High in Trial

EIGHTEEN

The Aftermath



I remember the wail of sirens was like the howl of coyotes, drawing closer and closer and louder and louder in those endless seconds of death-quiet before the world started spinning again. Suddenly no more gunfire. Suddenly only broken sobs in the stillness, the thin high bark of a small-breed dog. The smell of cordite and dust and spicy nachos. The drone of a distant RV generator. And then somewhere above my head was a sharp command that had the word “Secure!” in it. I remember that, even though before it was spoken I was already half-running, half-crawling, stumbling and falling, heaving great big choking, horrified gasping breaths, and then I was in Miles’s arms.

I remember that it was like being squeezed by a boulder. I remember the taste of his jacket and the salt of my own tears in my mouth, the rock-hard pressure of his chest and arms, and whispers in my ear, something like, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. It is.” And Cisco, my big golden guy, worming his way between us, his hot breath on my face, his thick silky fur clasped in my fist. The sound of my ragged breath filled my ears. My face, slick with mucous and tears and mud, pressed first against Cisco’s fur and then against Miles’s chest. My throat was thick with sobs and I clung to them both, hard. I banged one fist feebly against Miles’s chest.

“You went back for him, you idiot.” The words were a muffled string of slobber and sobs. “You went back for my dog. You saved him. You went back for my dog.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You scared me so much! You idiot!” I tried to hit his chest again, but my fist went flat against it, pressing deep into his heartbeat instead. “You scared me so much.”

I felt his fingers threading through my hair, cupping my scalp. His voice was husky. “Now you know the feeling.”

“It’s not just something people say,” I whispered wetly. “It’s not!”

Miles took my face in his hands and he kissed me, there in the dust in the middle of an AKC trial, mud, mucous, tears, and all, and he said, “I know.”

I clung to them, the two guys I loved, until the noise and the shuddering and the terror subsided. We were okay.

We were all okay.



* * *



Four people were taken to the hospital, most with minor injuries from falls or shrapnel. A bullet had grazed Agent Ledbetter’s shoulder, but he considered the injury minor and was back on the scene with his arm in a dark sling long before the questioning of the witnesses was complete. No dogs were hurt, although some escaped their handlers and were so agitated it took hours to find them. The timely intervention of the SWAT team, who were on site only minutes after Berman arrived, could be thanked for the lack of significant casualties. And, though it was never widely known outside the law enforcement community, Sheriff Buck Lawson of Hanover County, North Carolina, could be thanked for alerting local authorities to the likely whereabouts and intentions of the perpetrator.

Jeremiah Allen Berman was taken down by a single bullet to the head seventeen seconds after his shooting rampage began. It seemed much longer than that.

“The browser history on his stolen cell phone showed he’d been stalking you for weeks,” Agent Ledbetter explained. He’d been our liaison for information, keeping Miles and Cisco and me separated from the others while still making sure we were informed. “Probably since he got out of prison. You’ve had links to this dog show on your website since February, and it was easy to track your movements on Facebook.”

Though the April afternoon was at least as mild as it had been yesterday, it was cold in the shadows where we sat on the bleachers, or at least it seemed so to me. Even with the jacket Miles had draped over my shoulders and the paper cup of coffee that warmed my hands, even with the gentle happy heat of the golden retriever who pressed against my legs, I couldn’t stop the occasional shiver.

“Berman acquired some basic computer skills in prison,” Ledbetter went on, “and probably picked up the rest while he was living with his brother in Georgia. The phone belonged to his fourteen-year-old niece. But there’s no doubt he’d been planning this for a long time.”

I had managed to get a call through to Buck. He explained that Berman had sworn vengeance on my father, who was the judge who sent him to prison, but he’d been annoyingly vague on the details. I supposed he was right—details didn’t matter. What mattered was that no one had been seriously hurt, and Berman would never threaten anyone else again.

Miles said, “So it was Berman who tried to get Raine to leave her room last night?”

