"Day of Regret" PART FOUR

A narrow stream of relentless noonday sunlight poured over the hospital bed as Molly began to stir. The uniformed officer moved closer to the bed, shining a smile over the young woman. Katheryn was quick to move to Molly's bedside, covering Molly's hand with hers as she stooped over her just barely while awaiting Molly's first words as she began to come to.

"Welcome back." Katheryn couldn't stop smiling.

"It's rather good to be back." Molly's smile was a bit more lethargic than usual but still had a bit of shine to it. "Where's Trent?"

Katheryn reached a hand to smooth away a wayward lock of Molly's curly blonde hair. "At home. He needed the rest after last night. He refused to leave the hospital once they took you back into surgery. I bet he flattened the carpet in the waiting room from his pacing."

Molly finally chuckled a bit as she pictured in her mind what Katheryn had described. But then it didn't seem very humorous anymore as the flood of memories from last night came rushing into her mind. Her smile faded as she was back there, lying on the ground in Trent's arms as she felt the life draining from her by the second. A small tear slid down her cheek as she fought back the tears. She could have died in Trent's arms last night. But it seemed that he wouldn't let that happen so easily.

"Molly?" Katheryn gave Molly's hand a soft squeeze. Molly turned her head to look at Katheryn and forced a smile. "This here is Officer Sydney Cooke." Katheryn nodded towards the young woman on the other side of the bed. "Officer Cooke, this is Miss Molly Mason."

Molly greeted the officer with a brief nod and a wary smile. Yet only one question remained on her mind. "Who did this to me, Officer Cooke?"

Officer Cooke dipped her head low and sighed before returning her gaze to Molly. "We don't know yet. But what we do know is that you and your friends were targets. This wasn't random. I was sent so that I could perhaps ask you both a few questions." She centered her attention on Molly. "That is…if you're up for it?"

Molly could still feel a throb in her shoulder and a slight spell of dizziness. But she could not refuse the officer what she needed to get the ones who were behind this to justice. Blinking once or twice with firm resolution edging her delicate mien, Molly nodded the best she could. "Yes. I—I'm up for it."

"Are you sure?" Katheryn was compelled to ask.

Molly nodded yet again. "Yes. I'm sure."

Officer Cooke inhaled deeply, glancing between them both. "Do either of you remember what the vehicle looked like?"

"It was a van," Katheryn began first. "It was rather old with a scratchy brown paint job and a thin green stripe painted towards the top half of the side of the van."

The officer seemed to be good at taking mental notes. She listened closely and personally. She was also quite friendly and spoke as a friend instead of an officer. "Did you get any glimpse of the license plate?"

"No." It was Molly who spoke this time. "Trent had brought us down to the ground before the van had even passed us fully by."

"Do you remember anything that would have set the van apart from others?"

A thought suddenly struck Katheryn. "You know…" She glanced down at Molly. "Now that I think about it, the van reminds me a lot of another van we saw just this past Sunday."

"Where did you both see it?"

"It was hard to tell, but I think it was being chased by the police…about five miles away from the First Christian Church of Dallas."

"Do you know if the police caught up with them?"

Katheryn shook her head forlornly, wishing she could have said different.

Officer Cooke thought through the information she had been given so far for a brief second. "I do recall the DPD filing a report on a Sunday incident. I'll see if I can pull up that file and get more information on that incident. Maybe there are some connections that we could place between the two incidents."

Katheryn nodded and extended her hand from across the hospital bed. "Thank you, Officer Cooke. I do hope you'll be able to find something."

Officer Cooke grinned, stretching a bit to accept Katheryn's hand and give it a few solid shakes. "Me too. It's been a pleasure to meet you both." Cooke glanced at Katheryn and then Molly, giving the latter's hand a soft squeeze as she smiled. "You get well quick, Miss Mason."

Molly nodded wearily. "That's my plan."

"Great." Officer Cooke ended with a light chuckle and turned on her heel towards the door and soon disappeared from view.

"She seemed nice." Molly managed to say followed by a brief groan once Officer Cooke was completely out of earshot.

