In the case of the excerpts, maybe hoping that you will like it enough to want to read some more. But then on Friday, I have slipped in something about the act or business of writing.

The last couple of Friday posts are things like Vella and the Story Arc, And on Vocal…, and Sometimes they are Bad. During the same period, the Monday and Wednesday posts were stories like Widow’s Walk, First Date-Again, and an excerpt from The Call.

Of course, there are always a few other treats mixed in, and there have been a few posts announcing book sales, and soon I hope to have a bonus post announcing a new book. But I’ll try to stick mostly to that formula for a while.

But what I would REALLY appreciate is you subscribing. If you subscribe to the free weekly newsletter (goes out Saturday morning around 10am Eastern) you can catch up on the posts, and pick up a FREE ebook called Escape. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m thinking about changing to a new ebook, and subscribers will get that one free, too. I’m also almost ready to offer the ebook up in another format aside from pdf to make it more friendly for Kindle app and device readers.

with a body covered in a sheet.  He peeled the sheet back, revealing her face. 

Melody stepped back.  “Yes… I’m fairly certain that is her.”

Marlow started to slide the body back in.

“Wait, may I take a closer look?”

Melody leaned over and looked at Karie’s body.  She looked at her face… her eyelids.  “Can I pull the sheet down further?”

“I suppose,” Marlow said, hesitantly. 

Melody pulled the sheet down to Karie’s chest, then picked up the side and looked at her hand.  She covered her hand again and went to look at her toes.  She rushed back up and pulled the sheet down a little more. 

“Miss Jenkins?” Phillips said.

“I’m sorry… something isn’t right.”  She pulled the sheet back over the young woman’s body.  “It’s her, Karen Adams, but he did something to her, I think.  Can we talk… somewhere else?”

“Certainly,” Marlow said, leading her from the room again.  “How about my office?” 

As they rode the elevator up to the Detective’s Bullpen, Phillips offered her coffee, which she refused.  When they entered Marlow’s office, he held the chair as he beckoned her to sit down. 

“So, what seems to be the issue, Miss Jenkins?  You said something was wrong.” 

“I’m sorry, Detective Marlow.  Karie and I had gotten our nails done last Saturday.  We were doubling with a guy she knew and his friend, and anyway… we got our nails done.”  Melody held out her hand, showing the detectives her fingernails.  “They were the same color… Karie’s and mine.”

The two men looked at her expectantly.  Both leaned in.  “And?” Marlow said. 

“Hers are a different color.  And they are flawless.”  Melody held her hand up again.  “See these little chips?  And the edges are worn.  Hers weren’t like that.  And her toenails were painted to match… which they weren’t when she left yesterday.”

“You think that means something… the color of her toenails?” Phillips said, raising an eyebrow.

“It is something.  Either she went and got a manicure and pedicure after she was picked up for the date and before she was murdered, or someone gave her one after.  And did you see her make-up?  It was flawless.  Like it was fresh.  Her lipstick didn’t even look like it was blotted.”

“You think the killer put on make-up and did her nails after killing her?”  Marlow asked.

“I saw in the paper that there had been other victims a few years ago.  Is there anything in the file about something similar?” Melody asked. 

“We’ll look into it, Miss Jenkins.  Thank you for coming in to identify her.  I’ll have Detective Phillips drive you home.  If you could also give him the next of kin information for Miss Adams, we would appreciate it.”

Marlow and Phillips both rose.  Melody knew the interview was over and rose as well.  She followed Phillips through the labyrinthine corridors and back out to his car so that he could escort her home. 

***

The knock at the door startled Melody as she sat at the small kitchen table, her dinner and her biology notebook spread out in front of her.  She had a test Monday, and she knew she needed to do really well on it to keep up her grade point average. 

She jumped up and ran to the door.  “Who is it?”

“Miss Jenkins?  I’m Harv Adams, Karie’s father.”

“Oh, my gosh, one second.”

She pulled the chain and unlocked the door.

“Hi Mr. Adams.  Please call me Melody.  I’m so sorry about what happened to Karie.  I only moved in a few months ago, but she was really nice.  It has been devastating.  I can only imagine what you are going through.”

