Fire in Bone: A Jake Pettman Thriller

by Wes Markin

  Mason opened his eyes, looked back at Kayla, and sighed. “I’ll burn in Hell for not sending them, but I need you.”

  “You need me?”

  Mason eyed Gabriel and nodded. “Apart from Lorraine, Blue Falls never gave me anything. I’m done with the place.”

  “So, fuck off already! Why are you still here? You could be long gone.”

  “And you’d have let me go, would you? You could have joined the Davis brothers in waving me off and wishing me well.”

  “You could have slipped away.”

  “And be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life?”

  “So, what’s the alternative? Taking us on?”

  “No. I want to do this right. If my brother had his way, then believe me, this would be all over by now. But no, not after what he did last time.”

  “Last time?”

  “Don’t be dumb, Chief. Who do you think killed Henry and Bobby in seventy-five. He bashed their brains out with a hammer right in front of me!”

  Gabriel’s eyes widened. “And their teeth, he took them, didn’t he?”

  Mason nodded.

  “So, he killed my sister too.”

  “No.”

  “But her teeth were gone!”

  “It wasn’t him. I’m telling you the truth. I’m laying everything out on the table for you. The missing teeth must be a coincidence.”

  “Bullshit! You know who killed Collette.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You’re lying!” He lifted the knife again. “You’re fucking lying!”

  Mason looked back, narrowing his eyes, and raised his voice for the first time. “Listen. I’m the one holding the cards here, not you. I have solved my problem with the Davis family, and now, I have solved my problem with you, because as much as it disgusts me to my very soul, I will keep your secret safe.”

  “But why? You’d solve your problem by sending those images to the MSP.”

  “Because you’re going to help me with my third and final problem.”

  “Which is?”

  Mason took a deep breath. “Jotham MacLeoid fell when Jake Pettman came to town, didn’t he?”

  Gabriel shrugged.

  “I think he killed Jotham, and I think he killed Anthony, my son.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Mason smiled. “But you do, don’t you, Gabriel? You know.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because if you didn’t know it was Jake Pettman, you would’ve already had him under investigation.”

  “How do you know I didn’t?”

  “Who was it then, Gabriel? This happened on your patch, and you know nothing? Suspect no one?”

  Gabriel chewed his lip.

  “And please show me more respect than the long-gone out-of-towner excuse. Blue Falls has spun that yarn far too many times. Tell me the truth, Gabriel. Was it Jake Pettman?”

  No, Gabriel thought, because it was me. I shot your son in the head after he threatened Jake. The vile little prick had it coming too. Gabriel took another deep breath. Sharing the truth with Mason was appealing, but it probably wouldn’t be wise. He nodded instead. Better he thinks it was Jake at this stage. He opened his mouth to give him more detail—

  “No,” Mason said. “My dreams are tortured enough as it is.”

  “So, is that it? Is that all you wanted? The truth?”

  “No, of course not. He still remains my third and final problem. I can’t walk away with him living and breathing after what he did to my flesh and blood.”

  “So, kill the bastard then. God knows, not many people would miss him!”

  “Are you not listening? I want to leave. Start again. Murder won’t help me with that.”

  “I still don’t understand what you’re saying here!”

  “I’m saying I won’t get away with killing Jake Pettman, but I bet the chief of police can.”

  Jake’s vehicle juddered on the dirt track leading from the Davis property.

  “Of all the people,” Peter said, “it had to be that little shit.”

  “I guess I don’t need to ask where we’re going.” Jake said.

  “I’ll go alone if you’d prefer.”

  “I’d prefer not to be visiting you in a cell. Best if I come.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do? Rip out his throat?”

  “I remember the day you woke up in hospital and said that was exactly what you were going to do.”

  “I was angry.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He fed me to the lions. Promised to get me on the property, then watched as I was shot in the guts and handed over to that maniac.”

  “I know the story, Peter. You bring it up … often.”

  “Jesus, his poor mother! If she ever found out what her beloved boy did to me, she’d never forgive him.”

  “You’ve got a big heart. Lesser men would have told her.”

  Peter rustled in his jacket pocket. “Can I smoke?”

  “No.”

  Peter removed a cigarette, lowered the window, and lit it with an engraved Zippo.

  “Nice lighter. Never seen it before.”

  “From my army days. Got it out last night.”

  “Who had it engraved?”

  “Someone special. Her name was Tong. Vietnamese.”

  Jake smiled. “What happened there then?”

  “I came home.”

  “Did you not try to stay in touch?”

  “This isn’t helping, Jake.”

  “Yep, fair enough.”

  Irene Sholes let them into an orderly home with a mantlepiece laced with Abenaki trinkets and weaved throw pillows on the sofa—a complete contrast from the chaos the Davis family operated in. No wonder Felicity fancied a change.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Irene, but I was hoping to speak to Oliver.”

  “Of course,” Irene said, placing a hand on Peter’s arm.

  She wasn’t being flirtatious, Jake observed. Peter had led the Abenaki Council in a time when she’d been financially supported. Her affection was born from gratitude.

  Jake could see now how devastating to her the truth about Oliver would be.

