Chapter 6: Confrontations

Day 25, Monday

“Take care, Joey. It’s been real and it’s been fun, but it ain’t been real fun.” Johnnie Watson was getting ready to head home.

Joe Weinstein flipped his friend a middle finger. “Johnnie, take this to heart. Go fuck yourself.”

“At least I don’t have to sleep with dead animals.”

“Sure about that? What’s Melanie like in the sack?”

“Like nothing you’ll ever experience. You’d do better dating one of your dad’s friends in the basement.”

“I am going to go to a college so far away I will never have to come home.”

Johnnie laughed. “Thanks for the weekend. I need to get out of here.”

Johnnie grabbed the gym bag he had used for the weekend and went out to his Mini Cooper. It was less than ten minutes to Watson Manor. He parked and let himself in through the front door. He went upstairs and dumped out his bag on the bed, and then began sorting through it. Some went in the hamper, and some got put away, and some just got chucked in the closet. Then he went back downstairs. Time for a snack before everybody got home.

A large man was standing in the foyer. Johnnie asked, “Who are you and what are you doing in our house?”

“What’s your name?” asked Roger Drebin. He had seen the Mini Cooper come up the driveway and decided it was the perfect moment to find Jacqui Watson. No cops were around, so he went up the driveway and walked in the front door.

“Who the fuck are you? Get out of here!”

Roger pulled a gun out of his pocket. He had taken it from the Reedling house while searching it. He didn’t know much about guns other than what he had seen on television, but it didn’t matter. You pulled the trigger and it fired. What more was there to know? “I asked for your name. You want me to get angry? You won’t like it when I get angry.” He had heard that once on a rerun of an old television show, but he couldn’t remember which one.

Johnnie silently said, ‘Oh fuck!’ Then he said, “I’m not saying shit!”

Moving faster than Johnnie thought he could, the large man stepped up to him and swung the arm with the gun. It hit Johnnie in the face, opening a large cut in his left cheek and knocking him to the floor. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

“John. John Watson,” answered Johnnie. He was suddenly afraid. He didn’t know what was happening, but it didn’t seem good.

“WHERE’S JACQUI WATSON? WHERE IS SHE?”

“Whoa, whoa! There’s nobody here named Jacqui Watson.”

“Her editor told me she lived here. He told me right before he died. WHERE IS SHE?”

’Oh, fuck!’, thought Johnnie. This wasn’t good at all.

“Thanks for bringing me home, Mrs. Cosgrove.”

“No problem, Sarah. Happy you could come over. I hope you and the other girls had fun with Ophelia,” said Cozzie’s mother.

Sarah glanced at her friend and saw her grinding her teeth and rolling her eyes. “Give me a call. You can come over sometime soon.”

The two girls got out of the Tesla sedan and went to the trunk. “Yeah, how about letting me come over tonight. I can move back home when I graduate from high school!”

“Forget it. You don’t want to put up with my brother,” laughed Sarah. She grabbed her bag and gave her friend a hug. “I’ll call.” Turning, Sarah ran to the front door and let herself in.

Inside was a scene from hell. Her brother was in a chair, his face covered in blood, and a big guy was standing over him waving a gun of some sort around. Then Johnnie screamed out, “SARAH! RUN, SARAH, RUN! RUN!” She saw her brother lunge for the big guy.

The big guy swung at her brother, and she heard him scream again. That was enough to make her run out the door, just as she heard a gun go off and the doorframe exploded. She ran down the driveway, trying to catch up to the Cosgroves. The gun roared a second time and then Mrs. Cosgrove stopped the car and rolled down the window. “Sarah, what’s wrong?”

“Somebody’s in the house and he’s shooting at me!”

“What?”

Suddenly the rear window exploded. “GET IN! GET IN!”

Sarah raced around and climbed in the car. As another gunshot was heard, Mrs. Cosgrove floored it and they sped out of the driveway, almost hitting another car on the road. She looked over at the young girl and asked, “What’s going on, Sarah?” Cozzie just stared at her friend and looked back out the shattered rear window. There was a hole in the back of the front passenger seat; it had missed her by inches!

“Some guy was inside with a gun, and he was beating up Johnnie! He was all covered in blood and then he yelled at me to run away and then the guy hit him some more and started shooting at me! Go!” said the teen.

Danica Cosgrove wouldn’t have believed it if her car wasn’t missing the rear window. It was faster to drive into Durham and go directly to the Sheriff’s office than try to call. Half the time the hills cut off a cell signal, anyway. She pulled into the parking lot and then she and the girls ran inside to pound on the inner door until somebody let them in.

“Who was that? Was that Jacqui Watson? Where did she go?”

