Evil in My Town, Page 2

  Raspy breaths scraped my throat. “It’s Jackson—he’s killing everyone.”

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  “That’s why we have to go. Now, Taylor.” Hunter pulled on my arm.

  I jerked him to a stop. “What about Lindsey?” She was crumpled on the floor.

  He shook his head. “I think she’s dead or dying. We can’t help her.”

  I looked up. Hunter’s blue eyes were wide with terror. The only reason he had been able to pull the two of us inside the room so quickly was because he was unusually tall and well built for a teenager. He attributed it to all the work he did on his family’s farm, but knowing his parents, I would say it had as much to do with good genes as throwing hay bales.

  Something thudded against the hallway door that led to the apocalyptic scene. The sound made the knot in my throat leap upwards. I glanced back at Lindsey’s prone form one last time and let Hunter drag me across the room and through the back doorway. The smaller hallway was dimly lit and long. It led to the far side of the gymnasium and the agricultural classrooms.

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  The blasts were getting closer. My eyes burned when I thought of Lindsey. Had Jackson just shot her again?

  Hunter grabbed a door handle, but it wouldn’t lift. “Locked.” He tugged me to the next door. The same thing happened, and he cussed, kicking it before we took off again.

  Pop.

  The bullet thrummed past my head, striking the wall. I glanced over my shoulder. Jackson walked into the small hallway and held the semi-automatic rifle confidently at his chest.

  “Why are you doing this?” I choked out the words.

  Hunter gripped my hand tighter and we turned into another hallway. It was even smaller and darker than the last one. I couldn’t recall ever having been here before.

  Jackson’s voice sounded far away. “You know why!”

  A shiver shot up my spine and sliced into my head.

  “No… no…no,” I mumbled through the wetness of the tears streaking down my face.

  A door finally opened for Hunter, and we fell into the darkness. I bumped into something wooden and Hunter whispered, “It’s a storeroom for the theater club.”

  “I can’t see.” I panicked, swiping the air in front of me.

  “Shhh, we can’t turn on the lights. Trust me. There’s a place to hide back here.”

  My terror was interrupted for a moment, wondering how Hunter knew anything about the theater’s storage area. I stubbed my foot and pressed my hand to my mouth to keep from crying out.

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Jackson was getting closer.

  I pushed against Hunter’s back. I didn’t like being trapped in an unfamiliar place, and I certainly wasn’t comfortable about trusting him. He was trouble—and today’s horror proved it.

  “Almost there,” he coaxed from the darkness.

  Our hands were sweaty, and mine almost slid out of his when he sped up. Hunter pulled up and then disappeared in the inky blackness.

  “Where are you?” I whispered fervently.

  There was silence and another pop sounded just beyond the door.

  My heart pounded too loudly. Jackson might even hear it if he stepped into to the storage room. I sucked in a shaky breath.

  “Here, give me your hand and climb up.” I saw the dim outline of Hunter’s hand only a few feet away.

  I thrust my hands upward. When my fingers found his, I let out a quick gasp of relief. He guided me up narrow steps and along what I imagined was a wide plank supported by brackets of some kind. There was a creaking sound and he lifted me over a short wall and into a wooden box. The space was so small that when I dropped to my knees I was forced to press tightly against Hunter.

  Just as he lowered the lid, the room lit up.

  “He’s here,” Hunter muttered into my ear.

  The only thing that gave me hope was the muffled sound of sirens in the distance. Aunt Reni was coming.

  But would she make it in time to save us?

  4

  Serenity

  My 9mm was in my hands as I sprinted into the school with over a dozen other officers from several departments. The building was at the edge of town, making the three minute trip excruciating. There was no time to brief the officers or devise a plan. Kids were dying in the school, and the best chance we had to stop the devastation was to rush the building with our own guns blazing.

  I motioned for half of the group to turn left when we entered the front door and the rest came with me. We’d trained for this horrifying possibility, but nothing could have prepared us for what we encountered when we entered the south hallway.

  “My God!” Todd exclaimed. Deputy Jeremy Dickens lurched forward, kneeling beside a red headed girl who was curled up in a ball, crying.

  “Dickens, you fall back and help these kids and teachers until the EMTs arrive,” I ordered.

  I lifted my chin. Todd and the others followed. “Clear this hallway and check the rooms,” I instructed Hernandez, Scott, and Baker. “We have to get the EMTs in here.” They nodded and dropped back.

  It was hard to step over bodies with just a glance and barely a pause, but I knew how large and mazelike the building was. The shooter was still at large and students were trapped and hiding. I couldn’t help the kids who were already dead. The ones with traumatic injuries would be taken care of by Beth, Raymond, and the other emergency responders who were arriving at the scene. But I could stop the son of a bitch who did this. That was my goal: to save the living and to find my niece.

  My calm outward demeanor belied the rapid beating of my heart. Years of handling emergency situations, including a mass shooting at a wedding, gave me the experience to remain steady. At this moment there was no decorum. We had stepped back into a time where the good citizens had to take up arms and shoot back at the evil ones, just like in an old western movie.

  “How could this happen in our school, Serenity,” Todd muttered.