“Thank you, Melody,” he said.  He wore a smile, but she could see the sadness and pain in his eyes.  Eyes that were the same blue as his daughter. 

“Please, come in.  Have a seat.  Would you like anything?  Coffee, a soft drink?”

“No, but thank you, Melody.  I just wanted to talk with you.  I wanted to know if there was anything that the police didn’t tell me.  You knew her… you lived with her.  Maybe something about her boyfriend.”

“I don’t think she really had a boyfriend.  She dated around a little. The last guy she went out with… I think his name was John… they had been out a couple of times, I think, but we doubled the Saturday two weeks ago, and she was with a different young man.”

“I see…  And you didn’t think it was odd that she wasn’t home the next morning?  The police detective told me you didn’t contact them until the night after she was killed.”

“I waitress at the café around the corner, and I usually leave a little before five in the morning.  We almost always see each other around dinner, but especially if she had a date, I would be asleep when she got home and gone before she woke up.”

“I’m sorry, Melody.  I think that came out wrong.  It wouldn’t have made a difference if you’d called them the night before.  I’ve read the full report, and the coroner estimated that she died between nine and midnight.”

“It’s ok, Mr. Adams.  I understand.”  The last thing she wanted to do was tell a grieving father that his daughter regularly didn’t come home until the morning after dates, nor that it wasn’t just one boyfriend with whom she spent the night.  “And then the whole thing with the fingernails and make-up.  That weirded me out.”

“Fingernails and make-up?  That wasn’t in the report.”

“I told them when I went to identify her.  It looked like someone had just done her make-up, and I know that her fingernails and toenails were freshly painted.  They were a different color than when she left for her date.”

“That wasn’t in the report…”

“It might be nothing.  It was just something I noticed.  They said they were going to look into it.  Maybe the other girls were different,” Melody said. 

“May I make a long-distance call, Melody?” 

“Sure.  Please, be my guest.”

Harvey Adams picked up the phone and quickly dialed a long-distance number.  He sat there, drumming on the table as he waited for the answer, clearly a man unaccustomed to waiting. 

“This is Special Agent Harvey Adams, please put me through to Agent Sean Burke.”

…

“Burke, Adams.  I am talking with the young woman that lived with my daughter.  She mentioned a fresh manicure and pedicure on my daughter, and possibly freshly applied make-up.”

…

“Yeah, me too.”

…

“See if there is anything that hits anywhere with that in the description.”

…

“Thank you, Sean.  Yeah, the funeral is tomorrow, here.  I’ll call you in a few days to see what you find out.”

Harv Adams hung up the phone.  He wiped his hand over his face, leaving his eyes closed for a few moments.  When he opened them again, he had to wipe away the tears. 

“I guess you are in the FBI or something?” Melody said. 

“Yes.  Thirty-years.  I mostly teach now, but I used to be a field agent.”

“Please let me know if anything comes of that.  I’d like to know.”

“I will, Melody.  I need to go now, but I hope to see you tomorrow at the funeral.  There won’t be many there.  Just a few family, some close friends.  We’re having a wake in Chicago for her next week.  That’s where most of her friends will be.  This is where she always considered home, though.”

“I’ll be there, Mr. Adams.”

He rose from the couch and Melody gave him a long hug before he wiped his eyes, took a deep breath and headed out of the small apartment. 

***

She picked up a black dress in the morning to wear to the funeral that afternoon.  As he’d said, there were only a few people gathered in the small chapel.  Karie’s mother had passed away a couple of years before from cancer.  Her older brother, her father, her grandmother on her mother’s side, and a couple of cousins were all that were in attendance at the graveside service. 

“I assume you are Miss Jenkins,” Karie’s brother said, approaching her.  “I’m Karl.”

“Melody.”  He shook her offered hand. 

“Thank you for being here, Melody.  You might not know, but what you said to my father yesterday has really brought a change.  I flew out to Quantico to be with him after I heard, and for the last several days, he hadn’t slept or eaten.  Losing Mom was hard on him, and Karie was his favorite.  His little girl, you know?  But then yesterday, I guess you told him about something you saw.  My dad was back.  He has purpose.  Thank you.”

