I was crying too, my teeth chattering, the words, Don’t die, you can’t die, repeating in my head as I tried to focus on my task. Beside me Shauna was sobbing Ashley’s name, but then she yelled, “Get away from my daughter!” and tried to drag me off. I hit back with one of my elbows, making contact with her stomach. Shauna grunted from the blow, then there were just moans and sobs.
I didn’t know how long McKinney and I had been working together, but finally Ashley started to cough and splutter. McKinney rolled her onto her side, patting her on the back, and she coughed up some more water.
“Thank God,” he said.
Shauna shoved me out of the way and this time I let her. I got to my feet as she grabbed her daughter to her chest, rocking her back and forth. We were all covered with Ashley’s blood—my hands were sticky with it. McKinney was trying to comfort his daughter, his arm around her back. Shauna was saying, “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t. She should have stayed away.”
There was something in her voice, an odd disconnected quality that made me wonder who she was talking about, Ashley or Nicole. Frank was also staring at her. I took a step back, getting ready to make my escape. My foot came down on a branch. Shauna looked up at me, her face full of hate. “This is your fault.”
She stood, pulled her gun out of her coat pocket. I made a lunging dive and grabbed her around the waist. She fell, and I scrambled on top of her. We wrestled for the weapon, rolling around in the sand. Finally I felt the cold metal in my hands. I flipped Shauna onto her back, held her down with my arm across her throat, and pointed the gun at her head. My mind filled with rage, a loud roaring in my ears, screaming at me to kill her. Then, a solid blow to my left as McKinney tackled me, and I was thrown to the ground. I lost my grip on the gun and it disappeared into the water. McKinney hit me in the temple with his gun. The world dimmed for a second. I heard another man’s voice.
“Let her go!” Ryan.
Now the sounds of fighting, male grunts, fists hitting flesh. I flipped over, my vision blurry, but I could see McKinney and Ryan going at it, fighting for the gun as they rolled around in the dirt, their bodies close, almost in a hug. Shauna was trying to pull Ryan off. I stumbled to my feet, put my arm around her throat, and dragged her away. A shot rang out. Ryan groaned and clutched his side but managed to slam his head into McKinney’s nose. McKinney yelled as blood spurted. Now Ryan had the gun in his hand. He pressed it against McKinney’s forehead as he straddled his chest, his other hand gripping McKinney’s throat. McKinney was still, looking up at Ryan, his eyes desperate and pleading.
“You ruined our lives!” Ryan said.
I yelled, “Ryan, let him go.”
Shauna was also screaming. “No!”
Ryan didn’t even glance in our direction. His hand was shaking as he held the gun, his arm rigid and his face grim. One side of his body was covered in blood, a spreading darkness. He pressed the gun harder against McKinney’s forehead, grinding it against the bone. McKinney closed his eyes. The moment stretched out. Ryan suddenly lowered his hand.
“You’re not worth it, you piece of shit.”
He staggered to his feet, his body swaying and one hand pressed against his side, the gun hanging limp in his other hand.
The sound of sirens filled the air. I felt a moment of relief, followed by more fear. Who were they going to believe? Cars were pulling up, headlights blinding, colored lights flashing. Voices shouted as flashlights beamed into my face. “Get down. Get down now!”
I dropped to my knees, placed my hands on the back of my head. They came at me, forced me to the ground, grinding my face into the sand. My mouth was filled with it, and I tried to spit it out. One of them was kneeling on my back, pushing my breath out as he wrenched my arms behind me and slapped on the cuffs. Then I was being lifted to my feet. I saw them rush at Shauna and Ryan, telling them to get on the ground. Shauna was fighting, refusing to leave her daughter.
They were patting me down, and one of them found the knife. The cruiser was pulled around and I was shoved in the back. I could hear more sirens now and saw ambulances. I hoped Ryan was getting help. The officer sitting in the front was talking into his radio.
“Frank McKinney and his daughter attacked me,” I said. “They shot Ryan—and Ashley.”
“We’re taking you back to the station,” the officer said over his shoulder. “We’ll sort it out from there.
“I want to talk to Sergeant Hicks.”
The officer didn’t answer.
*
At the station I was locked into a jail cell, still shivering until someone finally brought me a jumpsuit and blanket. I refused to put on the jumpsuit. I didn’t care how wet I was, I wasn’t wearing that suit. Not yet. I sat in there for hours, and no one would answer my questions about Ryan or tell me whether Ashley had pulled through. Finally, I was taken back to an interview room. Doug Hicks came in.
I watched him warily, wondering what McKinney might have already told him. I hoped Ashley had been telling the truth about the video. I hoped she was okay.
Hicks read me my rights again—another officer had already done it when I was first brought to the station.