Chapter 36
36
Mark was not far from Karen’s house when the 911 call came through, shattering the calm of the late afternoon. He and Brad were on their way to the station to finish their day. But all that changed when the dispatcher instructed them to respond silently, with no sirens. Brad called in their response time, stepping on the accelerator.
Mark’s heart hammered in his chest, his fingers gripping the dashboard like a lifeline. His phone rang, and he hit the answer button, his stomach twisting as Laura’s panicked voice pierced through the line. “Mark!” she screamed, her voice ragged with fear. In the background, he could hear Benji shouting, “Dad!”
“Laura, what’s going on?” Mark’s voice was taut, straining to remain calm despite the dread clawing at his insides.
“They’ve got Mom! Some woman—” Laura’s words stumbled over each other in haste.
“It was Mom!” Marty’s voice cut in, high and frantic.
Laura barely paused. “She grabbed Zannie. Marty and Benji tried to stop her, but now Mom’s out there, and there’s a man with a gun?—”
“It’s Alan!” Marty cried again, panic evident in his voice.
“He’s pointing it at Mom!” Laura cried.
Mark’s pulse quickened, his mind racing as he tried to process the chaos unfolding at Karen’s home. His voice wavered, but he forced himself to stay in control. “Where is everyone now?”
“Marty, Benji, Olivia, and Zannie are inside with me, but you need to hurry! Mom’s out there alone!”
“Keep everyone inside,” Mark ordered, his voice steady but edged with urgency. “Stay away from the windows and doors.”
“But you have to hurry—” Laura’s voice was shaky, almost pleading.
“We’re coming, Laura,” Mark reassured her, his tone firm despite the tremor of fear tightening his throat. “Where’s your mom? Where’s Alan?”
“Carla’s on the ground... she hit the others, and Mom tackled her. They’re out in the front yard.”
“No!” Benji’s voice rang out, terror-stricken. “He’s getting closer, and Miss Karen’s backing up toward the porch!”
Mark gritted his teeth, his free hand clenching into a fist. “Tell Benji to stay away from the windows, Laura! And you do the same!”
He turned to Brad, his voice low and tense. “Kids are inside. Carla’s down. Alan’s got a gun on Karen, and they’re near the front door.”
Brad cursed under his breath, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Karen will protect the kids, but if Alan gets in, he could take the kids as hostages.”
“Laura!” Mark called into the phone, his breath quickening as they turned onto Karen’s street. “Get everyone to the back door. If Alan forces his way inside, you take the kids and get out of sight.”
“But what about Mom... I can’t?—”
“Laura, listen to me,” Mark interrupted, his voice breaking but resolute. “Your mom will do everything to keep you safe. If you’re not there, we have a better chance of stopping him.”
A ragged sob escaped Laura, but she finally whispered, “Okay.” The sound of her breath, rough and uneven, sent a pang through Mark’s chest.
Red and blue lights flashed behind them as more sheriff’s vehicles pulled up, the sense of urgency mounting with each passing second. Mark scanned the street, pointing at a property two houses down. “There. Pull in there. We’ll go on foot.”
Brad nodded, radioing in their position as he stopped the car. The silence that followed was deafening, punctuated only by the distant hum of approaching deputies. Mark stepped out, drawing his weapon as adrenaline surged through him. He moved quickly, heart thundering in his chest, cutting through the neighbor’s yard to avoid being seen. The hedge lining Karen’s property gave him just enough cover.
Mark paused at the back of Karen’s fence, peering between the slats. His stomach lurched as he saw Alan shoving Karen toward the front door, her desperate cries for the kids to get away piercing the air.
“Goddammit,” Mark muttered, his throat tight with fear.
“Look,” Brad whispered, pointing toward the right.
Laura crouched low, ushering Olivia and Zannie through the back door. The girls were crying, their small bodies trembling, but Laura’s grip on them was firm, and her eyes were wide with fear. Mark’s heart twisted at the sight of them, so vulnerable, so terrified.
“Call it in,” he ordered Brad, his voice steely as he moved through the side yard, careful to avoid any windows. As he approached, Olivia spotted him, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Zannie’s tear-streaked face was buried in Laura’s side, her tiny shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
A female deputy appeared beside Brad, her gun drawn. She moved to cover the girls, her weapon aimed protectively over their heads. Mark crouched before Laura, grabbing her hand and willing her to focus on him. “The boys?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “Where are they?”