  I risked a glance his way. His hands were firm on his gun and his eyes darted around. He was my best sharp shooter. I understood his shock and pain. I felt it too. We had walked these same halls when we were teens, and now, besides my sixteen-year-old niece being in danger, Todd had twin nephews who were freshmen this year. I knew what he feared most.

  “Get a hold of yourself. We need all our wits to save them,” I said in a low voice.

  My quick gaze eliminated my niece, Taylor, or Todd’s nephews from the victims on the ground ahead of us. I had counted eighteen down so far. Most weren’t moving at all, but a few were keening or moaning, rocking their heads back and forth. I heard the officers quietly speaking to the injured. They would reach the suffering victims on this end very soon. I only prayed that it was quick enough for some of the more gravely wounded.

  As per protocol, the classroom doors were closed, so I sped up into a jog when I spotted one that was flung open. It was a science room, and the damage to the wooden frame and door was unmistakable. The killer had picked this door to break into for some reason, and my gut told me he had gone through it.

  I looked back at Todd and he nodded. He was ready, even anxious to enter the room.

  I took a fervent breath and peeked in, scanning the interior. There was a female victim on the floor, but otherwise the room was empty.

  I recognized Taylor’s friend and my heart plummeted into my stomach. The girls were always together. Lindsey’s mom was one of our town’s social workers. I hurried to her side and felt for a pulse. She moaned and I blew out in relief. The bullet appeared to have grazed the side of her head—she might survive.

  Todd knelt beside me. “Is this Sherry’s daughter?”

  I nodded. “Stay with her until the medical team arrives. Sherry wouldn’t want her to be conscious and alone for even a minute.”

  Todd grasped my arm as I rose. “Be al
ert. I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

  I met his gaze and then pulled away. I crossed the room to the back door and carefully looked down the narrow hallway. The floor was clear of bodies, but there were cratered bullet holes in the wall. The killer had taken aim, but missed. Or he was shooting rounds off to intimidate. I followed the damaged places on the walls, not bothering with the few closed doorways I passed. The killer had moved quickly down this hallway, and my guess was he was following someone.

  The gymnasium doors were directly ahead, but I paused at the hallway that jutted off to the right. I knew from experience that this hallway led to the janitor’s equipment room and the drama club’s storage room. The hallway was dimly lit and always quiet. I stepped lightly, listening as I moved sideways, keeping my back to the wall. Fourteen years earlier, I’d snuck down this exact same hall, holding Denton’s hand and giggling all the way to the private storage rooms where we’d steal a few kisses before the morning bell rang. I never dreamed I’d be retracing my steps years later in pursuit of a school shooter.

  I passed another bullet hole that was about even with my head, and moved with the precision and purpose of a heat-seeking missile when I spied the light spilling into the hallway. I remembered it to be where the theater production sets were kept.

  I strained to hear something, but all was quiet except for the wailing sirens beyond the school’s walls, and the random shouts from officers and emergency personnel in the distance. The first responders would be clearing the school, room by room, hallway by hallway. Their main objectives were to evacuate the wounded and everyone else out of the school and away from danger as quickly as possible. We’d learned from past mass shootings that the best approach was to rush the building and save whoever we could. Interrupting the shooter usually put him on the run, saving lives immediately. The calls we received from the school reported only one active shooter, but as I covered the distance to the storage room, I kept an eye out for any surprise appearances from either direction.

  I stayed in the shadow when I reached the doorway. The sound of shuffled movement and then a knock made me stop. I lifted my gun and licked my lips before I rounded the door. Boxes were piled high and racks full of colorful costumes lined the side walls. The back of the large open room had scaffolding to store the larger set props. There was a neatly piled stack of lumber and some carpenter tools strewn across a wooden table. I took several steps to reach the closest rack.

  Once I had some cover, I made a decision. Someone was hiding in here, but whether it was a scared kid or the shooter was the question. My instinct told me the killer was close by, so I took a gamble. “This is Sheriff Adams. Come out with your hands up and you won’t get hurt.”

  I thought I heard chuckling, but the sound abruptly ended. Following the noise, I moved against the costumes, trying to stay hidden. “Time is running out. Show yourself.”

  There was a thud and a box crashed to the floor.

  I spun on my heel, my gun raised. Someone was behind those boxes. I tried to calm my beating heart with a deep breath. I was painfully aware of my finger resting on the trigger guard. I didn’t want to make a mistake.

  A vision rose up in my mind of another time and place.

  Dim light from the lamp overhead sprayed down on the scene and the smell of the wet pavement filled my nostrils. My heart pounded furiously as I watched the gloved hand slip into the opening of the oversized coat with the Colts logo in the upper left-hand corner.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them! Raise your fucking hands!” I shouted.

  My voice pounded in my ears, matching the beating of my heart. I held my gun steadily and became intensely calm. Refusing to obey me, the individual’s hand went deeper into the coat, pulling something shiny out. Their body tilted toward my partner, Ryan, just before I pulled the trigger.

