down the lever.
“You okay?” I asked, while throwing myself next to him with my back against the wall, while bullets were still being fired through the window above my head.
Austin stared at me with wide eyes. “Dad. You’re…you’re bleeding,” he said.
I felt my shoulder. Blood was gushing out of it very fast. My shirt was already soaked. I grabbed the sheet from the bed and ripped it apart. I wrapped my wound with it and tried to stop the bleeding. Austin stared at me, sweat springing from his face. He was clasping the grenade.
“I’ll be alright,” I said. “It’s only a scratch.”
I used my gun to fire a few shots out the window, then fell back down next to Austin. He looked tormented.
“I can’t hold on to it much longer,” Austin whimpered.
I looked at my son and the grenade between his hands. I had an idea, but wasn’t so sure it would work. It seemed like the shooting was coming from the house next door. The houses in this neighborhood were pretty close together. Maybe…just maybe. Would he be able to?
“Listen, son,” I said. “I need your help.”
Austin looked at me. It was risky. What I was going to ask him to do could end up costing him his life. And mine as well. It could also end up saving us both if it worked.
If it worked.
Austin was only six years old…almost seven, he would argue. Would he be able to pull this off? Was it too much responsibility to put on one kid’s shoulders? I would have done it myself. But I was hurt now. Austin was my only chance.
“I need you to play a game, alright? Let’s say we’re at one of your baseball games. You’re very good at baseball, right? You love it, right?”
Austin nodded. “Y-y-yes.”
“Alright. Now let’s pretend this is one of your games. You’re pitching. You can win the game if you do this right. I need you to aim for the house next door. Aim for the window, and then throw the grenade towards it. The best throw you have ever done. The throw of a lifetime. Can you do that?”
Austin stared at me. I could tell he was about to cry. “Don’t cry, Austin,” I said through the throbbing pain. “You’re our only chance now. You can do this. You’re a big boy.”
Austin bit his lip. He looked at me, determined, then rose to his feet, still with the grenade clasped between his hands. He stood with his back against the wall.
“Good boy. Now, count to three, then walk to the window and throw it. Can you do that?”
Austin went quiet. I feared he had lost his courage. “Daad?” he said.
“Yes, Austin, what is it?”
“I don’t want to surf anymore. I don’t like to surf.”
My heart stopped. I stared at him. Where did this come from all of a sudden? I shook my head with a moan. “You never have to surf again. I promise you. Just help us get out of here alive. Throw that damn thing!”
Austin took in a deep breath, took one step, and stood in front of the window, then let go of the lever with one hand and lifted the grenade with the other. I stared at him, my heart racing in my chest. Right when he let go of it and it hissed through the air towards the neighboring house, I heard a shot being fired. I got up on my feet, jumped at Austin, and pulled him down. Seconds later, the explosion sent most of the outer wall of the house down on top of us.
Chapter Seventy-Three
/> May 2015
I asked Austin to stay where he was, once we had gotten out of the debris from the fallen wall. I rushed towards the neighboring house, where the grenade had hit and blown the walls down. I walked with the gun in my hand, pressing through the pain with the adrenalin in my body, across the fallen debris.
I spotted her on the floor of what I believed used to be the hallway. She was lying on her back with the rifle on the floor next to her. Her eyes were staring lifeless in the air, blood running from her head. I pointed my gun at Kelly Monahan, the last of the four sisters, then bent to feel for a pulse. But there wasn’t any. She was dead.
Relieved, I ran back to Austin, who was sitting in what was left of the room, shaking, with his knees pulled up against his chest. I kneeled next to him. He looked up. “Is it over?” he asked.
I nodded with a relieved sigh. The adrenalin was still pumping inside of me, but finally, I felt like I could relax. She was gone. The last sister was gone.
“Yes, Austin. It’s over.”
Austin cried and sniffled. “What about you, Dad?” he asked. He looked at my shoulder.
“That? I told you, it’s just a scratch,” I said to comfort him. “The bullet barely touched me. Now, come on. Let’s go home.”
I called 911 on my way out of there and told them where they could find the body, then told them I wasn’t going to stay there, since it was too dangerous with the storm coming closer. Then I called Ron and told him everything.
“I’ll be…” he said. “We’ll issue a warrant for Sarah Millman’s arrest again,” he said. “As soon as everything is back to normal. This time, she won’t make bail.”
“Is all the beachside evacuated?” I asked, as we hit the bridges leading to the mainland. I felt a big relief to leave the beach behind me for once. Anna was quickly approaching. I could feel her breathing down my neck.
“Yes. Everyone is out. We have left the area too. I’m in Orlando with my family. Where are you going now?”
I looked at the clock on my dashboard. It was almost eleven. It was too late to make it to the airport and meet with Shannon and the rest of my family. She had left a message telling me they had booked airplane tickets for ten fifty-five. It was the last plane out of Florida for today. Everything was closing down now. She told me she would wait for me at the airport, but leave if I didn’t make it. I had tried to call her before I called Ron, but her phone was shut off. So was Emily’s and my mother’s. I guessed they had already boarded. My shoulder was hurting like crazy, but I pretended to be fine to not scare Austin.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think we might drive to Nashville.”
“That’s one heck of a long drive,” Ron said. “Are you sure it’s a good idea. What about your shoulder? You said you were hit?”
“It barely touched me; it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” I lied. I had my phone on hands free and put the speaker on, so I could focus on driving. Austin was listening in. I didn’t want him to worry.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe you should go to the ER once you hit the mainland,” Ron said. “Just in case.”
“Nah, I’m fine. But thanks for worrying.”
