She Tries To Forget Ch. 22

Martin braked, flipped on his turn signal, and steered his car into the driveway of the house where he knew, his daughter, her fiancée, and possibly other officers, were waiting. As he turned into the driveway, the black car, which Greg Atkinson had confirmed was registered to Mark Lewis, slowed down behind him.

He drove up the long driveway and saw that the garage door was open, and that Melissa's car was in the garage. He shut off his car and got out. A quick glance toward the highway told him Lewis was still there, and that Greg Atkinson's truck was there, too, some distance behind Lewis. Then he started to walk around his car, as if he were going into the house. He reached inside his coat, slipped out his gun, and held it under his jacket.

"Hey, Ash Man," a soft voice said from inside the garage.

"Gotcha," Martin replied, recognizing his son's voice. He wasn't disappointed Martin, Jr. was there. He'd have been surprised if he wasn't. Then the breezeway door opened and Ann and Melissa walked out. The fact that Ann was there did surprise him.

"Hi, Dad," Melissa said, starting toward him.

"Hello, Martin," Ann said. She started toward him, too.

Melissa walked over and gave her father a one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek. Ann hugged and kissed him, too. Then they heard the sound of a roaring engine. The three people turned in time to see Mark Lewis' car racing down the driveway toward them.

"Be cool! Hold your positions!" Martin yelled, tensing up. He flipped the safety off his gun with his thumb. With his free hand, he pushed Ann behind him.

Mark Lewis's car screeched to a halt inches from the back of Martin's car and the wild-eyed man emerged. He lifted his hand and the three people standing in front of the house realized he had a gun in it.

"Now, Dad?" Melissa whispered.

"Not yet," Martin replied. He kept his gaze focused on the man who'd gotten out of the car. "We've been expecting you, Mr. Lewis," he said evenly. "Why don't you put your gun down before you get hurt?"

"I'm going to kill all of you!" Mark Lewis screamed. "You're all dead!"

"Why would you want to do something like that, Mr. Lewis?" Martin asked.

Ann stood behind Martin, stunned and amazed by what she saw happening. How could Martin be so cool? Couldn't he see how crazy Mark Lewis was?

"Because...because...she's mine!" Mark screamed. "If...if I can't have her...nobody else will!"

"Calm down, Mr. Lewis," Martin said. "Are you referring to Ann Wallin by any chance?"

"Who the fuck do you think I'm fucking referring to?" the crazed man screamed. "What are you, fucking stupid?"

"Mr. Lewis," Martin continued, "Since you say you're going to kill us anyhow, would you mind telling me something?" His eyes were locked on the man with the gun, but his peripheral vision showed him that Greg Atkinson, and three other police officers, had pulled into the driveway and had taken up safe positions behind their vehicles. Lewis was so focused on the people in front of the house he hadn't heard the other police officers arrive.

"What do you want to know?" Lewis yelled. He was confused. The man should be scared. All of them should be. He was going to kill them. But only Ann looked scared. Ann's neighbor and the red-haired young woman standing next to Ann were watching him carefully and didn't look scared at all.

"What did you do to Lonnie Ames?" Martin asked.

Lewis emitted the weirdest laugh any of the people there had ever heard. "I fixed his ass good," he replied. "I set him up to get busted and fired from the store. That wasn't enough, though. I really got him last night."

"Did you run him off the road last night, Mr. Lewis?" Martin asked. "Is that what you did?"

The eerie cackle erupted from Lewis again. "Yeah, I sure as hell did," he said, "Up on Route 11. You shoulda heard what it sounded like when that old junk truck of his rolled down that bank."

Martin heard Ann emit a soft moan. "Now!" he said, and pulled his gun out from under his coat.

"Ann! Down!" Melissa yelled. She raised her gun, too.

Ann dropped to the ground and laid there, trembling with fear.

"Mark Lewis, you're under arrest!" Martin said, his voice resonant with authority. "Drop the gun and get on the ground!"

"Noooooo!" Lewis yelled. He didn't know what was happening. Who were these people? Why did they have guns? He saw a bulky man in a tan uniform step out of the house.

"State Patrol, Lewis," Bill Wilson yelled, pointing his gun at the man. "Drop the gun and get on the ground!"

"Nooooo!" Mark Lewis yelled again. This wasn't the way this was supposed to be! He saw motion in the garage and realized there was a uniformed man in there, too. He had a gun, just like the others. What was happening here? Where had all these cops come from?

"Drop the gun! Get on the ground!" Bill yelled again.

"You can't do this!" Lewis yelled. He looked around. Where was Ann?

"On the ground! Drop the gun!"

Lewis started to turn. The last command had come from behind him. Were there more police officers there? He was trapped! He'd admitted what he'd done to Lonnie to the police. He'd go to jail! "Nooooo! You won't do this to me!" he screamed. He turned and his eyes fell on Ann's neighbor. It was all his fault! He must have set this up! He tightened his finger on the trigger. Even if he was killed, he'd at least keep Ann from being with her neighbor!