  When the police had tried to get the truth from Peter as to what had happened the night on Jotham’s property, he’d pleaded amnesia. He’d lost a lot of blood from the bullet in his stomach and had sustained head wounds after having his teeth smashed in. It was hard to argue against this claim. Consequently, Oliver never saw justice for his treatment of Peter.

  Before Peter had even broached the subject, Irene said, “I know about Felicity Davis.”

  Peter nodded. “I suspected. You okay with her coming here?”

  Irene nodded.

  “The Davis brothers are dangerous individuals.”

  “I know, but I’ve never seen my Oliver so happy.”

  Peter eyed Jake.

  Jake detected the grimace he was hiding behind his stony expression.

  Oliver walked in and noticed Peter. His face went grey. “Peter?”

  “Long time, no see.”

  Oliver’s eyes darted left and right. “You look well.”

  “New teeth.” Peter smiled, displaying them.

  Oliver nodded and smiled.

  Peter regarded Irene. “Can we speak to your son alone? We won’t be getting in the way of your plans. You have my word.”

  “Of course, Peter. You don’t need an excuse. You always have our best interests at heart.”

  Peter smiled at Oliver. “Yes, Irene. I do.”

  After Irene left the room, Peter moved for Oliver.

  Fortunately, Jake managed to grab his friend’s shoulder before he could launch the young man through the closed door after his mother.

  Peter took a deep breath through his nose and looked at Jake.

  “That’s why I came,” Jake said.

  “That’s why I brought you,” Peter said.

  Oliver, pale and shaking, cowered against t
he door. “Peter, I’m sorry. I had no choice, the situation I was—”

  “Save it, you little shit. You led me to my death. That dear woman behind that door is the only reason you’re still standing. That, and the large man behind me holding my shoulder.”

  “And I could easily lose my grip,” Jake said. “Especially when traitorous scumbags are involved.”

  “I worked for Jotham MacLeoid! Do you think I had any choice?”

  “You should choose better employers,” Peter said.

  “Or join a union,” Jake said.

  “Why did you come here, Peter? Why? We could have had this out away from Mom.”

  “I’m not here about you and me, idiot; although that situation is far from resolved.” He paused to look back at Jake. “I’m calm, now. You can let go.”

  Jake nodded and released his shoulder.

  Relief settled over Oliver’s face. “Why are you here then?”

  “Oh, let me see,” Peter said. “Having been set free from one set of murderous bastards, you saw fit to get involved with another set?”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “Felicity Davis.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.”

  Oliver shrugged. “I love her.”

  “Spare me,” Peter said. “I doubt you’ve ever loved anyone other than yourself.”

  “I do. We hit it off at last year’s Abenaki heritage weekend.”

  “Surprised she was allowed to go,” Peter said.

  “She was, because she’s allowed to see her mother. Her children weren’t. I don’t think Cam Davis wants to accept that his grandchildren are Abenaki.”

  “And, what? You’ve been sneaking around together ever since?”

  Oliver nodded. “About the size of it.”

  “And now you intend to bring her here. How do you think that will play out?”

  “I don’t know. But I love her, and she can’t be there anymore. The things they do to her—”

  Peter held up his hand. “Enough. I know. Me and you are on the same page with that one. I just didn’t expect the solution to come in the form of a spineless cretin.” He sighed. “However, that’s the way it has panned out, so I guess we have to make the best of a bad situation.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we,” Peter said. “Imagine if I let you do this alone?”

  “It’s all planned. I really—”

  “Well, let’s consider the last time you planned something. Oh, yes, it didn’t work. I’m still here, and your employer is dead.”

  “Listen. You have to trust me this time.”

  “No, Oliver, not only did you kill the trust between us, but you buried it in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. You tell me your plan, and then I’ll tell you how it’s going to go.”

  Oliver shook his head.

  “Chin up, son. You just got yourself a partner.”

  Gabriel cursed the existence of Mason Rogers. He also cursed the existence of Adderall. The combination of both sent him into a frenzy. When he felt this way, he had to move quick. His desire to take Kayla would become overwhelming within minutes. Soiling her was not an option.

  So, after opening a video on his laptop that would help him relieve some of the tension, he fixed himself to a radiator pipe with a special set of handcuffs that operated on a timer.

  Thirty minutes.

  He was trapped. Kayla was safe.

  He started to pleasure himself over a video of a man babysitting two girls. Both girls were in their mid-teens and oblivious to their guardian’s intentions. As usual, the acting couldn’t have been any more wooden. So, as he always did, Gabriel tried to block out the fact that it wasn’t real. But this time was different. The amphetamine was bringing a clarity to the proceedings he wasn’t used to, and he couldn’t ignore the falsity of what he watched.

  Nineteen minutes.

  He was no nearer to finding an end to his frenzy.

  He gritted his teeth and masturbated more aggressively in the hope he could force himself to a conclusion. He understood that sexual pleasure came predominately from the mind, but with the Adderall adding a rigidity to his thought processes he wasn’t used to, he would have to try for matter over mind rather than the other way round.

