‘Then you can watch.’
Before I can even register, the gun is on me, her body turning in what seems like slow motion. And she wastes no time pulling the trigger. The loudest bang pierces the air, and my body jolts as John throws himself across the barn at Lauren. My vision blurs, but I manage to see her turning the gun on herself, taking it towards her temple. John roars, and Lauren crashes to the ground. I hear another bang as they roll across the dusty floor. It’s only the sound of Lauren’s screams that tell me she missed.
Numb, frozen, I look down my torso, searching for the dark crimson soaking my T-shirt. There’s nothing. Then there’s something. Pain, fuck me, pain. I hiss and grasp the top of my arm, the blood now found, growing rapidly on my sleeve. The bolts of pain only keep my attention for a microsecond, a grunt from John realigning my focus. Lauren’s made it onto her feet, and she’s still holding the gun. She walks back, struggling for breath, wild eyes darting. She looks disoriented, unsteady as she backs up, the hole in the floor getting closer and closer, the wood all crumbled around the edges. I see what’s about to happen, and for the life of me, I can’t think why I try to warn her.
‘Lauren, no!’
I’m too late. The floor cracks, and she loses her footing. She screams. It’s a bloodcurdling scream – a scream that will haunt me for the rest of my days. A scream that tells me she doesn’t really want to die. Instinct has me rushing forward as her arms flail and she plummets backwards, the gun firing again before the floor completely gives. I flinch and look away when her head crashes against the edge of a jagged piece of broken wood as she falls through the floor, the impact silencing her. I know she’s dead before she hits the concrete below. But I still wince on a helpless, broken sob when the thud of her body meeting the ground penetrates the air, the sound of cracking bones torturous.
My breathing diminishes, my blood running cold, as I fight to get air into my lungs, the pain kicking back in. My arm begins to throb, becomes lead hanging from my shoulder. Forcing my eyes back to the gaping hole in the floor, I carefully tread to the edge of it and peer over. I don’t know why. I’m in conflict, relieved, sad, angry. Lauren’s mangled body lies in an unthinkable position, her dead eyes staring up at me. I hiss, jumping back from the edge, a low, pain-filled moan piercing my muddled head.
But the moan doesn’t come from me.
I whirl around and find John on his back, a pool of dark red growing around his big body. His bloody hand is resting on his abdomen. Shock stills me. Panic finds me again. I’m a mass of useless muscles. My mind has quit thinking, my head an empty mess.
‘Help me, you stupid motherfucker.’ His words are all but a gargle of pain, his eyes rolling in their sockets.
His weak demand wakes me from my inertia, and I bolt across the barn, dropping to my knees by his side. His breathing is shallow. His black skin paling. My hands go to my hair and pull, panicked. ‘Fuck!’ I yell, finally finding the sense to get my phone. I dial 999, demand an ambulance, mindlessly reel off where we are. ‘John.’ I grab his face, squeezing tightly. ‘John, keep your eyes open, buddy. Just keep your eyes open.’
‘Fuck you,’ he breathes, trying to focus on me. ‘There’s ten of you, you bastard.’
‘There’ll be a thousand of me if you don’t keep your eyes open, big man, and every one of them will be kicking your big black arse.’ My voice is breaking, my hope dying with every second that passes, his eyes closing for longer each time. A lump the size of a small planet wedges itself in my throat. ‘John.’ I take his shoulders, shaking, and his eyes drag open with effort. The whites, usually stark and bright, are bloodshot. ‘What the fuck, John?’ I lose control of my emotions and spill tears all over his face. ‘What the fuck have you done?’
He smiles. It’s tired and his body goes limp in my hold. ‘I . . . I . . . ’ he gasps, sucking in oxygen. ‘I told . . . I told Carmichael . . . ’ Drawing air, he winces. ‘Motherfucker,’ he breathes, straining to keep his eyes open. ‘I told him I’d always look out for . . . you.’ His confession splits my heart clean in two.
‘John,’ I choke, struggling to see him through my flooding eyes.
‘It’s . . . it’s time for you to go it alone, boy.’ His eyes close, and I release a ragged sob, shaking him harder, desperate for him to stay with me.
‘John, you bastard, open your fucking eyes!’
But he doesn’t.
Because he’s already gone.
‘No!’ I drop his shoulders, falling to my arse and crying like I’ve never cried before, relentless pain ripping through my broken body. ‘John,’ I mumble, squeezing my eyes closed, unable to see him like this. Lifeless. Limp.
This man has sacrificed everything for me. Love, happiness, freedom. He’s been there at every turn, good and bad, and now he’s gone. Gone because of me. He’s given the ultimate sacrifice. His life for mine.
My sobs come, thicker and faster. My guardian angel. He’s been by my side through good and bad, has never faltered in his loyalty. He’s kicked my arse and picked me up when I’ve been down. And the space inside me, the special place in my soul where John belongs, is gaping wide open.
He’s my fucking hero.
And he’s gone.
Chapter 55
Sirens. Lights. Shouts. The chaos in the middle of the pretty countryside is ugly. Voices are speaking to me but I’m hearing no words. Regret and guilt leave no room for anything else.
‘How was she granted release?’ I ask the police officer who’s been trying to speak to me as a paramedic inspects the hole in my arm. ‘All this is because some clever prick was hoodwinked by a crazy woman.’ I shrug my arm, knocking the paramedic’s hands away.
‘Mr Ward, I know nothing of the circumstances surrounding your ex-wife’s release from hospital.’
‘Hospital?’ I stare at him in disbelief. ‘No, a hospital is where you go when you’re ill or injured. Not when you are a fucking psychopathic, merciless woman with a fucked-up vendetta.’ I feel hands on my arm again. ‘Get the fuck off me!’ I bellow, making her back away vigilantly.
‘Mr Ward, please, calm down.’
‘Calm down?’ I wouldn’t be able to find calm if it dropped at my feet. Anger is consuming me. I feel dangerous. ‘My wife and kids were threatened. I had a gun pointed at me for over an hour.’ I throw my arm out towards the barn. ‘My best fucking mate has just been murdered!’ I stagger back with the force of my roar, feeling all control escaping me. ‘You better leave me alone,’ I warn. ‘Just leave me the fuck alone until you can give me answers.’
I back away to the wall of the barn and slump against the wood, lowering my arse to the dusty gravel before it can fall there. I sit, fighting to rein myself in. If Lauren weren’t dead already, I would kill her with my bare hands. It wouldn’t be quick. It would be long and agonising. I should have acted earlier. I should have listened to my gut and intervened before John got there.
I look up when I hear someone shout for space, and see a body bag being stretchered out of the barn. The size, the way the two women at each end of the stretcher move it with ease, tells me it’s Lauren in that bag. Then another follows, this one negotiated by two men. My bottom lip quivers, my face falling into my palms. I can’t watch. It’s too final.