Beverly Connor - Dust to Dust

Only now did Diane notice that her heart was racing and she was sick to her stomach. She heard footsteps on the main stairs. Maybe he wouldn’t find the attic stairs. They were hidden in the bedroom closet.

Her cell rang. Damn, she forgot to put it on vibrate. She answered with a whisper.

“Diane, are you all right? You sound hoarse. This is Vanessa. Mother remembered-”

“Can’t talk now, Vanessa. I’ll call back.”

A booming gunshot slammed against the attic door.

“Is that gunfire?” said Vanessa.

“Yes. Got to go.”

Diane dropped the cell, rested her shaking arms on the trunk, and aimed the gun at the doorway. If he came straight through the doorway, he might not think to turn to the right until it was too late. He would have to lean into the door to move the chest. He would be off balance. That would give her time-if she was lucky. He hit the door with another earsplitting shot. What if there were more than one of them? Damn, she hadn’t thought of that. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

The chest jumped as another bullet slammed through the back. It sounded like an elephant gun, it was so loud. Diane checked to see if the safety on her gun was off. It wasn’t. Shit . She would get killed if she didn’t start thinking. She moved the switch with her thumb.

Sirens whined in the distance. Hurry. Please, hurry .

The intruder shot the door twice more. The sound was so loud the entire neighborhood should have heard it. She thought she could hear him reloading- clink, clink .

The chest began to inch forward. He was pushing on it now. Diane steadied her gun. He apparently put his shoulder into it, for the chest moved forward at least three feet and he stumbled into the room-facing Diane. He raised his shotgun toward her as she fired three times and ducked behind the trunk. She felt the floor shake when he fell. At the same instant, a blast from his shotgun shook her eardrums and the wall behind her exploded, debris falling over her. Diane lay still a moment, stunned. When her head cleared, she wanted to peek over the trunk, but she was afraid it was a trap. What if he was playing dead? What if he had backup? She was stuck. She crouched behind the trunk and listened to his breathing. It came in gasps, sounding real enough, but she didn’t believe it.

“Help me,” he whispered.

She was too scared to move, too wary to trust. She tried to think what to do, but her brain was too panicked.

Damn , she thought. I’ve been in bad situations before. Why am I suddenly such a coward?

She stayed low and moved slowly to look around the side of the trunk next to the wall. There was a six-inch opening between the wall and the trunk she could have seen through, if it weren’t so dark. The only significant light reflected through the windows from the security lamps. They had suddenly gone dark. The motion detector outside had timed out. Only dim light from the floor below seeped up the stairs and through the open doorway. It did little to illuminate.

The sirens were louder. Help was coming. But the sirens were too loud. She wouldn’t hear him if he moved. Diane stayed still and listened hard through the noise. She stared through the space beside the trunk until her eyes became adjusted to the darkness. She saw a booted foot moving, trying to get up. She shot at it and he yelped.

She heard him whimper and mutter something she couldn’t make out. He seemed to be down, but Diane didn’t trust him. She waited, tempted to shoot him again.

Get some backbone , she told herself.

She heard banging on the door downstairs. The police. But what if it was Frank? He wouldn’t know what he was walking into. She rose slowly, keeping her back flat against the wall, and surveyed the darkened attic. She saw the dark form of the intruder squirming on the floor. The shotgun was within his reach. She aimed her gun at him and made her way slowly to the downed form and kicked the shotgun aside. She stepped over to the door, keeping him in sight, keeping her gun trained on him, and flipped the light switch.

The sight startled her. The man on the floor looked like Ray-Ray Dildy. No, it looked like a slightly younger and different version of Ray-Ray Dildy.

What is this, some kind of maniac crime family?

“Police!” Muffled voices came from downstairs.

Diane walked around and picked up his gun. She looked down at his face. He was scared and suffering. She could see he was wearing a bulletproof vest, but one of her bullets had managed to hit him through the arm opening and another in his leg.

“Help will be here soon,” she said, and walked out of the room, down the attic steps, and out to the stairs. She stood his shotgun in the corner of the stairwell.

“I’m up here,” she called.

She heard running through the house from the rear. They had found the broken back door. She walked down the stairs, her hands held high where they were clearly visible to the police. The first person she saw was Douglas Garnett. He met her at the base of the stairs.

“The intruder is wounded on the attic floor,” she told him.

Diane sat on the living room couch, leaning forward with her head in her hands while the police secured the house. The intruder had wanted her to answer the door. He was going to shoot her and walk away. Frank would have come home and found the door open and her lying on the floor, dead. She took a deep breath and stood up when she heard the paramedics coming down the stairs with a stretcher. They were the same ones who had been making the runs to Marcella’s house.

“Didn’t we just take this guy last week… and wasn’t he dead?” one of the paramedics asked Diane as he and his partner passed with the stretcher.

“Must be the same family,” she muttered.

As they went out the front door, she thought she heard one of them mumble that he was going to write a book.

Frank came in a moment later, alarm and bewilderment on his face. Diane looked at him with tears in her eyes. He had gotten away early. What if he had arrived when the intruder came blasting through the door? She put a hand over her mouth, trying to gulp back the fear.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” He ran over to her and she hugged him hard.

“There are a couple of doors you’re going to have to fix,” she said.

“What happened?” he asked.

Garnett came down the stairs with the police officers. He stayed inside and sent the other officers to search the grounds. Garnett, Diane, and Frank sat down in the living room.

Diane sat trembling on the sofa. “Jeez,” she said, “I can’t seem to stop shaking.”

Frank put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

“Can’t say as I blame you,” said Garnett. He was wearing a suit. She wondered what he was doing in a suit this late. He should be in pajamas. He handed her her cell phone. “It was on the floor.”

“Oh God, Vanessa,” she said. “She must be worried sick. She called just before…”

She dialed Vanessa’s number. It was picked up at half a ring.

“Diane, are you all right? We could hear the gunfire. Harte is here with me,” she said.

Diane remembered now. She had dropped her phone as the intruder came into the room. Vanessa must have heard most of it. Damn .

“I’m fine. I had an intruder, but he’s gone now,” said Diane. “The paramedics took him away.”

“You had an intruder? Dear, it sounded like a fire-fight.”

“There was an exchange of gunfire, but I’m okay. I’m sorry to have hung up on you,” she said.

“I think you need a good stiff drink, girl. You are sounding way too calm, and that’s not good,” said Vanessa. “What? Just a minute. Harte is mumbling something.” She paused. “Harte says she will bring you one of her special tonics if you need it. I can recommend them.”