Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] (27 page)

The fight was over.

Tyler had won.

Christina rushed to meet him, throwing herself into his arms. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks as she held Tyler as tightly as she could. All her worry disappeared in an instant, replaced with a feeling of relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “You came at just the right time. I was so frightened…I thought that he…that he…,” she tried to explain, but the emotions of what had happened overwhelmed her and she couldn’t finish.

“Shhh,” Tyler soothed, running his hands though her hair, his embrace both comforting and firm. “None of that matters. All I care about is that you’re safe, nothing else.”

“I stepped away from you for an instant!” Christina explained, reliving those terrifying moments over again in her mind. “I wanted some air,” she said, “but when I turned around, he was there! I shouted your name, but then I turned and ran—”

“Christina!” he said insistently. “Calm down! You’re safe now! Stop talking and look at me!”

Tyler’s words broke through the panic overwhelming Christina. She did as he told her, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the face of the man she loved; it was with a sliver of irony that she realized she’d given similar instructions to Holden. But as she gazed into Tyler’s eyes, Christina saw the price he’d paid for her safety; his face was a mess of bruising, ugly welts throbbing a bright red and cuts that trickled blood.

“Oh, Tyler!” she whispered.

When Christina reached out and touched a particularly nasty mark near the corner of his mouth, barely brushing it with her fingertips, he winced and quickly turned away.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he disagreed. “I’m sure it looks worse than it feels.”

“But you have no idea how bad it looks.”

“I can see it as plain as day in your eyes.”

Christina frowned. “Then you should know why I’m so worried.”

Instead of arguing the point further, Tyler leaned forward and tenderly placed his lips against hers, giving her a soft kiss. The sensation of his touch filled her, reminding her of why she’d fallen in love with him, as well as why he could be so frustrating.

But after everything they’d shared that night, from the declarations of their feelings to the act of making love and the terrifying race through the woods and apple orchard, Christina knew that Tyler was the man she’d spend the rest of her years cherishing.

When their lips slowly parted, she said, “I love you, Tyler.”

“And I love you.”

Those simple words made her feel as if she were the luckiest woman in all of Longstock, if not all of Wisconsin.

The feeling lasted until the moment she looked over Tyler’s shoulder and discovered that, while they had embraced, Luther Rickert had disappeared.

Beneath the faint light of the stars and the thin, slivered moon, Luther limped across the orchard and back toward the road where he’d stashed his car. With his muddled head and bruised ribs, to say nothing of his wounded pride, it was taking forever to get there. Each step was painful. It was as plain as the blood that stained his shirt he’d made one hell of a mistake.

“Damn you, Tyler Sutter,” he mumbled through a busted lip.

It seemed hard to imagine now, but there was a part of Luther that had been excited when that bitch’s lover had shown up; he’d never been one to shy away from a good fight. Even after Sutter managed to land a few punches, Luther had never been concerned that he could
lose
. He’d been winning! One or two more blows and Sutter would’ve been finished! But then things had gone to hell, and here Luther was, running away with his tail tucked between his legs.

The mistake had been going after the girl in the first place. She’d been a tempting target, especially because of her looks, but his focus on her had been misguided. The only person who deserved to feel his wrath was Barlow. Taking someone from him the way Donnie had been stolen would make the bastard suffer, but it wasn’t enough.

The son of a bitch has to die!

Luther knew anything short of that wasn’t good enough, not for him, and certainly not for Donnie. Once Luther made it to the car, he’d drive back into Longstock and do what needed to be done: end Samuel Barlow’s life.

Luther wished he could’ve grabbed the gun from the stall post; he would’ve liked nothing more than to get hold of it and pump lead into Sutter and the goddamn nurse, but they surely would’ve noticed him. Luther knew he didn’t need it; his hands would be more than capable weapons.

But even as he formulated his plan, Luther felt something familiar nagging at him. With all that had taken place, with the way he hurt, broken and bruised, it would be so easy to find a bottle, feel that familiar burn in his throat, and…

Furious at himself, Luther shook his head.

Don’t be such a damn fool!