Katheryn's smile faded. She couldn't bear to see the pain in her friend's eye. "You want me to call the nurse for some pain medication?"

Molly didn't want to but shook her head anyways. If it would help her to get better, then she would force herself do to whatever possible to accomplish that.

##

The tires of her Stingray made a slight squeal as Katheryn came to a jaunting halt right outside of Thunder Karate. She threw open the door of the little car and rushed away, almost slamming the door upon her leave as she pulled open the door to the karate school and hurried inside, tracing a firm path across the short distance and into the classroom. She looked all around the room for Trent but didn't find him. He had left a message on her answering machine not a half hour go saying to meet him here. She had not even had time to rest after Molly insisted that she go home. He had to be there someplace.

"Up here." A voice called from behind and above her.

Katheryn wheeled around to see Trent's face looking down from the loft office above. Without a thought given, she hurried up the stairs to the office, skipping one or two along the way and making a sharp turn to her left as she reached the top. "What's up?" She uttered before having a chance to catch her breath.

Trent motioned toward the empty chair beside him as he reached for a piece of paper on his desk. Katheryn tried to catch a glimpse of it as she situated herself in the seat. It was Trent's handwriting; but she couldn't quite make out what it said.

"Walker called." Trent seemed to be avoiding Katheryn's question. "They found Mrs. Rialto's son."

"What?" Katheryn's eyebrows were raised high with surprise. "But I thought he died in an explosion."

"Yeah," Trent scoffed. "It seems that's what the sheriff there wanted everyone to think."

"Wow," Katheryn relaxed in her seat, the magnitude of such a thing hitting her as she let it sink in. "Was he badly hurt though?"

"Yeah. But he'll live, thank God."

"That's good to hear."

Trent lifted the aforesaid paper off his desk. "I've been doing some research on this Brian Hutchinson character." Trent handed Katheryn the paper and turned to face her as he explained. "He seems to have quite the reputation on the streets."

Katheryn scanned the paper and read a few lines here and there, trying to comprehend what she read. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Take a look." Trent pointed to an area on the page. "Been a part of a few drug deals. Went to prison for a few months. Even was an accomplice in a few robberies. Yet he seems to always be the one who got away. Nobody can seem to book him on a solid charge."

Katheryn returned the page to Trent's desk and sighed. "Any leads?"

"Yeah. One." Trent began to get up from his desk.

"Where are we going?" Katheryn got to her feet also and asked by near impulse, heeling Trent from behind as he headed downstairs.

The afternoon Texas sunlight bared down on the twosome as they exited the dojo, Trent aiming for his Stingray while Katheryn stopped beside hers.

"We aren't going anywhere." Trent's sly smile followed his emphasis on the word we.

Katheryn gave a confused look, searching his eyes for a possible answer.

"Feel up to sleuthing a bit for me?" Trent piled into his Stingray and shut the door behind him.

Katheryn hesitated to say yes but did so anyway, approaching Trent in hopes for further details.

Trent handed her a slip of paper with an address on in before starting the blue beauty's smooth-sounding engine. He then reached over to the passenger seat of the car and drew up his cell phone, also passing it to Katheryn. "I need you to go to that address. Do a little snooping and call Carlos if you see anything suspicious."

Katheryn accepted the cell phone apprehensively. "I thought Carlos was still out of town. And…won't you need this?"

"Walker said they are coming back as we speak. And…just trust me." These were Trent's last words before he put his Corvette in drive and sped away, leaving Katheryn in the wake of a pile of questions that formed in her mind.

Secretly, Katheryn wanted to be a bit mad at Trent for leaving her sort of helpless like this. She had always been a sidekick so far it seemed like. But at the same time, she hid a smirk of pleasure as she realized Trent was giving her an opportunity to prove herself on her own. For he had seen the fire burning in her eyes for months now.

With a slight spring in her first initial step, Katheryn turned completely around, following her unseen footsteps back to her own Stingray. She put the vehicle in drive and sped away in the opposite direction from where Trent headed, repeating the address Trent had gave her over and over in her mind so that she would find the place as soon as she could.

