28. Honoria
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Honoria
After Wombat left, Molly wouldn’t stop barking at the door. No matter what I did, she’d return to the front door and whine, then bark, whine some more, and stand by her leash.
At first, I thought she needed to walk outside. That was odd because we took walks during the daytime, never after dark. But after I got her leash down, she ran to the garage door instead.
Smart girl. She wanted to follow Wombat, obviously.
I got her bundled into the car and pulled out of the garage. As I waited for the door to close the futility of what I was doing almost made me hit the button for it to roll up again. But I couldn’t do that until the door had finished its cycle.
Molly barked once the door stopped and the light inside was gone.
“Backseat driver.”
Bark.
I glanced back. “You know he’s in a bad mood and really tired, right?”
This time the sound coming out of her was closer to a whine, but had enough tone in it to tell me she was frustrated we weren’t moving.
“Right. Drive.”
As I did, I called myself all sorts of things. Needy, foolish, stupid… “Desperate?”
Molly was no help. She plastered her nose against the window to scan the landscape to make sure we were heading the direction she wanted. I almost turned a different direction to see what she’d do, but resisted.
Why? Part of me knew what he was going through. About a year ago, I’d taken a vacation from work. It was after I filed for divorce and before I moved out. I’d been going to therapy almost daily because the grief had taken a nasty turn.
Jim urged me to take Molly with me on the trip.
Those days were awful. I just wanted to be alone. I resented my beautiful dog who’d done nothing but become my lifeline. I can’t even say I came back changed. But I did discover one thing. Living is fucking hard.
And maybe I was harder.
But without someone, or some… thing in your corner, it was unbearable. Molly saved me then.
Sure, Wombat had Dumb Ass, and his sister, and the club, but tonight he’d wanted to be alone.
And I wouldn’t let him be alone.
Would that make me a villain?
I pulled over before the driveway, trying to chicken out. Molly alternated between looking out the window and looking at me.
“I know. You want me to go there. Do you really think I’m ready though? I mean, this could make him really angry with me. Remember that day at the park? You wanted to go down the trail and I just wanted to…”
I wasn’t suicidal. I wasn’t.
“And you saved me.” I laughed bitterly. “You and your weak bladder.” I sat on that cliff face and Molly whined and tugged at the leash.
It forced me to get up, walk away from the ledge and let her sniff bushes until she found just the right one to lift a leg up on.
By that point, we were far enough away the empty air didn’t tempt me anymore.
Each day since was an exercise in filling the space with enough activity to keep going. “One step in front of the other.” It was the same thing I’d said to her as we left the park behind.
Which is something maybe Wombat needed to hear. And if he hated me for it, so be it. I’d survive.
I pulled in the driveway and parked near his place. The night was still and cold. There was an underlying mix of smells that proved the world was waking up, but the last throes of winter were still dug in but rotting away like the bony fingers of death.
Molly shot out of the car almost as soon as I opened the door. The leash I clipped on in the car was dangling from my grip. The collar grounding it in the mud where she’d slipped free.
“Molly!” I realized there might be people sleeping and lowered my yelling to a harsh whisper and ran after her. Her paws hit the door, and it popped open.
Wombat was sure to know we were here now.
I pushed in, an apology on my lips, but I wasn’t prepared.
The first thing I saw was the way Wombat had a woman pinned against the wall.
The second was the dangling belt buckle.
My skin flashed hot. But then I took a moment to really look.
There was a gun in her hand. Wombat had pinned that to the wall, his fingers covering hers and smashing down hard.
She clawed at his arm, fingernails digging in so hard one had drawn blood.
It dripped down his arm as they both stared at me silhouetted in the doorway.
“Honor leave!”
The woman screamed over his order. “You bitch! I saw you with him last night when I followed you from the clubhouse. Wombat is mine, remember that. I’m so going to enjoy killing you.”
Molly growled.
That’s what broke my freeze. Instinctively, I reached for my cell phone and without thinking tried to unlock it.
Wombat yelled at me again, but his voice cut off. I looked up in time to see the woman’s knee fall back into place and him crumple away.
Molly rushed into the gap, latching onto the woman’s arm while emitting growls I’d never heard from her before.
“Let go of me, you stupid dog.” She hit Molly with the butt of the pistol to make Molly lose her grip. But Molly only latched on harder, taking each blow with a growl.
