Killmore Page 3

  I begin to feel lightheaded, but I need to make sure that Jack is dead. Sliding my lower body against the cold floor, I reach for the weapon, needing to solidify my divorce. My vision begins to darken, making it harder to aim the pistol properly.

  “Goddamn it!” I curse.

  “Mrs. Turner?” A slow, deep voice calls from a distance.

  I don’t reply. That’s not my name - not anymore.

  “Ms. Turner?” the voice repeats in the same, distant tone.

  I can feel my body weakening as I try to steady the gun. My vision blurs as I take aim to shoot Jack in the head, wanting to seal his fate before mine takes over.

  My vision goes dark and I hear a gunshot echo in my ears.

  “Ms. Turner?” the voice repeats, louder this time.

  “You can take me,” I offer, desperately yanking my wedding ring off. “I don’t care if I live anymore. He’s dead…and that’s all that matters.” My right arm makes an attempt to toss the band away from me, hopefully in the direction of Jack’s dead body.

  The darkness takes over.

  “Leia,” a deep, sluggish voice calls, sounding like it’s right next to me.

  The demons have come to take me for my crimes — and, I go willingly.

  Four - Leia

  Ringing in my ears and a dull, constant pain echoes in my head as my eyes flutter open to a bright, white room. My vision stays cloudy as I try to focus on figuring out where I am. Did I die? The stench of medical supplies is overpowering as a lingering, cold chill penetrates all the way down to my bones. A beeping echoes repeatedly, getting louder by the second as two bodies suddenly appear in my vision.

  “Mrs. Turner,” a voice calls from one of the figures. “It’s good to finally see you awake. How are you feeling?”

  My head bobs a little as my lips attempt to form words, but my throat and mouth are too dry to part properly, cracking with some irritation.

  “We knew you were a fighter, Mrs. Turner,” another voice comments as I feel cold, clammy objects touch my skin.

  A blinding, white light shines in my face and I jerk my head away in opposition. It takes me a few more seconds to realize that I’m not dead, that I didn’t die. A burning pain shoots into my left shoulder. Memories start to reveal themselves of the last events that took place.

  “How are you feeling, Mrs. Turner?” another voice asks from the foot of my bed.

  “That is not my name,” I declare, pushing the words past my sore throat.

  “What should I call you?” the new voice inquires.

  “Turner was his name,” I spit, staring down the person who I guess is the doctor by the white jacket he’s sporting.

  “Should I call you Ms. Badeau, then?” the doctor asks again.

  “Leia…just Leia for now.”

  “Okay,” the doctor says, clearing his throat. “How are you feeling, Leia?”

  “How do I look?” my voice croaks hoarsely.

  “Better than when you came in a few days ago,” comments one of the nurses.

  My eyes focus on her name badge: Betty.

  “I probably feel like how I looked a few days ago,” I reply sarcastically.

  “Do you remember what happened before waking up here, Leia?” the doctor continues, ignoring my not-so-nice answer.

  “I shot my husband in the chest,” I snicker, choking as I breathe in more air.

  The doctor doesn’t seem phased by my response. Either he knows exactly what happened to me and is checking how much I remember based off of what the Feds told him, or, he’s a Fed himself.

  My head turns to my left and then my right and I notice that there isn’t a single window in the room. Yep. He’s definitely a Fed doctor and I’m not in your run-of-the-mill hospital.

  “Where am I?” I ask.

  “You’re safe,” the doctor returns impassively.

  “Why am I here?” I press for more information.

  “You were shot and lost a lot of blood,” he states matter-of-factly.

  “Why am I here?” I repeat.

  “For your safety,” he offers.

  “Why? What happened?” I request, needing to know more. “Does Antonio know I’m the leak?”

  “I think you should rest,” the doctor insists. “We can discuss things in the morning.”

  “I’ve rested for a few days according to the nurse,” I mention with a little annoyance in my tone. “Tell me.”

