Ch29

Natalie gathered all her strength and threw her body over the glossy images, desperately reaching for the gun. The wooden handle felt cool against her skin as she grasped it tightly between her hands.

Several alarmed gasps escaped from the shocked crowd as she struggled to steady herself against the overwhelming blackness that threatened to consume her. She was aware of every eye watching her and several voices speaking at once, but what were they saying? Why was it so difficult to piece together the syllables? Were they . . . laughing at her?

Natalie gripped the revolver tightly and held it out front, her arms stretched before her. Her heavy-lidded eyes blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the mangled forms dancing before her. Her father and Ashton . . . her sister . . . stood nearby, their wide eyes staring back in horror. The beautiful supermodel and the boy with the curly brown hair cautiously watching her every move. But their names . . . they were escaping her. Why couldn't she remember their names? And Brooks—her Brooks—with some blonde she knew she'd seen before, clinging protectively to his side. Why was he always with someone else? Why was he never with her? She glanced at him now—was that pity she saw flashing in his sapphire eyes?

He's such a pig! They're all pigs!

"Natalie," she heard her father say, the sound of his voice ringing loudly in her ears. It felt as if a freight train were suddenly closing in around her. She didn't want him to talk to her, not ever again. Not after what he'd done to her poor mother. The betrayal. How would she ever get passed it? Had her mother known of his indiscretions? Had she been able to put it behind her before she had died? "Put the gun down," she heard him say.

"No," she screamed back. "How could you? How could you cheat on my mother?"

"Natalie, it's not that simple . . ." he said, his voice trailing off in hesitation. "Things were different back then. Your mother and I, we-"

"Stop, I don't want to hear it!" she screamed incredulously, shaking her head. "I'm done with you. You can't control me anymore!"

Even though her eyes failed to focus, Natalie sensed him slowly moving closer. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to help you. Now I need you to help me," he answered, but his words seemed forced . . . untrue. "Please, Natalie, hand me the gun." Gradually, he reached out his hand, but she ignored his request.

"You do try to control me, you always have. But I no longer need you, Father." And with that realization, everything became clear and she knew what she needed to do. A sudden vitality took over, and all the pent-up anxiety finally washed away. The contorted faces began to come together, the noises no longer muffled.

Her dark eyes deliberately made their way to each frightened face standing inside the gloomy room. They were paying attention to her now, weren't they? Finally, all eyes were on her! And all it had taken was a gun to get them to listen. "You ruined my career," she began slowly, carefully enunciating each word. "All I ever wanted was to be an actress, and finally I was. I was forced to grow up in a home with a glamorous mother and distinguished family friends, each one more beautiful than the last. I watched them move in and out of our lives, all those famous faces. The parties, the award shows . . . But I lived in their shadows. Do you know how much I admired them? How much I wanted to be just like them? Paradise Cove was a dream-come-true for me, but it wasn't enough for you, was it? You, with all your greedy plans and ideas!" she spat, taking turns locking eyes with every single person in attendance. The thrill of finally having center stage raced through her veins, and she took her time, meticulously pointing the weapon at each individual as she spoke. The sensation left her lightheaded with power.

"You weren't happy. You needed more." Natalie felt her face recoil with anger as her vision fixed on each face. God, how she hated them. Every single one of them! If only she could take their pictures now, that way she'd be able to savor the moment later, when everything was quiet. When she was back in the safety of her own apartment, far away from her father and the people he chose to entertain. "More money, more fame. You let it all go to your filthy heads! And you," she accused, her gaze landing firmly on Oliver. "What kind of parent are you? All the money and power in the world and still you couldn't manage to help make my dreams come true, all you cared about was yourself. All these years you've known what I've wanted, and you had every chance to make it happen but you refused. I just wanted the opportunity to prove myself, to show everyone I could make it on my own, but you didn't believe in me. You've never believed in me," she gasped, her breath catching with her final words.

"Of course, I believe in you, Natalie. I always have. That's why I wanted you here today, to work as my partner."