Once he was done with Barlow, he could do whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. He could die in a hail of the sheriff’s bullets, wrap his car around a tree hard enough to do the job right, or hell, he could let that nurse bash his brains in with her hammer.

Or I could go home and get so drunk I never wake up…

Luther knew he had to act quickly. Sutter and the nurse would call the sheriff the first chance they got.

There was still time…

C
HRISTINA DID HER BEST
to keep up with Tyler as he raced through the woods and back toward the garage. Before they’d left the orchard barn, she’d told him everything about Luther Rickert and Tyler’s uncle, beginning with being knocked to the ground and ending with Dr. Barlow’s confession that he’d been under the influence of morphine the night he’d treated Donnie Rickert’s injuries.

Tyler listened closely to every word, his jaw tight. Before Christina had finished, his brow had creased with concern and he took her by the hand, pulling her toward the door.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Christina had asked.

“He’s going to go after my uncle.” Tyler had frowned. “I’m sure of it.”

“Wouldn’t Luther be more likely to leave town?” she argued. “Surely he has to know that we’re going to contact the sheriff.”

“I knew a couple of guys in the Navy just like Luther, too stupid to know when to quit. Once they got something in their heads, they’d never be satisfied until they’d done what they set out to do. If he went after you to get back at my uncle, now that we’ve stopped him from getting his misguided revenge he’ll go after the source of his troubles before the law catches up with him.”

“What will Luther do if he finds him?”

Tyler shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it,” he answered. “The only way to protect my uncle is to find him fast!”

Running down the narrow paths, dodging tree branches that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Christina could only imagine the worry Tyler must be feeling, not to mention the physical pain. After the brutality of his fight with Luther, Tyler’s body had to be aching, but he didn’t allow it to slow him down or show on his face.

Christina tried her best to follow his example, but every time she stepped awkwardly on her ankle or her shoulder struck a tree limb she had to bite her lip not to cry out. She’d volunteered to remain behind, painfully aware of the hindrance she presented to their getting to Dr. Barlow in time, but Tyler refused to leave her alone after what had happened, even for an instant. Despite the discomfort, she continued on.

Her heart hoped that Tyler had been wrong about Luther’s intentions, but her head was clear enough to know he was right. Luther’s defeat in the barn was only a temporary setback, nothing serious enough to keep him from getting the revenge he so desperately sought; Christina knew the only thing keeping him from it was she and Tyler.

So on they ran.

Finally, they burst from the underbrush beside the garage. Longstock spread silently before them, full of families settling themselves down for sleep, unaware of the would-be murderer in their midst.

Racing to his car, Tyler leaped behind the wheel, turned the ignition, and slammed down on the accelerator. The vehicle took off like a shot; Christina scarcely had time to shut her door before the car hurtled down the road, its tires screeching on the pavement.

“I still think we should call the sheriff,” she said, holding on for dear life.

“There isn’t time,” Tyler disagreed. “If Luther had a car stashed closer than ours, he’s got a hell of a head start on us. If we take time to call the authorities, we might be too late.”

“Then we should go straight to your uncle’s house,” Christina said, dread filling her chest.

“He won’t be there. My mother said that he was coming over for dinner tonight. If we’re going to keep Luther from getting to him first, that’s where we’ll have to look for him.”

Tyler tapped the car’s brakes while spinning the steering wheel to the left, skidding around the corner and onto Main Street. The tires protested, the sound so loud that Christina felt everyone in Longstock must have heard them, before steadying and roaring forward, the gas pedal jammed to the floorboard.

“What…what if we don’t get there in time…?” she asked fearfully.

Tyler didn’t respond, but Christina had the feeling that, even though the speedometer was still rising, the engine straining as it worked harder and harder, he would do whatever it took never to have to answer.

Luther stood in Samuel Barlow’s bedroom, scowling. The room was as pitch-black as a tomb, an observation that would’ve given him pleasure if it were still occupied, for when he left he intended to leave someone dead behind. But the bedroom was empty.

“That son of a bitch,” he muttered in fury.