  “We’ll chat tomorrow, Leia,” the doctor states, returning the medical chart back in its holder at the foot of the bed.

  “Tell me!” I yell, yanking the tubes from my left hand as I attempt to shift in the bed to get up.

  “Please, Leia,” the doctor says calmly. “Please calm down. Get some rest and we’ll discuss this in the morning.”

  “No,” I challenge, fighting to get up. “Tell me now!”

  “I don’t want to have to sedate you, Leia,” the doctor threatens calmly.

  I snicker but don’t reply other than continuing to stand with little success.

  “Nurses,” the doctor calls as the three of them move to keep me in the bed since I almost fall forward.

  “No!” I yell, tugging away from their hands. “Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t fucking….”

  Five - Leia

  My body jolts to an upright position as my eyes pop open from a nightmare of my husband shooting me. What the fuck was that and why does my head hurt so much?

  “Ms. Badeau,” a woman calls from my right.

  I turn to acknowledge the familiar tone.

  “It’s good to see you awake,” she says. “I’m Betty. Do you remember me?”

  “Yes,” I groan as my head pounds and my shoulder aches.

  “I can help you with the pain,” she offers. “But, I need you to promise to remain calm and to cooperate with the doctor when he comes in.”

  My hands reach to rub my eyes.

  “Good morning, Leia,” the doctor greets, walking into the room before I get the chance to reply to Betty.

  I groan my response to the doctor’s presence.

  “You look like you’re in better spirits this morning,” he states.

  “Speak for yourself, Doc,” I snap.

  “How are you feeling today?” he checks, ignoring my attitude.

  “Cold. Hungry. And, in pain,” I throw heatedly at him.

  “We can take care of all of those, if you’d like?” he offers with a little too much pep to his tone.

  “Uh, yeah,” I confirm. “Why else would I have mentioned them.”

  Betty sticks a needle in the intravenous line and I pray that it’s morphine.

  “Well,” the doctor begins. “Your vitals are good, strong, considering the amount of blood you lost. Do you remember what happened before waking here.”

  “Yeah,” I confirm with a snippy tone.

  “Care to share?” the doctor investigates, looking for me to speak.

  “You guys finally did your job with going after Antonio,” I quip. “My husband came after me…shot my dog, and then shot me.”

  “According to my records, Leia,” the doctor says, “you shot at him first.”

  “Yep,” I admit without hesitation.

  “Why didn’t you wait for us to arrive?” he presses.

  “Because he shot my fucking dog and I wasn’t about to wait for my fate to be the same,” I snap.

  “We’re glad that you made it,” the doctor shares.

  “I’m not so sure I am,” I reply even though I feel the drugs starting to kicking in a little. “Why am I here?”

  “For your safety,” he returns calmly.

  “That doesn’t explain shit,” I remark. “Does Antonio know I’m the leak?”

  “We don’t know,” the doctor says.

  “Well, what do you know?” I ask with a snippy tone.

  “I personally don’t know anything,” the doctor replies.

  I have a hunch that he knows more than he’s leading on to.

&nbs
p; “About my case or anything in general?” I snicker.

  “It sounds like the drugs are making you feel a little better,” he presents.

  “Nah,” I say. “This is how I usually am…mean…bitter…sarcastic…and bitchy.”

  The doctor continues with questions, asking me to recount what had happened that night with as much detail as I can remember while Betty leaves the room and comes back with a plate of food and a cup of water. I tell him everything I can remember, leaving out the part about me trying to shoot Jack by the truck before the Feds rammed into the building. I know the doctor’s a Fed from his mention of me shooting at Jack first. He may be a doctor, but he’s definitely an agent — I’ve been around enough of them to know.

  “Why are you asking me the same fucking questions?” I ask heatedly. “I’ve already answered these. Go fucking interrogate Antonio. He’s a pussy…he should tell you what you want to know with the right coaxing.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the doctor informs.

  “Then, send someone in who’s competent enough to talk to him,” I accuse.

