Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) (27 page)

And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.

–
Anne Boleyn

Enid woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed – considering she’d slept on the floor in Ernie’s treehouse and spent most of her night dreaming that she was being chased by faceless bad guys. She pushed back Ernie’s sleeping bag and sat up, stretching. She peered into the backyard but there was no sign of Ernie. Stomach growling, she reached for what was left of their food.

She ate the last of the Oreos as she examined her hands. They looked better and hurt less but she still couldn’t bend them enough to make a fist.

Ernie’s head stuck up from the entrance hole in the floor. “Are you decent?”

She mock-kicked him with her foot, “What if I wasn’t, you little perve?”

He clambered into the treehouse. “What am I supposed to do – knock like a visitor when it’s my treehouse?

Enid gave a grudging shrug. “Well, next time, make some noise when you come out the back door so I can hear you coming.” Enid popped the last of the last Oreo into her mouth.

Ernie said, “Do you think I’m handsome?”

Enid made a face. “Don’t be creepy. I’m in love.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, doll face. I’m asking hypothetically.”

Enid said, “What grade you in?”

“I tested at the ninth-grade level.”

“How come you always talk like you ate a dictionary?”

“You should take a nibble sometime, might do you some good.”

“I’m plenty smart,” Enid said.

Ernie shrugged, “Just sayin’. Not too ‘plenty’
impressed with the vocabulary level.”

Enid scowled at him.

Ernie said, “How long are you going to hide from Uncle Jack? Mom is asking me about the missing food and I don’t know how long I can keep up the charade,” Ernie said, pronouncing “charade” like “sherr-odd”.

Enid said, “I’ve recently discovered that your gross Uncle Jack is not my real father.”

“Yeah, right. How many guys did your mom sleep with anyway?”

“More than you’re going to sleep with.”

“I don’t sleep with guys,” Ernie said.

“Uh-huh.”

Ernie said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. Are you sure you’re not living a – ‘
sherr-odd
’?”

“Ernie?” Cheryl’s voice said from below.

They froze.

“Ernie?” Cheryl said.

“Yeah?” Ernie called back, not daring to look through the door.

“Who are you talking to?”

Ernie scrambled to the hole in the floor and stuck his head down. “Jeez, mom. Can’t a guy rehearse for the school play without getting the third degree?”

“What play are you rehearsing for?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the play called? I’m hearing things like – ”

“Were you listening?” Ernie said.

“I’m your mother – I’m allowed to listen. What’s this stuff about – sleeping with – guys?”

“Mother! If you must know, it’s a comedy about a guy who – thinks he’s a girl – who is – confused – because he got hit on the head – with a shoe.”

Cheryl was silent for a moment. “I’m calling your father.”

Ernie scrambled out of the tree, chasing his mom into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Enid spotted Ernie on the side of the house, motioning for her to join him. Making sure the coast was clear, Enid climbed out of the tree and headed for the garage.

Ernie said, “She banned me from going in the treehouse till dad gets home and can have a ‘discussion’ with me. Thanks a bunch for nothing. Mom thinks I think I’m a girl who wants to sleep with guys and I’m living a
charade
.
I don’t know whether I’m more offended that she thinks I’m a girl who wants to sleep with guys or that I don’t know how to pronounce charade, which, by the way, is how the British pronounce it, so that’s the correct way because they had the language before we got hold of it.”

“I need your help.”

“There are no more Oreos, so don’t even try. And, by the way, you could have saved some for me.”

“I need to get across town,” Enid said.

“Why?”

“To get a gun.”

Ernie eyed her suspiciously. “What gun?”

“My gun.”

“Why’s it across town?”

“I left it at a friend’s house.”

“You just got here. You don’t have any friends.”

“I have one friend.”

“The guy you’re in love with?”

“Him too.”

“Him too, what? Him too, he’s your friend or him too, he’s got your gun?”

“Him too, he’s my friend.”

“Then who’s got your gun?”

“Her name’s Jeni. She’s a stripper.”

Ernie gazed at her for a long moment. “We need to get your gun.”

Ernie decided the b
est way to get there was to bike the seven sweaty miles of Phoenix streets, bike-blind drivers, and a one-eyed bulldog that chased them two city blocks. Before they left, Ernie swiped oven mitts from the kitchen for Enid to wear so her hands wouldn’t hurt. On Bethany and 19th Avenue, a cowboy in a beat-up Ford yelled out the window, “Not used to the Phoenix heat?” 