I hung up. I could tell Austin was getting concerned. His eyes didn’t leave my wound. It looked worse than it was, I thought. I tried to ignore the pain.
“You have more messages, Dad,” Austin said, looking at the phone in the holder. “Don’t you want to hear them?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking it was probably Shannon or my parents calling to ask me if I would make it in time.
Austin pressed the phone and the message came on. But it wasn’t from Shannon or my parents. It wasn’t a voice belonging to anyone I loved.
It was Vernon Johnson.
Chapter Seventy-Four
May 2015
I know, I am probably the last person you wish to hear from now. I have nowhere else to turn. I need to cleanse my name once and for all. But I need you to help me. I know where Noah Kinley is. Meet me at Swell.
I stared at the phone, then back at the windshield. It was pouring down outside now. It was hard to see the road. I saw lightning in my rearview mirror. It was followed by a loud clap of thunder. The voice of Vernon Johnson wouldn’t leave my head.
I know where Noah Kinley is.
I looked at the display. The message wasn’t more than fifteen minutes old. What the heck was he up to now? Cleanse his name? I didn’t understand. How did he know about the kid? What did he want from me? Was he trying to ambush me? Or was he trying to help? Why did I have to meet him at the surf shop? It made no sense. But there was one sentence that I couldn’t stop repeating in my mind.
I know where Noah Kinley is.
I shook my head and tried to think about something else. I reached I95 and turned off towards Jacksonville.
Austin looked at me. “What are you doing, Dad?”
“Getting you to safety,” I said.
“Are you just going to leave that boy?” he asked, startled.
“What else do you want me to do?” I asked. “We don’t even know if he is telling the truth. It’s way too dangerous to go back there.”
“But…but you can’t do that! You heard what he said. He knows where the boy is. You’ve got to go there, Dad. He told you he needed your help. You can help rescue the boy.”
I sighed. “I can’t think about that now, Austin. Getting you to safety is more important for me right now.”
“How can you say that?” Austin asked. He looked at me like I had just told him Santa wasn’t real. I was his hero, I knew that. And right now, his hero was letting him down.
“It might be a trap, Austin. I just found you. Do you have any idea how afraid I was of losing you? I don’t want you to be in danger again. I can’t let that happen again. I simply can’t. Now, stop it. Let it go. I’m driving to Nashville, and that’s the end of the discussion.”
But Austin wouldn’t let it go. He was suddenly as stubborn as his sister could often get.
“I can’t believe you, Dad. The boy needs your help. What if he’s killed during the storm? How will you be able to live with yourself, knowing you could have helped him? What if it was me?”
Austin was making all the right arguments. It hurt like crazy. I really didn’t want to have to go back. I really didn’t. All I wanted was to drive north, get far away from the trouble and the storm, and drive till we reached Shannon’s ranch and stay there with my family till the storm was over. Just holding everyone I loved tightly in my arms. That was all I dreamt about right now, after all we had been through. But Austin was so right. It hurt to admit it.
There was no way I could leave the kid in Cocoa Beach.
I looked at Austin with a deep sigh. Austin smiled. “Now, let’s go back and get him,” he said.
Chapter Seventy-Five
May 2015
The fluorescent light above Noah was flickering. Something was going on outside of the room. His eyes were still hurting, and he couldn’t keep them open for many seconds at a time without covering them to protect them from the bright light.
But something was definitely going on. For the first time since he had been kidnapped, Noah heard voices. They were coming from behind the door, and when he put his ear to it, he could listen to them.
There were two voices. One belonged to Hector, his guardian; the other, he didn’t recognize. Noah hoped it was someone who had come to help him, but he wasn’t sure. It sounded like this person knew the guardian. Noah didn’t want to risk anything, so instead of banging on the door to let this person know of his existence, he put his ear to the door and listened to them. They seemed to be arguing.
“You sick bastard!” the stranger said. “You kept the kid for years. What did you do to him, huh?”
“I only did what a little boy like him deserved,” Hector replied.
“An innocent stranger! A little boy! How could he deserve such a fate?” the stranger yelled.
“You know pe
rfectly well, why,” Hector replied.
“Just because of that? Just because of what happened to you more than thirty-five years ago?”
Hector didn’t say anything. He hissed at the stranger, and Noah knew the stranger had to be careful now. That was exactly the way he always hissed at Noah when he didn’t like his behavior. It was usually the sound he would make right before he did something bad to him.
Be careful, stranger!
Noah wanted to yell it, wanted to scream and bang on the door, but something held him back. Fear of Hector’s wrath held him back.
“You’re sick,” the stranger continued. He clearly didn’t know Hector the way Noah did. He would know to stop now if he did.
“A sick, sick bastard is what you are.”
Hector still didn’t say anything. Noah knew how Hector was staring at the stranger right now. He knew the look in his eyes when he was angry. He always became quiet right before he hit. He would stare at Noah with those piercing brown eyes…stare at him with madness in his eyes. Evil madness.
After spending a long time with Hector, Noah had learned to avoid that anger. He knew to please him to keep that look from appearing in his eyes; he knew what to say to soften him up.
But the stranger didn’t know. He kept yelling at Hector. And that was a bad idea. That was a very bad idea. Noah could vividly picture how Hector was now grinding his teeth in anger, waiting for the right moment to lash out.
“What do you want?” Hector asked. “Why have you come?”
“I want the kid,” the stranger said. “Where is he?”
Noah gasped. It could only be him they were talking about, couldn’t it? Had the stranger come to get him? Would he get out of here?
“I don’t know where he is,” Hector said.
“You’re lying. I know you did it. I know you took him and the two others as well. ‘Cause that’s just how sick you are. And then you made sure it was all blamed on me.”