  The doctor doesn’t comment, so I know there’s something he’s not telling me. I press for more information, but he stays quiet other than talking to me about my injuries.

  “She’s all set,” Betty announces.

  I feel the morphine soothing my body.

  “Well,” the doctor begins. “We’re going to keep you under observation to make sure your vitals stay strong.”

  “What? Why? And, for how long?” I inquire.

  “Aside from being in a coma for four days.…”

  “Four days!” I repeat. “What the fuck? Why was I in a coma for four days and why didn’t you start off with that, Doc?”

  “My apologies, Ms. Badeau,” the doctor says. “Like I said, you had lost a lot of blood. And…we kept you in the coma for an extra day because of the trauma your body sustained from all the blood loss and with losing the baby.”

  “Baby?” I gasp.

  “Yes,” the doctor confirms as Betty squeezes my hand.

  “I wasn’t pregnant,” I counter.

  “You were only a few weeks,” the doctor admits.

  “No,” I challenge. “I was on the shot. I made it to all my appointments religiously.”

  “Some women can still conceive even on birth control,” the doctor reveals.

  “What the fuck!” I exclaim. “Then, why the hell do you guys claim that it’s 99% effective.”

  “Because, out of every one hundred women, one percent of them are still fertile enough to get pregnant,” the doctor shares as if it’s common knowledge.

  “Fuck,” I sigh.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor says, trying to console me. “I thought I had mentioned it yesterday. My apologies.”

  I stare blankly across the room for a few moments, processing the doctor’s words as the drugs start to affect my body. “Wait. You said were.”

  “Were what?” the doctor checks.

  “You said were pregnant,” I reiterate. “As in past tense.”

  “ I’m sorry…” he replies nervously. “We couldn’t save the baby…the amount….”

  “Out!” I shout, cutting him off while rage boils inside.

  I know he’s deliberately withheld information from me now.

  “Excuse me?” he checks.

  “You heard me,” I bark. “Out. Get the fuck out of here!”

  “I can understand why you’re angry, Leia….”

  “Out!” I shout, tossing the plastic cup from the tray at him. “Get the fuck out of here!”

  “Please stay calm, Leia,” the doctor coaxes.

  “Why? Are you going to fucking sedate me again?” I snap. “I wish you fucking let me die. Get the fuck out of here.”

  Without another word, the doctor heads toward the door.

  “Not you,” I call after Betty. “Please. Please, stay.” Reality begins to set in and a myriad of emotions flow into my body, paining it more so than it had before the morphine kicked in.

  “Sure,” Betty agrees sweetly. She takes my hand in her’s, patting the top of it gently.

  “There’s a good chance you could still have some in the future,” she comments, trying to help.

  “No,” I mumble.

  “Yes,” she says with optimism in her voice.

  “No,” I repeat. “I won’t have any. Not after what happened and knowing what’s to come.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” she encourages.

  “I will never trust another man,” I state. “Never!” I pause for a few seconds. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Not with the fact that I’ll be in hiding for the rest of my life…always looking over my shoulder…always wondering.”

  “Don’t, Leia,” Betty coaxes. “You’ll have your life back sooner than you know it.”

  “No,” I say, finally feeling broken. “Anytime anyone has to go into hiding for their own protection, they never come back out…not ever. And…don’t, don’t call me by that name.”

  “Why?” she asks.

  “Because, Leia Badeau is dead. She has been since I woke up in hell.”

  Realization of how my life is now strikes me, causing me to no longer to be able to fight off the tears. I’ve lost my family; they’ll be told I’m dead if they haven’t been told already. I’ve lost my home. I’ve lost my dog. I’ve lost a baby I didn’t even know I had growing in my belly; and now, I’ve lost my identity. Where does one go from this point? I wish they had let me die.

  Six - Laurie

  “Good morning, Laurie,” Mr. Lenard greets as he walks by me on the sidewalk.

  “Morning,” I return with a smile. “How’s Esther doing?”

