by Wes Markin
The referee nodded back then stepped forward―
Bo squealed. Then both she and the crowd fell silent.
Despite Nyx, Jotham jumped in.
Nyx released Bo’s throat and barked at Jotham.
He kicked out at the beast. “Get the fuck away from me.”
The pit bull paced from side to side, barking and baring its teeth at Jotham.
The other breeder entered the ring and put on her collar.
Jotham didn’t bother kneeling to Bo. He looked down at the blood pooling around his shoes and knew already that she was gone. He had eyes only for the sonofabitch breeder right now. Jotham had been involved in this industry his whole life. There was only one way a pit bull could maintain ferocity for such a sustained period of time—chemical assistance.
He narrowed his eyes.
After hearing about Justin Stone’s death, Gabriel did not bother with the Taps. He knew exactly where the trouble was heading. He parked outside the Thompson’s Cape Cod-style farmhouse alongside an assortment of vehicles. From his back seat, he grabbed the Remington that Kayla had threatened him with earlier and exited the car. Keeping his rifle in both hands across his chest rather than slung over his shoulder, he mounted the covered front porch and kicked the bottom of the front door twice. Then he stood back against the railing. “Blake? It’s Chief Jewell here. You in there?”
The living room window beside the front door opened. “Chief, what can I do for you?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Blake. Open the fucking door.”
“Why?”
“So you can thank me, for a start. It’s a godsend I’m standing on your porch, considering what’s coming.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need you to worry about us.”
“Don’t we both wish that was the truth? Open the door so I can come in and tell you your best route out of this shitstorm.”
“Sorry, Chief, I won’t open the door.”
Gabriel kicked the railing with the back of his foot. Stubborn old bastard. “Can you send one of your sons to the window?”
“No need. We’re all in agreement.”
“They agree with suicide. Hard to believe. Lads like that have a lot of living left to do.”
“Thank you for stopping by, Chief.”
“Unbelievable! You do realize the next time I come here it’ll be a crime scene.”
“One you’ll have no trouble covering up, no doubt.”
Gabriel laughed. “Unfair, Blake. I’m here to stop it getting to that!”
Devin appeared beside his father at the window. “So, what’s your suggestion then, Chief?”
“Get back in the kitchen, son!” Blake glared at Devin.
“You let me do this properly, Devin,” Gabriel said. “I’ll arrest your mother for killing Justin, then she’ll be safe. You’ll all be safe―”
“And watch my wife go to prison for the rest of her life?” Blake asked, raising his voice.
“The alternative does not bear thinking about. You and your family only have one way out of this, I’m afraid.”
“It makes sense, Dad.”
“No!”
“Be reasonable,” Gabriel said.
“She stays with us,” Blake said.
“But, Dad―”
“Stay the fuck out of this, son.”
Gabriel heard the cars approaching.
Blake’s eyes widened. “I didn’t expect so many of them.”
“Your wife killed Charles’s son, Blake. I don’t think he’ll be cost cutting on this little venture.”
“This’ll be a massacre,” Devin said.
“Shit! Let me think!” Blake said.
Gabriel stepped forward. “My offer still stands.”
“To throw my wife in jail?”
The cars screeched to a halt.
“Look again, Blake. And please come to your fucking senses for the sake of your family.”
“Why don’t you stop them?” Blake pointed at him out the window. “Do your job. Turn around and stop them.”
Gabriel heard the car doors opening. “You really think I can do that? How do they look?”
“Determined.”
Gabriel nodded.
“They’ve brought a small army,” Devin said.
“You can’t talk your way out of this, Blake.”
Blake’s eyes widened. “Jotham killed Maddie. I watched them throw her into a fucking pit.”
Gabriel looked down.
“I listened to my daughter die, Chief.”
Gabriel could hear the so-called small army trudge toward the house. “I’m sorry for your loss, Blake. It’s not right.”
“Not right? It’s an abomination!”
Gabriel looked up, nodding. “Jotham will get what’s coming, whatever happens. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I hope so. Now, you may want to get out of my way.” Blake pointed his own rifle out the window.
“Don’t, Dad. They’ll kill us all.”
“Blake, listen, I’ve got an idea. It’s your family’s only way out, but you must let me take Marissa. Will you let me protect her?”
Blake looked over Gabriel at the reckoning approaching his house.
“Think about what Marissa would want if she was thinking straight. It wouldn’t be to lose her remaining children.”
“Dad, listen, he’s right.”
Blake narrowed his eyes. “Fuck you. Both of you.” He sighed, nodded and pulled the rifle back into the house.
Thank Christ. Gabriel stepped to the window, told Blake and Devin his idea and turned to see what he was up against.
Six men dressed in hunting gear had fanned out in front of the house.
Gabriel recognized the weaponry and was surprised to see the one closest to him was holding a B&T APC9—a hardy submachinegun. The next one along held an M4 Carbine. This wasn’t just revenge; they were here to enjoy themselves.
Chief Selectman Charles Stone was using a cane and looked weaker than he’d been the last time Gabriel had seen him two months earlier. He’d disappeared from the public eye of late and was rumored to be fighting cancer. His wife, Priscilla, was a tall, dark-haired woman, who looked half his age, despite being older.
