Shielding the Suspect. C.J. Miller
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ducked behind the couch and strained to listen. Was anyone else attempting to get inside the house? His landlord, a paranoid SOB, had built one doorway entry into the house, but the cabin had several windows in the other rooms. Brady listened for the sound of breaking glass.
The floor creaked as the intruder moved around the room. Brady waited, following his movements. The intruder tracked closer to the bedroom, much too close to Susan for Brady’s comfort. He needed to get between Susan and the attacker.
“Drop your weapon and I won’t kill you,” Brady said. His knee might be damaged, but his aim was impeccable.
“I could say the same to you,” the man said, pivoting in Brady’s direction.
Brady prayed Susan stayed asleep or at least remained in his bedroom, where she was safer. “Last chance,” Brady said.
“Don’t get involved in this. I don’t want you. I want her.”
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room, followed by Susan’s scream. Someone was in Susan’s room!
Brady moved his position and aimed. What if Susan came out of her room and he hit her? What if the bullet ricocheted? Anxiety tightened his throat and Brady pressed down on his shoulders and steadied his hands.
A red beam traced across the room from the attacker’s gun, a bullet sure to follow in its path. The attacker squeezed off a shot. Brady heard it whiz by his ear. If he’d been a second later in shifting, he’d have been hit. Brady fired his weapon. His aim was true; the attacker dropped to the ground, injured or dead.
“Susan!” Brady screamed, barging into her room.
Susan, her back to the large dresser across from the bed, was staring in horror at Brady’s landlord. Connor was pressed against the wall to the left of the door, gun in hand. Another masked man was dead on the floor. Connor made an appalling sight, his hair long, a full beard covering his face, his clothes wrinkled and worn. The first time Brady had met him, if he hadn’t known who Connor was, he would have been nervous around him. Connor carried an agitated energy, as if he was ready to spring at any moment.
“Are you okay?” Brady asked Susan.
“What is going on? Who is this? What’s happening?” Her voice shook and her hands trembled.
“This is my landlord, Connor. Someone else broke into the cabin. I took care of it.” Brady swung his attention to Connor. “Anyone else outside?” he asked.
Connor shook his head. “Heard them approach. Loud engine. Should have announced their presence with fireworks. Would have been quieter. Followed this guy inside. Just sorry I didn’t get him before he got through the window.”
Brady hadn’t heard anyone, but that was part of what made Connor spooky. He had an eerie ability to sense trouble. Or had Brady screwed up again? Should he have heard the attackers’ approach before they’d reached the front door? That would have been his first mistake. His second was letting the man get a shot off before stopping him.
Brady had lost his touch. His reactions were slow. Was it more than his physical response failing him? Was he destined to forever make critical mistakes in protecting the people he’d sworn to keep safe?
“Susan’s ex was involved in something and now Susan’s attracted attention from the wrong people,” Brady said.
“They’re trained. Sloppy and loud, but trained,” Connor said, echoing Brady’s thoughts about the attackers.
“Thanks for coming out to help,” Brady said. Connor hated to leave his place. At least, that’s what Brady assumed. He’d never seen the man leave the property. When it came to Connor, Brady didn’t ask questions and respected his desire for privacy.
“Told you when you moved in, I had your back,” Connor said. He nodded toward the broken glass. “I’ll get something to cover that and get it fixed tomorrow. I’ll do a perimeter check tonight. Stupid fools to come on this property.” With that, he strode out the bedroom door.
“We need to call the police,” Brady said.
“No! Not again,” Susan said. “Do you know how this will look? The police think I belong in jail. What will they think when I’m involved in a fire and a killing in the same night? They’ll think I killed him. Them.”
Panic and anxiety twisted her voice to a higher octave. Brady reasoned with her. “First, the gunshot residue will be on my hands, not yours. Someone entered my home. I defended us. We’ve done nothing wrong.” That his shot had hit its mark would be telling to anyone with common sense. An untrained woman with a gun would have had shots that went wild.
“What about the man who Connor killed?” Susan asked.
“Connor will talk to the police about that,” Brady said.
Susan nodded slowly, her eyes skating to the broken window and the man on the floor. “They just burst through the window.”
“We’re lucky Connor was around.”
Susan folded her arms over her chest appearing calmer. “I know we were. I didn’t know at first what was going on. He’s intense.”
“Connor is an interesting man with an interesting story,” Brady said. He wouldn’t share what little he knew with her or anyone. Connor was a private and territorial man who patrolled his grounds like a gray wolf. Brady had been grateful to be allowed to stay at this cabin.
“I don’t want anything more interesting to happen. I want dull. I want boredom and sleep.” Susan’s voice sounded close to breaking into tears.
She was scared and hurting and Brady wanted to stop it. Until he got to the bottom of Justin’s murder, Susan would suffer. It was a consequence he couldn’t live with.
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