  “Good,” Mr. Lenard sighs. “A visitor might perk her up, though.”

  “I’ll stop by after taking care of a few things,” I reply. “Should I bring a few treats with me?”

  “You know what she likes,” Mr. Lenard returns. “Just leave the bill on the counter and I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good, Mr. Lenard,” I answer. “Have a great day.”

  “You too, sweetheart. Don’t work too hard,” he teases.

  “I’ll try not too,” I answer, opening the door to my cafe. “You either.”

  The few town’s people who are in my cafe greet me warmly as I smile, nod, and walk past them, headed for the office. Cain and Mable, my German Shepherds, follow diligently behind me.

  I was kept in the special hospital for a week after I woke up from my coma. They claimed it was to monitor me, but I knew they were lying. They just didn’t know what to do with me. The first night I was out, I realized that I was no longer in Florida and drank my sorrows away until I passed out. The next day, I managed to sneak away from the team that was assigned to protect and relocate me. It’s not that I didn’t want security, I did, but I was still coming to grips about everything. A few hours later, they found me in a local tattoo parlor. Somehow the cellphone they gave me got smashed which bided me a little extra time. I didn’t bother explaining how. It just didn’t seem necessary. When it came time for them to move me here, my name had become Laurie Breitsprecher.

  “Morning, Laurie,” Trudy, my head chef and baker, greets as I enter the kitchen.

  “Morning,” I return.

  I settle quickly in the office, reviewing the past week’s spreadsheets as the dogs lay on their beds behind me. Trudy comes in, placing a mug and a plate on the desk for me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her place a few dog treats in the dog bowl and fills up their water as she usually does.

  “This past week has been a little quiet in the shop,” Trudy begins. “Like it always is this time of year. Everyone gets ready for the tourists coming into town.”

  I don’t reply which doesn’t offend Trudy since our routine consists of me not always talking much, especially when she and I are around other people.

  “The Doctor came in looking for you again,” she says with her voice spiking up an octa
ve. “He came in with Hunter, probably hoping to run into you, Cain and Mable.”

  I refrain from commenting, not wanting to discuss that topic.

  “I don’t mean to be nosey,” Trudy continues, “but, you haven’t dated anyone since you moved to town almost seven years ago.”

  Trudy’s been fishing for details about my past from me since a month after I arrived. I always evade the conversation and try to redirect it.

  “That’s because I’m a lesbian,” I snicker. “And, there aren’t any other lesbians in this tiny, little lake town.”

  “You’re so full of shit, you know that?” Trudy comments with a snarky laugh.

  I huff amusement, but don’t say anything.

  “Please, you’ve been sleeping with him for how long?” she returns. “Besides, whether you’ll admit it or not, it’s in the man’s eyes. He’s in love with you.”

  “He’ll get over it,” I say, brushing it off.

  “I know you won’t tell me what happened with your previous relationship to make you so cold to men, but geez girl. Give the guy a break. He’s a good man,” she coaxes.

  “If he’s so good, then you date him,” I comment coolly. “Fuck him too for all I care.”

  For as quiet and secretive as I am about my past, Trudy is one of the only people in this town who I get along with and trust. Mr. Lenard and his wife, Esther, are the only other two people, aside from Trudy’s kids, and I’ve been more than just an acquaintance with the Lenards since they’re one of my neighbors. Dr. Codie Johnsen, the town veterinarian, also known as the man I’ve been sleeping with for two years, only knows me when I’m naked. He tries to strike up conversation before, during, and after sex, but I barely say anything. I only get my needs filled and then leave. Everyone else in town knows me, but they don’t really know me since I’m generally quiet. It helps that I live on the opposite side of town in a decent-sized, lakeside cabin. All of my neighbors are a half mile away. The best part is that both houses on either side of my property are empty and haven’t had anyone living in them for six months. Many of the lake homes, especially along my side of the lake which is the Eastern side, are rentals and are only used during the spring and summer.