The Fugitive Grandma

Chapter 59 - Death in the Living Room

An hour after she got the call from Mr. Horn at the Santa Ramona Middle School soccer field, Rebecca Little was studying the majestic snow-capped peaks of the San Jacinto mountain range on the postcard discovered in Sabrina Santana’s sports bag. The detective asked the girl some basic questions, but didn’t expect to learn much. Despite the fears of the girl’s father, Rebecca didn’t intend to press charges against her as an accessory. The postcard didn’t really prove anything. Besides, Rebecca was only interested in something that might help her find Johnny and Stella as soon as possible.

Rebecca knew these mountains from childhood, when she camped there as a Girl Scout. She also knew the forest was enormous, with dozens of isolated roads, towns, and campgrounds scattered across hundreds of square miles of wilderness.

The prospect of requesting law enforcement resources to search such a vast area on the basis of a postcard seemed absurd. Even if Johnny and Stella had been hiding in the mountains when the card was sent, they could have easily moved on by now. Rebecca would definitely not ask for any help on this, and certainly not from Captain McCullers, who seemed intent on setting her up for failure no matter what.

Her instincts told her they might still be in the mountains, but she needed something more. And she still believed that someone from the photograph, someone from Stella’s circle of influence, might be able to pinpoint their location.

Once she had the postcard, Rebecca followed a hunch and called Frank Valentine’s mobile number and Millie’s home many times, without getting an answer. She drove to the business hotel where she’d met Frank the night before. The attendant at the front desk told her that he’d checked out first thing that morning.

Circling by Millie’s house again, she saw Frank’s black SUV across the street in the church parking lot. Next to it sat the white Cadillac that she recognized from Elmer Dillinger’s driveway.

Rebecca found the front door of the church unlocked. Once inside, she turned on the lights. The building was quiet and appeared to be empty. She noticed the front rows of pews were knocked out of place and the podium by the altar was overturned. The row of candles and prayer cards next to the altar had been upended and wax had dripped on the carpet. Under one of the pews, Rebecca found a cell phone, which she identified as the silver clamshell model owned by Frank Valentine. Also on the floor, she found a faded Saint Jude prayer card. On its back, the name Stella Valentine was penciled into the name field as the subject of the prayer.

Rebecca drew her gun and darted outside, checking around the fountain, the parked cars, and nearby hedges, until she was satisfied that no one was there.

She saw there were lights on in Millie’s house across the street, dim lights that she hadn’t noticed before. Rebecca crossed the street quickly in a crouched position, using the shadow of the trees and parked cars for cover until she approached Millie’s front door. She heard several muffled voices coming from the back of the house.

She knocked on the front door and identified herself. “I know you’re in there, Ms. Szymanski. I need to talk to you.” When no one answered, she kicked the door open, snapping the bolt and chain lock that held it shut. The living room was empty, illuminated by a small lamp on a table by the sofa. Down the hallway a second light drew her attention, and then Rebecca saw a flash of metal. She quickly dove behind the sofa and gunshots rang out, ripping past her into the doorway.

Rebecca crawled on her stomach across the living room’s shag carpet, shielded from the shooter by the sofa and the lamp stand. Across from the sofa on the far side of the living room was an old RCA television with a twenty-five-inch screen. She waited patiently in her secure position, listening and watching for the shooter to make a move.

Then, there was movement. Reflected in the television screen she saw a figure limping toward her. She could see her own body as well, lying on the floor behind the sofa, and realized that the shooter would have nearly the same view of her.

In a fluid, rapid motion, Rebecca raised up and twisted around toward the shooter, getting a quick look at the tall, gangly man. “Police!” she shouted. “Drop your weapon!” She saw the pistol aimed directly at her head and ducked down as rounds sailed past her, shattering the TV’s screen. Rebecca fired back, hitting the man twice in the chest and knocking him several yards back before he settled in a heap against the baseboard. Rebecca approached and confirmed that the pulse and other vital signs were negative. Up close, she recognized Harry Gibraltar. His eyes remained open in an empty stare, his mouth still in an angry frown.

At the end of the hallway, she found Elmer and Millie sitting on the floor with their hands and legs bound. After removing the ties, she helped them up off the floor so they could sit comfortably on a bed. She brought them each a glass of water from the kitchen.

After confirming that they didn’t need any immediate medical treatment, for either injuries or the shock of the ordeal, she began asking them questions. Elmer and Millie explained everything that had happened that evening in the church. They also told the detective all they knew about where Johnny and Stella had been hiding, and what they planned to do at the distribution center that evening.

Millie was tearful. “You’ve got to find them, Detective! Lester is forcing Frank to lead him to Johnny and Stella. Once Lester finds them, he’ll kill them all. You’re our only hope to stop that from happening.”

By the time Elmer finished describing the route into the mountains to Rebecca, as well as the location of the Great American distribution center, the first responding officers were at the front door, with sirens of backup cars blaring from blocks away. Rebecca left Elmer and Millie with the officers and dashed to her car. She didn’t pause to tell any of the arriving officers where she was headed, and she raced away toward the freeway that led to the mountains.