Chapter 13 – Beth
My stomach is in knots on the drive to the hospital where we’re going to meet again with the parole board.
Shane is driving us in his Jaguar. Troy will meet us there.
My brother is bringing physical evidence in the form of photographs and videos that Richard Morton and Dr. Masterson are having an affair.
I just hope that information is enough to convince the board a mistake was made in Andrew’s release hearing.
Shane pulls into the parking garage and finds a parking spot near the bank of elevators.
I glance over at a dark sedan parked two slots away from us. The car’s windows are darkly tinted, but it appears there are two adults in the front seat, and one passenger in the back. Andrew’s here. “Isn’t that the Mortons?”
Shane glances over at the car. “Yes. It looks like they’re here for the hearing.”
“Andrew’s with them.” For some reason, I wasn’t expecting him to be here. My heart shoots up into my throat.
Shane reaches for my hand. “It’ll be okay. If Tyler can prove his accusations to the parole board, maybe they’ll take Andrew into custody.”
“Ready?” Shane asks after he shuts off the engine. He reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss.
I nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door as Shane exits the vehicle. My heart is hammering. This whole nightmare may come to an end soon, and we’ll be able to go on with our lives as normal, at least for a long while.
As I step out of the Jaguar, I glance across the way as Richard Morton steps out of his vehicle.
The rear passenger door opens next, revealing Andrew’s gaunt face peering outside.
I watch as he steps out of the car, his gaze sweeping the area.
As he slips his hands into the front pocket of his gray pullover hoodie, his gaze latches onto me.
Without warning, Andrew pulls a small black handgun from the pocket and points it right at me. His hands are shaking.
“You’re going to pay for ruining my life, you bitch!” he yells.
And then everything happens so fast.
I hear pounding footsteps coming around the back of the Jaguar and a deep shout. “No!” It’s Shane, his voice low and guttural.
My heart stutters in my chest, and I can’t breathe. My blood turns to ice.
Richard Morton stares at his son in horror. “Andrew, no!”
Andrew grimaces when Shane steps in front of me, his arms spread wide.
“Put the gun down, Andrew,” Shane says, his voice surprisingly steady.
“Shane, no!” I grab him by the waist.
Andrew’s gaze is wild as he stares at us. “Move!” he demands of Shane, his gun shaking wildly. “Get out of the way!”
“It’s me you want,” Shane says, “not Beth.” Suddenly, he sounds so calm and rational. “It’s me you’re angry at, Andrew.”
“I know!” he yells. “And the best way to get back at you is through her. I want you to suffer the way I have.”
Richard Morton attempts to take the gun from his son, but Andrew pushes him hard, knocking him off his feet.
Suddenly, Shane’s promise plays on a loop in my head. I won’t let him hurt you. Trust me.
Shane takes a step toward Andrew, and when I try to grab him and pull him back to me, he pushes me behind him, hard enough I hit the passenger door of the Jaguar.
He takes another step just as the deafening crack of a gunshot shatters the air.
Two things happen at once.
Shane is blown back by the impact of the bullet, crashing into me, before he drops to the ground like a stone.
Then I hear three shots fired in rapid succession, and Andrew falls backward, hits his father’s vehicle, and slumps to the cement floor. A bright red stain blooms across his chest. A woman screams shrilly, and I glance up to see Andrew’s mother staring at her son’s body.
“No!” I scream, dropping to my knees beside him. I start to reach for him, but my hands hover frantically over his torso. I don’t know where to touch him. “Shane? Can you hear me?”
He lies still and silent before me, his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls, thank God. He’s breathing. My heart stops when I see the blood oozing from his abdomen through a hole in his shirt.
I glance up to see my brother standing beside us.
He holsters his gun and pulls out his phone.
He strides over to Andrew’s body and kicks Andrew’s gun underneath the sedan, well out of anyone’s reach.
A moment later, he’s telling a 911 operator to send police and two medical squads.
Even as he gives orders over the phone, he drops down beside Shane to check for a pulse.
“He’s alive,” Tyler says into the phone.
“One victim down, gunshot wound to the abdomen. White male, thirty-eight years old. He’s got a pulse and he’s breathing, but he’s unconscious.
” Tyler pauses a minute to listen. “The shooter is dead.” Another pause.
“Yes, I shot him.” To me, he says, “Beth, take your sweater off. Wad it up, and press it to his wound.”