  It was a teenage girl I’d shot and killed that day. She’d been an accomplice to the killing of an elderly woman, but she didn’t have to die. I often wondered what I could have done differently, how I could have saved that girl instead of killing her. This scenario was very different. The sick kid who’d just killed dozens of his classmates didn’t deserve leniency, but I wouldn’t take the chance of shooting an innocent victim, either. I had to be restrained and yet, ready to act.

  “Come out with your hands up! Show yourself!” I ordered, stepping out into the open. My gaze was fixated on the stack of boxes.

  The sounds of the officers shouting, “Clear,” were getting closer. Backup was on the way.

  I took another step. “Come on out. It’s over.”

  “Aunt Reni, watch out!”

  Her voice echoed in my ears as I turned and looked up. The lid of a wood crate was lifted, and I could just make out Taylor’s big blue eyes and blonde hair—but there was someone else on the scaffolding with her. The shooter wore a grey sweat suit and held an AR-15 in his hands. I could see the acne on his cheeks. He was just a kid.

  His attention snapped from me to the box where my niece was hiding. He swiveled and aimed at the box.

  I pulled the trigger and he folded. There were two pop-pops from his weapon. The kid’s body struck the side of the plank and tumbled sideways over the edge. He hit the floor with a sickening crunch.

  “Stay where you are, Taylor,” I shouted.

  I kicked the rifle away and dropped down beside the killer. I didn’t need to check for a pulse. His neck was bent in a grotesque way, twisting too far back.

  “You got our guy?” Todd called out from the doorway.

  I rocked back on my heels and looked over my shoulder. Todd entered the room with Dickens, Hernandez, and Baker. Their guns were drawn.

  “Lower your weapons. We’ve got him,” I said.

  Todd reached me first. He stared down at the body. “Damn, Serenity.”

  “I shot his thigh. It was the fall that killed him.” I raised my head at the crying noises. Taylor was standing beside a guy I didn’t recognize. He had his arms around her as she shook against him with her soft sobs. “Come on down, kids. It’s safe now.” I nodded to Jeremy. “Go on and assist them down those steps.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Jeremy hurried to the ladder.

  I finally looked at Todd. His eyes were moist and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “What’s your estimation of fatalities?”

  Todd rubbed the side of his temple. “It’s bad. Really bad. Twenty-five to thirty.”

  The adrenaline coursing through my veins kept my mind clear and my voice fixed. “Is Lindsey going to make it?”

  “When I left, Beth was loading her onto a gurney. The girl was conscious, but I don’t know any more than that.”

  When Taylor’s feet touched the floor I went to her and caught her up in my arms. For the first time since the call came in at the bridal shop, I sagged a little. “It’s okay—it’s over.” I smoothed her hair back from her face. At least my sister would get good news today, but so many others would not.

  I didn’t even try to wipe the tears that began to trail down my cheeks.

  5

  Taylor

  I wiggled out of Mom’s overly tight embrace and turned to face Aunt Reni. I blinked at the bright lights in the lobby of the sheriff’s department and rubbed my arms for warmth.

  “Is it necessary to interview her right now? She’s been through so much already.” Disapproval flickered in Mom’s eyes. Her voice shook. “Her best friend is in critical condition and she knew most of the victims.”

  I glanced at Aunt Reni. She wasn’t in her usual uniform. Her faded blue jeans and light blue sweater were in stark contrast with the serious look on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Laura. I want to talk to Taylor while the events are still fresh in her mind.”

  Mom took a step forward and leaned in toward her sister. “I’m not happy about this. Taylor should be home resting, not being interrogated. Th
e shooter is dead. What more can she add to the story at this moment that’s going to make any difference at all?”

  Aunt Reni’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not asking, Laura, I’m insisting.”

  I held my breath and stared at Mom. Her cheeks reddened and her eyes widened. She was five years older than Aunt Reni. They both had the same blond hair and slight figures, but Mom had more lines on her face and her hair was shorter.

  Silence hung in the air between the two women even though the lobby was full of officers, parents, and teachers. Some people were crying, others were moving quietly about. The look of shock shone clearly on everyone’s faces. It still seemed unreal. Twenty-three kids and three teachers were dead, and Lindsey was in bad shape. She might die too. I rubbed my eyes again, wiping the tears around my wet face.

  “A few minutes and that’s all,” Mom snapped.

  Aunt Reni motioned for me to follow her into her office, but put her hand up when Mom tried to follow. “Since I’m her aunt, it’s all right for me to do a quick, informal interview. I’d like you to wait outside.”

  My head swiveled back to Mom. Her face had paled and her brow knitted. The clash between them was surprising. They usually got along pretty well, but things had changed a little since Mom and Dad had started talking about divorce. The idea seemed to bother Aunt Reni almost as much as it upset my brother, Will, and myself.

  In one more act of submission, Mom backed down and went back out into the lobby.

  Aunt Reni shut the door behind me, squeezed my shoulder, and directed me to one of the two chairs on the side of the desk opposite her. She took the seat behind the desk, sat forward and folded her arms in front of her. I gazed out the window. The clouds were thick and cold grayness clung to the trees. It looked like it might snow.

  “Are you all right?” Aunt Reni’s voice was softer than the tone she’d used with Mom. I hated the sound of her pity. It just made me want to begin crying all over again.