Melody reached out and hugged him.  “If there is anything I can do, Karl, I would love to… Karie was really nice.”

“Let me buy you dinner,” Karl said.  “We can talk about my sister.”

“Sure…  Let me go home and change.”

“I’ll pick you up in half an hour,” Karl said.  “And thank you for everything.” Melody slowly walked back to her car.  She was a little freaked out by Karie’s brother asking her out, basically at his sister’s funeral, but somehow, he’d managed to not sound creepy doing it.  And she thought he was really good-looking, in a bookish sort of way, which also happened to be her type.  Not terribly tall, and with a solid but not stocky build, short hair, glasses and the same pretty blue eyes as his father and sister, Karl Adams was exactly the kind of guy she liked to date.  Oddly, most of the guys that asked her out were more along the jock or partier type. 

Melody walked around looking, an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach.  It wasn’t the first time she’d had a gut-level feeling about something being wrong, and she prayed that she was wrong. 

After looking around the kitchen, she realized that what she really needed was a visit to the grocery store.  It would either be eggs for dinner, or a trek out of the building again.  After slinging eggs all morning, she decided that a trip to the store was in order… and since she had a pocket full of tips, maybe dinner out. 

***

She wasn’t normally a big consumer of newspapers, but as she made her way through the market, she dropped a fresh copy of the afternoon paper into her basket.  She made her way to the front of the store with the few items she needed, and quickly paid the cashier.  Luckily, the rain had stopped, and it was a short walk home. 

After unloading the small supply of groceries, she flopped onto the couch to rest and then start studying.  She hated biology with a passion… but it was a core class she had to get through. 

But before that, she picked up the newspaper. 

Crescent City Killer Strikes Again

That was a headline that grabbed her attention.  She hadn’t even noticed it just below the fold when she had picked the paper up.  Above the fold was a story about the problems at the Franklin National Bank, and how if it failed it would ripple across the economy. 

As she looked through the story that had caught her attention, she noted that a young woman, blonde, early to mid-twenties, had been murdered near Lee Circle.  She had been wearing a rose-colored skirt and ivory blouse and a jacket matching the skirt had been found nearby, but police were searching for a clue as to the woman’s identity.  The murder shared similarities to three other murders that had happened a couple of years prior. 

Melody leapt off the couch and ran into Karie’s room.  She flung open her closet and started digging through her outfits.  Karie had an outfit just like what had been described… and it was eight o’clock and there still hadn’t been word from her.  The skirt and jacket were nowhere to be found.

She ran back to the living room and looked for the article again.  They had a tip line, which she quickly dialed.

“My roommate hasn’t been here since yesterday, and she matches the description of the victim I saw in the paper,” she said to the person manning the phone bank. 

…

“Blonde, twenty-one, blue eyes.  Medium weight, tall… probably five-nine.  The jacket has brass buttons.”

…

“No, sometimes she isn’t at home overnight, but she didn’t take her notebook and she had a class today.”

…

“A little over twenty-four hours…  Yesterday about six.  She left with her boyfriend for dinner.”

…

“No… not really.  John something.  They had only gone out a couple of times.”

…

“Sure,” she finished, giving the detective her address. 

She collapsed back on the couch, worry washing over her like a wave.  She picked the paper back up and carefully read the description.  There had been no mention of the buttons in describing the jacket.  She wondered if it had been held back, the detective she had talked with was very interested in that detail. 

Thirty minutes later she tossed the biology notes back on the table as she was startled by a knock at the door. 

“Who is it?” she said through the door.

“Police, ma’am.  Is this Melody Jenkins?”

“Yes, just a moment.”  She unlocked the door, leaving the chain hooked.  When she glanced out, two men in suits were staring back, one holding his badge up.  “Hang on.”  She closed the door and undid the chain.  “Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” the shorter one said.  “I’m Detective Marlow, and this is Detective Phillips.  We wanted to follow up with you on your missing roommate.”

“It’s the button, isn’t it?” Melody asked, holding the eyes of Detective Marlow. 

