Deliver Her from Evil Read online

  “Jack,” I pant. “He’s in the house and planning to kill us both. You have to run, Campbell, get help.”

  “What?’ she exclaims as she runs around to untie my hands. “What is this all about? Why would he want to hurt you? He’s the one who was cheating.”

  As soon she frees my hands, the ease in tension forces my shoulders to heave forward. A warm ache radiates from my muscles. She hustles back around to help me from the chair before pulling her cell phone from her pocket.

  “You don’t understand,” I insist, grabbing the box from the table. “We need to get out of here. We can call the police once we’re in your car.”

  “You really should have listened to her,” I hear Jack say as he reenters the kitchen. “Now there’s nowhere to run.” I spin around, tightly grasping the box in both hands. Jack is standing behind Campbell with his knife held to her throat. She is breathing hard, her neck grazing the blade with every exhale.

  “Put the box back, and use that duct tape to bind her wrists,” he demands.

  I hesitate, unsure of what would be the best way to help my friend. Do I run and get help, trusting that he doesn’t hurt her, or do I comply with the hope she and I can get ourselves out of this mess together?

  “Now,” he yells, digging the knife into her neck, just enough to draw blood.

  “Okay. Okay, Jack. Please don’t hurt her,” I plead, placing the cardboard box down and grabbing the duct tape.

  I slowly spread the tape around her wrists, but my eyes never leave hers. “Don’t,” she mouths as I layer the tape.

  I tear off the piece from the roll and grip it firmly. “I can’t leave you here,” I say quietly.

  Jack throws Campbell to the ground and grabs me to tape my hands together, just like Campbell’s. “You have a chance to get away and you waste it? You are as stupid as I always thought,” he huffs, winding the tape around my wrists and tearing the end from the roll.” He pushes me to the ground next to Cam and pops the lid off of the box.

  Sliding the chair in front of us and taking a seat, he picks through the papers from the box. “No one had to die, you know,” he explains. “I just wanted the money, and then I was going to disappear. But then you two complicated everything. There’s no way around it now, you two can’t exist.”

  “And how do you expect to keep your name away from our deaths?” Campbell pops off. There is no fear in her voice, no hesitation, just a sass I’ve never heard from her before. “I’ve always thought you to be a fairly intelligent man, Jack, but you’re delusional if you think you’ll walk away from this.”

  Jack just laughs as he scatters some of the papers across the table. “You’re right, Campbell. The difficulty is going to be staging it just right. The murder suicide needs to look perfect. But you know what?” he says, tucking the knife into the waist of his jeans and smiling at her.

  We both shake our head.

  “If all else fails, it’s nothing a little house fire can’t cover up.” He doesn’t give us a second thought as he turns toward the kitchen cabinets and begins opening drawers, looking for a lighter.

  Fear completely takes hold of my senses while Cam’s confidence doesn’t waver. She is calm and collected, like she has a plan she just hasn’t filled me in on.

  They say when you have nothing to lose, you’re not afraid of losing. Sitting here, looking at Campbell, I’ve never believed that more. She has no family, no husband, and no children. It’s just her and she’s willing to look death in the face and spit on him, while I sit here frozen in place with everything to lose. My girls need me. I can’t let them be sent away to boarding school or another foster family or group home, yet here I sit…terrified.

  I think the saying is wrong; it’s the fighters like her that always survive.

  Campbell nods toward Jack who is searching through the papers in the box and then quietly slides up the wall. She gathers her bound hands above her head and then quickly forces them down upon her thighs, causing the tape to tear. A grunt escapes her lips and Jack turns to see her pulling the rest of the tape apart and away from her wrists.

  He reaches for his knife as both of them lunge for each other in the middle of the kitchen. Panicked, I stand and attempt to remove the tape the same way Cam did, but it won’t separate. I frantically pull and tug, but they are stuck together.

  Jack throws her against the refrigerator and she struggles against the arm holding the knife. The thud of her back hitting the stainless steel grabs my attention. She can’t hold him off much longer without help.

  As fast as I can, I charge toward them and jump onto Jack’s back, pulling his hair and scratching his face. The three of us crash against the fridge and Campbell lets out a scream. When Jack pulls away from her, she slinks to the floor. I’m entirely focused on Jack, clawing, biting, trying everything I can to hurt him. But he then gains his footing, spins, and flips me over his back onto the table.

  The box flies off and documents fill the air. A shooting pain splinters through my back, and it knocks the wind out of me.

  Coughing, I fall off the table onto the floor where I’m met with Jack’s boots; the steel-toe connects with my rib. The crack followed by the inability to draw a full breath tells me it’s broken. I roll away from him, trying to get away, protect myself as much as possible from any further assault.

  “I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he says, grabbing my hair and forcing me to my feet. Once standing, I see Campbell on the floor, unconscious, with a pool of blood surrounding her.

  Tears fill my eyes as I realize I’m on my own.

  If I want to live, I have to save myself.

  Everything hurts. I’m so battered, but if I don’t act, it won’t matter.

  “I thought I would do this quick, show a little mercy. Not anymore, Car. You’re going to feel every bit of this night,” he rasps, tugging my hair back.

