Echoes

Echoes
The now silent evening, void of any construction noises, was torn apart in a symphony of sirens. Red and blue lights washed over the ranch yard, flashing against half-built walls and lumber piles. Tires crunched on gravel as sheriff’s cruisers, the ambulance, and even the volunteer fire truck screeched to a halt. Doors slammed. Boots hit dirt. Radios crackled.

But Jordyn didn’t hear any of it.

All she could hear was the echo of the gunshot — sharp, endless, rattling her bones. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the shouts of deputies and the sounds of the kids inside. Each breath felt like it scraped her raw throat, shallow and uneven, as though Walter’s hands were still pressing there.

She sat on the porch steps where Dustin had lowered her, one arm cradled against her broken collarbone, her blood soaking the wood beneath her. Her gaze was locked on Walter’s body, wide and unblinking. The gunshot kept replaying, over and over, louder than the sirens, louder than Dustin’s voice calling her name.

“Jordyn. Baby, look at me.”

His hand cupped her cheek, trying to draw her eyes away from the body sprawled in the dirt. Walter hadn’t moved. He never would again. But Jordyn’s mind refused to believe it.

Inside the farmhouse, the chaos of sirens and shouting carried faintly through the walls, but Asher and Sadie kept themselves planted in the middle of the living room with the younger kids.

Colt and Beau fidgeted on the couch, their toy swords forgotten. Katie fussed in her playpen, her lip wobbling as the wail of another siren cut through the air. Wyatt clung to a blanket, wide-eyed. Emery began to cry, her little fists balling up.

“Hey, hey,” Asher said quickly, scooping Emery up and bouncing her gently. He forced a grin, his voice overly bright. “Who wants to watch a movie? I’m thinking… cartoons. The sillier the better.”

Colt’s head jerked up. “The one with the talking dogs?”

“Exactly the one,” Asher said, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV with a little too much urgency.

Sadie slid onto the couch beside the twins, pulling them close. “Yeah, the talking dogs. Remember how they always save the day?” she whispered, smoothing Beau’s hair back. “That’s what’s happening right now. Everything’s okay. The grown-ups are just… handling it.”

Katie giggled as the cartoon theme song blared, her fear forgotten for the moment. Wyatt crawled up into Sadie’s lap, resting his head against her shoulder.

Asher met Sadie’s eyes across the room. Neither said a word, but both understood: their job wasn’t to fight — it was to protect in a different way. To shield the little ones from the fear outside, even if their own hearts were hammering in their chests.

On the porch, Deputies rushed the yard, hands on their sidearms until they took in the scene — the pale-faced workers, the blood, the pistol now resting on the porch railing, unloaded with the magazine removed and the slide locked back. One of them muttered into his radio, “Scene secure. One down. Need medics on the porch.”

The EMTs bounded up the steps with their bags, kneeling around her. One reached for her wrist, checking her pulse, while another leaned close with a flashlight. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

Jordyn blinked slowly, her lips parting, but the only sound she made was a shallow rasp.

“She can hear you,” Dustin snapped, his voice jagged with fear and fury. “She’s in shock. Just patch her up.”

Near the edge of the yard, a cluster of workers lingered, their tools still in hand — a hammer, a crowbar, a nail gun. Some looked stricken, whispering about how fast it had all happened, how the man “just walked in bold as you please.” One man spat into the dirt, muttering, “Should’ve swung at him soon as he stepped foot past the gate.” Another shook his head, face pale. “Didn’t realize till it was too late.”

None of them could meet Dustin’s eyes.

The sheriff hovered nearby, scanning the scene, his face grim. “We’ll need a statement.”

“You’ll get it when she can talk,” Dustin shot back, his arm wrapped protectively around Jordyn as though anyone might still try to take her from him.

The chaos swirled — boots on gravel, radios blaring, the workers stumbling over their versions of what happened. But to Jordyn, it was all muffled, as though she were under water. The only sound that cut through was the ringing in her ears and the memory of Walter’s breath on her face.

She closed her eyes, leaning into Dustin’s chest as the EMTs worked. She didn’t feel the sting of antiseptic or the tape tugging at her skin. She only felt his arm around her, steady and warm, and told herself over and over:

It’s done. He’s gone. The kids are safe. It’s done.

But even with Walter’s body cooling on the dirt, Jordyn knew the echoes would never leave her so easily.

The medics eased Jordyn onto the stretcher, strapping her down gently but firmly. She hissed in pain as they braced her collarbone.

Dustin tried to let her go, but Jordyn clutched tighter, a broken sob catching in her throat. “Don’t let go.”

“I’m not leaving,” he swore. “Not for a damn second.”

Blood streaked her face where the laceration cut from temple to cheek, and her hair was matted crimson at the back of her head. One medic muttered to another, “BP’s dropping — let’s move.”  as they lifted her toward the ambulance.

Dustin climbed in right after, ignoring the protests. “Sir, you’ll have to—”

“She’s my wife… and she’s pregnant!” he snapped, eyes blazing. “I’m not leaving her side!”

The medic didn’t argue again.

Outside, the flashing lights painted the ranch in chaos. Deputies strung crime scene tape across the porch, photographers snapping pictures of Walter’s body. The coroner’s van backed in, its presence grim but necessary. Workers stood in small groups, shaken and whispering.

Maisie’s car screeched through the gate, her apron still dusted in flour, her face stricken as she realized what had unfolded. Caleb and Travis arrived moments later from the shop, Harper flying in from town still in her scrubs, Kinley from the school. All of them converged in the yard, desperate for news, but the deputies held them back as the scene was processed.

And in the middle of it all, the ambulance doors slammed shut.

Dustin sat inside, Jordyn’s bloodied hand gripped in his, refusing to let go.

For the first time in years, Walter was gone. But the scars he left behind had only just begun to bleed.