“They wouldn’t leave Mom,” Laura choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Mark’s heart splintered. “No, sweetheart,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You did the right thing. The absolutely right thing.” He squeezed her hand, his gaze fierce and full of love. “Go now. Do what your mom wants. I’ll get her. I promise.”
Zannie looked at him, her face tear-streaked. “Mom has a black eye, and her lip is bleeding. Alan hits her sometimes when he’s mad.”
He nodded. “Okay, baby. We’re going to take care of it,” he promised.
The female deputy kept her weapon steady, her gaze unwavering as she pressed her back against Laura's, guiding the three terrified girls toward the fence, every step urgent but measured. The weight of the situation clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Laura's breaths were shallow, her hands trembling as she clung to the girls, but the deputy’s calm presence was their lifeline, shepherding them beyond the fence and out of immediate danger.
Brad met them, his expression hard but reassuring. "Stay with them," he ordered again, his voice low but firm. He bent low and sprinted toward the back of the house, his movements swift and calculated. He positioned himself by the sliding glass door.
Mark edged closer to the kitchen window and peered inside, his heart hammering in his chest. The shouts of the deputies in the front calling for Alan to give himself up met his ears, but he knew a desperate man like Alan would not give up without a fight. The kitchen was eerily still inside the house, a calm before the inevitable storm. He wondered where the boys had gone, his stomach twisting with fear.
His pulse pounded relentlessly, his every instinct screaming to protect his son and Karen—the woman he loved. The weight of that love threatened to buckle his knees.
He crept toward the sliding glass door the girls had left ajar in their haste. It was a small mercy. He motioned to Brad, his ears straining to pick up the voices inside.
“You stupid bitch!” Alan’s voice tore through the quiet, filled with venom and malice. “You had to come get your kids. Like you ever gave a damn about them before! What made you think this was a good idea?”
Carla’s voice followed, high-pitched and wild. “Look at this house! It’s better than anything I ever had. Those kids are mine! They don’t belong here!”
Mark’s jaw clenched, fury building inside him.
“Jesus, you’re a fucking idiot,” Alan spat. “Where are they, huh? Nurse bitch, where did the kids go?”
Karen’s voice came again, softer now, almost pleading. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Shut up!” Alan’s growl sent a shiver down Mark’s spine. He didn’t have a clear shot at Alan from his position, and Brad’s glance confirmed the same.
Footsteps thundered from upstairs, followed by Carla’s panicked wail. “They’re not here! There’s no one up here!”
“I told you, they’re gone,” Karen said, her voice shaky but resolute.
Carla’s hysteria rose, her words rapid and desperate. “The cops are at the front, Alan! What are we going to do?”
Alan’s response was coldly calculated. “We’re going out the back. And we’re taking her with us.”
Mark and Brad quickly backed away, remaining hidden from view. But just as Mark was about to move, a flash of red caught his eye. His breath hitched. Peering through the window again, his heart leaped into his throat—Benji. His son was crouched atop the refrigerator, his small frame hidden in the shadows, fear etched on his young face. He must have scrambled from the counter to the refrigerator to keep from being seen. But where is Marty?
Every instinct in Mark’s body screamed at him to call out to his boy, but he swallowed the urge, forcing it down as he whispered into his radio. “One boy in the kitchen. Benji’s on top of the fridge.”
Tension wound tight in his chest as Karen came into view, walking down the hallway and into the kitchen. Mark and Brad readied their weapons, poised to act when Alan appeared.
And then, there he was. Alan shoved Karen ahead of him, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his gun pressed to her side. Carla slunk behind them, her eyes darting wildly. Mark could see where Alan had taken out his anger onto Carla and wondered if that was where the blood stains on the mattress had come from.
Before Mark could move, Benji leaped from his hiding place, his young voice shrieking in defiance as he hurled himself at Carla. The impact sent her stumbling, her scream piercing the air. At the same time, Marty sprang from the pantry, his face a mask of fury, and kicked Alan hard in the shin.
“What the fuck—” Alan shouted, his grip loosening on Karen as he whirled around in confusion.
Mark seized the moment. “Police! Drop your weapon!” he yelled, his voice ringing out, every muscle in his body coiled and ready.
Alan let out a furious roar as Karen launched herself at him, her body colliding with his outstretched arm, sending the gun clattering to the floor. In a blur of motion, she grabbed Marty and fell on top of him, shielding him as they crashed onto the cold kitchen tile. Benji scrambled for cover, diving behind the kitchen counter, his small frame disappearing from view just as Alan raised his hand to strike.
