Page 58 of Trace of Doubt
Not sure I could tackle any more cleaning with the inhaler operating on fumes. Everything in the trailer looked in order, but my approval had a lot to do with the condition of my lungs. Isaac helped Aaron remake the disinfected beds while I browned hamburger and onion and stirred together jalapeño corn bread. Tossed a salad too. After setting the small table, we scrunched around it together. I could hear and feel my labored breathing.
“Your wheezing is worse.” Aaron dug his spoon into the chili.
“I’m all right.”
Isaac spread butter over a hunk of corn bread. “What else can you take?”
“IsaidI’m all right.”
“In the words of Jon Bon Jovi,” Aaron said, “‘There’s a vintage which comes with age and experience.’”
I coughed, and it resembled a train whistle.
Isaac pointed his butter knife at me. “We’re old. Not senile. Your asthma isn’t getting any better. One last time... what do you need to stop a full-blown asthma attack?”
I’d tried not to think about the inability of a drugstore brand relieving the symptoms. Except hiding my gasps for air and wheezing had met the impossible zone. I took a sip of my second cup of herbal tea. “The best solution is an over-the-counter inhaler. I’m sorry. I always have an extra one, except this time. Must have been my concern about my mother.”
“Once we’re finished with dinner, I’m driving into town to get you one from Walmart.” Isaac snapped his fingers. “I’ll call my Teladoc enroute, see if he’ll prescribe something without seeing you.”
“Thanks. But this can wait until morning.” When he held up the butter knife again, I veered from opposing him. “How long will it take?”
“Round trip, oh, about an hour and a half. Probably less. Aaron can handle everything here. He’s a nicer guy than me.”
“You two are angels.”
Aaron laughed. “Does that mean you like my rock music over his country?”
I held up a finger. “Not going there. How about more chili and corn bread?”
A short while later, Isaac rinsed his bowl and fished keys from his jean pocket. He patted his stomach. “Good dinner. I’ll hurry. Text me if you need anything else.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I hugged him. “Thank you for all you’re doing. The asthma is making me all emotional.”
Once he left, Aaron towered over me with his basketball height and ordered me to my bedroom while he washed the few dishes. Propped up in a twin bed, I clutched my chest and thanked God for Isaac and Aaron, two men with fitting names from the Old Testament. From their language and conversation, faith leaned toward an afterthought for them. But they were a blessing to me. I’d texted Denton to check on his part of the plan, but he hadn’t responded. He’d take good care of Joy. Sweet man... The asthma tightened my chest, but still I drifted toward sleep.
A hand shook me. My eyes flew open.
“Get on the floor and stay there,” Aaron said. “We have company.”
“Maybe they’re locals,” I whispered.
“Night-vision goggles show two men, and local folks aren’t armed like these two. Ike’s about thirty minutes out. So are the cops.”
He closed the door, and I lay flat on the floor. The stench of mold with a heavy dose of bleach sent me scrambling for the inhaler. But it was empty, not even fumes helped.
God, help me. Help Aaron.
Unless I calmed myself, my breathing would worsen. Who was out there? Did they think I had access to the money? I hadn’t given up on the stalker driven by Travis’s death, but if that were the case, why hadn’t a contract for my death been issued in prison? These two wanted a payoff now. Listening hard while the silence seemed to roar in my ears, I counted the moments ticking by.
The crack of a gun broke a window.
Aaron returned fire.
A repeating weapon of some sort rippled along the trailer side, shattering glass. Had it penetrated the metal siding? Did the shooters have night-vision goggles too?
Two shots fired from inside. Then another.
Another round of bullets tore into the side of the mobile home.
