Chapter Twenty-Five

Sweating Bullets

She has a weapon. That’s all I need to hear. No more sitting. No more waiting. I turn to Emmy, “Please take me to him. I have to be there. I need to know what’s happening.”

“I’ll drive you, Jette. Please let me help,” Adam offers.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough for one night, Adam? If you’d done the right thing when you first found out, we wouldn’t be here. Emmy, Derek and Marcus would still have a job and I would still have ...” I can’t finish that sentence, I can’t finish that thought. The place where that thought leads me is a dark place, and I cannot afford to let myself go there right now. I need to stay positive and hopeful. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forgive Adam if anything happens to Evan.

“Jette, it’s not Adam’s fault that Averee went over the deep end. You can’t possibly blame him for this.” Does Emmy think she can reason with me right now? There is nothing about this situation that can be rationally explained or clarified.

“Really? Watch me.” I snarl. “Are you going to take me or not?” I ask Emmy.

“Of course I am. But what about Evan’s parents? Aren’t they on their way here?” Damn, I forgot about them.

“I’ll call them on the way. They can meet us there. Let’s go.” I can’t wait one more minute. All I can think about is how badly I need to be closer to where he is.

Derek tries to help, too. “Jette, slow down. You didn’t see what it’s like out there. There are all kinds of police cars and news vans in front of Evan’s driveway. They know who you are. You’re not going to make it to Emmy’s car without being mobbed. Let the three of us go with you, too. We can help.”

“What kind of help?”

“Listen, between Marcus, Adam and me, we won’t let one person slow you down or get in your face. We’ll be your wall. They will have to go through us to get to you, and that’s not going to happen.” Derek has a determined look on his face that tells me he means business.

All three men are standing, facing me now, and fiercely nodding their heads in agreement. “Fine. But only if we can leave right now,” I insist. I couldn’t ask for a more loyal and trustworthy group of escorts. I may not like the choices Adam made, but I have no doubt that he will do anything and everything to make sure that nothing else unfortunate happens tonight.

The five of us make our way around to the front of the house. The pandemonium awaiting us cannot be adequately described with words. The moment we turn the corner and step into the driveway, overzealous reporters run straight for me, followed closely behind by their cameramen. There are only five or six of them here, but their aggressive shouting at me makes it seem like there are ten times as many. They all want to know what’s going on inside and if I have any news about Evan. How do they even know this is happening?

The boys do a great job of safely escorting me to Emmy’s car. Adam leads the way, Marcus is on my left flank, and Derek is following behind. Just as promised, they form an impenetrable brick wall.

The five of us squeeze into Emmy’s car, and Emmy takes off like a bullet. Once we’re on our way, I have to ask the question that’s on my mind, “How do you guys think the press found out about this so quickly?”

Marcus replies, “Police scanners, probably. The boardwalk was crawling with reporters and photographers, and as soon as they got wind of this, they all high-tailed it here quicker than you can say ‘SNAFU’.”

“Snafu?” I ask.

“Sorry, that’s military slang for Situation Normal, All Fucked Up,” he explains.

Police scanners are a pretty good assumption. So that means that this is something else I can blame Adam for since he’s the one who called the police. Briefly, the logical part of my brain tries to remind me that I can’t be mad at Adam for not calling the police sooner while at the same time, be mad at him for calling the police now. But I really don’t care.

We’ll be at my house soon, and before we get there, I have to let Evan’s parents know what’s happening. Jill answers the phone on the first ring. She must have her phone in her hand, anxiously waiting for any updates. “Juliette, do you have any news for us?” She sounds as just as worried as I feel.

“Very little. We’re on our way to my house. He’s still there. If I text you my address, can you meet us there?”

“Keep driving. We’re going to Juliette’s house. No, that’s where he is. She’s going to text it to us, John. I don’t know, let me ask.” She’s trying to talk to her husband and me at the same time. “Juliette, dear, is she still there with him?”

“Yes, she is. But the police are there now, Jill. I’m hoping that by the time I get there, this will all be over.” I’m trying to put a positive spin on it for his parents’ sake. They’re driving on the highway, and the last thing we need is for them to have an accident because they are unable to drive safely. I promise to call her again once we get there.

When Emmy approaches my street, I can see the flashing of red and blue lights. As we get closer, I am shocked at the number of emergency vehicles lining the street. There are both police and ambulances here, not to mention numerous news vans. Emmy stops the car halfway down the block from my house.

She barely has the car in park when I throw open the door and jump out. I need to get as close as I can, in the house with them if possible. There’s a police line cordoning off all access to my house, but I don’t care. Evan is in there, and that’s exactly where I need to be, too. Maybe if I run fast enough and hard enough, they won’t be able to stop me.

