Excerpt from Vengeance Is Mine by Sidney W. Frost

Last Updated: 08/29/2010

 Chapter One

I'll never forget the look on her face. It sustained me for months afterwards. Without that memory, I don't know if I could have survived.

It was as if her head was full of laughter and happiness and good feelings that she was trying to hold in but they kept spilling out. Her eyes twinkled, her cheeks puffed out, her mouth, well, her mouth was beautiful. I laughed aloud watching her across the table. She had the day off from her job as a nurse at the Georgetown Hospital so we met at the Outlet Mall in Round Rock, Texas, and sat at one of the outdoor tables at the coffee shop. It was warm, but not uncomfortably hot as it is sometimes around here. I grew up in California and she in Bath England. Texas was too hot for both of us at times.

But not today. It was May 16, two weeks before our wedding day, and I hoped her elation was because we would soon be Sarah and Christopher McCowan.

I had loved Sarah Eason for the past two years and all through that time I never considered a life without her. I loved her even more today. We both had the giggles now, and I still didn’t know what had set her off. "What?"

She took a deep breath, calmed herself, and settled back into her chair as if she had a serious speech to make. "Do you realize that in two weeks and one day we'll be husband and wife?" Her English accent was delicious.

I was right. She had been thinking about the wedding. That gave me a warm feeling, one that I had been experiencing more and more since I had met Sarah. Her accent was stronger when she got excited. I was so lucky to have her and here she was bubbling over about marrying me. It was as if we were meant for each other. I had never loved anyone as much as I loved her, and I had never felt so loved. "I thank God every day for sending me you," I said as I reached across the table and took her hand.

"Wow! Did you see that?" I asked. Our coffee cups splattered to the concrete as I jumped to my feet. For a fleeting moment, I thought I might have overreacted and ruined some good coffee, not to mention two ceramic cups. But no, something was wrong. Everyone around us jumped to their feet as well.

She stood, searching the sky. "It was a helicopter. Low. It almost hit the top of the building. Something's wrong."

I could see that professional look I had seen before when she was at work. I could tell she was concerned about safety of whoever was in that helicopter. The coffee shop was in the center of the mall, and the helicopter flew over us heading south and slightly east. It was out of sight now, but I could hear the sound of the engine. We walked toward the sound without discussing why. Others did the same.

Rat-a-tat-tat. Machine gun fire sounded repeatedly in short bursts. I couldn't see the guns, but I knew what it was from watching the news on television. Sarah looked at me with concern on her face but she kept moving toward the sound of the helicopter and the guns. I thought we should be going the other way. Instead, I went with her back behind the stores. The gunshots continued. A woman ahead of us screamed. Off to our right was a man in a security guard uniform face down on the ground with one arm under his body and the other behind him. The woman who had screamed and others were running toward us, away from the sprawled security guard. Sarah kept going toward the man until I grabbed her arm and dug in my feet.

She turned to me, eyes pleading for me to free her arm. "Chris, I have to help."

I didn't want to let go of her, but her eyes told me it was okay. As soon as I released her arm, she raced away toward the wounded man. Another guard joined her shortly after she got there. They both kneeled next to the wounded man. I could see her checking his wounds.

I looked around trying to find out what was happening. The back doors of an armored vehicle stood ajar. Two or three men in military uniforms passed bags from the armored vehicle to the helicopter. Two others stood guard, each one holding a machine gun. They all had long black beards that, along with the khaki uniforms reminded me of the way Fidel Castro looked.

With martial precision, the men moved together toward the waiting helicopter. The ones with the guns who had been guarding the ones who unloaded the armored vehicle walked backwards, looking left and right as they did.

I felt relieved to see they had what they wanted and were leaving. I walked toward Sarah cautiously, as I watched the men get into the helicopter. There was only one waiting to climb aboard when I saw him point toward Sarah. I jerked my head toward her and saw the unwounded security guard aim his pistol at the helicopter. "No!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Get down, Sarah." I ran toward her as fast as I could move.

I heard the shots and saw Sarah's body jump. The guard's pistol leaped into the air as his body jerked and then fell on Sarah. I kept running. The sound of the helicopter's engine increased and I knew it was leaving the ground.

Please, God, let her be okay. I knew she was shot, but maybe the guard had saved her from serious harm. As I stood over him surveying the situation, I heard the machine gun again, this time from a distance. I felt something slap my right leg and knew immediately what it was. I couldn't think about it now. I moved the guard off Sarah and cradled her in my arms.

There was blood everywhere, but she looked at me and smiled.