Enid comforted herself with the thought that, at the very least, Chip would never see her sweating like a dog and biking around Phoenix wearing oven mitts decorated with hearts and hot chilies.

Once on Jeni’s street, Enid tried to get Ernie to wait for her down the street, but she soon realized that he wasn’t about to miss his one chance to meet a stripper. Walking up to the apartment, she saw Mrs. Lopez move the curtains aside. Enid waved hello and the curtain dropped back in place.

Enid
knocked but there was no answer. She put her ear to the door and listened.

Silence.

Ernie said, “You should have called.”

Enid eyed the broken window that Jeni’s ex-boyfriend had tried to climb through. It was covered with cardboard. She poked it and one corner came loose.

Ernie backed up. “Are you crazy? My dad is a cop. I’m not breaking and entering.”

“Then don’t,” Enid said.

“Do you have any idea what they do to cops’ kids in Juvie? I’m going to the Circle K down the street. Whatever you do, I don’t want to know. But I highly recommend against breaking and entering.” Ernie grabbed his bike and rode off.

Enid hid her bike behind some trash cans. She looked at Mrs. Lopez’s window and noticed the curtain was hanging straight. Using the oven mitt, she stuck her arm through Jeni’s broken window blocked with cardboard and unlocked the door.

Heart pounding, she slipped into the apartment, locking the door behind her. She headed for the kitchen and filled a glass with tap water and guzzled it. She opened the freezer and grabbed the ice cream box, smiling with relief when she saw the gun.

That’s the nice thing about skinny girls – they don’t eat ice cream.

The gun was frozen in the ice cream so she put the box in the sink and ran hot water over it in. While she was waiting for it to thaw, she went to the bathroom.

The front door slammed.

Enid went rigid with fear at the sound of Jeni’s heels clomping around the living room as she tried to quiet Faith’s crying.

Horrified, Enid jumped up, her brain scrabbling through any excuses she could offer for breaking in. She got in the shower and pressed her ear to the wall.

Loud music blared and she almost fell backwards. The stereo on the other side of the wall banged out a thumping beat. Enid locked the bathroom door, hoping to buy some time and come up with a plan. She quietly turned on the water and washed her hands.

Maybe I can just go out there and be, like, all surprised because…

She stared at herself in the mirror and pretended like she was explaining herself to Jeni, silently laughing and acting like it was this funny thing – that’s it! I’ll tell her I had to go to the bathroom so bad that I broke in. I’ll tell her I came to see her and – I drank way too much water and…

What about the gun?

By now, Jeni had heard the running water in the kitchen and…

But the music is too loud – maybe she hadn’t heard it yet.

Enid heard bumping – thudding – over the blare of the music. She stepped into the shower and pressed her ear against the wall. All she could hear was the THUD, THUD of the music. She went back to the mirror and stared at her pale face, trying to get the backbone she needed to walk out there and explain the situation. After a long time, she took a shaky breath and unlocked the bathroom door.

Enid
put what amounted to a silly apologetic smile on her face as she walked into the living room.

It was empty.

She turned the stereo down and headed toward the kitchen where Faith was bawling.

“Jeni?”

Enid stopped, her blood running cold with terror. 

Jeni lay sprawled on the kitchen floor covered in blood. Enid staggered backwards, trying to scream for help but nothing
came out. She hurled herself towards the front door, knocking over everything in her way.

Enid
ran headlong into Jack, which sent her sprawling backwards into the apartment. She landed on her back, the air knocked out of her with a sickening jolt. She crawled to her feet and got a glimpse of the bloody handprint she left on the floor.

Jack shoved past her and was in the kitchen. She could see him – his fingers pressed to Jeni’s throat, looking for a pulse.

Their eyes met.

He thinks I did it!

Enid jumped to her feet and ran.

She ran and ran until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. She collapsed on the ground in someone’s front yard and burst into tears.

Jeni was dead – and she was there when Jeni got dead. They would think she did it. Why wouldn’t they? She’d go to jail for the rest of her life. She crawled behind a parked car in the driveway and puked until she got dizzy and passed out.

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.

–
Heraclitus

Jack grabbed a dishtowel and gently draped it over Jeni’s midsection, covering her where her mini-skirt had come up and she was partially exposed. Jack held the baby as her tiny fists beat against him, splattering rips and reams of blood across his face as she wailed at full volume.

