Blood Kills Nanci Rathbun (ereader for textbooks .TXT) 📖

about the bad guys. Is that okay with you, buddy?”

“Pwomise?”

“Cross my heart and…” He couldn’t complete the phrase. We’d all been too close to death tonight. “I promise,” he finished.

Aunt Terry took Joey’s hand and said, “Let’s grab your pajamas and toothbrush from your room so you can get comfy. We need to be very quick.”

“Like a bunny,” Joey said, and he raced down the hallway and back before Aunt Terry could call to him to wait.

Spider pulled me aside. “I have some pretty special equipment in the safe room. I’d like it if you told the police that you hid out in the office. It will simplify things for you as well. But I don’t want to force you into a position you feel uncomfortable about.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’ve told bigger lies. I’ll let Aunt Terry know.”

With a hug and a whispered “you’re the best,” Spider turned and glided down the stairs. I heard the front door shut quietly.

When the nighttime rituals were complete, Aunt Terry directed Joey to the plush love seat in the reading alcove. “Why don’t we have a story?” she said and selected the top book from a nearby basket.

With a fist pump, Joey proclaimed, “Captain Undahpants—yay!”

My cell phone still resided on the kitchen counter downstairs, but a digital clock on one of the bedside tables read 09:37. How can that be? It was closing in on eight o’clock when the assault team first entered the driveway. The eternity of terror belied the reality of the time it lasted.

I located a thick, folded quilt in the walk-in closet and sank down to the floor, next to the bed. With my head resting on the mattress, I listened to the twins’ even breathing.

Soon the police would come up to interview me and Aunt Terry.

I ran through my story. Hearing the driveway alarm. Seeing the vehicle enter from the road. Armed men piling out. Rushing the children into the home office. Listening as footsteps pounded up the stairs. A man ramming against the hard steel surface. Metal on metal. Angry words, shouted in a foreign language. My cell phone on the kitchen counter. Waiting. Trying to distract the children. Unsure when it would be safe to leave. Hearing the lock’s mechanism click and Spider’s voice calling us to come out.

Keep it simple, I told myself. Embellishments will only trip you up.

Chapter 55

A lie would have no sense unless the truth were felt as dangerous.

Alfred Adler

“Ma’am?” came a quiet voice.

I bolted awake, my heart racing. A heavy-duty flashlight rested on the bedside table. I lunged, yanked it into my hand and stood, brandishing it like a club.

The uniformed officer raised her hands, palms toward me, and said, “Ms. Bonaparte, it’s okay. I’m Sergeant Mallow from the Delafield Police Department.”

Feeling extremely sheepish, I placed my erstwhile weapon back on the tabletop. The clock ticked over to 10:29. “Sorry, Sergeant. I… uh… dozed off and you startled me. It’s been an extremely stressful night.” That was akin to labeling double pneumonia a bit of a cold.

“Absolutely understandable, ma’am.”

I sank onto the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping babies. “Call me Angie,” I said. “I really hate being ma’am-ed.”

She glanced around the bedroom. “The older boy? And your aunt?”

“In the alcove over there.”

Aunt Terry slowly emerged, rubbing her eyes. “Here I am,” she said. “Joey’s asleep on the love seat. I hope you don’t have to wake him until his mother arrives.”

Mallow, a thirty-something woman with kind eyes, smiled. “I doubt that will be necessary. First I need to ask if any of you sustained injuries.”

“No, we’re all okay… physically,” I told her.

She acknowledged the limitation of my statement. “It’s likely you’ll experience some level of PTSD following this ordeal. The department can recommend counselors who are trained to help with that. Now”—she withdrew a small recording device from her shirt pocket—“I’d like you to give me a brief statement of events.”

“Let me put the little ones in their cribs,” Aunt Terry said. “It’s so easy for them to roll off a bed.”

“Of course,” said Mallow. “I can start with you, Angie.”

As Aunt Terry ferried first Daniel and then Gabriella out of the room, I related the story that I’d concocted before I fell asleep, keeping details to a minimum.

Aunt Terry returned, checked on Joey, and then sat next to me on the bed.

When it was time for her statement of events, she shrugged and said, “I’m sure my niece’s account is accurate. I was too scared and preoccupied with the children. My brain seems a bit fried. I can’t recall any details.”

Clicking off the recorder, Mallow said, “That’s very common.” From her shirt pocket, she retrieved two business cards and placed them on the bed. “I don’t think I need more from you.” Voices sounded from the kitchen and she half turned. “The lieutenant has finished preliminary interviews with Mr. Mulcahey, Mr. York, and Mr. Russell. You’re free to go downstairs now.”

“You go,” I urged Aunt Terry. “I’ll keep watch over Joey.”

From the stairway, a softly accented voice spoke. “I’m home, Angie. Let me look in on my babies and I’ll be right with you.”

After a minute, Magdalena entered the master bedroom and moved swiftly to the alcove. When she returned to us, tears were welling out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. Enveloping me in a mama bear hug, she whispered, “Gracias a Dios, my children are safe. You are safe.” She reached out to pull Aunt Terry into the embrace. “I have no words. Nothing is enough to thank you. Nothing.”

We stood in that tight circle, enclosed in a mother’s love and distress, for long moments. Then Aunt Terry shifted and pulled away slightly. “I, too, thank God for our deliverance, Magdalena. And for the fierce courage of my niece. I promise you, no one would have made it past her to harm your children. She was a lioness tonight.”

“Any mother, any grandmother would do the same,” I told them. “Now, if