Within fifteen minutes or less, Katheryn began discovering that the address was quite rural…very rural in fact. It seemed that more than five minutes and a mere seven or eight miles had passed between her and the immediate downtown Dallas area as she pressed the gas pedal downward and traversed the highway leading out of town.

By the time she had used her trusty map a tenth time, forty minutes was in the books and sunset would not be far away. But with spring in full force, perhaps a bit of extended daylight would buy her some time.

"Everything alright, missy?" An elderly gentleman clad in overalls and a plaid, flannel shirt underneath had questioned her as she studied her map yet again with a huff on her lips after she had filled up on gasoline at a rural gas station.

Katheryn simply nodded and grinned, insisting everything was alright…When in reality, she wondered just what in the blazes Trent was thinking when he sent her on what was beginning to feel like a wild goose chase. But she knew better than to think Trent would do that. He must have had a good reason. And with that placed firmly in the forefront of her mind, Katheryn put her foot to the gas pedal once more and aimed for the highway. If her estimations were correct, she was only about ten minutes away from the address Trent had given.

Fifteen minutes later, Katheryn slowed, turning effortlessly onto a dirt road path leading into a cluster of trees that lined the road. No end was in site as she followed the trail as quietly as possible. Three miles later, Katheryn sighed with relief at the sight of a clearing. Yet maintaining a sense of utmost caution, Katheryn eased to the side of the road and turned off her engine, taking up her binoculars and Trent's trusty cell phone before she proceeded away from her prized possession.

She followed the dirt road to the edge of clearing as quickly but as quietly as she could. Once she reached the edge, she found two more paths. One lead towards what appeared to a ranch pasture with no trees in sight. The other seemed to be a bit homier, shading a path leading to some building. A house maybe as Katheryn had assumed. She raised her binoculars into view to confirm her assumption. She had been wrong. Very wrong. Yet she now knew which trail she had to pursue.

Katheryn had almost started forward when she felt a hand softly rest upon her shoulder. She gasped softly and nearly dealt the one present with a healthy right cross but was held at bay by the body. Once Katheryn had seen who it was, she panted briskly, her heart rate slowly returning back to normal as she shook away the impulse of fear that had overtaken her.

"I'm sorry." The other party whispered, her lip curled upward with regret.

Katheryn raised a hand. "That's okay, officer. What are you doing here?"

Officer Sydney Cooke grinned. "Looks like we have the same lead here. Let's go."

Katheryn followed Officer Cooke closely from behind as they neared the distant building. Reaching the clearing, they walked side-by-side, examining the building that sat among the quiet Texas field.

It was rather shabby and old. A tin warehouse by the looks of it. It hadn't been kept up very well whatsoever. And not even one noise came from it, save the occasional field mouse or wild bird that entered or exited through tiny, makeshift doors and crevices throughout.

"You carry a gun?" Officer Cooke queried, undoing the latch on her holster at her right hip.

Katheryn shook her head and smiled. "No. Not yet anyway. But I'm working on my green belt."

The officer showed her a smile of understanding before they continued onward closer to the building…only to be stopped short by a faint cry.

Katheryn ceased her step, glancing all around her. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah." Officer Cooke tightened her grip on her handgun, keeping it close to her chest as she advanced forward.

Hearing the sound again, they both stopped.

Katheryn turned her head to the side, trying to identify the sound. "Is that singing?"

A nearly undetectable smile graced the officer's lips as she too paused to listen. "Yeah. It does."

Faint and distant echoes of a familiar chorus reverberated through the trees around the two ladies, mingling with the spring winds and pointing them ever so closer to the source of the sound. The notes seem to be perfect, even angelic as they became louder and louder as the two women drew closer and closer to the shabby makeshift building before them.

"It's coming from in there." Officer Cooke warned, stopping short by the door that led inside. "Stay close," she whispered just before thrusting the door wide open and extending the gun outstretched before her. She shifted it from left to right and back again. "It's clear!" Officer Cooke took a step to the side, allowing Katheryn to ease in behind her.

The room was quite dark and dank, extending as far as the eye could see. A stench of rotting wood and something that had been dead for quite some time seem to drift their way. They both proceeded with caution, wrinkling their noses and coughing slightly at the stench.