As I run, I quickly scan for any way through the line. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see an opening. There are a couple of officers talking with their backs to me. I’m nearly certain they haven’t noticed me coming. I give it everything I’ve got and I make a dash for it. All that running on the beach is now paying off. When I reach the yellow tape, I duck under it as swiftly as I can without stopping or slowing. Without missing a beat, I head straight for the front door.

I’m nearly there. Just a few more steps. I reach out to grab the doorknob, when suddenly I feel a pulling. Something is stopping me. There is a pair of strong arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground and taking me away. “No! Evan! Evan! Please!” I scream, but it doesn’t help. I’m being forcibly taken away from the house when I should be inside by now.

I fight furiously to force whoever has his arms around my waist to release me. My arms and legs struggle to find something to make contact with. I immediately stop fighting when I hear a voice thundering from inside the house through the open window. “Get her the fuck out of here. Now!” he shouts.

It’s Evan. He heard me. He knows I’m here. His voice sounds loud and strong. The momentary relief I feel is immediately washed away when I realize I’m no closer to getting to him now than I was an hour ago.

I hear glass breaking inside my house and a female voice shouting. I cannot make out what she’s saying, but she’s definitely angry.

My feet are placed back on solid ground, and I see it’s Adam who was carrying me. “What the hell, Adam? I was almost there.”

“And what, exactly, did you think you were going to do? Run in there and save the day? How? What were you going to do, Jette? Tell me,” he demands.

“I don’t know! But I’ll be damned if I’m going to just sit back and do nothing like you did!” I shout. The truth is, I don’t know what I would have done once I got in there. I guess I was planning to make it up as I go along.

“If you want to help him, get your shit together and calm down. You’re the one who led the police here. It’s your house that he’s holed up in. Let’s find someone in charge and find out what else we can do to help.” Adam grabs me by the hand and drags me towards the police chief’s car.

Adam and I introduce ourselves to the Police Chief, Herbert Bennett. He’s an older man, tall but stocky, with tightly cropped gray hair. His face is strong but kind, with dark eyes that reflect a lifetime of experience and knowledge.

He’s keen to get a better understanding of this situation, so our story is one he is deeply interested in hearing. He listens as we explain in great detail how we got to this point tonight. He peppers us with pointed questions and thoughtful insights.

“It sounds to me like Ms. DeVeau’s initial intention was to cause you distress, Miss Fletcher, and in doing so, make you seem weak and vulnerable in the eyes of Mr. McGuire.” He pauses to let us consider his evaluation of our situation.

“Rather than creating a rift between the two of you, the events seem to have brought out Mr. McGuire’s protective instinct and drawn the two of you closer together.” His observation is remarkably profound, considering the fact that he’s never met any of us before.

“Chief Bennett, can I ask you something?” I request. “Do you have any idea what’s happening now? Why did she suddenly get violent and destructive?”

“I haven’t quite pieced that together yet. Perhaps her lack of success at attaining her personal goals made her increasingly frustrated and desperate. From what I know about her professional success, she’s not accustomed to failure. If she has some sort of a personality disorder, we may be witnessing the beginning of her unraveling.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

He asks us questions about entrances and exits to the house. Adam gives him details about my newly installed security system. He thanks us and asks us to remain close by incase any additional information is needed. We turn to walk away, and I see the Chief immediately make a call, presumably to share his new information.

As we get closer to Emmy, Derek and Marcus, I hear a familiar voice calling to me. It’s a voice that brings me some much-needed comfort. It’s Auggie. I rush into his arms. “Thank God you’re here. I tried to call you. Where were you?”

“Brandon and I were in Atlantic City when Evan called me a little over an hour ago. He said the two of you were leaving the bar and that you were coming home to pick up a few things. He wanted to know if I was going to be home. He sounded a little weird, though, Jepetto.”

“He said he was with me? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but like I said, it was weird. He kept calling you Jette. He never calls you Jette. I’ve only ever heard him call you Juliette. He kept saying ‘Jette and I are coming over to the house’, and ‘Jette wants to pick up a few things’ and ‘Jette was wondering if you’ll be home when we get there’. Isn’t that strange?”

“Oh, Auggie, everything about this night is strange, but I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell him.

“I had a feeling something was wrong. Brandon and I left right away and he dropped me off here. There’s a barricade at the end of the street. He wanted to come, too, but there’s nowhere to park the car. He’s circling the block looking for a place to park. What’s going on? Where’s Evan?”

Once again, I have to recount the entire story, but this time I include Chief Bennett’s take on the situation, too. “Auggie, would you be willing to tell the Chief about Evan’s phone call? I’m not sure if it’s important, but I have a feeling it might help.”

