A Place to Heal. CA J.D. Bodiford
pinnacle on her own. Jessica had made sure of it. The older woman collapsed, falling forward onto the floor and the pictures laying there, her body wracked with grief.
Emma rushed through her makeup, watching the clock with one eye and the mirror with the other. Blake hated to be late and he had promised her a whole weekend alone, just the two of them. She wondered where they would be going this time. Her mother was once again safely tucked in at her sister’s house. She was so happy when Emma had finally told her that she was seeing someone, she had actually offered to move in with her permanently to give Emma more privacy. Emma had laughed at that, reassuring her mother that it wouldn’t be an issue because Blake preferred to stay out of town when they went out. Her mother had looked at her sideways when she said that, asking if she didn’t consider that just a bit strange. Emma had explained that Blake was a prize target for the gossip columnists of Houston and they both liked to stay well under the radar. Nothing like wealth and connections to get you on the front page. She hadn’t given it a second thought as she kissed her mother goodbye and helped her into the car but now it was back, scratching at the edge of her mind. Come to think of it, it was a bit strange. Maybe she would ask him about it, tonight. She had just grabbed her overnight bag when Blake pulled up the driveway. She skipped down the stairs, excited at the thought of so much time alone with him. He grabbed her bag out of midair, grinning as she threw it and had time to drop it into the back seat before he grabbed her, twirling her around and kissing her soundly.
“Do we really get the whole weekend?” she asked teasingly.
He slapped her on the rear as she got into the car, and then leaned in to kiss her again, tilting his head to reach her as he slid his hand up her thigh and under her skirt. She gasped as he molded his hand to her, loving the feel of her heat and moisture. He released her slowly, drawing both his hand and his mouth away with obvious reluctance.
“Just wait until I get you on that plane,” he promised against her lips.
He shut her door and vaulted across the hood of the small sports car, laughing at her look of surprise. He pressed the button to let the top down and as soon as it slid into its compartment, he shifted into reverse, intending to back down the driveway, eager to get the trip started. Emma reached into the back to get her purse and suddenly screamed loudly for Blake to stop. He slammed on the brake, skidding on the loose gravel. He barely stopped in time to miss the woman standing in the middle of the drive. They both stared in disbelief at Jessica, almost not recognizing her. She was disheveled, her hair matted, her makeup smeared across her face. He reached for the door handled then stopped abruptly when Emma screamed again, this time with pure terror.
“Blake, she’s got a gun!!”
He watched Jessica warily as she walked toward them, holding a gun firmly with both hands. She moved until she was even with them then stopped. He could see her eyes were swollen from crying. He held up his hand, reaching toward her.
“Jessica, what’s going on?” he asked calmly, trying to ignore Emma’s sobs of fear.
Jessica raised the gun higher, aiming directly at his head.
“What’s going on?” she repeated softly. “I’ll tell you what’s going on.
I saw some very interesting pictures today. My best friend Alicia brought them by. She thought I might like to know my husband was fucking my designer!!” Her voice rose with each word until she was screaming, her voice cracking on the last words.
Emma grew pale, covering her mouth with her hand. Oh dear God! Blake was married? To Jessica?!
Jessica laughed shrilly as she saw Emma’s reaction.
“That’s right, bitch, he’s my husband! Surely you knew that when you crawled into bed with him!!!
Emma shook her head. “I swear, Jessica! I had no idea,” she whispered.
“She didn’t know, Jessica,” Blake tried to explain, trying to calm her. “I only told her I lived there. I didn’t tell her I was your husband.”
“SHUT UP!!” she screamed. “JUST SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!!! She tightened her finger on the trigger, tears pouring down her face now. “Damn you,” she whispered. “I loved you, you bastard.”
She smiled sadly as she pulled the trigger.
Blake realized what was about to happen and twisted, desperately trying to shield Emma. His muscular body suddenly began jerking, falling toward her. It was only a split second before he was gone but in that short span of time he had a look of shock on his face, feeling the bullets tearing into his body as Jessica kept pulling the trigger.
The sound of the powerful handgun echoed through the small clearing. Shock at what was happening had paralyzed Emma. She was still trying to process what had been said when Jessica began shooting. When Blake fell across the seat, pinning her under him, Emma realized that Jessica intended to kill her too. Emma struggled to push his heavy weight away, screaming. Grabbing for the door handle, she pulled at it frantically, her hands slipping from the blood covering her. She finally managed to get the door open and slid from under Blake’s lifeless body, stumbling from the car, not looking back, running for her life. Jessica was screaming profanities at her when Emma felt the searing pain in her shoulder quickly followed by a second one in her back. She stumbled from the force of the impact and fell face forward onto the gravel. She lay very still, barely breathing; praying Jessica would think she was dead, too. A few minutes later the sound of one more single gunshot made her jerk. She wondered why she didn’t feel the pain of that shot, too.
The silence that followed was unbearable in the seclusion of Emma’s driveway, shocking after the violence that had just happened. She held her breath, finally looking around slowly, moving as little as possible. Blake was still in the car but Jessica was nowhere to be seen. She waited, the seconds passing like hours as she waited for her to reappear. She could feel the blood flowing from her wounds making her wonder how much blood she was losing internally. She began praying that she would live long enough to see her mother one more time and tell her how much she loved her and how sorry she was for being so stupid. Her vision blurred, her eyes filling with tears.
Finally, she thought enough time had passed and she could feel herself getting weaker so it was now or never. She moved slowly, rolling to her back. She sat up, trying to see just how bad her wounds were. She couldn’t see her shoulder but when she felt around she couldn’t find a hole in the front. The pain in her back and stomach was quickly becoming unbearable. Her shirt was saturated with blood and she struggled to pull it off, nearly passing out from the pain of moving her injured shoulder. Finally succeeding, she gathered her courage and looked at the lower wound; it was much worse than she had imagined. The bullet had passed through her, leaving the flesh ragged and bleeding profusely. Gagging, Emma forced herself to wad her shirt into a bundle, pressing it against the gaping hole in her torso. It was underneath her breast so she slipped her bra straps off and pulled the band of the bra down to try and hold the makeshift bandage in place. She sat there for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath, praying for the strength she knew she would need. There was no chance of anyone finding her in time; her house was too isolated. The shirt seemed to have slowed the bleeding slightly but she knew she was still losing blood. Gathering her last bit of strength, she managed to get to her knees and started to crawl toward the car. Her cell phone was in there. She knew she would never make it to the house so it was her only hope. Her breathing was becoming more labored, flecks of blood on her lips. Not much farther, she told herself, moving one leg at a time. She had left her door open in her mad run and she reached for the seat with both hands, pulling herself up slowly, not looking at Blake’s body, knowing he was dead. Focusing only on her own survival, she pushed the horror away to be dealt with later. Right now, she had to save herself. She fumbled with her handbag, dumping the contents out as she dug inside. She could have cried in relief when she saw the tiny phone. She dialed 911, smearing the keypad with blood. Luckily it was only two rings before a bored sounding dispatcher answered.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
Emma could barely whisper. “I need help. I’ve been shot.”