"Don't shoot! Please don't shoot!"

Both Officer Cooke and Katheryn's gazes darted towards where the voice came. It took a second for their eyes to adjust to the darkness before a little girl's figure finally appeared to them.

Katheryn smiled broadly, and rushed forward towards the girl. She found her huddled in the corner in a sort of ball, clustered tightly against herself with one rope securing her hands together and another around both of her ankles. And still another held her entire body captive. "Bree Anna!" Katheryn quickly worked at freeing the girl from the ropes that held her captive, yanking this way and that as she saw Bree Anna's beautiful hands with hints of purple mingling with her beautiful skin tone.

Officer Cooke was not as quick to rush forward, allowing Katheryn the chance at freeing the girl while she scanned the area around them, still wary of the atmosphere with her firearm held high but reserved close to her own body.

Although she still wasn't completely confident, the officer returned her gun to its holster and approached Katheryn and the little girl. "Are you okay, little lady?"

"I—I think so." Bree Anna shivered.

Katheryn took the girl into her arms and rocked her a bit. Although she was ten years old…maybe twelve, no amount of maturity hid the fact that the young girl had been through quite the ordeal before they had arrived.

The officer slowly stroked the girl's cheek. "Was that your singing we heard?"

Bree Anna only nodded, shivering again against the coolness that consumed her body.

Katheryn drew the girl away from her body and looked into her eyes. "That was very beautiful. Your voice is wonderful, Bree Anna."

The girl shrugged. "I do that all the time. Especially when I'm scared. It helps me not to be scared."

Katheryn exchanged a jovial smile with Officer Cooke before turning back to Bree Anna. "We'd best be getting you home."

Bree Anna stood to her feet on her own, but refused to take a step. "Where's momma?"

Katheryn hesitated, glancing at the ground below. "Um, she's at the hospital, sweetheart. She, um…she got shot."

Tears began to well up in the girl's eyes.

"But…" Katheryn began eagerly. "She's going to be just fine. Would you like to go talk to her now?"

Bree Anna wiped at the wayward tears and nodded, unable to speak for the time being.

"Then let's go!" Officer Cooke concluded the little discourse, beginning to lead the way out of the dingy place, down the well-traversed wooded path, and back to their vehicles. Although it was clear so far, Officer Cooke still stayed on alert, guarding the two persons with her as she scanned the distance beyond them every step they took. She wasn't prepared to take any chances as the elite officer she hoped to become.

##

Trent's hand slowly caressed the leather seat of his treasured motorcycle as sunlight filtered into the Malloy garage ever so subtly. It highlighted this feature and that feature of various nooks around the little place. Trent's beauty of an iron horse had sat in the driveway of the Malloy home since he had driven it home from the hospital just past midnight a little over a day ago. He hadn't ridden it much since coming home to stay a year or two ago. But for some reason it had just felt right to get it back out the other night. Now its memory was less than enjoyable. Trent eased around the bike to the other side, sifting his thoughts at a mile a minute. Visions of Molly's limp body lying helpless in his arms flashed through his mind, sending a brief moment of rage through him that caused him to close his eyes tightly. His clenched fist hovered over the bike as he hesitated to move closer to the vehicle.

Stray thoughts continuously went through his mind. First anger…then regret…maybe a touch of unrestrained fear…before his strong investigative instinct kicked in, willing him to find and bring to justice whoever had dealt the bullet that kept Molly in the hospital at that very moment. Yet his roaming thoughts were of no use. For somehow he wished that Molly's attacker and the case for Donna's husband had some sort of connection. But it didn't. He had promised to help Donna. And as much as he wished to hunt down the vicious criminal that had nearly taken Molly from them all, he was forced to set those notions aside and choose to handle them when the others returned.

Shaking the meager, useless thoughts to the wayside, Trent reached for his helmet with force, securing it on his head at the same time as he reached a leg over and climbed aboard the bike with ease. Starting the engine with a bit of intensity edging his every move, Trent guided the bike backwards out of the garage and into the driveway, pointing it towards the road ahead and the tip that Butch had so willingly given him over the phone just hours ago.