Ledbetter nodded somberly. “Most likely. One of the hotel guests was able to identify him as the man who tried to get her to let him into the building yesterday, as well.”

“Sarah,” I said softly, repressing a shudder. “She was so lucky he didn’t hurt her.”

“There were quite a few people around yesterday evening, and he probably wasn’t willing to take that chance. If he could’ve gotten her alone inside the building, though, it might have been another story.”

His face tightened, though whether the white lines that appeared around his lips were from the pain associated with his wound or from the memory of Marcie, I couldn’t tell. “Apparently,” he went on, “Marcie left her room to walk her dog shortly after Berman called your room last night. We’re still matching DNA, but I suspect it will show it was Berman who attacked her. He had a picture of you on his phone with Marcie’s dog, and she was wearing a sweatshirt and baseball cap just like yours. In the dark, he may have mistaken her for you.”

I closed my eyes and had to take long, deep breaths to keep down the bitter gorge that wanted to rise in my throat. Miles’s arm went around my shoulders.

“He had a dog bite on his hand,” Agent Ledbetter added. When I opened my eyes, I saw the faintest ghost of a wan smile touch his lips. “It’s likely that might have affected his aim. The dog might not have been able to save her mistress, but who knows how many other lives she saved today.”

I entwined my fingers in Cisco’s fur, leaned my head into Miles’s shoulder, and tried very hard not to cry.



* * *



“Thank God,” Wyn kept saying. “Thank God no one was killed. Do you know how many of these things don’t end that way? Just… thank God you were able to get the police there in time.” She reached across and squeezed Buck’s hand.

They sat on the small deck Buck had constructed on the back of his house, sipping beers and watching the sun go down over the treetops. Soon he would fire up the grill and take some steaks out of the fridge, but not yet. For the moment, he just wanted to be still and be with her, and be glad that this time, this time everything had turned out all right.

He had turned off the television news and the computer and put his phone on “emergency only.” He had talked to Raine, he had talked to Roe; he’d talked to Maude and the Pembroke police chief and the SBI. His office had been giving him updates by the minute. But it was over. For now, at least, it could just be over.

He said quietly, “I still can’t get over Judge Stockton. I don’t think I ever will.”

She looked at him with sympathy and with a gentle wisdom beyond her years. “The things that a man—or a woman—will do for love don’t have to make sense. In fact, they shouldn’t.”

Buck cast her a sharp and argumentative look, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t Maude he did it for,” she said. “That’s what you’ve got to understand. It was his wife, and Raine. Those were the great loves of his life, and even from beyond the grave he tried to protect them. I hope someone takes the trouble to explain it to Raine that way.”

After a moment, he smiled at her. “I’ll make sure somebody does.”

She sipped her beer. “You know,” she said, gazing at the sunset, “Roe was there when it happened. If he’d asked the right questions all those years ago, all of this might have been prevented. But he didn’t.” She looked across at Buck. “You did. You figured it out.”

He lifted his beer bottle in a toast to her. “I had a little help.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment and shared the toast to herself. “Damn straight.”

He just watched her, smiling. “Which reminds me, I have something for you. A couple of things, actually.”

He reached into his pocket and brought out a folded sheaf of papers. She took them curiously and her face lit up with relief as she read the first one. “Your filing papers. You’ve decided to run for reelection.” She pressed the papers to her heart for one brief, passionate moment, like a hug. “You’re doing the right thing, Buck. The only thing, for you, this county, everyone. I’m so proud of you!” She leaned forward to kiss him, but he held up a staying hand.

“There’s a condition,” he said. “Look at the next one.”

She shuffled the papers until she came to the next set. She murmured aloud, without looking up, “Application for employment, Hanover County Sheriff’s Department.”

Buck said, “I have a feeling you’ll get the job.”

She looked up at him with a gathering storm of mixed emotions in her eyes, but he spoke over her. “I need you, Wyn,” he said firmly. “The department needs you. The county needs you. Hell, the biggest mistake I made when I took over was accepting your resignation. Come back. Let’s do what we do best together.”