"Thank God," I said. "I thought…" I couldn't say it.

Her lips quivered, and I saw blood come out of her mouth. I pulled her closer, not able to look at her pain. When she spoke I could barely hear her. "At least you're okay."

"You'll be okay too." I looked around for EMS. People were coming out of their hiding places. I looked at them and yelled. "We need help over here."

Sarah whispered again. I moved my ear to her mouth. "What?"

"I don't think I'm going to make it."

I moved back to look at her. "No. Don't  say that. You've got to. Just tell me what to do. Do you need a tourniquet? What? Help me."

She pulled me closer so I could hear her weakened voice. "This is God's will. I'll see you again when it's your time. Until then, be happy. Find someone to love you as much as I do."

"No. Don't say that." I looked around. "Please. Someone get us help here. Hurry, please." I relaxed my grip to look into her face once more. She was always beautiful, but now there was something more, something beyond beauty. She smiled at me even though I knew she must be in extreme pain.

"Thank you for loving me," she said.

"No. I thank you…"

She coughed and then cleared her voice. "Your love for me has fulfilled my life."

"No, please," I said. "Don't talk like that. You're in shock. That's all. We'll get help soon."

"Chris," Sarah said. "You have to let me go. I love…"

She sank into my arms and I think I felt her life leave her body.

"No! Please, God, no."

###

I woke up in a hospital bed. Not just any hospital. It was where Sarah worked. Her friends cared for me. They were nice, but I kept wondering if they blamed me for what happened. They probably had a good reason to think it was my fault. After all, I should have kept her away from danger. I should have shielded her from the bullets. I should have died for her.

I didn't know where Sarah was. I knew she was dead, but where did they take her body? We were getting married in two weeks. Surely her family would consult me about the funeral plans. No one, not even her Mum and Dad knew her the way I did.

My nurse told me Sarah had died in my arms as I suspected. She also said there was nothing anyone could have done to save her. I learned I had passed out from loss of blood. My leg was being treated, and the doctor said I'd probably limp for the rest of my life. I didn't care. I would trade both my legs for Sarah's life. I would die for her.

The door opened slowly, and Mom peeked around. "Are you awake?"

"Come on in." I was 31 years old and had been on my own for more than ten years, but I suddenly felt better. "How did you know I was here? I thought you were in Scotland."

"Sarah's mother called. She had our itinerary since we've been talking about the wedding." Her eyes moistened. "I'm so sorry for what happened, dear. Such a terrible, terrible loss. I loved that young lady." She hugged me. The knit sweater she wore felt comforting.

"I know, Mom. Did Dad come?" I needed both my parents. Even though Mom always knew just what to do and say in unusual situations, Dad seemed to know how I felt.

"Yes. He's parking the car. I made him drop me off at the lobby because I couldn't wait to see that you are okay. You are okay, aren't you, Dear?"

"The doctor said I'll need to use crutches for a while. Then I may limp some. He'll probably recommend physical therapy. I don't care about that. I still can't believe what happened. One minute we were talking about the wedding, and the next minute, she was dying in my arms." I couldn't hold back the tears. She held me tight.

"It's okay, dear. Let it out. I understand."

"But, Mom, I should have saved her! I let her die." I was so upset I didn't even care if Dad walked in and saw me crying.

She moved away to look into my face. "That's not what I heard. Not from Ann or the news accounts. You did everything you could to save her. You ran into the gunfire to protect her. You could have been killed." She hugged me again.

My tears subsided, but I could tell she didn't understand what I was saying. "I shouldn't have let her go into the danger. I tried to hold her back, but she pleaded with me to let her go because she was a nurse and could help. I shouldn't have let go. I caused her death." My head was so stopped from crying I could hardly breathe.

She rocked me as if I was a child. It passed through my mind how silly it might look if someone walked in, but it was comforting, and I didn't want her to stop. "You did the right thing. You didn’t know what would happen. Sarah had to make that decision. If you had blocked  her from doing what she felt she had to do, she may have survived, but she may have lost all respect for you."

"I'd rather have her alive and hate me than to have her gone."

"I know, dear," Mom said as she let go of me and sat on the edge of my bed. "But we don't get to make these decisions. God does."

I sat up now with my arms crossed. "God sure messed up this time."

"Now, dear. Don't talk like that."

"I can't believe God would let Sarah die like that. Not Sarah! She is, was, the sweetest person I've ever known."

"We will never understand why bad things happen to good people. We just have to trust God."

"I don't."