“What makes you say that, Miss Jenkins?”

“Because it wasn’t in the paper.  As soon as I read it, I looked through the closet for that jacket.  It wasn’t there.  I had tried to find one just like it… hers was a little big for me… and I couldn’t.  But the way the shiny brass buttons looked… I remembered them.”

“Do you have any photographs of your roommate… Miss Karen Adams?”

“No, but she might have some pictures in her room.  Give me a moment and I can look.  And she goes by Karie.”  Melody walked out of the living room and walked into Karie’s rooms.  She quickly went through her bedside table and found a picture of her that was a few years old.  It was her with her family on vacation. 

When she came back to the living room, the two detectives were seated on the couch.  She handed Marlow the picture.  “There might be more… I think this one is about three years old.  I’m pretty sure that is her family… they were on vacation.”

“Can we keep this, Miss Jenkins?” Phillips asked. 

“If it were mine, I would gladly let you keep it.  I hope all of this is a big mix-up, and Karie walks through the door and rolls her eyes at me having been worried.”

“We understand… if she wasn’t the victim, she could certainly have the photograph back.  We would have no need of it.”

“Then, please… take it.”

“One other thing, Miss Jenkins, could you come with us to look at the victim to see if it is your friend?” Phillips asked. 

“I guess,” Melody replied, nervously. 

As a very quick reminder, Vella is for “episodic fiction.” That means that each individual work will be shorter. Under 5,000 words. There is some speculation that 2,000 to 3,000 words would be ideal. Users will pay per word (in credits) for the stories that they read, and the first three installments will be completely free. After that, the user will buy an installment, and the writer will be paid a percentage of the revenue it generates.

I see a lot of writers thinking about taking an unpublished book and using it for Vella. And that is not a bad idea. Assuming the chapters are of an appropriate length, and there is enough of a hook to push the reader from chapter to chapter, that might work out really well.

There are two issues I see, and the best illustration I can use is the differences between a TV series, a TV mini-series, and a movie.

A novel is much like a movie. There might be some mini-stories, but there is a base story arc, and it is the entirety of the movie. The next thing is that a novel typically has about 75k to 100k words (there are certainly epics that are MUCH longer). Keeping in mind that the first three episodes are free… and that could be 15k words, 15-20% of the book might be free.

A mini-series is somewhat like a movie, but more like an epic novel. It would translate much better to the episodic treatment. The writers have to engage the audience to tune in tomorrow for the next installment. Usually, there is a two hour “intro” to get us hooked on the premise, and invested in the characters (like the three free chapters) and then we have a few nights over a couple of weeks where we invest 10 or 12 hours in the show… much longer than the 2 hour movie. It might be like a 300k to 500k epic. The free 15k word intro is a drop in the bucket.

Then there is the TV show. Every week. Sometimes for a season, other times for a decade.

In a TV show, though, we have several differences. We have the weekly story arc… the episode. We might also have a story that takes the season to unfold. Relationships between the characters may develop over several episodes, or even seasons.

So, we have an overall story arc… like Sam getting home in Quantum Leap. Then, within the episode we have a story arc… like what problem Sam has to solve in order to make the next leap and get closer to home. During the run of the show, there are changes in the relationship between Sam and Al, forming mini-arcs. And the next thing is that each episode teased the next one at the end. We knew where Sam leaped, and the signature line “Oh boy…” told us he had a problem to solve.

I think that the most successful stories on the platform are going to utilize a TV episode model. There will absolutely be stories that will be wildly successful that do not. But the TV episode style could develop into many hundreds of thousands of words, with a miniscule portion of them being “free”. It could go on forever, assuming that the premise is strong. If needed, it could even be divided into seasons, allowing multiple types of story arcs, and making more of it free.

Compared to the 2 hours of a movie, or the 12 hours of a mini-series, the 26 hours run (or more) of a single season of a TV show is huge… and shows that go multiple seasons can produce hundreds of hours of episodes. That would translate into millions of words of the story.

“Listen here, Missy, I don’t know who you think you are, but we are in MY county.  We do things MY way.  I AM the law here.” 