Enid.

His mind struggled to get hold of the fact that Enid had been here. Covered with Jeni’s blood.

Jeni stared past him, empty.

The same nightmarish helplessness washed over him like so many years ago when he’d found his mother’s lifeless body dangling, dead-weight heavy, from the noose.  He was too late.
Again
. There was nothing to be done except call for more people to come share in his helplessness.

His mind flashed back to all the nights he woke up drenched in sweat, his grandmother soothing him with soft Apache words he didn’t understand. For years, he was haunted by the same nightmare. His mother lay at the bottom of a deep dark well. Winged demons lunged downward, landing on her frail body, their filthy talons digging into her flesh as they clawed at her over and over. He stood looking down into the well – helpless and horrified. The nightmare was bad but the feeling that came with it was worse.

And now – it was
here.

The nightmare was here, in this kitchen, looking up at him with merciless eyes. Nauseous, Jack turned away and saw Jeni’s bloody handprints hanging on the wall.

Like she’s trying to reach out to me.

Jeni
had called him, left a message for him to call back. That was yesterday.

Why didn’t I call?

He remembered the day like it was a million years ago.

Yesterday.

The best day of my life.

Despite everything – Enid missing, his house gone, everything he owned gone.

Eve loves me.

I love Eve.  

Jack stared down at Jeni with her “I’m Your Angel” T-shirt, bright bubble gum lipstick and daisy tattoo peeking out from under the dishtowel.

This is my fault.

Why? Why is this my fault?

It is.

He rubbed his nose and felt something warm and liquid. He drew back his hand and was surprised to see his fingers wet with blood. The baby’s wails broke through and he found himself staring at her, trying to piece his jumbled thoughts together.

Jack tried but couldn’t remember the baby’s name. Like a physical pain, like a lead weight in his gut holding him down to this moment that –

I could have stopped…?

That same feeling – horrible gnawing animal in his gut clawing its way up to his throat. A wave of self-loathing rushed over him. He pulled out his cell phone and made his way to the front door, dialing emergency services. He leaned against the front door and slid down until he was sitting with Jeni’s baby cradled in his lap.

A Hispanic woman edged toward him, scared but determined, holding a broom toward him like a weapon. Neighbors gathered behind her as if she and her broom would keep them safe. 

Distant sirens sounded.

Jack waited for them to arrive, his mind floating back to the previous day.

It was an eternity ago.

He’d spent the day with Eve. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman – and all he wanted was more.

He’d finally torn hi
mself away and left to go looking for Enid. His time with Eve had left him feeling elated and free – like he’d slipped some bonds and floated upward toward something he didn’t even know existed.

Jack
had called Detective Orlean and left a message – an apology for not meeting him at the coffee shop. He hardly recognized his own voice – it was filled with warmth. He’d been so happy, he could even think of Detective Orlean as a friend. The world looked different. The Phoenix streets looked lovely and inviting. Hookers and junkies couldn’t even mar the magically transformed landscape.

The sirens got louder. He looked up and was shocked to see Ernie pushing his bike up Jeni’s walk toward him.

Jack jumped to his feet, handing the baby to the Hispanic woman, who grabbed at her eagerly. 

Ernie said, “I saw Enid take off up the street – I couldn’t catch her.”

Jack got his business card, shoved it into the Hispanic woman’s hand. “I’ll be back.”

He hustled Ernie to his car and reached the corner before the first police car screamed up the street.

“Which way?” Jack said.

Ernie pointed to the right, scared. “What happened? Is she all right?”

They drove through the neighborhood, both looking for Enid. Jack was relieved to see the road was through a winding neighborhood with no turn-offs and, if she’d taken the last turn, she would have been like rabbit in a run.

“There.” Ernie jabbed excitedly and jumped out of the car before Jack could stop.

Enid lay in a driveway, her face a sickly white. Jack lightly slapped Enid’s face and she came to life, giving him a washed-out version of her usual glare.

“Come on,” Jack said, trying to help her to her feet. She shoved him away but was too weak to resist when he picked her up and dumped her into the backseat of his car.

Jack drove out of the neighborhood. He paused at the turn to Jeni’s street, which was now swarmed with cop cars.

Enid said, “I can’t go back.”

Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. Her eyes shone with desperation. Whichever way he cut it, those eyes spelled trouble.

Jack gripped the wheel, unsure.