"That's normal. But you'll get over it with time." She patted me as if I were a child who didn't understand the mysteries of life. That's probably why I told her what I planned to do. I should've known better.

"I'm going to get revenge, you know." I said it looking square into her eyes. I wanted her to know that I meant what I said. I could see her mental gulp before she responded. She was trying to figure out if I was serious, or else she was trying to think of what to say. Either way, there was a long pause in the conversation as I continued to keep my eyes locked on her.

After what seemed like minutes, but was more likely seconds, she laughed. That wasn't the response I expected. "Of course, you are, dear. You'll get your revenge by not letting this change the way you live your life. I'm sure Sarah would want you to be happy." She walked over to the door and looked out. "Your father was supposed to be here by now. How long does it take to park a car?"

"Mom, I'm serious. They're going to pay for what they did." I tried to sit up, but the pain in my leg flared when I did. "I'm going to track them down and take care of them." I noticed my voice was louder and more steady than it had been since I woke up in the hospital. It felt good talking about shooting the guys who shot Sarah.

Dad walked in wearing the same type of slacks and polo shirt he wore back home in California. He looked me over as if to see if I was okay, then gave me a quick hug. I could tell he was glad to see me, but I could see pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry, son".

She grabbed Dad by the arm, "Oh, dear. Chris must have been hit in the head. He's talking crazy." She was talking to Dad as if I wasn't in the room.

"What do you mean?" Dad looked me over again then turned to Mom.

"He's talking about revenge." She was wringing her hands.

"So?" He looked at me with a slight smile that could have meant he agreed with me.

Mom put her hands on her hips. "So? So? It's crazy. That's what it is." She turned to me, pleading. "Let the police take care of it. That's their job."

"Like that's going to happen. Law enforcement has too much to do as it is. This was an unusual robbery as far as I can tell. The killers are probably long gone by now. The local police don't have the capability to track down killers outside their jurisdiction."

Dad sat on the bed beside me and I took it as a sign he was siding with me against Mom. "He's right, dear. This is a big story now, but it'll be forgotten in a week or so."

She turned her back to us and walked toward the door before she twirled around and pointed a finger at Dad. "Maybe so, but Chris here sure doesn't know how to catch a killer."

"What about that, son? You're a computer science professor same as me. What do we do about law enforcement?" He asked the question as if he hoped I had an answer. He was making fun of me.

I hadn't worked out the how part yet. The what part had just come to me while I was talking to Mom. All I knew was that this was something I had to do. It was impossible for me to live my life until I found the goons who killed Sarah. Even then it may not be possible. Perhaps it wasn't possible for my parents to understand how I felt. Maybe I would have to keep my mission a secret from them. I looked at Dad and tried to tell him what I thought he wanted to hear. "I don't know how to do it, but I'm a researcher. You know how hard it was to get that PhD. If I can do that, I can learn what I need to know to solve this case. I'll use the computer to find them and to track them down. It may take years, but I have to do this."

Dad winked at me before turning to Mom. "See, dear, there's nothing to worry about. Chris isn't doing anything now. He's just talking. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?" She looked down at me and patted my hand, still talking to Dad, not me.

"Yes, ma'am." I felt Dad understood and just wanted to ease her fears, so I went along with him.

She smiled. "You know, dear, Jesus tells us to love our enemies."

"Yes, ma'am." I wanted to tell her how I was going to find and kill my enemies. Of course I couldn't say that to her. Or anyone else probably. I was crazy to think I could catch a gang of sophisticated killers anyway. I wouldn't know where to begin.

"That's a sweet boy." Mom stood and marched toward the door. Well, we better go. I'll check on you tomorrow." She walked toward the door before I could respond. At least she was talking to me again.

Dad didn't move.

"Aren't you coming, dear?" She asked.

"Just a minute, there's something I want to tell Chris."

She stared at Dad in a way I had not seen in years. "You wouldn't dare." I quickly recognized her anger from being around her daily for two decades.

Dad stayed calm even though Mom's voice was piercing. "You go ahead. I'll meet you in the lobby." He turned his back to her and smiled at me.

"Jason, don't you dare tell him what I think you are going to tell him." She paused before making a sound of frustration. "If you do, I don't want to know about it." She walked out of the room.

He sat on the bed next to me. "That's what I do too."

"What?" Maybe it was the medication, but none of the conversation I had just heard made much sense.

"Tell her what she wants to hear." He laughed. "You've got that 'yes, ma'am' down."

I didn't say anything. I was still trying to figure out what set her off.

"You're going after those killers anyway, aren't you, son?"