Her brow knitted, a dozen conflicting emotions skewed her face. She dropped her eyes to the papers and lifted them again, helplessly, to Buck. “I don’t know,” she said. “I want to, of course, but politically… Buck, this could be suicide. Everyone knows about us. And if you hire me back, it would be like slapping them in the face with it. All you need is one right-wing bigmouth, not to mention the whole issue of nepotism, and not to mention how it would complicate our personal lives…”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s complications.”

He reached again into his pocket and felt two objects there. One was a house key, and the other was a ring. Slowly, and with deliberation, he hooked his pinky around the ring. “So I was wondering,” he said, and he brought out the ring, “what you’d think about getting married?”



* * *



The police kept everyone in the pavilion, compiling a witness list and taking statements, until close to dark. When they finally told us we could go, there was an odd kind of reluctance to leave, for even though we were bound by tragedy, we were all nonetheless bound. Cisco said good-bye to Brinkley, and I hugged Sarah even though I couldn’t quite bring myself to meet her eyes. I was glad, for their sakes, that Ginny and Aggie had left with Gunny and the border collies before the drama began, but I felt a real pang of sorrow that I might never see them again. In only a matter of hours these people, and dogs, had come to mean so much to me. At the same time, I knew the pain of seeing them again and remembering what had happened here wasn’t something I ever wanted to experience.

Miles packed up Cisco’s crate and supplies in the back of my SUV while I said my good-byes and then came back to walk us to the parking lot. A bluish twilight was starting to fall over the South Carolina countryside, and the busy agricultural fairgrounds, which only yesterday had been the site of such joy and colorful activity, seemed bleak and haunted. Some men were loading the blue and yellow panels of the A-frame into a step van, and a lone RV pulled away toward the exit. A car door slammed in the distance. Except for the police vehicles that were parked close to the pavilion, there weren’t more than half a dozen cars left.

Cisco walked in close heel at my side. After the events of the afternoon, he’d been very, very careful to keep his attention focused on me. I had so much to apologize to my dog for. He hadn’t bargained on this. I’d promised him a fun weekend. He’d promised to do his best. He had kept his promise. I had not.

Miles held my hand. After a time, I glanced at him uncertainly. “Are you mad at me?”

He looked surprised. “For what?”

“For putting you in danger. And me. And everyone. I was worried maybe you wouldn’t want me to hang out with Mel anymore.” And before he could answer, I burst out, “I don’t know why these things happen to me, Miles, I really don’t. I don’t mean for them to. But you’re right. I lead a reckless, dangerous lifestyle, and I’m always getting into trouble, and I should’ve gone to the beach with you when you asked. I’m so sorry.”

He stepped in front of me, halting my forward progress, and dropped both hands onto my shoulders. Cisco obediently and alertly sat at my side when I stopped. Miles said, “Are you serious?” There was a puzzled, genuinely incredulous frown on his face. “Honey, what happened today wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of a crazy man. Even the police, with inside information and advance warning, couldn’t stop it. How were you supposed to?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s absolutely the point. And another thing. These things keep happening to you because you’re bright and curious and stubborn and brave and you have a heart as big as a golden retriever’s.” The smile in his eyes coaxed a small, reciprocal one from me. “And I would be proud to have Melanie grow up to be just like you. Only…” He fell into step beside me again, dropping one arm to my waist. “Let’s not take her to any dog shows for a while.”

“Trials,” I corrected him. “They’re called trials.”

He dropped a kiss on my hair. “I love you, babe.”

I said, “I love you back.” I pressed my head briefly against his shoulder and added softly, “Let’s go home, okay?”

So we did.

When we got there, a long and complicated story of love, lies, and betrayal was waiting for me, and it was good to have a friend by my side while I heard it. When that story was finished, I would never look at my life, or the people I loved, in quite the same way again.

Perhaps, after all, that wasn’t such a bad thing.