No Fault of Mine

Chapter Forty-Four

Sirens! My heart jumped with elation and anticipation—Stan and the cavalry were coming. But I was not out of trouble yet. I heard Micky crashing through the woods, coming in my direction. Of course, he was, and I was standing between Micky and his car.

I took off toward the driveway, pushing through the brush I had earlier avoided while in stealth mode. When I reached the driveway, I stopped at the tree line. RJ was at the end of the driveway, looking in the direction of the sirens. I heard Micky's phone ring behind me, and he stopped running to answer it. While he was talking, I dashed across the driveway and disappeared into the woods.

As soon as I felt I was at a safe distance from the driveway, I turned toward the house. I heard the car start, and surprisingly, Micky sped toward the county road. This was my chance. I began running without regard to the noise I made.

Light from the full moon filtering through the canopy provided just enough lumens to see shapes. I avoided the big stuff, but sticks and other debris beat against my legs and ankles.

I finally broke through the woods and found that the house was dark. I traversed the lawn and around the end of the house, intending to enter through the basement slider, but when I noticed the boatshed, I changed my plan. I didn't have much time. The sirens were much closer, and I was afraid of what would happen, especially if the shooting started.

I cautiously left the side of the house and walked down a sloping bank toward the edge of the lake. I looked back toward the house, half-expecting that someone would come after me.

A ramp connected the boatshed to the dock, and a door to the shed was at the end of the ramp. I walked out on the dock to the ramp. The house was still dark; I saw no activity. The police cars had arrived near the end of the driveway. I could hear shouting, demands, and then silence.

A fist-sized padlock hung from a hasp, securing the boatshed's door. I looked through a window next to the door. In the darkness, I could see the shape of a boat and a walkway that appeared to run the length of the building. The boat was larger than I'd expected, with a cabin and wheelhouse.

I returned to the dock to see if there was another way in. No other windows faced the dock, but barn doors enclosed the building. From where I stood, there was no way of reaching the doors without getting wet.

I returned to the door and rattled the lock, knowing it would be fruitless. I considered going to the other side of the building to see if there was another entrance but decided not to take the time. Standing on the edge of the ramp and holding onto the doorjamb, I stretched to the center of the window to see if I could slide it open. It was also locked.

I tapped on the window to see if there was a response. There wasn't, and my heart sank. I tapped louder and called out. I felt my chest tighten, and what at first was the tip of desperation escalated to panic.

Please, God, where's my son?

I pushed at the door—kicked at the door—still nothing.

Desperation had taken over, flooding my defenses and leaving me spent. I sank to the floor and heaved tears.

The sharp report of gunfire in the distance, the vibration of a small-engine plane flying low overhead, and the sound of thumping blended into a confusing conflagration that overwhelmed my mind and emotions. I held my hands over my ears, but the confusion in my head didn't go away. I wailed against it and pressed my hands harder against the sides of my head.

Finally, the gunfire quieted, and the engine of the small plane grew distant, but the thumping...the thumping wasn't going away.

Was the thumping in my head? Was I breaking...losing reality...disappearing into a hell of discordant sounds?

I fought against my desperation. I must rise, get on my feet, and break down the barriers keeping me from my son. The thumping...thumping...thumping.

I opened my eyes and listened. At first, I felt that the thumping was all around me, but it wasn't. 

It was behind me. The door I was resting against was vibrating with every thump.

I stood and pressed my ear against the door. The thumping was coming from inside the boathouse. I pushed against the door again...rattled it...and hit it with my shoulder. Someone was in the building.

Hope arose in my mind, but it only increased my desperation as I turned toward the dock. There was a way in.

I ran to the end of the dock and dove into the water. I hardly felt the chill of the water as I propelled myself forward. I could see the dark outline of the boatshed doors as I slid under them. I surfaced next to the deck inside the shed, and my hands found purchase. I pulled myself out of the water onto the platform next to the boat.

"Brant," I yelled. I stood, and with water pouring off my body, I jumped onto the boat's deck. The cabin door was locked.

I felt more thumping, and it was coming from inside the cabin.

I don't know how many times I kicked the cabin door, but when it finally crashed inward, splinters flying, I felt exhausted. I descended into the cabin. Even in the darkness, I could see my son. I pulled the Duc tape off his mouth and kissed him.

"Mom," he was cried.

The next few minutes were chaotic as I freed Brant from his bonds. Once free, I told him to help Aunt Bea while I worked the rope that bound Uncle Liam's hands.

"Be careful," he said, "the bastards shot me." I felt dried blood on his clothing. It looked like his wound was on his right shoulder. "They knew I was coming around that end of the house," he said. "They shot me before I even saw them. Micky, I think his name was, had night vision. 

Doesn't anyone play fair nowadays?"

"I'm glad to find you alive," I said.

"Me, too, obviously," he said. "I heard sirens and gunfire. What's going on?"

"Micky and TJ are holding the police off at the county road. I don't know where Ducain is."

"Mom, they broke into Aunt Bea's house," Brant said. "I fought them, Mom. You'd be proud,"

"I am proud of you, Son. I'm just glad you're okay," I said. "Aunt Bea, how are you?"

"Shaken," she said. "They hit Brant pretty hard and broke the skin on his skull."

"I'm okay," Brant said. "My arm hurts, but I'm okay." I tussled his hair and then ran my fingers down his arm. "Ouch, you're hurting me."

"We'll have this looked at when we can," I said. I tried to sound confident for my son's sake but knew we weren't out of danger.

"We need to get out of here," Liam said. There's already been gunfire, and there's no telling what kind of mess we're in."

I felt the movement; I was sure we weren't alone. I stood facing the cabin's open doorway.

A light blinded me, and the voice behind it said, "Ms. Stoddard, I see you've found your family."