  Once the wooden conversation had ended and the man had started to force himself onto the two girls, Gabriel hoped it would be enough to steer him towards climax. Except, it wasn’t. Because it was there again. The great lie. The man wasn’t taking advantage of the girls. Not really. The chemical in his blood gave him razor-sharp focus like never before. He sensed their willingness behind their false, bewildered expressions. They were actresses, and they were performing for a paycheck.

  The frenzy and frustration caused tears to roll down his face.

  He thought of Kayla.

  No … no …

  He increased his hand’s speed, desperate to find an end that seemed nowhere in sight. He surveyed the handcuffs.

  Eight minutes.

  It should be enough time.

  It wasn’t.

  Kayla hadn’t moved from the bed since Gabriel and Mason had left the basement. Over the past hour, she’d curled up and tried desperately to sleep. She was unlikely to be treated to a pleasant dream—most had been horrendous of late—but anything was preferable to the cold harshness of reality that her problems had doubled and that two evil people were now holding her captive.

  Additionally, Mason had just put further pressure on Gabriel—a man losing more of a grip on reality by the day. What would this mean now? For her?

  As if he’d heard her question and was now here to answer it, he pounded down the stairs. “Kayla?”

  She remained curled up, pretending to be asleep.

  “Kayla?” He sounded desperate.

  She listened to the padlock rattle as he impatiently attacked it. She tasted sick in her mouth but kept her eyes squeezed shut.

  The door opened. “Kayla, please, I need you now! More than ever! I’m losing control! Turn, look at me!”

  She kept her eyes closed, but she knew it was pointless.

  “Please. I’m begging you!”

  She opened her eyes. It was more dangerous to ignore him.

  “Turn!”

  She turned over.

  He’d changed into a dressing gown. It hung open. He was holding his erection. His face and body were shiny with sweat. His face twitched, and his eyes rolled back and forth. “I tried, Kayla, I tried. I really did, but the videos won’t work anymore. And I need a release. I need you. You must understand!” His hand flicked back and forth over his erection.

  Kayla covered her face. “No … please … no.” She tried desperately to block out everything with thoughts of the kind women who used to work in her father’s lab. They used to talk to her on their breaks and bring little gifts with them to work. But the grunting and moaning from Gabriel cut through the memories, and then she felt the noises growing louder as he drew nearer. She rolled farther toward the edge of the bed.

  He grabbed her leg. “Kayla, please, you have to look at me. You have to.”

  She tried to shake off his hand, but his grip was too tight. “No, no—”

  “Look at me!”

  She opened her eyes, expecting to see him standing over her, but he was kneeling now, which was welcome, because she could no longer see what he was doing with the other hand. His breathing had accelerated, and the sweat was building on his face. She felt his hand moving up her leg and over her thigh. “Please.”

  “I can’t help it—”

  “Please.” She felt his hand loosen, and, for a second, she hoped he would withdraw, but then she felt his fingers exploring the area around her crotch. She drew back her legs and kicked out. She managed to put one of her bare feet in his face.

  He slumped backward.

  She went to kick him again, but this time missed completely. She scurried backward until she was at the end of the bed and drew her knees to her chest.<
br />
  He lay back on the floor, his dressing gown spread out around him, groaning as fluid bubbled out and over his slowing hand.

  She gritted her teeth and tried to force back the vomit she could still taste in her mouth.

  After his breathing steadied, he rose and fastened his dressing gown. He didn’t look at Kayla. Instead, he turned his back and left the room. He stopped just outside and slowly turned to face her. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. Her tears were coming now.

  He closed the door.

  After dressing, Gabriel sat in his lounge. He spied the laptop and the handcuffs lying by the radiator and sighed. He was so glad Kayla had eventually fought him off. If she hadn’t, then what? Would he have soiled her? And if he soiled her, would he still love her? And if he didn’t love her anymore, then what? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Now he had to focus on other matters. Mason wanted an end to Jake Pettman to keep his secret about Kayla. Gabriel believed he knew how to make this happen without getting his own hands dirty.

  Back when Jake had first arrived in town, Gabriel had made inquiries in the UK. It seemed Jake hadn’t quit his job and was running from something. When Gabriel had confronted him about this, Jake had become very hostile. Having learned much about Jake Pettman’s character in recent months, as well as watching him execute Jotham MacLeoid with no compassion, Gabriel suspected Jake had gotten himself into a serious situation in the UK—a situation that had caused him to hide in the middle of nowhere.

  “If I make this phone call,” Gabriel had said to Mason, “one way or another, his whole world will come crashing down.”

  Mason had contemplated it for a moment. He’d clearly had a more black and white solution in mind—a bullet to the head perhaps. Despite this, he’d nodded in agreement. It did, after all, have an element of intrigue about it; how far could the man who murdered his son fall?

  Gabriel scooped the notebook from his coffee table and punched the number into his cell.

  As the phone rang, he remembered Jake’s threat to expose Gabriel’s interest in the younger generation if he ever pursued this angle. He sighed. What choice did he have? Hopefully, the departure of Jake Pettman—either in a body bag or in handcuffs—would come sooner rather than later, and if his accusations did ever come to light, it would just be his word against Jake’s.