Sassafras, Part 88

Rick

Joan was standing there, a terrified look on her face, holding a high-heeled shoe in each hand and looking from McDaniel on the floor to me struggling to stand up. I lurched up, but she backed against the wall, still aiming those shoes at me. I put the gun down on the table and held up my hands.

"It's okay, Babe, it's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you. I swear to God nobody's going to touch you." My side started aching and I had to lean on the table to keep from falling over.

She dropped her shoes and rushed over to me. "My God, you're shot," she said. "He shot you." She helped me to a chair and I sank down in it, holding my hand tight against my side. "Let me look at that.”

"It's okay. Just a flesh wound. I'll be fine."

She looked like she was about to go into shock. I had to get her together. "Joan, I'm working undercover for the DEA. They've been watching Sneider for six months. I'm sorry all this happened to you. You've got to hold it together for me, okay? Joan! Look at me. Everything's going to be fine now. You just have to get Bill and get out of town. Is Bill really in that shed? Joan! Look at me. Is Billy in that shed?"

She looked dazed, and then shook her head no. "He's in an empty house about three blocks from his house. I lied.”

"Good girl. What happened? I tried to call.”

“I broke my phone. I was trying to get to a pay phone when they caught me.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try going back to your house. It’s gone. Stapleton torched it.”

“What! How bad is it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hang around, but it looked pretty bad when I was there.”

She was having a hard time coming to grips with everything that happened, but she didn’t have time to sit around talking. “Joan, you've got to go get Bill and get out of town. You've got to get out of here before anybody gets back. Go on, Joan. Get Bill and get out of town."

"Okay, let's go," she said and started putting her shoes back on.

"Do you know anybody that you trust that would let you borrow their car?" I asked. "Joan, do you know anybody that would let you borrow their car?

"Yeah, I think Deana would let me."

"Good," I said and pulled my keys out of my pocket. "Take my car and go get Bill, then go to Deana's and switch cars."

She took my keys and then looked at me, confused. "You've got to come, too. I'm not leaving without you."

I shook my head. "You've got to go, Babe. I lied, too. I don't think this is a flesh wound."

"Then I'm taking you to the hospital.”

"No," I insisted, "if you don't get out of here, go someplace safe, they’ll kill you."

"They'll kill you, too, when they find out you're with the DEA. I'm not leaving you here to die."

"Nobody knows but you. I'll be fine, but I can't go with you and you can't stay here. You've got to go. I'll tell them McDaniel was going to let you go, and when we fought the gun went off and you got away."

“No, Rick. I’m not leaving without you.”

“You have to, Babe. I’d just slow you down.”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving you like this. I can’t.” Her lips were quivering and I could see tears threatening to break loose. “I love you,” she finally managed as the tears started rolling down her cheek.

I reached my arm around her and pulled her close. She leaned against me, pressing her face against my shoulder and crying softly. “I love you, too, Babe. I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

“Then you have to come with me,” she insisted, trying to pull me up with her.

“Joan, I can’t. You’ve got to take my car and get Bill and get the hell out of town before everybody comes back.”

"I can’t take your car.”

"You have to. I'll be okay," I said. "After you're gone I'll call 911. Come on, you've got to go."