  I try to think as quickly as I can. I’m at such a disadvantage, my hands are still bound, I’m injured, and he’s bigger. There’s no way I can fight my way out this. I have to get out of his grasp and run. I have to get help here for Campbell.

  Jack is keeping me close to his chest, one hand in my hair and the other clutching the knife. He’s moving us backward across the kitchen, as to keep an eye on Campbell.

  I mentally prepare myself to get away. Just before we reach the entry to the kitchen, I bring my foot down to stomp on his instep.

  “What the fuck?” he exclaims, stumbling back. I lace my fingers together and rear my elbow back, landing it in his stomach, knocking him further off balance. He lets go of my hair, but then trips over the box, which had flown off the table.

  I turn to run, but he grabs my shirt and pulls me down with him as he falls to the floor. We land and the metal of the knife scrapes across the hardwood floor.

  It’s my chance. Possibly my last chance.

  Kicking my legs at him as hard as I can to get out of his reach, he finally unhands me and I’m able to roll away from him. I scramble, my elbows and knees pounding on the hardwood with each movement, but my mind blocks the pain, and I stay concentrated on the objective.

  Get the knife and run.

  Get the knife and run.

  He’s crawling, stumbling behind me, my moment of freedom slipping away. His groans and profanities are getting closer, but my panic subsides as adrenaline takes over. I feel the cool metal of the knife in my shaking hands, and I grip it tightly, letting its slick body meld to my skin. It provides a moment of peace, security in a time of chaos.

  Jack grabs my shoulder to force me to my feet, and as I turn, I jab the blade forward. I put every bit of my might, every ounce of energy I have left, into holding that knife.

  His body strains as the blade enters his chest and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever absolution will follow. He inhales deeply as though it will be his last, but I hang onto the blade, I cannot will myself to let go.

  “I won’t let you win,” I scream, tears flowing down my cheek
s.

  He exhales and his body crumples on top of me, crushing me below him. I feel the life drain out of him, and it’s only when he stops breathing that I find the will to breathe again.

  My heart is pounding; my breathing is to point of hyperventilating.

  Jack is dead.

  I’ve killed him; his motionless body on top of me a reminder of that.

  I gain some semblance of my composure and push him off me, the knife still solidly buried in his chest.

  “Oh, my God,” I hear Royce stammer. I look up to see him standing in the living room taking in the bloody scene.

  “Please, call the police,” I choke out.

  He rushes to me and breaks the tape from my wrists. “What the fuck happened here?” he asks, examining me for injuries.

  “I’m okay. This isn’t my blood. Please just call the police.”

  He nods and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He wraps an arm around me and steers me from the living room, but I break away.

  “No. Campbell,” I say adamantly before turning from him and rushing to the kitchen.

  I see her where I left her, propped against the refrigerator and I can’t get to her fast enough. I kneel down next to her and try to shake her awake, but she isn’t moving. Blood has saturated her shirt where the blade penetrated her abdomen.

  I grab a towel from the drawer next to us and press it against her wound to stop the bleeding. Resting my head on her chest, I listen for a breath, a heartbeat, anything that would tell me she’s going to be okay.

  “Please don’t go, Campbell,” I whisper to her. “You’re my family.”

  Lakin

  I don’t know what prompted me to get in my car, something just felt off. Carly is never intrusive or insistent, but her texts were. She was adamant that Campbell come over immediately, and that’s not like her. Something is wrong.

  I was tense when Campbell left for Carly’s house, but when Campbell wouldn’t return any of my texts, and then Carly ignored me as well, I began to worry. Then when a text came in from Royce to get to Carly’s house, I grabbed my keys and headed in the direction of the girls as quickly as I could.

  He wouldn’t tell me what happened, just that I needed to get there, which only made my fear intensify. I don’t even know how long it took to get there; it was like my car floated there. My mind was not focused on the road; my thoughts were devoted only to Campbell.

  When I pull onto the street, the red and blue lights that illuminate the sky only confirm my worry.

  All I can think is that Cam needs me.

  The emergency lights bounce off house windows, blinding me as I park and jump out of my car. There are so many cars and emergency personnel everywhere, I have to leave my car several hundred yards from the house.

  I race down the sidewalk, sending a little prayer with each step that I will find her all right when I reach the house. I go unnoticed by police until I reach the taped off driveway. I duck under the yellow rope and am immediately met by armed officers.

  “Sir, you need to stay behind the tape; this is a crime scene,” the man says matter-of-factly, placing a hand on my chest to stop me.

  “No, I need to get in there,” I insist.

  “Sorry, we are investigating a major incident that occurred here tonight. If you have any information that might be helpful to the case, we have detectives who would like to speak with you, but if not, we need you to stay behind the perimeter.

  My stomach drops when I hear him describe the evening as an incident that would require detectives; it means that my entire world may have just been turned upside-down. The possibility that I might have lost Campbell barrels me over and brings tears to my eyes.

  “The coroner is ready to move the body,” an officer announces out the front door to a group of officers in the driveway. “Can we get a path cleared for the van?”

