Spotted
Chapter 18

Copyright© 2020 by Olga Chinka

Slowly I raise my arms in the air. “It’s just me Mrs. Whitmore. Please don’t shoot” my voice is trembling.

“Get on the couch! Both of you!” She snaps, not taking her gaze off me. Mrs. Wheeler stands up and with our arms raised above our heads we slowly make our way into the family room, onto the couch.

“It wasn’t enough that you had to stick your nose into things in the first place, was it? You’re back again making everything worse you little shit.”

“Leave her alone Amy. She is innocent in this. It’s between me and you.” Mrs. Wheeler’s voice is soft but confident.

“Don’t forget about Scott! You couldn’t keep your mouth shut and now my husband is in jail. What am I going to do?” Mrs. Whitmore paces in front of us, waving the gun around as she walks. “First, I get fired, now I have to live as a single woman?”

“Think rationally. If you shoot either one of us, you will go to jail for murder. If you let us go, all you face are fraud charges. We won’t tell anyone about this, will we Rachel?”

“Not a word” I reply quickly.

“Its grand theft, not just fraud Catherine. You would know. You’re the one who threatened to go to the police in the first place when you figured it out!”

“Theft is nothing compared to kidnapping and murder Amy. Think this through. You don’t want to do this.”

Mrs. Whitmore paces in front of us, panicking as she tries to think of her next move. I can see it in her eyes, she’s terrified. Maybe she will let us go. She’s not a killer. But then again, I thought Mr. Whitmore was harmless and he tried to strangle me!

With her hands still in the air, Mrs. Wheeler scoots to the edge of her seat. “Amy. Let us go. I haven’t told the church yet of the theft. Let us go and I won’t tell a soul.”

Mrs. Whitmore stops her pacing and looks at her with disbelief in her eyes.

“At least let the child go. She is innocent in this. It’s me you’re after.”

Mrs. Wheeler glances at me then shakes her head. “No” she whispers as she turns to start her pacing.

From the edge of her seat, quick as a flash Mrs. Wheeler springs up and lunges for the gun. She grabs Mrs. Whitmore’s wrist and tries to pull the gun out of her grasp.

“No!” Mrs. Whitmore screams out in rage. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

I’m frozen in my seat watching it unfold. Mrs. Wheeler trying her best to pry the gun out of her hands, Mrs. Whitmore struggling to pull her arm out of the grasp. Both of them trying to outpower the other.

Suddenly, the sound of the gun discharging pierces the room. Their arms intertwined, the ladies freeze, both looking at each other, eyes wide open in shock. Mrs. Whitmore pushes Mrs. Wheeler off her as Mrs. Wheeler clutches her stomach.

She pulls her hand away from her body and gasps at the sight. Blood drips down her fingertips. Her gaze slowly moves to her stomach which is quickly turning bright red as the fabric absorbs the bleeding.

“What have you done Amy?” she cries out to Mrs. Whitmore who stands frozen in place. Speechless with shock, we watch Mrs. Wheeler take a step forward and collapse onto the carpet.

I jump out of my seat and crouch near her. Cupping her face in my hands, her eyes re closed and peaceful. “Mrs. Wheeler!” I cry out, desperate for her to answer.

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