Even though every bit of him had wanted to come racing down the street, screeching to a stop at Barlow’s front walk, kicking the door down before strangling the bastard with his bare hands, Luther had somehow managed to show some restraint. He’d parked a block away, made his way through the shadows, careful not to be seen, before arriving at Barlow’s home. Every window had been dark, but Luther hadn’t been deterred; he’d hoped that Barlow had retired early and would be easily caught unaware. Slipping the lock on the back door had been child’s play. And so, holding his breath with every creak of the staircase, Luther had made his way to the bedroom, breathless with anticipation, only to find it empty.

He knew there wasn’t much time; he had a lead on Barlow’s nephew and the nurse, but it wouldn’t be long before they caught up. But if the doctor wasn’t home, where was he? There were only two choices: he was either still at his clinic or visiting his sister. Both were about the same distance away, but in opposite directions.

There’d only be time to check one.

In the scant light of the bedroom, Luther caught sight of himself in the mirror above Barlow’s dresser. Though his face was shrouded in shadows, he could still see how badly Tyler Sutter had messed him up. But it was nothing compared to the loss the doctor had inflicted upon him; Donnie had died because Barlow had been angry, upset that they’d tried to steal from him. He could’ve saved Donnie if he’d wanted to.

For that, he has to die!

Leaving the bedroom, Luther knew just where to go.

Samuel Barlow made his way down the short walk from his sister’s front door before turning at the sidewalk and heading home. Though lately life had handed him a bucketful of lemons, he’d had a wonderful evening. Ever since Holden had decided to leave his room, Clara had been beside herself with happiness. The meal she had prepared had been as delicious as it was overblown; there was so much food on the table Dr. Barlow hadn’t known where to start. When Holden descended the stairs, his uncle still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But there Holden was, smiling and laughing through dinner, looking much like the same young man who’d gone off to war. Still, Dr. Barlow saw a sadness lurking behind Holden’s eyes and knew exactly where it came from.

But the best part of the evening had been forgetting his troubles, if only for a little while. Ever since Luther Rickert had re-entered his life, he’d been walking around on pins and needles. Sleep was hard to come by, so he spent most nights walking restlessly around his house, jumping at every creak, seeing Luther lurking in every shadow. But when Eunice Hester died, Dr. Barlow had made a decision.

To hell with Luther Rickert…

Dr. Barlow had meant what he’d said to Christina; he might deserve what Luther had planned for him. He believed that his drug habit hadn’t affected his treatment of Luther’s brother, but he couldn’t say for certain. Walking home beneath the brilliant night sky, he realized that he could never know the truth.

Just as he reached the end of the block, Dr. Barlow was startled by the sudden, frantic honking of a car’s horn. Ahead of him, a car fishtailed around the corner, its headlights swerving wildly, the tires screaming as they skidded across the pavement. The roar of the car’s engine filled the otherwise quiet night. It was then that he realized it was headed straight for him.

Its lights flipped on and off as the horn blared, drawing ever closer. He was so frightened by the sight of it that he froze in place. Even if he could have moved his legs, there was nowhere for him to run, and even if there were, he was in no shape to get there fast enough.

This is it! This is the end!

But just as the car swerved across the street toward him, causing him to throw up his hands and turn his head so he wouldn’t see the inevitable collision, the driver surprised him by slamming on the brakes. The car bucked and shook, sliding slightly to the side as it struggled to stop. Finally opening his eyes, Dr. Barlow was shocked to see that he recognized not only the car but also both of the people getting out of it and rushing toward him.

Tyler and Christina.

Christina couldn’t believe how relieved she was to find Dr. Barlow unharmed. Worrying about him had nearly made her sick, although Tyler’s frantic driving had certainly done its share. Once the car had come to a complete stop, she’d pushed open the door and run to the doctor’s side.

“Are you all right?” she asked him frantically.

“Other than the heart attack you nearly gave me, I’m fine,” he answered.

“You haven’t seen Luther Rickert tonight?” Tyler asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Dr. Barlow said, turning white at the mention of the name. “Why do you ask? And what happened to your face?”

Christina gave Dr. Barlow a quick rundown of what had happened since Luther surprised her in the woods. The doctor’s eyes grew wide when she recounted her dash through the orchard and desperate attempt to hide in the barn. There was even a glimmer of pride in his face when she told him about how Tyler had prevented Luther from forcing himself on her.

