Susan Schreyer - Death By a Dark Horse

I flinched.

Juliet caught my eye and I read her perfectly. I'd missed my chance to act while he was distracted. Disappointment sank through me.

"Oh, what's this?" Greg hadn't missed the look. "Secret signals?"

"No," Juliet said quickly. "I thought she was going to faint. She's so pale."

"Don't you worry about big sister." Greg squeezed my shoulders. "She's so little I can hold her up even after I shoot her." He laughed. "Oh, I almost forgot. It's going to be Sarah who shoots you all. Then, the poor thing, sick with remorse, will shoot herself."

"Greg!" Sarah wailed. "I love you! We're going to go away together. Remember? Last night? You told me you loved me – you always loved me! You gave me this!" She held up her left hand. "You love me!"

"You're an anchor around my neck, you stupid cow."

He swung the gun toward her and she screamed. I let my knees collapse and dropped back against his chest. The moment he leaned into my weight I tipped forward, pulling him with me. With every ounce of strength I possessed I swung my arm down, slamming my fist into his groin. He yelped. I twisted and thrust my elbow hard into his ribs. His grip loosened and I pivoted, jamming the heel of my hand up into his nose. A sickening crunch erupted from his face under my hand, and blood gushed from his nostrils. Shrieking, Greg grabbed at his nose, flinging the gun across the room. It clattered to the tile floor and slid to a stop against Lee's leg.

Juliet leapt past me and smashed her fist into the side of Greg's head. He staggered and was tipping when she landed a round-house kick in the middle of his back.

It was a good bet he was already unconscious when he smacked, face down, onto the cold, hard, kitchen tile. He didn't even bounce.

Sarah screamed again, then sank to her knees and crawled across the floor to her would-be murderer, sobbing his name.

Juliet and I stared at him.

Delores stared at us.

"Did we kill him?" Juliet's question was almost indiscernible, since both of her hands covered her mouth.

"I don't think so," I said, surprised at how steady my own voice sounded. "We'd better find something to tie him up with before he comes to. He's going to be mad."

Juliet sprinted down the basement stairs and reappeared moments later with a roll of duct tape. We taped his ankles together, then pulled his arms behind his back and wrapped a large amount of tape around his wrists. Sarah tried desperately to undo the tape, but Juliet hauled her away by the collar of her shirt.

"Stop that." My sister plunked Sarah down against the dishwasher. "Now sit there and stop being so stupid. We just saved your sorry-ass life. You move and I'll tape you up, too." She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

Sarah curled into a ball and sobbed quietly.

I picked up the kitchen phone and dialed 9-1-1. As the operator answered, the exterior kitchen door swung open and Frederick Parsons strode in, impeccably dressed, gun drawn. We all stared, gap-mouthed, at him.

He looked down at Greg and shook his head. "Is he dead?"

Delores found her voice first. "No, he's not, Frederick. Put the gun away."

He didn't. Instead, he turned to me. The look in his eyes caused my insides to recoil.

"Are you calling 9-1-1?"

"Yes." The word was barely more than a squeak.

"Tell them you've made a mistake and hang up."

Delores and I exchanged a glance. She nodded once. I cleared my throat. Even still, my voice shook. "Sorry, operator, I've made a mistake. Sorry to bother you." I pushed a button on the handset.

Frederick Parsons waved his gun at me. "Over there, with your sister. Leave the phone."

I set it on the counter, and moved quickly to Juliet. Parsons scanned the room, shook his head slightly when he saw Lee's body and again as he took in Sarah weeping. He raised his gun and aimed at Greg. I sucked in a gasp. Juliet grabbed my arm.

"Frederick, no!" Delores shouted. "Let the police deal with him!"

"No!" Sarah screamed at the same time and threw herself across Greg's unconscious body. "He didn't kill her! He didn't kill your daughter!"

Parsons's shoulders sagged slightly and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Move."

"No. I won't let you kill him. He's innocent. You have to believe me! You'll have to shoot me too."

"I will," he said matter-of-factly. "But not with this gun." He moved toward Greg's gun, resting against Lee's leg, but the sound of footsteps on the porch drew our attention, including Parsons's.

Joey stepped through the doorway. Juliet's fingers dug into my arm and she whimpered. The gun he carried was bigger. Lots bigger.

"Ah, good," Parsons said. "Pick up that piece over there and dispatch these four, would you please?"

I clutched at Juliet and stopped breathing.

Joey raised his big pistol. The scream in my throat never formed. He wasn't aiming at us.

Parsons scowled and pointed at Greg's gun. "No. I said tha -"

There was a loud pop, like a beer being opened, but without the hiss. Parsons's eyes grew wide. He looked down at the red spreading rapidly on his crisp white shirt, then crumpled like so much dirty laundry.

Joey's expression never changed. He turned the gun around and laid it on the kitchen island. Then he raised both arms and put his hands behind his head, fingers laced together.

"Go ahead and call," he said, with a nod at the phone. "Don't touch the gun. Only my fingerprints should be on it."

Stunned and confused by the sudden turn of events, I obediently released Juliet and managed the few shaky steps to where the phone lay. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," the 9-1-1 operator said. "Are you safe?"

"Yes, thank you. We are now. But we still need the ambulance and sheriff." My words came out so slowly I thought I'd never finish the sentence.

"They should be arriving any moment. Stay on the line."

"Okay." I looked at Joey. "They're almost here."

He nodded. "We should go outside."

Delores, Juliet, Sarah (held firmly by the arm by my sister), and I followed Joey out the kitchen door. Once outside he knelt on the ground at attention, with his back to us, and his hands still at the back of his head. Even as my thinking began to clear, the entire scene remained more bizarre than I could have imagined. Not that I minded Joey's help – which we obviously needed – but I didn't understand what the hell was going on.

"Why did you kill him?" I asked.

The big man took a deep breath and exhaled before he answered. "I didn't have a choice. I'm the only one who knew he killed his daughter. He never would have been convicted, and I would have ended up as bear food on the side of some logging road before the trial ever started."

"But Greg -"

"Marshall never knew. We passed him when we left on Saturday, then turned around and followed him back here. Mr. Parsons's plan was to accuse him of killing Valerie, and have me hold a gun to the back of his head like I was going to kill him. It worked. Marshall was scared shitless. He cried, begged us to let him help find who killed Valerie when Mr. Parsons said the police would suspect him right away and we couldn't lie about finding him with her body."

"Why did he try to make it look like an accident? That was what he intended, right?"

"It was Marshall's idea, to give us more time. I think Mr. Parsons would have been okay with the accident idea, if it had stuck. But when it didn't, well, he had to put the blame on someone. He didn't much care if it was Marshall or you. He'd have ruined Marshall either way."

"Do you mean to tell me," Delores said, her voice cracking with fury, "Frederick intended to let Greg kill us all?"

Joey swallowed. "Yes, ma'am – but I don't think he knew there'd be so many of you. He was going to shoot Greg after he killed Miss Campbell." He nodded toward me and my legs shook. Delores put her good arm protectively around my shoulders. "He planned to tell the sheriff it was self defense – that Greg killed Miss Campbell and planned to kill him, too."