As Auggie and I speak with the chief, I see inspiration spark in his eye. Chief Bennett asks Auggie to clarify something, “So, when Mr. McGuire was in the car with Ms. DeVeau, he referred to her as ‘Jette’, which is Miss Fletcher’s nickname. Are you certain?”

“One hundred percent, sir. Why?” Auggie asks.

“This helps us to understand why Mr. McGuire may have brought her here. If she believes herself to be Miss Fletcher, then bringing her here may have been his way of creating a cognitive dissonance.”

Auggie and I look at each other, shaking our heads. “I’m sorry, Chief, but I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a feeling of discomfort you experience when two different sets of beliefs, or in this case, realities, come into conflict. She has altered her appearance to look like you, changed into a special article of your clothing that was purchased by Mr. McGuire, and has taken on your role as his girlfriend. That’s her fantasy. But being in your house presents her with the reality that this is not her home.”

I am speechless. Auggie asks the Chief the question I’m wresting with, but unable to verbalize. “Sir, are you saying that Averee DeVeau thinks she’s Juliette?”

“Only a medical professional can tell us that, but I do think it’s a very likely scenario,” he explains.

“So, how does that help us, Chief?” I wonder.

“Well, it could complicate things significantly. If Ms. DeVeau begins to realize that her fantasy is in direct conflict with reality, she may become increasingly violent. Please excuse me. I’d like to consult with someone from the Crisis Unit at Jersey Shore Medical Center.” Chief Bennett is back on the phone, and we’re back to square one, helpless bystanders.

We rejoin our friends who have gathered in the middle of the street. Brandon has joined them, too. The retired couple across the street, Roger and Mary, have brought out coffee for all of us. It seems Emmy has made fast friends with them and gave them all the details about our ordeal. I’m actually grateful for the jolt of caffeine. They place lawn chairs for us on their front lawn, and finally, after nearly an hour, it feels good to sit down. Every muscle in my body aches. How much longer can this go on?

Finally, there’s some activity when I see a woman walk up to the front door and engage someone in the house in a conversation. We watch anxiously, hoping that we’ll see the two of them emerge through the front door. Instead, after just a few minutes, we hear shouting and the slamming of a door. The woman walks away, momentarily defeated.

The police are doing a superior job of keeping the news crews at bay. My friends and I are permitted to stay within the barricade, so long as we remain off the property.

My phone rings and it’s Evan’s parents calling. They’re here, but cannot get past the barricade. I tell them to stay in their car while I ask Chief Bennett if they can join us. Without hesitation, he agrees and sends an officer to escort them through the police line.

Physical and mental exhaustion has set in, and I’m afraid that the evening’s events are clearly reflected on my face. Jill takes one look at me and knows immediately the gravity of the situation.

She asks, “Juliette, be honest with us, please. How bad is it? What’s going on?”

“How we got here is a long story, but the end result is that Averee DeVeau is locked in my house with Evan and she’s mentally unstable. She’s got a weapon, although no one will tell us exactly what,” I explain.

“I’d like to speak with someone in charge. Would you please excuse me? Jill, stay here with Juliette. I’ll be right back,” John states. Adam offers to introduce him to the Chief, and the two of them make their way to find him.

Jill joins me and takes a seat on an available lawn chair. I give her some more of the history that brought us here. She knows about my stalker. We shared that with his parents during our Easter visit. But she’s every bit as surprised as we were to learn that it was one of Evan’s former girlfriends to blame.

When John returns, he looks pensive and sullen. He is running his hands through his hair, and I’m immediately reminded of Evan. He is so much like his father. Adam’s face is no better. Whatever the Police Chief has shared with them cannot be good.

Jill rises from her seat when John approaches and asks him for the latest news. “Nothing new, darling. All I know is that the Crisis Unit is here and they are negotiating with both Averee and Evan. But no one will tell me what they’re saying.”

For the next several hours, the nine of us sit around, waiting for the occasional visit from one of the officers who’s been assigned with the task of drip-feeding us useless information.

We watch as the negotiator, whom I’ve nicknamed The Closer because she looks like Kyra Sedgwick, makes numerous trips to the front porch and back. Each time she makes a move towards the house, our hopes rise; and every time she walks away, our hopes are dashed. This roller coaster ride is making me physically sick.

As the sun begins to rise, we are all getting increasingly impatient and frustrated. Just as I’m about ready to demand that something be done, Chief Bennett approaches our small group. We haven’t heard from him in hours. Perhaps things are starting to accelerate.