Martin, Jr. saw the man's finger tightening no the trigger. "He's gonna shoot!" he yelled, and squeezed the trigger on his riot gun.

Lying on the ground, Ann heard Mark Lewis' wild ranting and the police officers yelling at him to drop his gun and get on the ground. Then, suddenly, a series of loud explosions made her jump and she realized the officers were shooting. The clamor of shots seemed to last forever, but probably only took seconds, then, suddenly, there was silence.

"Melissa, get Ann inside!" Martin yelled. Holding their guns steady on the downed Mark Lewis, he and Bill started to carefully advance toward the spot where they had last seen the madman. He could see his son emerging from the garage, too, moving in the same direction. Marty was still holding his shotgun to his shoulder.

Melissa helped Ann to her feet and ushered her back into the breezeway. "What...what's happening?" she asked the girl. "Is...is anyone hurt? Is...is Martin all right?"

"Dad's fine," Melissa said, her voice quavering. "That Lewis guy went down."

"Is...is he...is he..." Ann stammered.

"Probably," Melissa replied.

"608 to Lincoln," Bill Wilson said into his portable radio as they approached the fallen suspect, "We have shots fired. The suspect is down. Respond an ambulance, a commander, and Investigative Services Division."

"Copy, 608," the dispatcher replied. "You have shots fired, a suspect down. You want an ambulance, a commander, and ISD. Any officers hurt?"

"Negative," Bill replied. "Just the bad guy."

Mark Lewis lay on the ground next to his car in a widening pool of blood. Marty Flannigan kicked the gun away from the man's lifeless hand while Martin bent down and felt for a pulse in the man's neck. He looked up at the officers standing in a circle around him and shook his head, then he stood up and shoved his pistol back into his shoulder holster. The other officers started holstering their guns, too.

"Cuff him anyhow, Marty," Bill said. That was State Patrol policy. It might look weird to outsiders for officers to be handcuffing a dead man, but more than one officer had been injured by suspects they thought were disabled, even dead.

While his son clamped handcuffs on Mark Lewis's lifeless wrists, Martin turned and started toward the house.

When Martin walked into the breezeway, Ann ran into his arms and hugged him fiercely. "Is...is...Mark...is he...?" she stammered.

"He'll never bother you again," Martin said. He looked at his daughter. "How are you, honey?"

"I guess I'll be OK," Melissa replied. "I...I never fired my gun at anyone before."

"Me, either," Martin replied. "We'll talk about it some more once the investigation's done, OK?"

"I think the department's got some kind of protocol for stuff like this," Melissa said, "the Patrol does, I know."

"Martin...Mark...he...he said something about running Lonnie off the road," Ann murmured. "What...what was that all about?"

"Sometime last night, he forced the boy off Route 11 just outside Jamestown," Martin said. "That's why I was coming up here today...to tell you."

"Lonnie, how...how is he?" Ann asked, once more in the grip of cold fear. She had to know how badly being her friend had damaged Lonnie, even though she dreaded knowing.

"He's in a coma in the Trauma Center, in critical condition," Martin said. "They got him out of the truck and to the hospital just in time."

"Is...is he going to be all right?" Ann asked, as tears ran down her cheeks.

"I don't know," Martin said. "When I left the hospital this morning, the doctor told me they'd know for sure in twenty-four hours."

"Martin, can...can you take me back to...to Jamestown so...so I-I can...can see him?" Ann sobbed.

"Sure," Martin replied, experiencing disappointment. Maybe he was being foolish feeling about Ann the way he did. "It may be a while, though. We're going to have to answer a lot of questions from a lot of people first. It's always a mess when there's a police-involved shooting. Even if it's a good one."

"Dad, you and I need to talk," Melissa said. She saw the sad look that formed on her father's face when Ann asked him to take her to Jamestown to see Lonnie. She and her father were close enough so she knew exactly what he was thinking, and she had to let him know he was wrong. He needed someone like Ann, and even more important, Ann needed him, even though she wasn't willing to admit that yet. "I'm going to get Marty to come in and stay with Ann, then you and I are going to take a walk and have a little talk."

"Honey, can't this wait?" Martin asked. "We...we can talk after all this has settled down."

"We're going to talk now," Melissa said firmly. "I don't think this can wait." She went outside and sent her brother in. After she did that, she told Bill she and her Dad were going to take a little walk and would be back in time to talk with the ISD investigators.

Martin came out of the house, walked over to his daughter, and they started down the driveway. "What's so important it can't wait?" he asked. "Is this about what just happened?"

"No," Melissa said. "It's about Ann. And you."

"What about Ann?" Martin asked.

"There are some things about her you need to know," Melissa said. "She isn't about to tell you, so I guess I better."

"What?" her father asked.

"Well..." Melissa began, "she and I were up most of last night talking, and she told me..."