I saw red.
I picked up the nearest object I could find that had weight. It was the custom leather bound edition of Black’s Law Dictionary I’d loaned to Wombat. He’d left it on his kitchen counter. It was dog-eared and bookmarked with Post-its and pieces of paper sticking out from between the pages.
Funny, it had sat for years on Jim’s bookshelf.
Then months on mine after the divorce. I don’t think either of us ever opened it.
He’d given it to me on our third anniversary.
But he also displayed it on his bookshelf like a trophy.
I’d fought for the damn thing on principle, not because I wanted it, but because he’d liked it so much.
The woman turned the gun around and pointed it at Molly’s skull.
“Winter, no!” Wombat crawled to his feet and tried to put his body between them.
He knew her?
Was this a misunderstanding? What had I walked into? Yeah. One of my women. I fucked her in December.
“Molly, drop it!” I yelled.
Surprisingly, she followed my order. Wombat pulled her away and fell into a sitting position against the wall.
Winter looked up at me, then straightened. She pointed the gun at both Wombat and Molly. “Say goodbye to everything you love.”
I didn’t think.
Or maybe I did.
But that’s the way it would play on the witness stand.
In reality, I knew she was telling the truth. She tightened her finger on the trigger of that gun. I ran at her and swung that book at her face with all my might. It caught her near the jawline, but the mass and force of my upswing snapped her head back. The gun went off.
Winter tipped backward and her head slammed into the corner stud between the stove and a closet where Wombat had a stacked washer and dryer alcove.
Her eyes fixed on me.
The gun in her hand fell to the floor.
I held the book ready for another swing. Hell, a thousand more.
One eye fell shut. She slurred her words. “You bitch.”
“Bitch? No. You’re the bitch. I bet you burned his barn down didn’t you?”
She laughed but it turned into a wheeze that died.
I still held the book ready for another swing. I wanted to take that book and grind her face into pulp. Mens rea means “guilty mind.” I finally understood there was no guilt about it. Only red hot murder.
“Wombat, what the fuck? I heard a gunshot.” Fly ran in with Lemon on his heels. I heard them, felt them hustling through the house, but kept my eyes fixed on Winter.
“Get Molly. I’ve got ’Bat.”
Fly’s words forced me to turn. The book became a lead weight in my hands. Blood pooled on the floor. “She shot them?”
“Shot Wombat for sure. I think Molly might have gotten hit, too.” Fly rolled Wombat over, he still clung to my shivering, whimpering dog. Molly crawled up his body and nuzzled her snout near his face. She did that to me after nightmares. Now she was comforting—
The book fell to the floor. Papers spilled out and slid into the blood. I rushed over to my phone and dialed as quickly as I could.
“Nine-one-one, please state the address of the emergency.”
I rattled off the location. Then added, “There has been a shooting. We need emergency assistance for a gunshot wound. The victim is a white male twenty-five years old. An animal was injured as well. The shooter is a white female, age approximately twenty to twenty-five, blond hair, wearing a dark gray hoodie, dark jeans. Send emergency assistance immediately. I repeat, shooting victim is alive but needs emergency assistance now.” Then I hung up.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Fly accused me with his glare.
“He needs an ambulance.”
Lemon begged Fly to move his hand so she could see the wound, and immediately pressed it back down again with an order to, “Press hard.”
Molly was still clinging to him. There was blood between their bodies.
“Is Molly okay?” I asked Lemon.
“You know the cops are going to blame Wombat for this? Or me. Fuck!” Fly’s expletive and subsequent force pressing down on Wombat made him moan.
“Dude, not so hard, you’re breaking my ribs.”
“Your sister said press hard. What the fuck am I supposed to do, asshole, let you bleed out?”
“Shut the fuck up Friday.” Wombat’s words were a little woozy.
“Right. Your girlfriend called the cops. That’s going to be fun. Not.”
“Honor?”
I shuffled over, avoiding the bloody pages and Fly’s feet. “I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am,” I assured him.
“See if Molly is hurt,” he whispered.
“I’m checking on that,” Lemon interrupted.
“Molly?” Wombat asked again.
She moved on his chest and licked his face. His bloody fingers wove through her fur. “Good girl.” His whisper trailed off.
