“Where are you going?”
“Just to Grandma and Grandpa’s place,” I say and rush to the bedroom, grab my gun, then rush to the door, and open it.
“Lock it after me, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Did something happen to Grandma and Grandpa?” she asks.
I look into her eyes, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, while waves of fear rush through my body, threatening to overwhelm me.
I can’t lose them. I can’t lose them now, God!
“I don’t know yet.”
Isabella sends me a concerned look. I know she can tell how desperate I am. I run into the hallway and take the stairs down, taking two, sometimes three, steps at a time. I rush into the street, then run as fast as I can toward my parents’ condominium. I cross their parking lot, my heart hammering in my chest, everything inside of me screaming.
No, no, no! Please, don’t let them be harmed. Please, let them be alive, God! Please, protect them!
I fumble with the key to the front door of their building, then run up the stairs, running faster than I ever have, fear knocking in my chest.
The door to their condo is left ajar. Seeing this, I stop.
“Mom? Dad?”
There’s glass on the floor. The vase they usually have by the door is lying on the tiles, shattered. I am careful not to step on any of the broken pieces while walking inside, holding the gun between my hands.
“Mom?” I say, my voice shrill and high pitched. “Dad?”
There’s a trail of blood across the tiles, leading toward the kitchen. One of my dad’s woolen slippers is lying by the couch. It has drops of blood on it. The only sound I can hear is the rushing of my own breath. I see the details of Sandra’s bloody corpse in the water flashing before my eyes. Images of her, the sensation of her cold skin against my fingers, and I shiver in fear as I move across the living room toward the small kitchen, gun lifted in front of me. I am holding onto it as terror rushes through me in waves.
“Mom?” I cry out. “Mooom?”
I see legs sticking out behind the counter, and brace myself, trying to remain calm, even though my body starts to shake violently.
I approach the legs behind the counter with the gun still pointed ahead of me. I see their faces as I turn the corner. Two sets of terrified eyes are staring up at me, both their mouths covered with duct tape. I sense they’re trying to tell me something.
That’s when I hear a sound coming from the hallway as something large is tipped over.
It sounds just like the umbrella stand that I myself have tipped over a few times when coming to my parents’ place. I know exactly where it stands and run back to the hallway just as someone storms out the door. I see nothing but a black figure, someone wearing a ski mask. I go after him. I know he is armed, but so am I. I am not letting him get away. Not this time.
“Stop!” I yell.
But he’s out the door faster than I can get there. I continue after him, then run to the stairs where I can hear him below me. I hurry after him, taking several steps at a time, but so does he, and he has longer legs than me. Soon, he’s at the bottom, gunning for the door. It’s locked, and he’s fumbling with it, so I see my chance to catch up to him. I jump down and point my gun at him.
“Stop it right there!”
The figure pauses. He lifts his hands in the air, and I walk closer to see him better.
“Turn around and take off the mask,” I say.
He does as he is told, but he is way too fast for me. As he turns around, he reaches out his hand and grabs my gun, then pulls it out of my grip. The gun falls to the floor, and he kicks me in the stomach so hard that I fly backward with a loud scream. I hit my back against the wall, then slide to the floor, the air knocked out of me. I am so dizzy I can hardly see. I manage to raise my head. My head swims, and my mouth is flooded with saliva. I can’t think straight; I can barely see. My back is in deep pain, and I am gasping for air. I bite my lip, so I don’t lose consciousness. I see him jolt for the exit. Seconds later, he’s back by the door, unlocking it, and soon he’s running out into the parking lot.
I am still on the floor, moaning, as the door slams shut behind him.
Once I am okay to move, and I can breathe again, I grab the gun from the floor and drag myself back up the stairs and into my parent’s condo. I find them still lying in there, their terrified eyes staring up at me, their mouths duct-taped, and their hands tied behind their backs. I help them get free. My mom is in shock and can barely speak.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, sobbing. I hug her tightly and don’t want to let go. My body is shaking, and I am fighting to hold back my tears. “It’s all my fault. I am so, so sorry. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I look at the bruise on her cheek while she shakes her head. “I’m okay. Help me get up.”
My dad is sitting up too while I help my mom to a chair. But as I look at him, I realize something is off with him. He’s holding his chest and bending forward. And that is when it occurs to me.
“He’s having a heart attack,” I say.
I rush to him and fall to my knees by his side while I scream at my mother to call nine-one-one.
Chapter 43
As you can imagine, I am completely out of it at this point. My dad is being rushed to the hospital, and my mom is with him in the ambulance while I drive there on my own. We wait for hours till we can see him, and the doctor says he’s had a heart attack, as I suspected. The doctors fight for his life and manage to save him. I still remember that smile he sends us as we walk in once they let us see him. My mom is in a state of shock and can barely talk. She sits by his side, holding his hand the rest of the night, while I go home to the kids. I sleep in their room all night, keeping the gun close. I barely sleep at all, naturally, but we make it through the night. We report the attack to the police, and they come to take my parents’ statement the next day. They keep asking them what the attacker looked like, but neither of them saw his face. He was wearing a mask when he rang their doorbell and my mom went to open the door. It all happened really fast, she tells the police. He grabbed the vase by the door and hit my mom with it, then dragged her into the kitchen, where he placed both of them with their heads to the tiles.
Laurie pauses and looks down at her fingers. Jonathan nods while Detective Grande looks at her watch.
“You have somewhere to be?” Jonathan asks.
She shakes her head. He knows she is lying. Of course, she wants to get home to her husband. It’s late, and she should want to go home. It’s a good thing that she feels that way. He wants to tell her to enjoy it while it lasts, but he doesn’t want to sound like an old geezer.
“Actually, I am getting kind of tired,” Laurie says. “I think I’d like to stop for today.”
“Just answer me this,” Jonathan says. “Did you ask your parents if they believed it was Ryan? I mean, he is your husband and their son-in-law. They should be able to recognize his voice or his eyes.”
Laurie sighs and shakes her head. “As I said, they told me they didn’t get to look at his eyes properly.”
“And the voice?” Grande asks, leaning forward. “What about the voice?”