With shaking hands, I do as he says. As I hold the fabric to his abdomen, I notice I’m kneeling in a pool of my husband’s blood.
No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening!
My ears are still ringing from the sound of gunshots, which reverberated loudly in this concrete cavern. “Tyler?”
“Hurry,” he says to the 911 operator. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”
The woman on the phone assures us a squad is on their way.
“Hang in there, buddy,” Tyler says. “Help is on the way.”
My husband.
My best friend.
The man who threw himself between me and a madman with a gun—the man who sacrificed himself to save me—is bleeding profusely.
I stroke his hair as hot tears stream down my face. “Stay with me, Shane! Please—” My voice breaks, closing up on me.
My entire world narrows down to the man whose head is in my lap. I stroke his hair with blood-stained fingers.
A red-haired woman wearing medical scrubs walks out of the hospital elevator, sees us, and rushes over. “I’m a nurse,” she says as she drops to her knees and begins assessing Shane, checks his breathing, his pulse. She frowns when she sees the amount of blood pooling beneath him.
“You called 911?” the nurse asks.
“Yes, the squad’s coming,” Tyler tells her.
I stare down at my bloody hands. Even though I’m holding my sweater tightly to the wound, blood continues to seep out. The fluorescent lights in the parking garage make him look a sickly shade of pale green.
My chest is hallowed out and cold. “Please Shane,” I whisper. My throat is so tight, I can barely speak. “You can’t leave me.”
When Tyler spares me a glance and notices all the blood on me, he pales. “Are you—you’re not—”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. It’s not my blood.”
We hear the sirens then, just as the 911 operator tells me the squad has arrived. Our first indication that they’re close are the lights flashing in the garage like strobe lights. Now that they’re inside the garage, they shut off the sirens.
Two medical squads pull up to the scene, along with two police cruisers. Police officers exit their vehicles and begin securing the scene. Tyler fills them in on what happened.
“Over here!” a female bystander yells as she waves wildly at the responders.
I realize a small crowd has gathered around us at a respectful distance.
Two emergency medical technicians, one holding a black medical bag, rush over to Shane. Tyler and the nurse step back to let the paramedics work.
I hear a woman sobbing and quickly realize it’s Cynthia Morton. She and her husband are crouched over their son’s lifeless body, both of them looking stunned and horrified.
Tyler helps me stand and move back so the medical professionals can do their work. They assess the wound—a single gunshot near the center of his torso.
The other one cuts Shane’s T-shirt off so they can wrap his abdomen with bandages.
Someone brings a gurney over, and I watch helplessly as they load Shane onto it and strap him down.
Blood is already starting to seep into the bandage.
He’s losing so much blood.
My legs are shaking so badly I think the only reason I’m still standing is because my brother is holding me up.
“I’m going with him,” I say as I try to follow the gurney to the ambulance.
“No,” Tyler says, holding me back. “I’ll drive you. You can barely stand on your own power.”
The ambulance has already departed by the time Tyler opens his front passenger door and helps me in. I collapse numbly into the front passenger seat.
“Where are they taking him?” I ask as he buckles my seat belt.
“Northwestern,” Tyler says. “It’s the closest level 1 trauma center.”
“Tyler, is he—” I can’t even say the words aloud. Is he going to make it?
Tyler looks me in the eye. “He’s strong, Beth. He’ll fight hard.” Tyler grasps my hand and squeezes it.
A chill settles over me. “He saved me.”
“Yes, he did.”
“He swore he’d never let Andrew hurt me again.” My voice is numb, as are my words. “Oh, my God, Tyler. I have to call Bridget and Calum and the rest of his family.”
Tyler grips my knee. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll tell Jake, and he can notify the others.”
“And Mom! I’ve got to tell her.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And, oh my God, Cooper. He’ll—” My voice breaks as tears begin to stream down my cheeks. “He’ll be devastated.”
Tyler starts his engine, and we follow the ambulance.
As we pass by the Morton’s car, I observe two officers standing over Andrew’s lifeless body. Someone has draped a tarp over him. His parents are standing together, their arms around each other, Cynthia sobbing into her husband’s neck. They both look shattered.
In spite of everything, I can’t help feeling sorry for Richard and Cynthia Morton. Their only child is dead, and even though he was a monster, they clearly loved him, and they’re going to grieve.
