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“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I pulled up to Elizabeth’s house and parked in the street because the driveway was full. I got out of the car, and just as I reached the front door I heard the voices of a man and woman arguing, so I stopped to listen for a second....then...” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she gasped for air.
“Then what? What happened?” he asked, with uncontrollable desperation seeping in his tone.
Her teary gaze locked onto his. “Then there was a gunshot.”
His chest squeezed around his heart, and he felt as though all of the air emptied from his lungs.
“Jody, call 911 and stay here with the kids. Joe...Joe, follow me,” his dad directed.
His dad headed toward his vehicle, his movements stealthy. He retrieved his semi-automatic 9mm Glock from the gun vault under the driver’s seat of his car, and then retrieved the shotgun from its hiding spot in the trunk. Given the fact his father had worked the streets of Chicago for so long, it didn’t surprise him one bit that his dad had these weapons in his vehicle.
His father formulated a plan, as they loaded the weapons. Joe was not a newcomer to handling weapons. His dad had taught him, Nick, and even Angelina, at young ages, how to protect themselves in the event the need ever arose.
Joe gripped the butt of the handgun as he moved toward the front of Elizabeth’s house as his father headed toward the rear. His tender palms, and swollen knuckles, ached as he squeezed the butt of the gun tighter. He tucked his pain aside: no time to focus on that now.
Peeking through the long, narrow window that bordered Elizabeth’s front door, he could see her on the couch. Her terrified expression nearly killed him. He wanted nothing more than to burst into the house, and cause a diversion so she could escape. His dad’s voice rang through his head, repeating the plan.
Patience.
Mr. James stood only feet from the couch, facing a woman who sat in the chair on the opposite side of the living room. The woman pointed her gun at Mr. James as they shouted at each other. Though their voices were loud, he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
The man’s arms flailed. The intensity of the woman’s dagger-shooting gaze looked to be enough to put Mr. James six feet under.
Elizabeth shifted her frantic gaze between the two. The arguing pair seemed to be paying no attention to her. Were they so caught up with each other that they’d actually forgotten she was present? Joe hoped that was the case.
Sirens drew closer. What was taking them so long? Joe fixed his gaze on his dad who suddenly appeared in the living room, standing off to the side of the woman who held Mr. James at gunpoint. The plan worked, his dad had been able to slip into the house unnoticed through the exterior door in the den.
“Drop your weapon!” his dad’s stern bark caught the attention of both Mr. James and the woman. The woman shifted her gaze to the shotgun pointed in her direction. She set her handgun on the floor and then slid it toward his dad. Joe assumed that was what his father instructed her to do. Through the door, most of their words were muffled to him.
His dad motioned for him, and he pushed his way through the front door with his 9mm drawn. A blanket of relief fell over him as he walked toward Elizabeth who appeared unharmed.
He was just a few steps from her when he noticed the color drain from both her face, as well as his father’s. The look of horror on Elizabeth’s face sent a shiver of fear racing down his spine. His father shifted the barrel of his shotgun in his direction.
What the hell? All eyes were on him. Suddenly feet shuffled behind him, and he knew by his dad’s pinning gaze, he shouldn’t move. He assumed the person behind him was Patrick; the only player missing at this point.
“At last, I have you all here in one room, and I can end this for everyone now, including myself,” a trembling voice sounded from behind him.
“Put the weapon down, son. You don’t want to do this.” His father’s voice was controlled and soft. Years of practice, Joe suspected.
“Son? I’m not your son. In fact, I don’t know who or what I am anymore. The best I can figure, is I’m just a puppet in everyone’s stupid games. And I’m done with it!”
“I’ll tell you who and what you are. You’re weak and stupid, and certainly not a James. Can you not do anything right?” Mr. James yelled. “Because you failed to take care of the situation you were sent here to take care of, we’re all standing here now. Now grow some balls and do as you were told.”
Joe stared at Mr. James. The rage in his eyes was unmistakable. He was completely mad.
“Patrick, my dear son, this man was going to shoot me.” The woman said as she tilted her head toward his dad, keeping her gaze on Patrick. Her voice was soft and sweet. Ahh, Felicia, Patrick’s mother. That makes sense. It was clear she was looking to take control of the situation by slipping into loving mother mode.
The woman’s soft voice played on, “You’re not just going to stand there and do nothing, are you?” Felicia swung her gaze between Patrick and Elizabeth. “And this woman, this whore, is attempting to take away everything that is ours. You’re not going to let her get away with that, are you, dear?”
The words were hardly out of Felicia’s mouth when Mr. James lunged for her, wrapping his hands around her neck. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.
A gunshot sounded over Joe’s right shoulder, deafening him. The bullet embedded itself directly into the center of Mr. James’ back, causing him to fall lifelessly onto Felicia as she still sat in the chair.
Though only one shot had been fired, and it was clear it struck Mr. James, Joe shot a glance toward Elizabeth to see if she was okay. Her wide eyes, and hand covering her mouth, informed him she’d been startled by the gunshot, but physically, she appeared to be fine.
Joe swung his gaze to his dad who still kept his weapon pointed in his and Patrick’s direction. Judging from his father’s stance, he knew they were still in danger.