It was brief…and nothing to get excited about. But Butch had heard rumor around Dallas that there was a rather new group of no-accounts forming a cartel of sorts. It seemed to be gaining ground and getting bigger by the day. It wasn't the usual drug ring. Yet everything seemed to point to the fact that they were still up to no good in some way. His snitch had even hinted to their plans of taking down certain important people in the area while stealing supplies and ammo along the way. They were a meager, small force…but not one to be trifled with.

Trent arrived at a secluded warehouse about ten minutes from Dallas nearly fifteen a half hour later. Removing his helmet, he scanned the place from top to bottom, following the brick and broken glass to a shabby entrance at the front. He could have sworn he heard voices in the shifting winds that reached his ears. He dismounted his iron horse soon after, pausing to secure his helmet on his handlebars before continuing on.

"Yeah! Ya did a good job, Brian! And we got a million on top of the whole deal!" One goon slapped Hutchinson on the back, his laugh echoing beyond their open doors being heard by an unseen party.

Trent took a few steps forward and stopped. He lifted his eyes to view a freefalling piece of debris out of one of the broken-up windows. It fell to the ground…forgotten…as Trent tried to hear more of the faint voices coming from within the structure before him. Yet all noise had faded to a mumble that he couldn't understand. One thing he knew for sure…There was more than one person inside. He could tell there were two for sure…Brian Hutchinson being one of them.

Trent took another step forward and stopped, looking up to see an industrial ladder leading up to the roof of the structure. He shifted his gaze again…this time to the same jovial voices from within. So far he had evaded them. Putting all doubts aside, Trent reached up a hand onto a rung of the ladder and pulled his weight up and onto it, climbing each rung with ease until he was safe on top of the four-story brick structure.

The winds kicked up a bit and played at the hem of his leather coat and his blonde locks as he turned around to gaze at the landscape below. His bike was safe tucked behind a little cluster of trees on the outskirts of the property he had just come from. Other than that, not a single person could be seen for miles around, though there were a few other abandon buildings dotting the landscape. Now they lay dormant and at the mercy of time and the elements.

Having checked the landscape over one last time, Trent turned back to trace the flat concrete roof of the building over to where he assumed was a trapdoor leading right down into one of the rooms inside. For this to be a notable group of assailants, they surely didn't care about security too much. This put Trent on edge some, wondering if the place was being surveyed more than even he could know. Some of Walker's instinctive abilities had rubbed off on him in the year past. Trent shook away the concern that taunting him. He trusted his instincts…and his instincts had been right so far. No use worrying about things that was not even real.

Trent arrived at the trapdoor seconds later and went to work on the padlock that kept him from getting the door loose. Apparently the goons didn't care much about keeping their hideout safe. It was loose. Trent tossed the little piece of metal that one horrible excuse for a lock to the side and braced himself against the concrete beneath him, tugging at the handle of the trapdoor until it gave way and lifted with ease. Trent slowly and quietly eased it open, resting it gently on the other side opposite its rusty hinges that gave a little squeak away as it fell.

Trent immediately and without a hesitation began guiding his body downward and feet-first onto the rusty steel ladder below him. He was alert the entire time, not letting his mental guard down even once as he found his footing on the floor away from the ladder. Sunlight beamed down the narrow metal chute onto his face as Trent gaze upward toward the open trapdoor. He opened his mouth with a brief sigh, catching his breath before turning his attention back to the room around him.

It seemed to be a little catch-all utility room he had lowered himself into. It's rather filthy surroundings left much to be desired. Spider webs lined every little space that wasn't occupied by scurrying rat or pile of abandoned furniture or documents from the past. Trent briefly wondered if this room had any evidence of a crime committed. He would definitely be back if need be.

Then suddenly without one warning, Trent's gaze shifted upwards to where he had just come from as a loud thud echoed down to him. Someone…something…had seen fit to close the trapdoor with such a violent force. To make matters even worse, Trent soon discovered that the only door leading out of the small, dank room was padlocked much more securely than the previous entryways he had just came from.