"That's not true," she countered, her voice rising with agitation. "The only reason you want me to work with you is because you don't want me to be in your stupid movie! You're trying to pacify me with your pathetic lies."

"Nat, I want you to work alongside me. I do," he insisted, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice. He didn't really want her there, he was ashamed of her. He'd always been ashamed of her. "All the experience you're gaining from working on that television show you'll be able to put to good use here. Finally, we can be a team, father and daughter, just like we were meant to-"

"I was fired from that job, Father. I guess I wasn't very good at that either. I've never been quite as good as all of your other daughters," she stated with an ill-humored snort. "But you know what I am good at?" she asked, turning her attention toward Ashton. "Taking pictures. I bet you didn't know that, did you?" Her dark eyes dropped to the images on the floor.

The expression on the redhead's face fell as she finally took in the contents of the bag that lay scattered, and Natalie watched as a slow understanding deepened within her emerald eyes.

"You did that?" Ashton asked, dragging her eyes away from the photographs. "You took those pictures?" She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle. "Why would you do that, do you know what you've done? Do you even care that you could have ruined careers . . . or lives?" Without warning, Ashton lunged toward Natalie catching her off guard. "You're crazy!" she screamed, her voice dripping with contempt.

Natalie pushed the gun forward, pointing it directly in front of her.

"Ashton—stop!" someone else cried out. But before Natalie could control the impulse, her finger pressed instinctively over the metal trigger.

A deafening noise pierced throughout the room, reverberating around the small gathering. Natalie stared in horror as Juliana fell to the floor, blood pouring out from a hole near the top of her chest.

"No!" Ashton dropped to her knees, cradling Juliana's head in her lap, an incoherent sob falling from her lips.

Natalie's heart thundered in her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Natalie," she heard her father gasp. "What have you done?"

What had she done? Her eyes darted erratically around the room as she struggled to make sense of the situation. The images before her blurred once again and seemed to be closing in around her. What's going on?

The noise in the room grew louder, making it impossible to hear her own thoughts. "I'm pressing the panic button," she heard someone shout, but couldn't quite understand the meaning. Natalie saw a slight figure retreat, leaving her with a feeling of dread. She raised the gun again and took a shot at the dissipating shape, causing a second explosion to crash throughout the room.

The freight train was back and rumbled loudly, spinning around her head at an alarming rate of speed. Natalie pressed her hands tightly to her ears, feeling the new warmth of the gun as it pushed against her pulsating temple. What is that noise? Make it stop! In the distance, she could make out another figure rushing toward her. Without thinking, Natalie aimed the pistol once more and positioned her finger over the trigger, releasing yet another round. The silhouette dropped to the floor, just like the others.

Natalie let out a defeated wail and fell to her knees. What have I done? She covered her eyes trying to block out the chaos around her. She'd killed once before and now she'd done it again. Three more lives lost by her own hand. But why? How had things gone so horribly wrong? How had they slipped out of control? She lowered her hands as her eyes wandered around the large room, not entirely aware of the images before her. The house she had grown up in was now tainted with the blood of pigs. Dirty, it's so dirty . . . There were no more cries, no more shapes moving about. It was just her. Alone. Just as she'd always been.

Natalie took a jagged breath before closing her eyes and turning the gun on herself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A storm of people rushed in and out, catering to the massacre that had taken place.

Chaos . . . Blood . . . Sobbing . . . Police.

Four gunshot victims, at least one of them dead.

A Point Dume mansion get-together, on the coast of Malibu, some of the most famous young celebrities in attendance.

What had taken place? What in the world had gone so terribly wrong?

It'd been years since the police chief had seen such a heinous crime. These types of things just didn't happen in such an affluent area—which is exactly why he'd decided to set up residence nearly ten years before, no matter how outrageous the rent. People were respectable there, upstanding. There was no room for such violence in the prestigious California community. He'd seen enough of that on the filthy streets of Hollywood.

How would he break the news to his teenage daughter? The heart-throb whose pictures adorned her bedroom wall, struggling to breathe, choking on his own blood. A bullet plunged deep into his lung.