Soon we’re out of the garage and heading toward the hospital. Tyler does his best to keep up with the ambulance as it cuts through congested Chicago traffic.
Like a refrain, the words Andrew is dead keep looping in my head.
He’ll never bother us again, but at what cost?
I pull out my phone and call Cooper.
“Hey, sugar,” he says. “What’s up? Is the hearing over? How’d it go?”
My chest feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice. “There was no hearing.” My voice is shaking.
“Why not? Did they reschedule?”
“Cooper—” I choke on the words because I know how much this will hurt him. Shane’s more than just Cooper’s best friend. They’re like brothers, and they’ve shared so much, both in the military and afterward as they built McIntyre Security together from the ground up.
“Honey?” His voice turns guarded. “Is everything okay?”
“No—” My voice breaks. “It’s Shane.”
“Beth, tell me what’s wrong.”
“He’s—” I can’t say the words. If I say them out loud, it means this nightmare is real, and I can’t face that.
Cooper’s voice sharpens. “Beth, tell me what—”
Tyler takes my phone from me and calmly relays the facts to Cooper. As he explains what’s happened, I stare out my passenger window as hot tears burn my eyes. I notice it’s raining outside now, which seems to perfectly mirror the bleakness in my heart.
“Northwestern is the closet level one trauma center,” Tyler tells Cooper. “We’re on our way there now.” A pause. “No, she’s not injured.” Another pause. “Of course, I’ll stay with her. But Cooper? You need to hurry. And call Jake so he can let everyone know.”
Tyler ends the call with Cooper and immediately makes another one. “Ian.” In a low voice.
I tune my brother out, not wanting to hear those horrible words all over again. Each time, it’s like a knife digging into my heart, deeper and deeper, shredding what’s left of it.
I glance down at my hands and notice they’re heavily stained with blood. So are my clothes. “I’m getting your car dirty.”
Tyler reaches over with his free hand and covers my hands. “It’s okay, honey.”
“Tyler, what if he—”
“Beth, don’t. There’s no use in speculating. Let’s wait and get the facts.”
Even now, he might be gone. He could have died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He might have died alone, without me there to hold him. Without me there to tell him how much I love him, how much our kids love him. Without me giving him one last kiss.
The pain is more than I can bear. I don’t even recognize the agonized sobs coming out of me.
Tyler squeezes my hands, offering comfort and commiseration, but no amount of comfort can break through this level of pain. It’s indescribable. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it could break through my ribs at any second.
It’s not long before we pull into the hospital parking lot.
Tyler finds a parking spot in the garage near the entrance to the emergency room.
I don’t even remember getting out of the car, but suddenly we’re inside the building.
I’m functioning on auto pilot as my brother steers me where we need to go.
We stop at an information desk, and Tyler asks about Shane.
The receptionist checks her computer screen. “Yes, here he is. There’s not much information entered into the system yet, but it looks like he’s in the trauma unit being evaluated.”
Being evaluated? Does that mean he’s still alive? It must, right?
Tyler leads me to the waiting room and sits me down. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”
I shake my head, too numb to speak. If I ingest anything, I know I’ll throw up.
Someone slips into the open seat beside me. “Beth!”
It’s Ian, breathless, his handsome face flushed. His gaze darts over to Tyler, and he nods before he turns his attention back to me.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Ian draws me into his arms and holds me tight. “He’s going to be all right,” he whispers in my ear. “Shane would never leave you. Not in a million years.”
“It’s bad, Ian. Really bad.” My throat is so raw it hurts to speak. “We don’t even know his condition.”
As my tears fall, Ian tucks my head into the crook of his neck and gently rubs my back. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie.”
“Sugar.”
I straighten in my seat to find Cooper standing in front of me, looking as devastated as I feel. I spring to my feet, and he pulls me into his arms. Sam is standing behind him, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red.
“Cooper—” I can’t manage to get anything more than his name out before my voice breaks.
“Andrew shot him!” The words are ripped from my throat, spewing out of me with a mixture of rage and sorry.
“He was trying to shoot me, but Shane stepped between us, and Andrew shot him instead! There was so much blood!” I stare down in horror at my hands, which are stained red with my husband’s blood.
And then I utter the scariest words I’ve ever said in my life.
“I don’t even know if he’s still alive!”
My knees buckle, and Cooper catches me before I hit the floor.