Peter was startled by the sudden appearance of the attacker’s brain matter on the glass and fell backwards onto the asphalt. He groaned as his tailbone struck the parking lot.
“You okay?” Rafael shouted his question.
Peter sat upright and rested his elbows on his knees as he caught his breath. His handgun lay on the ground in front of him. “Um, yeah! Are they dead?”
“Two KIA,” he replied as he shut off the motor.
Seconds later, the second attacker fell to the pavement with a thud, joining his partner’s dead body. Peter stared at the two bloodied corpses for a moment before turning his attention to the battered bodies of Mr. Uber and his son. He tried to recall the massacre he’d experienced in Abu Dhabi. He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. It was all so senseless. But then, so was everything that had happened since Tehran nuked Israel. That had triggered a series of events that led him to committing murder. He looked to the sky and then glanced toward the south. He wondered what he’d encounter between there and home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sunday, November 3
La Junta, Colorado
The night before, Lacey had been given a sedative to force her to rest. She was terribly distraught over losing the love of her life. She and Tucker comforted one another, and eventually the medical staff tried to step in to get Lacey to rest. The thought of being apart agitated them both, something Dr. Brady was trying to avoid. After Lacey had been returned to her room, a leather recliner used by many a father-to-be in the birthing suites of the ob-gyn department was brought in for Tucker.
He’d rejected the offer of medications to relieve his anxiety and help him rest. That night he fought sleep out of fear that he’d never awaken. Eventually, his mental exhaustion won the battle, and he slept soundly next to his mother’s bed until morning, when the ICU nurses began to make their rounds.
Lacey was the first to wake. She quietly eased out of bed and made her way to the bathroom without the assistance of the wheelchair or the walker the nurses had provided her. As she sat on the toilet, emptying her bladder, she buried her face in her hands as the realization of Owen’s death continued to soak into her.
The world had gone to shit. Their life filled with love and happiness and successes had been replaced with a home likely destroyed by a nuclear warhead and a husband who’d been taken away by a fluke weather event. As she finished, she implored herself to hike up her big-girl panties and be the rock her teenage son needed to cope with the loss of his father. However, if she couldn’t deal with Owen’s death, how could she expect Tucker to do so?
When she came out of the bathroom, she found the lights in her room dimmed and Tucker gone. Her door was cracked slightly, so she presumed he’d slipped out quietly without telling her. She looked around the room and noticed one of her duffel bags sitting on a small table in the corner.
With her strength rapidly coming back to her, she decided it was time to clean up a little bit, hoping the change of appearance and clothing might drag her out of this melancholy state of mind.
She ran her hands down the flannel pajamas given to her by one of the local residents. She assumed they were hers to keep, but just in case, she folded them neatly on a chair after she took them off. She quickly slipped on her favorite hiking pants, a thermal undershirt, and a hooded, camouflage sweatshirt. She looked like she was going hunting, but in reality, she planned on leaving the hospital that day although she presumed the doctors would insist she was putting herself at risk.
Lacey needed to deal with Owen’s burial, but moreover, she needed to get away from the place where he died. She didn’t fault the medical team at Arkansas Valley in the least. They’d done an admirable job in treating her entire family under the circumstances. But for Lacey, it was part of the healing process to leave the place where her husband had died less than a day before.
She’d just finished dressing and turned her lights up when Tucker reappeared, followed by Sheriff Mobley.
“Mom, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”
Lacey stood next to her bed and casually rested her left hand on the mattress. She didn’t want anyone to notice that she was still unsteady on her feet.
“Hi, Mrs. McDowell, I’m Sheriff Shawn Mobley. Please, um, please know that our entire community is grieving with you and Tucker. Our hearts ache for you, and I want you to know that Owen’s memory will live on in Otero County for many years.”
Lacey smiled and then wiped away a few tears. Throughout the ordeal, she’d appreciated the kindness and love everyone had shown them.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I wish you could’ve known Owen. He was perfect in so many ways.”
Tucker walked toward his mother and provided her a cup of coffee. He’d added just the right amount of cream and sugar. She took a sip and smiled at her son as she mouthed the words thank you.
“Some ladies made you a few pastries. You know, if Dr. Brady approves.”
The door opened wider, and Dr. Brady suddenly appeared with a clipboard, a Styrofoam cup of coffee, and a disapproving look.
“Lacey, just where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he looked her up and down.
“Good morning, Doctor. I’m feeling much better, and there are some things I need to deal with.”
“More important than your health?” he asked, confirming he wasn’t happy with her actions.
“It’s just. Well, I need to breathe. I mean, I need to get out—”
Tucker noticed his mom getting emotional, so he rushed to her side. He hugged her and then helped her sit down.
Dr. Brady set the clipboard on the bed and handed his coffee to Sheriff Mobley, who continued to watch with a concerned look on his face. Dr. Brady approached Lacey and crouched in front of her.
“Lacey, I get it. You wanna run as fast as you can and as far away from here as you can. I don’t blame you. But you’re not a hundred percent yet. I’m talking about mentally and physically.”
Lacey was sobbing. She choked up as she spit out the words. “I feel better. I even dressed myself. I’m fine.”
“You’re still recovering from a dangerous, traumatic injury. Coupled with your loss, it’s premature to be galivanting around. Please consider staying in the hospital one more day.”
“Are you not gonna discharge me?” she asked, wiping away the tears.
He chuckled. “We’re a little short on formalities nowadays. Of course you’re free to go. I’m just concerned for you.”
She began to reel off a litany of things she needed to do, from getting their truck fixed to finding gasoline. Sheriff Mobley stepped in to reassure her.
“Mrs. McDowell—” he began before she interrupted him.
“Lacey.”
“Okay, Lacey. We have your truck right down the street, and it’s repaired. We’ve filled up your fuel cans. The only thing left to do was a suggestion I made to Tucker.”
“What was it?”
“Black & Blue stands out too much for a long trip, Mom. We need to make it look busted up.”
“You want to bust up Owen’s truck?” she asked, causing a few more tears to flow.
Sheriff Mobley quickly replied, “No. No. Not at all. Just a unique paint job to make it less noticeable, that’s all. You can fix it back later.”
She furrowed her brow and then thought for a moment. “I have to bury my husband.”
Dr. Brady and Sheriff Mobley exchanged glances. “Lacey, the ground is frozen solid now. I took the liberty to speak with Curtis Peacock at the funeral home down the street. He has a crematory at their place. It’ll take some creative work with our portable generators, but he said he can help.”