  My mind becomes dizzy with the possibility of unbearable grief and I struggle to swallow down the knot in my throat.

  Unable to stand there any longer, I rush past the officer and push my way through the other emergency workers. I make it all the way to the front door before a swarm of hands restrain me.

  “Get off me!” I shout. “My wife is in there!” I rage against their grip, but make little progress.

  “Sir, you need to calm down. Who is your wife?” one of the officers asks.

  “Campbell Ryan, where is she? Is she okay?” I ask frantically, straightening my clothes once they release me.

  “The women were transported to the hospital. One was in critical condition when we got here. Paramedics had to do CPR upon arrival. I haven’t heard their current status though,” a detective explains. “Let me get some information for you and I can have an officer escort you to the hospital.”

  I exhale as I bend at the waist and rest my hands on my knees to gain my bearings. “I need to get to her. Just tell me which hospital,” I murmur, trying to catch my breath.

  I called Jen and Vivian on the way to hospital. They bombarded me with questions, but I had no answers for them. All I could offer was a location. I tried calling Royce’s phone, but it continually went straight to voicemail. As soon as I find a parking spot, I storm through the emergency room doors.

  Brooks, Vivian, Casen, and Jen arrive just after I do, and together we flood the nurse’s station to inquire about Campbell and Carly.

  “We need information about two women who were brought here,” Vivian says.

  “What are their names and what is your relationship to the patients?” the nurse asks.

  “Our friends--”

  “My wife,” I say, speaking over the group.

  Everyone’s mouths drop open as they slowly turn in disbelief to stare at me.

  “Campbell Ryan, she is my wife,” I clarify. “Please tell me where I can find her.”

  “Let me just go check if she has been moved yet,” the nurse nods and disappears down the long emergency room hallway.

  “Excuse me? You two are married? As in justice of the peace, for all eternity, make a million babies, married?” Jen rambles.

  When I don’t say anything, Brooks intervenes on my behalf. “He only said that so we could get information,” he tells them. “They won’t release anything to anyone but family. Right?” He looks to me to confirm my lie, but I still say nothing which is met with a deep brotherly dissatisfied expression.

  “You guys! About fucking time!” Royce shouts from down the hallway, gaining the attention of many of the emergency personnel. However, I find his interruption to be greatly appreciated. He waves us toward him, encouraging us to follow him.

  The women rush past me, unfazed by the earlier topic of marriage, but Brooks hangs back.

  “This conversation isn’t over, little brother,” he whispers to me before taking a step to follow his wife and the others. The disappointment in his tone isn’t caused by the fact I’m married to Campbell, but that I kept it a secret from him. I get it, I really do, but I could give two fucks right now. My sole concern is for her and no one else.

  “It’s done, Brooks. We’ve been married since Vegas,” I tell him, causing him to halt his stride. “Campbell wanted to wait until after Jen’s wedding to say anything, but it is what it is. I love her and we are married; get over it.” I try not to insert any prick attitude into my delivery, but with the stress of the situation, I know I’ve failed miserably.

  Brooks shakes his head and carefully examines me. After a long pause, he outstretches his hand. “Well, I guess this is congratulations then.”

  A hint of a small smile breaks through my cold expression, my fear and apprehension, easing. I say nothing, though; I just shake his hand.

  “Now, let’s go make sure your girl is okay,” he says, wrapping an arm around me as we walk down the hall. “By the way, I’m not getting you a wedding present,” he jokes.

  Together we enter the room that Royce leads us to; everyone cramped along the walls around Carly, who’s in the hospital bed. Every piece of
skin that is uncovered is black and blue; she is completely tattered. Her makeup has smeared down her face from the tears she’s shed. But other than the bruises, she thankfully appears okay.

  I search each of the faces, expecting to see Campbell up against the wall with the others, but she’s not here.

  “Where is she?” I ask breathlessly.

  Her eyes bounce down to her blankets, unable to look at me.

  “I’m glad you’re okay, Carly, but where is Campbell?” I say sternly.

  My tempter flares, knowing she is in a hospital room as well, but instead of having her friends and her husband there to comfort her, she’s alone. “Why in the hell is she alone? How dare you all leave her, and expect me to abandon her as well. Where in the fuck is my wife?” I shout.

  Royce walks over and places his hand on my shoulder, attempting to calm my roar. I can hear my heartbeat trying to pound out of my chest. My entire body feels like it’s shaking from the anxiety of the moment.

  “They’re working on her, Lakin,” he says hesitantly.

  “What do you mean?” I can barely get the words out through the constriction in my throat.

  “She has several smaller defensive knife wounds that are easily repairable with sutures, but somehow in the fight she was stabbed badly in the abdomen. She was bleeding internally, so they couldn’t be sure of the damage until they got her into the operating room. She lost a lot of blood, Lakin.”

  I stand motionless, stunned by the news of her status. My heart just ripped into a million tiny pieces and I have no control over whether or not it will be mended. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, staring but unable to say anything. The unease and grief of the situation is palpable.

  Royce clears his throat to break the unyielding silence. “They gave me her things; the nurse said she couldn’t wear jewelry in the operating room,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out her necklace.