"Maybe." I still didn't know if I could talk about this with him.

"I thought so. Okay. There's something I need to tell you."

"Is this what made her mad?" Dad and I had been close for as long as I could remember. I couldn't think of anything I didn't know about him.

"Yes. So don't mention this to her. She doesn't like me to talk about it. Okay?" Dad's voice was almost a whisper and he looked around the room as if checking to see if we were alone.

"I won't tell her." I sat up on one elbow to hear him better.

"Around the time you left home, I took a second job doing research work for the federal government. It's secret work." He looked around the room again

"Mom knows, right. Is this what she didn't want you to tell me?"

"I had to tell her. Otherwise, how would I explain the income? She doesn't know exactly what I do, and she doesn't want to know. I suspect the reason she didn't want me telling you now is because she doesn't want you to pursue your idea of finding that gang."

I looked at him in a new way. "What do you do, exactly?"

He ruffled my hair in a way that took me back to grade school. "Nothing you couldn't do. I help the government track down criminals, white-collar crime mostly. It's desk work."

I smoothed my hair back into place. "Really? What else?"

"I'm a hacker too."

"You? You're too old to be a hacker." I knew he was a computer specialist and had been through all the same training I had, but to think that he would break into someone's computer went against everything I had ever believed about him. It made me proud.

He acted as if he was shocked. "What does age have to do with hacking."

I laughed. "Well, it's just something we hear the kids do."

"You and I know more than they do about it." He punched me in the shoulder softly.

"Yeah, but I would never…" Suddenly I thought I shouldn't say never. Not now. To find Sarah's killers I would do more than just break into someone's computer.

"I know what you're thinking." Dad rubbed his hands together the way I do just before I reach for the keyboard. "But criminals have computers too. What I do is look at some of them from time to time. If I find anything interesting, I pass the information on. If not, I don't disturb them."

My arm ached from sitting up so long. I laid back on the pillow to rest. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

"I meant to. It's not the type of thing to talk about in an email or a telephone call."

"I was home last Christmas." Sarah was there too. That was my last Christmas with her, my last trip, the last time my parents saw her. I tried to focus on what Dad was telling me.

"I know, son. I thought about telling you then. I really did. But everyone was having fun and we were getting to know Sarah." His smile suddenly disappeared. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of that."

"That's okay. I was thinking about our time with Sarah back home too. I'm glad you met her before, … you know." Dad hugged me. Every time Sarah came into my thoughts, she took over and it made it hard to think about anything else.

Dad hugged me until I spoke and when he pulled away I could see his eyes were moist. "The secret work doesn't interfere with teaching at Long Beach?" I asked.

"No, I'm still at it. No one there knows about my research work, and I never let one job interfere with the other."

"And your trip to Scotland? Was that for the university or the feds?"

Dad laughed. "Neither. That was for fun."

"Thanks for telling me about it. But, why now?"

"So I can help you catch those killers." He looked at me the same way he did one Christmas long ago when he had given me a new bicycle with all the latest gadgets on it and he wanted to share in my joy when I realized it was mine. I remember wanting a dirt bike, not the fancy one, but I never told him. This time he had a gift I could use.

"What? Are you serious?" I sat up as straight as my bum leg would allow.

His excitement was evident in his eyes as he stood next to the bed. "Of course I'm serious."

I was about to give up on the whole idea of finding the killers because I didn't know how, but now, with Dad's help, it might be possible. "Great."

"I can't promise you we'll find them. It's not my area, but I know people. I'll get the information you need if it's available. That's all I can promise."

"That's more than I had ten minutes ago." My body felt more relaxed. Sarah was gone. All I could do now was settle the score.

"Are you still teaching in that junior college, son?"

"Austin Community College. We don't say junior college anymore. Yes, and I'm proud of it." We had this conversation every time I saw him.

"When are you going to get a real teaching position?"

"I've got a great job."

"I've talked to your professors. With your credentials and their recommendations, you could get a high-paying job anywhere in the country." He looked serious. "Maybe this is the time to move. You know, get away from the memories here."

I loved my memories. That was all I had. All I would ever have. "I do okay here. I feel like I'm making a difference. They let me plan the curriculum, select textbooks, and council the students. I'm writing a text book based on my classroom experiences."

Dad hugged me again before he walked toward the door. "You could do better. Well, can't keep your mother waiting any longer. Love you son. See you tomorrow."

What a surprise to learn that Dad could help me find the killers. Now all I had to do was to learn how to shoot a gun.

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From Vengeance is Mine
By Sidney W. Frost