“We are preparing to send in a tactical team through the rear of the residence. We’re hoping to bring this to an end within the hour. We want you to be prepared. Ms. DeVeau’s delusional thinking is beginning to crack, and we feel the likelihood of a peaceful resolution is dwindling.” He states all of this so matter-of-factly, it takes a full minute for his words to sink in. Men with guns are going to force their way into my home.

Jill and John hold onto each other for comfort. Auggie comes to me, places an arm around my waist, and pulls me close. He whispers in my ear, “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here, Jepetto.”

Derek, Emmy, Marcus and Adam gather around, too. They all mutter words of encouragement, but I cannot hear a word they are saying. All I can hear is the blood rushing through my veins and pounding in my ears.

Without warning or preparation, signs of a conflict begin. The first thing I hear is the violent crashing in of my back door, followed by the loud, territorial barking of Maddy. Shouting ensues, and I notice that the barking has abruptly stopped. Images begin rushing through my mind of my dog being silenced, brutally. I don’t remember telling the police about Maddy. How could I be so irresponsible? They don’t know if she’s a dangerous animal or a gentle family pet. I bury my face in Auggie’s shirt, terrified for what may come next.

Shouting, shattering, and smashing echo into the streets. Then, a rush of medical personnel burst across the lawn and in through the front door. Men and women carrying medical equipment and pushing a gurney hurry into the house.

Time seems to be standing still. A dozen or so men and women have entered, but none have come out. My imagination is running wild. The shouting has stopped and now all we hear is a painful, dreadful silence. We turn to ask the Chief what’s happening, but he’s nowhere to be seen. There is no one to here to tell us anything.

I want to run to the door and force myself inside. I tried that once before and I almost made it. Perhaps Adam and the others sense my intention, because I’m now surrounded by my friends, all trying to comfort me, and one another.

The first to emerge from the house are members of the tactical team. They are dressed in black fatigues, all toting some sort of guns or rifles. I see one man at the rear of the brigade, and he is not carrying a gun, but rather, a rope. Following dutifully behind is Maddy, looking slightly shell-shocked, but no worse for the weather. Unable to speak, I look at Auggie. Not needing a prompt, Auggie goes to collect Maddy for us. Thank God she’s okay.

Next to exit is a medical team, scurrying with a gurney. They are all hovering over their patient, and there is no way we can see who that may be. There are no less than five people attending, and all we can see is a white cloth covering the torso. They seem to be speaking with whoever is lying on the stretcher. I hold my breath, unable to force my lungs to do their job. There is a fifty-fifty chance that the person they are wheeling away is Evan.

Before I can will my legs to move, the patient is loaded into the back of an ambulance that just pulled up. The doors slam shut and off they go, sirens wailing and lights flashing. Gone. No one speaks a word. No one moves.

All of us look at each other, unable to process what’s happening around us. One person came out of the house. We don’t yet know if it’s Evan. Where is the second person? Why hasn’t anyone come over to talk with us? What does all of this mean?

No sooner have the thoughts swirled in my mind, when I see Chief Bennett striding straight towards us. In the short time I’ve known him, his expression has remained stoic, not revealing or indicating any clue as to his true emotions. I would imagine he’s very good at poker.

“Okay,” he begins. “That was Miss DeVeau being taken to Jersey Shore Medical Center. She has received some injuries and has been sedated by the medical team to assist in her transport. Her wounds do not seem to be life threatening.”

It’s Evan’s father who speaks. “And my son? What can you tell me about Evan?” His normally strong and commanding voice is barely above a whisper. He’s scared.

“He’s being checked by the medical team now. He also received some physical injuries, and they are preparing to transport him to Jersey Shore Medical Center as well,” Chief Bennett explains.

My knees feel weak. I don’t know if I can hold myself up any longer. I grab tight onto Auggie. Everything seems to be closing in on me. All I can hear is a ringing in my ears. My vision is starting to narrow. Darkness is closing in. I struggle to keep focused on the front door, waiting for some sign of him, something to hold onto. I barely hear the chief talking anymore. They’re still talking, but I can no longer hear their voices.

Just before my entire field of vision dissolves, I see the front door open. An EMT is holding the door open, waiting for someone to pass through. I force myself to stay alert, maintaining my attention on the events taking place on my front porch. Moving slowly but steadily through the front door, taking one cautious step at a time is Evan! His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and he looks like he’s been through a warzone, but he’s walking on his own two feet.

A new wave of adrenaline shoots through my system, and I bolt away like a freight train, heading straight for him. He’s holding his injured hand gingerly, keeping it elevated. Just as I’m about to crash into him, the EMT steps between us, stopping me. “Slow down,” he says.

“Hey, baby,” Evan looks at me and my heart sings. “Long time, no see.” He’s forcing a smile, I can tell. But I don’t care. He’s here with me, and it’s over.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 805