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Authors: Donnell Ann Bell
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storage unit, but with plans to sell the majority of items come spring, she’d chosen to keep the stuff nearby.
When she caught sight of the box she wanted, dread filled her. Years had passed since Carl had packed it away. In an old microwave container, it sat harmless. Once removed however, whether she used it or not, Mel could be opening the proverbial Pandora’s Box. Steeling her disenfranchised nerves, she wrapped her arms around an old microwave box marked with her husband’s name, then backtracked through the maze she’d created and hurried into the kitchen.
What a fool she’d been. Simon had assured her that in Colorado Springs she and Luke would make a new start; that Drake Maxwell had recanted on his plans for revenge. So, if that were true, why had Lt. Crandall brought up the subject, and why had Simon been adamant that she and Luke keep a low profile?
Fear prickled her spine. She’d discovered the truth. They suspected Drake would come for her.
Mel checked her watch. Practice was over, and most likely the lieutenant had reached the high school by now. Frantic to get this job done, she grabbed a steak knife from the kitchen drawer and sawed through the worn packing tape. Her hands shook as she removed a heavy oaken carrier, then trembled further when she felt for the key Carl had taped to the bottom.
Odd, in the garage she’d been freezing. In the kitchen, sweat trickled from her brow. As she unlocked the box, her heart sank. No longer could she claim to be a law-abiding citizen. By opening it, she’d committed a crime that, if discovered, could send her back to prison. Tucked in gray foam, Carl’s Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum lay exactly as he’d placed it fifteen years before.
“You mean more to me than a chunk of steel,” he’d told her. An honorable man, her husband had respected the law that felons couldn’t keep handguns in their possession. Without a backward glance, he’d locked the powerful weapon away and pulled her close. “We’ll keep it for Luke, give it to him when he’s older.”
The day after their marriage Carl had taken the gun and left it at a friend’s for safekeeping, who, when Carl passed away, promptly returned it to Mel.
Tears welled. “Dear God, Carl, forgive me.” She couldn’t save it for Luke. If Drake Maxwell came anywhere near her or her son, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
The phone rang, and she nearly jabbed herself with the knife. Shaking, she tossed it away from her. It was as though every law enforcement agency in the country had just witnessed her duplicitous act.
Swallowing hard, she answered the phone.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me Luke.”
Why her son felt the need to identify himself, as if anyone else in the world called her Mom, she would never know. It did, however, lessen the tension and brought a smile to her face. “Hey, baby, where are you?”
“We’re through with practice and Matt and Lt. Crandall invited me to dinner. Can I go?”
Mel’s smile faded. With Carl so sick, Luke had chosen to stay by his father’s side and hadn’t hung out with friends. Frankly, with the move to Colorado Springs, he seemed happier than ever. She’d wanted Luke and Matt to remain close, but with Joe’s underhanded interference, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Still, Matt couldn’t help who he was related to, and in her haste to retrieve Carl’s gun, she’d completely overlooked dinner. Luke had to eat, and with nothing prepared, Mel wasn’t thrilled about going out in this weather.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.” She overheard the interfering cop say something in the background. “Lt. Crandall says he’ll grab something for you, too, if you want.”
She gritted her teeth. “Tell him ‘no, thank you.’ You can go, Luke. But not too late, okay?”
“No sweat. Later, Mom.”
No sweat? Mel wiped her damp forehead. Easy for you to say.
She hung up, relocked the box and carried it to her upstairs bedroom. She tucked it on the far side
When she caught sight of the box she wanted, dread filled her. Years had passed since Carl had packed it away. In an old microwave container, it sat harmless. Once removed however, whether she used it or not, Mel could be opening the proverbial Pandora’s Box. Steeling her disenfranchised nerves, she wrapped her arms around an old microwave box marked with her husband’s name, then backtracked through the maze she’d created and hurried into the kitchen.
What a fool she’d been. Simon had assured her that in Colorado Springs she and Luke would make a new start; that Drake Maxwell had recanted on his plans for revenge. So, if that were true, why had Lt. Crandall brought up the subject, and why had Simon been adamant that she and Luke keep a low profile?
Fear prickled her spine. She’d discovered the truth. They suspected Drake would come for her.
Mel checked her watch. Practice was over, and most likely the lieutenant had reached the high school by now. Frantic to get this job done, she grabbed a steak knife from the kitchen drawer and sawed through the worn packing tape. Her hands shook as she removed a heavy oaken carrier, then trembled further when she felt for the key Carl had taped to the bottom.
Odd, in the garage she’d been freezing. In the kitchen, sweat trickled from her brow. As she unlocked the box, her heart sank. No longer could she claim to be a law-abiding citizen. By opening it, she’d committed a crime that, if discovered, could send her back to prison. Tucked in gray foam, Carl’s Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum lay exactly as he’d placed it fifteen years before.
“You mean more to me than a chunk of steel,” he’d told her. An honorable man, her husband had respected the law that felons couldn’t keep handguns in their possession. Without a backward glance, he’d locked the powerful weapon away and pulled her close. “We’ll keep it for Luke, give it to him when he’s older.”
The day after their marriage Carl had taken the gun and left it at a friend’s for safekeeping, who, when Carl passed away, promptly returned it to Mel.
Tears welled. “Dear God, Carl, forgive me.” She couldn’t save it for Luke. If Drake Maxwell came anywhere near her or her son, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
The phone rang, and she nearly jabbed herself with the knife. Shaking, she tossed it away from her. It was as though every law enforcement agency in the country had just witnessed her duplicitous act.
Swallowing hard, she answered the phone.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me Luke.”
Why her son felt the need to identify himself, as if anyone else in the world called her Mom, she would never know. It did, however, lessen the tension and brought a smile to her face. “Hey, baby, where are you?”
“We’re through with practice and Matt and Lt. Crandall invited me to dinner. Can I go?”
Mel’s smile faded. With Carl so sick, Luke had chosen to stay by his father’s side and hadn’t hung out with friends. Frankly, with the move to Colorado Springs, he seemed happier than ever. She’d wanted Luke and Matt to remain close, but with Joe’s underhanded interference, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Still, Matt couldn’t help who he was related to, and in her haste to retrieve Carl’s gun, she’d completely overlooked dinner. Luke had to eat, and with nothing prepared, Mel wasn’t thrilled about going out in this weather.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.” She overheard the interfering cop say something in the background. “Lt. Crandall says he’ll grab something for you, too, if you want.”
She gritted her teeth. “Tell him ‘no, thank you.’ You can go, Luke. But not too late, okay?”
“No sweat. Later, Mom.”
No sweat? Mel wiped her damp forehead. Easy for you to say.
She hung up, relocked the box and carried it to her upstairs bedroom. She tucked it on the far side
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