Mark’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse thundering as he raised his weapon, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. Benji was no longer in sight. His finger hovered, the world narrowing to that one crucial decision. Brad, however, didn’t hesitate. He squeezed the trigger, the sound of the gunshot echoing through the kitchen. Alan’s body jerked violently as the bullet struck him in the upper chest, his face twisting into a grimace of agony. He staggered back, crashing against the hallway wall before sliding down, his body landing on the floor.
Mark didn’t waste a second. He surged forward, racing into the house ahead of Brad. The chaos around him blurred as he skidded to a stop next to Karen, his eyes sweeping the kitchen, desperate for any sign of Benji.
“Are you two okay?” His voice was rough, thick with emotion.
Karen nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yes, yes—Benji? The girls?”
“Dad!” Benji’s voice rang out, and Mark’s head snapped toward the sound. His son’s small head popped up from behind the counter, his eyes wide but unscathed.
“Christ!” Mark exhaled, his chest heaving with relief as he stepped over Alan’s outstretched legs and scooped Benji into his arms. His grip was fierce, his hand cradling the back of Benji’s head as he buried his son’s face against his chest. Every muscle in Mark’s body shook with the force of his emotions—relief, fear, and overwhelming love.
“The girls?” Karen’s frantic voice brought him back to the present.
Mark turned, still holding Benji close, and knelt beside Karen. His gaze flicked between her and Marty, who was sitting up, his face pale but determined. Karen had her arms wrapped around Marty, shielding him from the sight of Alan’s blood pooling on the floor as deputies flooded the house through the front and back doors.
Carla was dragged away in handcuffs, her shrieks fading as the EMTs rushed in with their equipment and stretcher. The scene was a whirlwind of flashing lights, hurried voices, and controlled chaos. Brad took charge, barking orders as deputies swarmed to secure the scene.
“Mom!” Olivia’s voice pierced through the noise, her scream of panic slicing through the air. Karen’s head jerked up, her eyes wild as she searched for her daughter.
“Baby!” Karen cried, her voice thick with emotion, but the girls were still outside, safe.
John entered through the back door, his movements calm but urgent. He knelt beside Karen and Marty, helping them to their feet. “Let’s get you out of here,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he guided them toward the exit.
Aaron followed closely, moving to Mark’s side. His hand landed on Mark’s back, the other resting on Benji’s shoulder as he nudged them toward the back door. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air. It’s too crowded in here.”
When they stepped outside, the cool air hit Mark like a balm, soothing the tension coiling in his chest. He inhaled deeply, his arms tightening instinctively around Benji. His gaze locked on Karen and Marty, who had hurried toward the three girls waiting with Elizabeth and Sam. The children were huddled together, their faces streaked with tears but alive and safe. Colt was making his way toward them, his sharp eyes scanning the group, ensuring they were all accounted for.
Mark quickened his pace, still holding Benji close until he reached Karen’s side. Benji squirmed in his arms, protesting, “Dad, let me go!”
Reluctantly, Mark loosened his grip, allowing Benji to slide down and rush to join the group hug forming in the middle of the yard. The kids, now all together, clung to each other, their tears giving way to shaky smiles as the reality of their safety set in.
Karen turned toward Mark, her gaze locking onto his, her eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and raw emotion. He didn’t hesitate, pulling her into his arms and holding her close as she buried her face in his chest. Her body trembled, and her words barely whispered, “Oh God… I… I…”
Mark stroked her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” He wasn’t sure when or if things would be okay again, but they were alive at that moment. Together. That was all that mattered.
A slight, mischievous grin broke the tension as Benji’s voice piped up. “Marty, that was a cool kick!”
Marty, who had been pale and shaking moments before, managed a small smile. “You jumped off the fridge, man! You totally surprised them.”
Mark opened his mouth, ready to chastise them for taking such risks, but Karen’s soft, trembling fingers pressed gently against his lips. “Not now,” she whispered, her voice still shaky but firm. “Later… later, you can fuss at them for not following directions. But right now, let them be heroes.”
Still squished together in a tight huddle, the kids beamed at their parents. For a moment, the fear, the blood, the chaos—all of it melted away. They wrapped their arms around each other, wide and protective, pulling Mark and Karen into their circle of love and relief.
As Mark stood there, holding Karen and his son, surrounded by the four other children who now felt like his own, his heart swelled. This time, the pounding in his chest wasn’t from fear but from an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.
He looked at Karen, his gaze tender and full of emotion. The woman he loved… his son… and the family they had somehow created together. The storm might not be over, but they had weathered it at this moment. And that was enough.