Johnnie stared at the mad man in front of him. He was sitting on a dining room chair, which the man had dragged into the living room after hitting Johnnie the first time. Since then, half the time he had hit Johnnie, he had knocked the teen off the chair. After the first two hits, Johnnie had gone along with it, taking a dive to minimize the damage the guy was doing. That hadn’t worked out so well when Sarah came in. He had screamed out for her to run away and tried to tackle the crazy guy, but he had swung the gun at Johnnie and this time he connected with his nose. Johnnie heard and felt bones breaking and more blood spurted out. Johnnie had fallen to the floor as he heard a gun firing. It didn’t sound like on television, but what else could it have been.

Still, Sarah must have gotten away. If the guy was asking who she was, then Sarah must have run. Either her ride had taken her away or she had managed to run into the woods or down to the road. Either way, she knew to find a way to call the cops.

“WHO WAS THAT?” said the man. He swung at Johnnie again. “WAS THAT JACQUI WATSON? WHERE’D SHE GO?”

Jacqui Watson? This guy was more than a little crazy. He thought one of his father’s nom de plumes was a real person. Oh, shit!

It only took a few seconds for the three hysterical women to explain to the desk sergeant at the Sheriff’s office that a crazy man was shooting at the Watson house and had taken Sarah’s brother hostage. Fortunately, Sergeant Westerphal knew about the coverage at the house and how it had been pulled and toned down to drive-bys and enhanced patrols. He immediately picked up the phone and ordered Dispatch to route any available deputies and then called the Undersheriff. The Undersheriff, in turn, called the FBI office in Charlotte. They both were hoping that somebody got there before the parents got home. A hostage situation with one hostage was better than with three.

“You’re in a hurry to get home,” commented Sophia Watson.

Jack Watson snorted. “Once I get home, I am heading out to the pool house and locking the door! I need some sleep!”

“That’s not what you were saying this morning. That was more along the lines of ‘Don’t stop! Don’t stop!’”

“You are both a deviant and a liar. I was actually begging you to let me roll over and go back to sleep.”

Sophia simply laughed at her husband. “Don’t worry, honey. By the time we get home, you’ll have had four hours without sex. Your balls will have managed to reload by then.”

Jack simply groaned and rolled his eyes.

It had been a busy four days. It had started when they checked into the hotel. They had a couple of very spirited session before cleaning up and heading out to dinner. Sophia made sure to show Jack that she had slipped a buttplug into place before they headed out. Later, after dinner, drinks, and a walk along the beach, they went back to their room for sixty-nine and anal. They collapsed from exhaustion afterwards.

The next day, they enjoyed a very pleasant session with Sophia riding her husband before they dressed for the beach. On the way, they stopped in a diner for breakfast, and then headed south on Route 12, the main north-south road on the Outer Banks. Jack parked on the side of the road in the Refuge, and they hiked through the dunes to the beach. It was very quiet and secluded, but they weren’t completely alone. After sunning themselves for a bit, Sophia took Jack and a blanket, and they went back into the dunes. Jack spread the blanket out in a small saddleback depression between two dunes and they stayed there until his cock couldn’t lift without a hydraulic crane.

More fornication occurred that night and the next morning. Then they had to head back to the motel and dry off from the rainstorm that blew in. Sophia in a motel room was extremely taxing to her husband. Finally, twenty-four hours later, Jack’s corpse carried the luggage out to his car, and they drove home. Sophia was dressed in something relatively family friendly, at least for a dirty weekend. She was wearing a long denim skirt, mostly unbuttoned, and a linen blouse, completely unbuttoned. She didn’t need the kids knowing exactly what they were up to on their trip. If they got home after the kids, she planned to button up before ever getting out of the car.

“What is going on, Jack?”

Jack Watson looked over at his wife. “Not a clue. You’re going to have to wait a little longer before you can check out my reload capacity.”

Sophia snorted and smiled. They were only a mile or so from their home, but a roadblock had been set up. She began buttoning her shirt up, just in case. She didn’t need the cops scoping out her tits.

Jack was curious about what was happening. The trooper was ordering people onto a side road that led to a different road down the mountain. That sort of thing normally only happened when there was a breakdown on the road, although once a house fire had the fire department tying up the road. He waited until he got up to the trooper, where he lowered the window.

“Sorry, sir, but you need to go around.”

“What’s wrong, officer? We live right down there.”

The trooper gave him an odd look, and then looked at the vehicle. “What’s your name, sir?”

“John Watson. What’s going on?”

The trooper stepped back and looked at the license plate, before glancing at a notepad. Then he came up to the window. “Sir, you need to continue slowly down to the command post.” Then he keyed his radio and said something Jack and Sophia couldn’t hear. He pointed down the road and said, “Just stop at the command post.”