“Are we losing him?” Fly demanded.
“Not if I can help it. Move Molly, please?” I did as asked.
Immediately, Lemon crawled on top of her brother and checked vitals and tried her best to direct Fly while simultaneously checking on Molly.
“I think she’s just nicked. But until I get her into the emergency vet I can’t tell.
There’s too much blood and fur. Damn it, Random, stop bleeding! ”
Sirens wailed in the distance. The sound got louder by the second. Both an ambulance and a cop car tore up the driveway.
“We’re fucked.” Fly shot a side-eye at me. “Wombat said it’s shut the fuck up Friday. Don’t talk, don’t explain nothing. Ask for your lawyer. Got it?”
“I am your lawyer.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Then we’re fucked.”
“Not if I can help it.” I dialed Jim.
What else was I supposed to do? He was my backup on the account. I quickly explained where I needed him and how fast he needed to arrive. Then added, “I’m involved. So is Wombat. I need you here in full bulldog mode.” Then I hung up.
The paramedics whisked Wombat away. I quickly explained who Fly was, who Lemon was, and where they were when the shooting occurred.
The cop on the scene didn’t listen.
“We have to get the dog to an emergency vet, now!” Lemon held Molly down.
“Not until we process the scene. We’ve got a dead body. Fucking Destroyers.”
My ass hit the floor.
“Wombat?” It leaked out of me like the last bits of my heart.
“He’s okay. He was breathing when they loaded him up.” Fly knelt beside me, his hand felt warm in contrast to mine. The cold had consumed me.
“Stand up, asshole, you’re under arrest.”
Fly grimaced as he was man-handled into position. “Take it easy, I’m still recovering from a broken back.”
“Why are you arresting him?” I stood to get in the cop’s face.
He was the same jerk who’d arrested Wombat months ago.
And because of that, I went on the attack.
“Officer Langer, I understand you need to cordon off the scene, but this man is a bystander, not a perpetrator, and I’ll also remind you that I am the primary lawyer on the Destroyers account, one they keep an active retainer upon, and my client will sue you for wrongful arrest.”
He froze as the cuffs clicked shut. “You’re their lawyer?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Who killed the woman inside?”
Winter was dead? I shouldn’t have felt relief hearing that. “I will give my statement when my attorney shows up.”
“You killed her?” There was a gleam of glee in his eyes.
“Do I have to repeat myself? Lawsuit, wrongful arrest. Remember?’
Begrudgingly, he uncuffed Fly, who joined Lemon as she loaded Molly into her Jeep. “We’ll let you know how Molly’s doing soon, okay?”
Officer Langer stepped between us and stared at me. “I need to place you in custody, Ms. Ryder.”
“I understand.” I allowed him to detain me and place me in the back of his squad car.
Jim’s Lexus pulled into the drive. The parking area was now cluttered with crime scene vehicles.
From the mobile forensic unit, to the multiple police vehicles, an animal control truck, and a fire rescue squad vehicle idling near the house, there was little room for him to park.
He met with the lead investigator on the scene first. That man pointed toward the squad car where I waited.
“Get her out. My client will make a statement after I meet with her.”
“You can’t do that. She’s under arrest for the murder of Winter Fuller.”
“Who?” Jim asked.
Officer Joe Langer rocked on his heels as if he were silently laughing at me. “She’s one of those groupies who hang around the Destroyers’ clubhouse and fuck all the men.”
He said it loud enough I heard it plainly through the glass. Jerk.
“It’s a classic case of jealousy, don’t ya think?” he added.
I turned to stare straight ahead and keep my face stoic.
While I didn’t think Joe or any of the other police present could read it, Jim would be able to.
And I wasn’t about to give him any more fodder he could use against me.
It was bad enough he had to be here, but to witness my downfall so personally must be the perfect bookend to our divorce.
“Get her out. She’s an employee of the firm I work for, and I know you don’t want me to call Stephen Poe at this hour of the night. He’ll dismantle your entire department for that alone.”
My god, I was going to lose my job.
I didn’t think.
I truly didn’t.
My hands shook as I tuned out the conversation outside the car. I looked down at them and saw blood. And fur. Molly’s fur. Wombat’s blood, maybe both of theirs was on my hands.
And I’d killed someone.
What was I going to do?