Page 30 of Ghosts From Christmas Past

As they stood in the living room of the house that had once held nothing but good memories, Sam’s excited voice came over the radio.

“We have him, Dylan. We have Dennis.”

Charlie pulled away and stared at Dylan, her eyes like saucers.

“Where are you now?” he asked because he couldn’t bring his thoughts together.

“On our way to the hospital. He’s shot. Dennis tried to escape through the back of the house where Jesse was. Me and Chief Denning’s people came in through the front door. Jesse was around back. Dennis must have heard us arrive because he ran out the back door. Jesse said he had a gun and he ordered Dennis to put it down but he refused. Jesse didn’t have a choice.”

Dylan’s heart sank. “How bad is it?”

“Bad. He was shot in the chest.”

“We’re on our way to meet you at the hospital.”

Dylan reached for Charlie’s arm, and they ran out to the cruiser.

Once they were both inside, he hit the lights and siren, reversed, and flew down the drive. On the road, he punched the accelerator and headed for the Bitter Creek hospital.

Why would Dennis challenge a deputy if he wasn’t guilty? They might never have answers if Dennis died.

The hospital entrance came into view. He slowed and turned onto it, parked out front, and he and Charlie raced into the emergency room.

Sam spotted them and hurried over. “The doctor’s working on him now. Jesse’s waiting inside.”

Dylan didn’t want Charlie witnessing this man’s possible death. “Wait here with her,” he told Sam, and to her he said, “I’ll be back soon.” He hurried down the hall. Jesse must have seen him approach because he was waiting for him.

“He’s been touch-and-go all the way here. The doctor’s working on him now.” Jesse shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry. I know how important it was to bring Dennis in, but he wouldn’t listen. He tried to shoot me.”

Dylan clamped his shoulders and forced him to look at him. “This isn’t your fault. Go back to the waiting room. Sam’s with Charlie. Collect yourself, and then I’ll get your statement, okay?”

Jesse put up a palm. “No, man, I want to stay here with him. You.”

Dylan shook his head. “Go. I’ll wait here for word.”

Jesse reluctantly stepped away, and Dylan watched as the doctor shocked Dennis multiple times. His sinus rhythm steadied, and the doctor gave instructions to his team before he came over to where Dylan waited. “What’s his prognosis?” Ronald Dennis was as pale as the sheet he lay on.

The doctor glanced back at the injured man. “Not good. We’ll do everything we can, but I’d be surprised if he wakes.”

The worst possible outcome. “Is it okay if I wait here in case he does?”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll be back to check on him soon.” With those parting words, he stepped from the curtained space.

Helpless, Dylan stood just inside and watched the treatment taking place without much hope. When the room emptied, Dylan stepped over to the bed. Ronald Dennis had aged through the years. Though he was the same age as Dylan and Charlie, he appeared years older. Was it because of the secret he carried with him? Dylan couldn’t wrap his head around Dennis being the killer.

As he continued to watch Dennis, the man slowly opened his eyes. Shocked, Dylan started to get help, but the man on the bed was staring at him.

Dylan hurried to his bedside. “It’s okay. Try not to move. Let me get you some help.”

Before he moved away, Dennis grabbed his arm. Dylan swung toward him.

“He made me do this.”

Dylan’s blood ran cold. Was Dennis about to give a confession?

“Who made you? Barlow?”

Dennis’s eyes were glazed. His vitals suddenly went crazy. “He made me,” he stressed. “He called me and told me Charlie was awake. Said she missed me. And then—” Dennis broke off in a coughing fit. Emergency personnel rushed into the room.

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