Gabriel met them at the bottom step. He acknowledged the weary man with a lowered head. “Mr. Stone, I’m sorry for―”
“You can address me, Gabriel,” Priscilla said.
Gabriel regarded Priscilla. “Certainly, Mrs. Stone. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Priscilla raised her eyebrows. “Are you?”
Gabriel was lost for words.
“Tell me the truth, Gabriel. Apart from a few of his deadbeat friends, who’ll be genuinely sorry over Justin’s death?”
Gabriel had expected a mother in anguish; instead, he’d received an ice queen.
“I can’t answer that, Mrs. Stone, but I can tell you I’m here to get to the bottom of what happened.”
“How so?”
“I’m taking Marissa Thompson into custody.”
“Into custody? Why?”
“To interview her then charge her.”
Priscilla laughed. Because she was holding her husband’s arm, the tremble from her laugh slightly lolled his head and lengthened the drool hanging from his mouth. “I thank you for your diligence, Gabriel, but I’m here to save you a job.”
“It’s no bother.”
She nodded. “I’d like you to leave, Gabriel. I’m in charge of this town.”
“It’s your husband who’s in charge, Mrs. Stone.”
“He’s too unwell to do his duty. He’s here to give me his blessing. Aren’t you, Charles?”
Charles managed a nod and a grunt. The line of drool snapped.
“Well, it doesn’t work like that, Mrs. Stone. And this matter concerns the law, which, in effect, makes me in charge of this situation.”
“You really want to do this? Here? Now?”
“My job? Of course, Mrs. Sto
ne.”
Priscilla sneered. “Pause for a moment, Gabriel … and think.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Think and remember who you really work for.”
It’s hard to forget, Gabriel thought, but there are some things I just can’t allow. He moved his gaze from one armed soldier to another. Some lines that cannot be crossed … “I’d like you to leave Mr. and Mrs. Stone so I can take Mrs. Thompson into custody. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“No, Gabriel, we’re not leaving.” She clapped, and her soldiers raised their weapons. Still supporting her withered husband by the arm, she moved backward, leaving Gabriel standing alone at the bottom of the porch steps.
Gabriel climbed the steps.
“You have about ten seconds to decide before we do what we came here to do. On a personal level, Gabriel, I really hope you choose to move. I’ve always been an admirer of you and your capabilities.”
“Ten seconds?”
“Seven now.”
Gabriel faced the house and raised his voice. “I am here to arrest Marissa Thompson for the murder of Justin Stone. If she comes out now with her hands up, I will safely take her into custody.” He turned back.
“Foolish.” She prepared to clap.
Gabriel heard the door open behind him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He turned and raised his voice again. “Blake? Is your son still filming on his cell?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel turned back to look at Priscilla and smiled. He reached a hand to his side and, over his shoulder, said, “Come to me, Marissa.”
Chewing her bottom lip, Priscilla kept her narrowed eyes pinned on Gabriel. Her hands remained ready to clap.
“Listen, Blake,” Gabriel said loudly, feeling Marissa’s hand envelope his. “I’m going to walk Marissa to my vehicle. If anything happens to us on route, ensure the video is uploaded to a social media site. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Chief.” It was Sean Thompson’s voice. “I’m ready.”
“The whole video, Sean, including the moment your mother came peacefully.”
“I will.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Priscilla said. “How do you think this will end? Ultimately?”
Gabriel smiled. “After we have left, Sean, email the video directly to me. You’ll find my contact details on the Blue Falls PD website.” Gabriel led Marissa down the steps and glanced at her.
She looked pale and languid and didn’t seem too concerned about what was transpiring around her; he was counting on her not panicking.
Around him, the soldiers kept their guns trained on Marissa and him, still awaiting their master’s clap.
As he passed Priscilla, he said, “You may not realize this now, Mrs. Stone, but I did this for you and your husband. You would never have gotten away with this.”
Priscilla exhaled sharply. “We are capable of making our own decisions, Gabriel. I hope you don’t live to regret this.”
“I hope not too. If anything happens to that family in that house—or me, for that matter—I will ensure that video Sean is making finds its way to the Maine State Police. Even with your power and influence, Mrs. Stone, I think a visit from them would be one hurdle too many.”
“My son died today, Chief. Or have you forgotten?”
“No. And I am truly sorry. Justice will be served, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Your justice is not justice enough.”
“It is what we have.”
“Tread carefully, Gabriel.”
“I always do,” Gabriel said and walked Marissa to his car.
Priscilla opted to keep the guns on them all the way to the vehicle, and even when they were inside and driving away, but Gabriel was confident no one would fire.
Not yet anyway.
After Jotham had wrapped Bo in several towels to soak up the blood, he slipped her into the trunk of his car. Then he went to the front of his vehicle to retrieve his handgun from the glove compartment. He concealed it in a holster under his jacket.
As he returned to the building, rubbing his bloodied hands on his jeans, he nodded farewells to the last of the exiting spectators.
They nodded back, but every single one tried to avoid eye contact. It was an awkward situation. No one had ever seen Jotham MacLeoid lose. No one had a clue of how to console him, making it safer not to even try.