“He was trying to get to you through her,” Tyler explained.

“Why, I never!” Dr. Barlow declared. “If I’d had the slightest idea he was capable of something so low, I would’ve throttled him myself!”

“All that matters is you’re safe,” Christina answered.

“Something’s not right.” Tyler frowned.

“Nonsense, my boy!” the doctor disagreed. “You gave the bully a beating and he’s off to lick his wounds! He’s halfway to Milwaukee by now!”

“What are you thinking?” Christina asked, ignoring Dr. Barlow’s premature celebration.

“Luther might be many things, but he isn’t a coward. He wouldn’t have run away, not knowing whether we’d go to the sheriff.”

“Then where is he?”

Before Tyler could answer, Christina heard something behind them. It began as a faint sound but quickly grew in volume and intensity. She looked down the street, back toward the Sutter home, but couldn’t see anything in the dark night. Still, the noise persisted, growing.

Suddenly, her eyes were blinded by a brilliantly bright light, and it was then that Christina knew what she was seeing.

It’s a car…and it’s driving straight for us!

In the time it took her heart to beat, Christina understood what was happening. Luther was behind the wheel of the rapidly approaching car. He had come upon them as quietly and sneakily as he could, driving with his lights off for as long as possible, all to remain unseen. Now, he meant to run them all down, even if he had to drive up onto the sidewalk to do it.

There wasn’t time to run or even move out of the way. Luther’s plan for revenge would come to pass; he would wipe out all three of them in one bloody act. As his car approached, its engine sounding like a wild beast, Christina looked over her shoulder at Tyler, wondering what their life together might’ve been like.

Without warning, Christina was struck hard, the force of the collision lifting her from the ground and through the night air. She crashed onto her side, the pavement unforgiving, as her breath was driven from her lungs. Just as she fell, the night was shattered by the sound of screeching metal as one car crashed into the other. The noise was deafening.

Struggling to rise, Christina couldn’t believe she was still alive. The pain in her ribs was nearly overwhelming. Stars swam before her eyes, but she knew she hadn’t been struck by the car.

What…what happened…?

Dr. Barlow lay beside her, his head bleeding from where it struck the ground. Christina was stunned to find that they were in the middle of the street.

But the biggest shock of all was who was lying between them.

It was Holden.

Christina didn’t know what had happened, but he’d saved both of their lives. Unfortunately, that left one question unanswered.

Where is Tyler?

Luther coughed as he struggled to open his eyes. His mouth was filled with copper; he touched his lower lip and his fingertips were stained with blood. For a moment, he was unsure of where he was; he wondered if he weren’t sitting beside Donnie, his brother’s body broken and twisted by the crushed automobile.

But then Luther remembered…

He couldn’t see anything through the cracks of the shattered windshield. The cracked radiator hissed. Everything ached, but he shut out the pain. He tried to open his door, but it wouldn’t budge. He wanted to get out, to see the damage he’d caused.

I need to see them bleed…I need to see them die…

Right before impact, everything had been a blur. Though Luther was ashamed to admit it, he might’ve closed his eyes at the last instant. He didn’t
know
if he’d hit his intended targets.

Groaning, Luther worked his way from behind the steering wheel. His already bruised ribs screamed in agony. Sliding through broken glass, he managed to get the passenger’s door open. Unsteady on his feet, he held on to the open door to keep from falling on his face.

Looking at the chaos he’d caused, Luther was surprised he hadn’t been hurt much worse. He’d slammed his car straight into Sutter’s, hitting it almost dead-on; both hoods resembled accordions. Glass, oil, and bits of metal littered the ground.

Though his vision was still a bit hazy, Luther noticed something moving off to his right. A man crawled in the grass, slowly trying to get away, blood soaking the back of his shirt. Immediately Luther knew it was Tyler Sutter.

So where in the hell are the others?

Luther hoped Samuel Barlow and that bitch of a nurse had been crushed to a bloody pulp in the wreckage of the two cars. They’d been there seconds before impact. Surely they were dead. What mattered now was eliminating one last thorn in his side. Once Sutter was as dead as his uncle, Luther and Donnie’s revenge would be complete.