The Sheriff kept his hand resting on the butt of his pistol, menacingly as he glared at Melody.  He had close to a foot in height on her, and an easy hundred pounds.  He kept staring, a smirk on his lips. 

“Sheriff, you don’t want to mess with her.  She’ll drop you to the ground and cuff you with your own cuffs before you even think to call for backup,” Gunny said, still smiling at the baby.

The Sheriff snorted… the glare never leaving his face as he stared down the slender woman.

Melody stared right back up at him.  There was fire in her dark eyes.  Her normally pale skin was red with fury.  She was not one that would be intimidated.  Gunny, standing off to the side, continued to entertain the baby.  Off to Melody’s sides, Ric and Bobby, both in tactical gear again, were standing with their rifles less than casually slung over their shoulders.  They would back Melody if it came to that. 

“I’m gonna take that woman in and book her for attempted murder.  Now, you best get out my way before I come up with half a dozen things to charge you with.  I let you play your little game, out of respect for Wallace Boudry’s parents, but that is over now.”

The Sheriff tried to push past Melody, but she grabbed his gun hand and folded his wrist down and then twisted his arm behind his back.  In her next smooth move, she bumped the back of his knees, driving him to the ground on his stomach.  She swept his cuffs from his belt and cuffed him as he fumed and flailed. 

“Let me tell you how this is gonna go, Sheriff,” Melody said, her sneer coming through her voice loud and clear, “you’re NOT going to charge Lisa Clay Boudry with anything.”

The Sheriff struggled and started to talk.

“Shut up and let me finish,” she replied.  “In fact, she is going to get on our plane and fly away to God knows where.  In the meantime, you can choose to explain what happened to Wallace’s parents.  Wallace has been beating that young woman for months.  She has been admitted to the hospital at least three times for… accidents… that you were supposed to investigate.  And a couple of days ago, Wallace came out here with his hunting rifle, to either kill or seriously injure her.”

“That’s not true,” the Sheriff said, still struggling in his cuffs, ”he was just gonna scare her.”

“So, you knew that a serial abuser was coming out here to illegally use a firearm to commit a crime and you did nothing?” 

“I…”

“In a minute, I’m going to let you out of your cuffs.  You’re going to answer your phone, then you are going to plop your happy ass in your cruiser and drive away.  We are going to collect our medic from the hospital, where I’m told Wallace is in serious but stable condition and expected to recover, and we are going to drive to the airport and fly away. 

“If you choose to charge her, an army of blood sucking ghouls, our lawyers, will descend on this town.  By the time they leave, you… the former Sheriff… will be able to drive by the Lisa Clay Law Enforcement and Public Safety facility in the town square.  Now, Sheriff, do YOU understand how it’s gonna work?” Melody finished. 

She looked over to Bobby, he nodded back, tightening his grip on his rifle.  Melody unsnapped the cuffs from the Sheriff’s wrists, still pinning him down on the ground.  As she held him there, his phone rang. 

Melody let go of him and stood up.  The Sheriff dusted himself off and reached into his pocket for his phone.  He answered it and held it up to his ear.  After saying his name, he just looked around as the voice at the other end talked. 

The Sheriff straightened his uniform and Melody handed him back his cuffs and his key.  He walked back toward his car. 

“You haven’t heard the last of me, Melody Grafton,” he said, as ominously as he could manage.

“Yeah… I have.  You don’t want to take me on.  You aren’t man enough,” Melody shot back. 

She turned and walked over to Lisa. 

“Lisa, you need to come with us.  We’re going to drop you off with a friend.  She’ll get you and your daughter on a new path, ok?”

“I can’t pay you…”

“Dropping that blowhard was enough for me,” Melody replied, smiling. 

“What if he comes after me?”

“You’ll be in a new place with a new name and a new life before long.  He won’t find you unless you go looking for him.  Don’t do that,” Melody said, giving her a hug. 

Gunny, Melody, Lisa and her baby loaded up in one of the Suburbans, while Bobby and Ric loaded into the other.  They headed into town, to the hospital to pick up Patrick, then out to the regional airport to drop off the rentals and fly out.