When he was back inside, he clutched Anthony Rogers’ shoulder. “Is he still in there?”
“Yes. I said exactly what you told me to. He was happy Nyx had impressed you and that you didn’t feel aggrieved. He also kept pressing me on this lucrative opportunity you’re offering, but I deflected most questions.”
Jotham nodded. “Good job, Anthony. Are you ready for what comes next?”
Anthony nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Jotham squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a good boy.”
They headed into the fighting arena and found the breeder sitting on a bale of hay.
Nyx paced back and forth at his feet, panting excessively. She growled when Jotham and Anthony approached, so the breeder pulled tight on her chain.
“Sit down, Nyx.”
She obeyed.
Jotham smiled. “Your bitch still got energy after that?”
“She’s a feisty one.” The breeder smiled. “Best I’ve bred.”
“She certainly gave mine a lesson. I thought I had a grand champion on my hands.”
“No hard feelings. We’ve all been there.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mark Riley.”
Jotham raised an eyebrow. “Well, Mark, can I congratulate the victor?” He pointed at Nyx.
“Of course. If she’ll let you.”
Jotham leaned in and stopped his hand inches from her muscular head. “She does look twitchy.”
“Your dog put up a fight,” Mark said. “You trained her well.”
“Thanks.” Jotham surveyed Nyx. “Yes, Bo did take a few chunks from you, dear. And look at that lip.” He gently stroked the pit bull’s head then knelt and brought his own face closer to hers. “You’re a beautiful girl.” He looked into her eyes. “It’s such a shame you have to lose.”
“Sorry? I don’t understand. Nyx won. It’s over.”
Jotham stood and towered over the breeder sitting on the hay. “She’s been disqualified, Mark. You’ve pumped her full of narcotics. It’s against the rules.”
Mark shook his head. “It’s not true.”
Jotham took a deep breath and sighed. “Bo is the winner.”
“But your dog is gone. Dead!” Mark said, still shaking his head.
“Yes, Mark, and that’s a problem. You’ve just killed my grand champion.”
While they’d been talking, Anthony had edged around to the back of Mark.
The breeder flinched when he felt the gun against the back of his head. He dropped his dog’s chain and raised his hands. “This is a mistake. I’ve not given Nyx any―”
“I’ve been around dogs a long time, Mark, since before you were born. I can see it in her eyes, the way she moves, the way she fights. I can even smell it in her fucking sweat.” Jotham reached into his jacket and unholstered the handgun.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
Jotham looked at Anthony. “If he even twitches, you finish it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jotham knelt in front of Nyx again and put his forehead against hers. “Sorry, girl. This isn’t your fault.” He lay a hand on her back but was gentle, knowing she’d be sore. He tilted his head back, stood and placed the handgun against the side of her head.
“No!” Mark said. “No, please―”
“Fuck you for making me do this,” Jotham said and pulled the trigger.
16
“SLIP DOWN IN your seat,” Jake said.
Jake and Lillian, who had parked beside an old barn and tractor a reasonable distance from the Thompson farmhouse, peered over the dash. Three vehicles passed.
; “It’s Chief Selectman Charles Stone,” Lillian said.
“How do you know? It’s too dark to see any of their faces.”
“Who else can afford three Porsche SUVs in this town?”
“Fair enough.”
They’d already watched Gabriel drive away with Marissa in the back of his car.
“Okay, so we’ve heard no gunfire, that’s good news, right?” Lillian said, wriggling herself back up in her seat.
“Maybe the only good news so far today. Let’s check it out.”
On this occasion—his second visit to the Thompson farmhouse—Jake didn’t hang back against the railing on the porch. In fact, he was the one doing the knocking. Incessantly.
He felt Lillian’s hand on his shoulder. “Enough. You’ll take the door off its hinges.”
“If they don’t answer, we’ll have to do that anyway, check they’re alive.”
The door opened. An older man with a bruised face stood there. Having never met him, Jake assumed this was Blake.
“Hello, Mr. Thompson,” Lillian said. “Is everything okay in there?”
Blake’s top lip quivered. “Anything but.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Not hurt, young lady, but broken. Everything is in pieces.” He turned his glazed eyes to Jake then back to Lillian. “You know what happened earlier tonight, Lil?”
Lillian nodded. “We were there, Mr. Thompson. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve lost her … my precious Marissa. She’s going to jail.”
“I’m truly sorry, Blake, but right now, it’s definitely the safest place for her.”
“My father once told me that a home without a woman is no home at all.” Tears formed in the corners of his eyes.
Jake said, “So, Charles Stone was here for the arrest?”
Blake wiped away the tear. “In a fashion. His wife did all the talking.” He looked at Lillian. “It seems the rumors about Priscilla are true.”
“What rumors?” Jake asked.
“That she runs the town.” He called Sean to the door. “Show them the video, son.”
“Of course, Dad.” He handed the cell to Lillian.
Jake watched over her shoulder and was surprised to see Gabriel defending the principles of law and order. He was also surprised to see confidence and competence in the way the police chief brought about the right outcome. “I didn’t know he had it in him,” Jake said to Lillian.