The supermodel that may not survive the wound lingering dangerously close to her heart.

The Hollywood icon who may never walk again, that is, if he even made it out alive.

And a troubled daughter, the gun still in her hand, staring wide-eyed yet unseeing toward the nightmare she had caused.

Chief Charles Wittenmeyer had a nagging suspicion this was going to turn into a long shift. These were the kind of days that made him want to crawl right back into bed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Miller stared at the happenings taking place around him in a state of shock. Everything had happened so quickly, it was difficult to make sense of it all. The deafening sound of gunfire still rang out in his ears as he watched the medical team rush around, tending to the wounded—his friends.

God, if he could just go back in time and see what was about to take place, maybe he could have stopped the destruction from occurring! Maybe he could have saved Juliana, Oliver and Brooks from the suffering they were going through right now at the hands of a mad woman.

What had Natalie McGee been thinking? First with the pictures and then with the unjustified acts of violence? What in the world had gotten into her?

It didn't matter now, the damage was done, and she wasn't even around to take the blame. No, she'd taken the easy way out, there would be no consequences for her to endure. No punishment for the lives she'd tried to ruin. But the pandemonium she had left in her wake would surely linger for quite some time, effecting everyone he cared about most.

How would they get through this nightmare? Would they ever be able to pick up the shattered pieces and move on?

In the middle of the commotion, a phone began to ring excessively, adding to the noise and unsettling disarray. God, would someone answer that? The annoying alarm continued to buzz, offending his ears with it's relentless clatter.

"Miller," came an uneven voice. "It's your cell phone." Miller looked up into Anna's reddened eyes, puffy from crying. He crinkled his eyebrows, not quite understanding what she meant until finally he was able to make sense of her words. By then the ringing had stopped, only to start up again a moment later.

He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his cell. "Hello?" he spoke into it, not even recognizing the sound of his own voice.

"Hello, is this Miller Bradley?" came an unfamiliar tone.

"Hmmm," he responded numbly, wondering if it were a dream. The voice sounded muffled, far away, and for a second Miller imagined it had all been a nightmare.

"Mr. Bradley?" the voice asked urgently. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The desperate sound of the caller on the other end finally brought Miller crashing back to reality.

"Um, yes, I can hear you."

"Mr. Bradley, I regret to inform you that there's been an accident."

There's been an accident, the words repeated slowly in his head. Of course there'd been an accident, he had seen it all take place! "Yes, I know. I'm here right now."

"You're in the car?" The confusion from the other end was evident, yet Miller felt annoyed by the conversation taking place.

"In the car?" he repeated, irritation creeping into his voice. "No, I'm at the house."

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir. I'm calling about the car accident. My name is Doctor Alexander, I'm calling from Los Angeles County Memorial. You appear to be the emergency contact of an accident victim that was recently brought into the Emergency Room by the name of Claire Ryan."

Claire? In an accident? That was impossible, Claire was at home, waiting for him to return. "I think you must be mistaken, Doctor. Claire is at home right now. She's not been feeling well."

"Mr. Bradley," the doctor began, "I'm afraid there is no mistake. Ms. Ryan was brought in to us a couple of hours ago. She's been in a very serious accident and has sustained severe injuries. We have her stabilized at the moment, but honestly it's touch and go. I think you need to get here as quickly as you can. Her blood pressure has already bottomed out twice and the situation is very precarious. Do you understand?"

Miller shook his head, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Claire was at home—wasn't she?

"Mr. Bradley, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Please get here immediately, the outcome is uncertain at this point. If Ms. Ryan is able to make it through surgery, she's going to need you with her. I'm not sure we'll be able to save the baby."

Will Claire and the baby survive? What about the rest of the gang? Find out in Chapter 30!

Hello, and thank you for reading Fast Lane! If you liked this chapter I ask that you please consider leaving a vote/comment, I love to hear your thoughts!

(Chapter 29 approx. 2,556 words.)