Three hours later, Lisa and her baby were in a shelter in Atlanta, Melody sitting next to them, Gunny standing nearby.  Instead of tactical gear, he wore a simple pair of jeans and a polo shirt. 

“Hi, Lisa.  Welcome to Maria’s House.  My name is Anna Weber.  You’re safe here.”  She turned to Gunny and Melody, “I’m so glad to see you again,” she said, hugging each of them. 

Melody hugged Lisa, then the baby.  The baby reached for Gunny, wanting him to hold her again.  He took the baby and made a few funny sounds before handing her back to her smiling mother. 

“He’s kind of like a Grizzly Teddy Bear,” Melody said to Lisa with a laugh.  “I trust Anna and you should too.  And if you ask her to call me, day or night, she will.  Ok?”

“Melody, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Have a wonderful life.  Raise that baby.  If you get yourself in a position to help someone else, do it. “

Melody leaned over and hugged her again.  The baby giggled and waved at Gunny as he backed toward the door, laughing and making faces back at the baby.  “Come on ya big toddler,” Melody said, laughing at her husband.

As she got within a couple yards of the front steps, she stopped.  She could see the blinds move a little.  She held her arms out to her sides and slowly turned all the way around.  Her snug fitting jeans and tucked in black t-shirt making her disarmament obvious. 

“I’m not armed, Lisa,” she said loudly enough for the woman inside to hear.  “I’d like to come in and talk with you.”

“Go away!” came the shout from inside. 

“I can’t do that Lisa.  I want to help you… and to do that, I need to talk with you.  Better me than the police”

“Why’zat?” the woman shouted. 

“They are looking to find crimes, Lisa.  I’m looking to prevent them.  Why don’t you let me in.  I’m not here to hurt you.”

The front door cracked open.  Seeing the dark sliver of the inside, Melody slowly walked up the steps and through the front door, holding her hands a little above her waist, keeping them in sight of the woman waiting behind the door.  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.  As she waited, the situation slowly came into focus. 

“Hi Lisa.  My name is Melody.  I want to help you.  Will you let me do that?” she said, finally able to see the other woman. 

“How exactly can you help me?”

“I don’t know yet.  That’s why I wanted to talk with you.  How would you like me to help you?” Melody asked. 

As she looked around, she could see the woman standing in the kitchen doorway with a hunting rifle.  Deeper in the kitchen was a toddler in a highchair scribbling in an activity book for a child that was much older.  To Melody’s right, in the living room, a beaten and bloodied man was tied to a kitchen chair. 

“I just want everyone to go away,” Lisa said, anguish in her voice. 

“I wish I could, Lisa.  Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Lisa was leaning against the doorway, her fatigue evident.  She kept taking her hand off the rifle to wipe her eyes. 

“He was beatin’ me and beatin’ my baby, so I left him.  The bastard came back ta get my baby, and I told him ta go ta hell,” Lisa said.  “I didn’t mean for all this.  I just don’t want him beatin’ my baby.”

“I understand.  But Lisa… it looks like Wallace is hurt pretty bad.  Can we let a medic look at him?”

“I can’t do that, Melody,” Lisa said, sniffling. 

“Lisa, I really want to help you.  And I will.  But if Wallace dies, your little baby won’t have any parents.  He’ll be dead, and you’ll be in jail.  I can try to protect you and see if there is a way to work this out… but if he’s dead, my hands will be tied.  You understand?”

Lisa stared at her for a minute. 

“Why are you here, Melody?”

“I told you… to help you.”

“Who hired you… you said you weren’t a cop.”

“Nobody is paying me, Lisa,” Melody said calmly.  “Wallace’s parents called a friend of mine yesterday when he didn’t come home.  They were worried.  I came to get him… but now that I know about your baby, keeping her safe is the most important thing for me.  More important than Wallace or you, do you understand me, Lisa?”

“Why… why is my baby important?”

“I help people… people that are in trouble.  Especially kids.  Please let me help you and your baby.  Let me get a medic to help Wallace.”

She reluctantly nodded.  Melody slowly backed to the door.  She turned and opened it.  She motioned for Patrick to come to the door.  He already knew from listening to Melody’s comm unit, so he’d stripped off his body armor and weapons. 

With just a small medic kit he walked over to the steps and came up to the door. 

“Hi Lisa.  My name is Patrick and I’m here to help Wallace, ok?  Can I come it to look at him?”

“You have a gun?” Lisa asked. 

“No, but I have a pocketknife in case I have to cut his clothes, see?” he said, holding it in his hand. 

She nodded and Patrick walked inside.  He moved toward Wallace as his eyes adjusted, then gently cut the bonds holding the man to the chair.  He pulled him from the chair and laid him on the dirty floor of the trailer.  He cut away his shirt to look at the gunshot wound in Wallace’s chest. 

“One, his pulse is weak and thready.  He’s lost a lot of blood.  I can slow it down, but he’s gonna need emergency transport and IV fluids,” Patrick said into his radio. 

“Lisa,” Melody said, “it doesn’t look good for Wallace.  We need to get him in an ambulance and to a hospital.  Patrick is talking to our people outside.  Can we take him out there so that we can get him to a hospital?  I’ll stay with you as a hostage if you want.”

Lisa was looking around… at her baby, at her husband, at Melody, then back again. 

“I didn’t want ta kill anyone,” she said after a few minutes.  “Don’t let him die.”

Lisa collapsed to the floor, sobbing into her hands, the rifle clattering to the kitchen floor. 

“Gunny, get a stretcher up here to help Patrick get Wallace out.  No guns,” Melody said into her comms. 

Ric and Bobby came around the shed a moment later, their tactical gear stripped off.  Ric was carrying the stretcher and was first to the door.  He ignored Lisa and the gun and turned toward Patrick and the man he was on the floor with.  Bobby slid around near the unconscious man’s head, while Ric was at his feet.  They slid him over onto the stretcher and gently carried him outside. 

As Melody held Lisa, who was crying uncontrollably, an ambulance pulled up without its siren on.  A moment later, again with no siren, it quickly pulled away. 

“Lisa, why don’t you tell me what happened?” Melody said as she walked over to where the other woman was leaned against the wall. 

She slid the gun away from her and sat down next to her.  Lisa started pouring out everything that had happened to get her to where she was.  They spent a few minutes talking back and forth, Melody asking questions, Lisa answering. 

“Is Wallace gonna die?  Did I kill him?” Lisa said through her tears.

“Lisa, Patrick is the best.  He’s with Wallace and I’ll know everything that happens, ok?  Can we go outside now?” Melody said calmly. 

“Are you gonna arrest me now?” Lisa asked. 

“I told you, I’m not the police.  Do you want to carry your baby out, or me?”

“I’ll carry her,” Lisa said, sniffling again. 

The woman walked over and gently picked her baby girl up from the highchair.  She hugged her tight as she carried her outside, walking behind Melody.  Lisa looked around when she got outside, wondering where the police cars were.  When she didn’t see any, she gave Melody a confused look. 

“Lisa,” Melody said softly as she approached the woman again, “I need to get a look at you… to confirm what you said inside.  Can my husband hold your baby?” She pointed to the big man with the burly red beard. 

“I… I guess,” Lisa replied, unease in her voice.

“Lisa, we’re not going to take your little girl away.  His name is Will, but everyone calls him Gunny.  He’ll keep your baby safe.  Trust me.”

Lisa handed her baby over to Gunny.  He started bouncing the little girl and had her laughing and squealing before Lisa and Melody could walk away.  Melody led Lisa around to the side of the shed, away from the guys on the team and asked her to lift her shirt.  Lisa complied, showing her to scrapes, scars and bruises she had all over. 

As they came back around the Sheriff’s car came rolling up to the fence around the mobile home’s yard.  The Sheriff stepped from his car, a tall man made even taller by the Stetson he set on top of his head as he cleared the car.  He rested his hand on his sidearm and made his way toward Gunny, who was bouncing the baby. 

“I’ll take over from here,” the Sheriff said, reaching for the baby.