Fire in Bone: A Jake Pettman Thriller

by Wes Markin

  Gabriel shrugged. “I guess it depends on how important you think you are. Maybe she was expecting something like this to happen. She’s certainly been living by the sword for long enough.”

  Jake observed Gabriel eyeing the closed door for a few minutes before suddenly standing up. “I’m going to take a piss.”

  Gabriel left the room and closed the door behind him.

  Jake checked his cellphone and saw he had missed Lillian, so he hit Call Back. He heard a crash from the hallway and killed the call. He moved for the door, opened it, and looked out.

  With his back pressed against the wall for support, Gabriel had his arm looped around Simon’s neck. At their feet was a tray, a smashed cup, and a pool of coffee. Simon was tugging on Gabriel’s arm, but the big chief’s headlock was too powerful, and the bodyguard was starting to tire.

  “Gabriel!” Jake barked.

  “Come near me, Jake, and I’ll break his neck.”

  “You’re going about this all wrong, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel remained focused on restricting Simon’s air supply. When the bodyguard fell limp in his arms, he reached around and under Simon’s jacket and removed the concealed gun. Then he released the bodyguard and let him slump into the pool of coffee.

  Gabriel pointed the gun at Jake. His hand shook, and his eyes darted side to side.

  “What’s up with you? This is more than a whiskey hangover. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “I’ve never felt clearer,” Gabriel said.

  “Could have fooled me! Look at you! What now?”

  “Aren’t you afraid I might kill you, Jake?”

  “I don’t think you’d be that ridiculous.”

  “Why is it ridiculous? You’ve been a thorn in my side since the day you stepped into Blue Falls.”

  “Yet, here I am—the only person trying to talk some fucking sense into you.”

  Gabriel grunted. “Anyway, you needn’t worry. You’re someone else’s problem now.”

  Jake felt his blood run cold. “Whose problem? Gabriel, what have you done?”

  “Nothing. Just saying your days have been numbered since you ran from something you shouldn’t have. No one hides from the people they cross, as the lovely Priscilla is about to find out.”

  “And if she’s innocent?”

  “I’ll get the truth first.” He removed handcuffs from inside his jacket and threw them to Jake. “Go into the living room and secure yourself to something.”

  Jake looked at the handcuffs, then back up at Gabriel. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Then you’ll die now rather than later.”

  “You have more morals that that.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Have you forgotten what we did to Anthony Rogers and Jotham MacLeoid?”

  “That was different. Circumstances called for it.”

  “And these circumstances—” Gabriel fell sideways and slammed into the wall.

  Jake noticed that Simon had recovered consciousness and had reached behind to grab the chief’s leg, trying to yank the big man downward.

  Gabriel pointed the gun down and rewarded Simon’s moment of valor with a bullet to the chest.

  “Jesus!” Jake shouted.

  Simon kept hold of Gabriel’s leg for a moment longer until his eyes rolled back, and his arms went limp.

  “You stupid, stupid man,” Jake said. “What the hell have you done?”

  Gabriel pointed the gun at Jake. “Shut up! This is all your fault. You should have gone in there when I told you to. Then I’d have restrained him in time.” Gabriel tapped his forehead with his gun. “Shit … shit. Let me think … okay.” He stepped backward from the body and retrained the gun on Jake. “You drag the body in there, now. They mustn’t see it when they come back.”

  Jake pounded the wall. “When did you become such a desperate man?”

  “We’re all desperate. One way or another. Now, do as I say!”

  Jake took a deep breath, hissed, “You fucking maniac,” under his breath, stepped forward, knelt, and took the dead man’s foot. As he dragged, he glared at Gabriel. “You do realize this is the end of the road for you now.”

  “For me or for us?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “We killed those men together.”

  “Fuck you, Gabriel. You’re not going to sully the only good thing you did in your pathetic life!”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Keep dragging, and who knows? We both might live to fight another day.”

  Jake watched Gabriel pop more pills and pace around the living room.

  “What are those tablets?” Jake said.

  “They help me think.”

  “They’re not working.”

  He stopped and stared at Jake. “Fuck you.” He moved his sidearm between trembling hands, as if it was red hot.

  “Killing me won’t solve any of your problems. In fact”—he lifted his hand, and the handcuff rattled against the radiator pipe—“you couldn’t even claim self-defense.”

  Gabriel paced around Simon’s prone figure, as if he were a ravenous animal trying to decide the best part on which to start feasting.

  Jake watched the wall clock. Ten minutes passed quickly. During that time, he tried to engage Gabriel in conversation but received little more than a few grunts in return before getting a final order to, “Shut the fuck up.”

  Eventually, Gabriel stopped pacing, threw back his head, and gasped. Clearly, the last handful of pills were crashing into his system, and Jake hoped for a heart attack. Gabriel lowered his head. His lips were drawn back to form an expression that couldn’t be clearly linked to either pleasure or pain. He took a deep breath through his nose and said, “I’ve done things, Jake, things you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Try me.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You know, I’ve seen some things, things that could even surprise you, Gabriel.”

  “Not like this. No, nothing like this.”

  “Come on. What have you done that’s really so bad?”

  “I’ve—”

  The sound of a car outside interrupted him.

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “If you warn them, if you shout, God help me, I will kill you, Jake, and if that’s not enough of a warning, then know this; I will go and kill Piper.” He retreated into the hallway.

  Jake turned his attention to where he’d locked himself to the radiator. He ran his fingers over the long, copper pipe that hung from beneath the radiator. He tried pulling at it. It wasn’t the sturdiest fit. He considered yanking at it, but Jake heard the front door open and opted to hold his breath instead.

  Surprised voices. He heard a woman say, “… blood …” He presumed it to be Priscilla Stones.

  A loud, male voice ordered, “Get out now!”

  Was it another bodyguard?

  A gunshot, followed by a scream. Jake exhaled and yanked at the copper pipe.

  The door burst open, and Priscilla charged in. She slipped over Simon’s blood trail and went to her knees.

  Gabriel followed her in, keeping his gun trained on the back of her head.

  From Jake’s position opposite the door, he could see the other body in the hallway. “Gabriel, you have to stop this now—”

  He waved the gun in Jake’s direction. “Shut the fuck up!”

  Priscilla started to cry.

  Gabriel slammed the door behind him and approached Priscilla from behind. He placed the gun to the back of her head. “Stop crying, Priscilla. Crocodiles weep while they devour their prey. There’s no emotion.”

  Priscilla looked up from the body at Jake. “Help me.”

  Instinctively, Jake yanked at the copper pipe.

  “Stop, Jake!” Gabriel lifted the gun from her head and pointed it at Jake. “You don’t have to die today. It’s your choice.”

  Jake withdrew his hands. “Gabriel—”

  “Do you know why I had to restrain your other guest, Priscilla?” Gabriel lowered the gu
n to her head. “Because he’s a livewire. I watched him blow Jotham MacLeoid’s brains out.”

  Priscilla murmured through her tears, “I don’t need to know this.”

  “I’ll decide what you need to know and don’t! Jotham MacLeoid was on his knees, waiting for the bullet. Rather like you.”

  Jake shook his head. Jesus, Gabriel, you really are going to take me down with you.

  “Oops,” Gabriel said, putting a hand to his mouth. “My big mouth.”

  Jake leaned back and put his head against the wall, feeling condemned.

  “And I killed Mason’s son Anthony and your two bodyguards. Shit,” Gabriel said, stamping his foot. “There I go again. Another bag, another cat. So, Priscilla, now that you kneel in a room full of killers, do you understand the gravity of your situation?”

  Priscilla continued to cry.

  Gabriel pushed the nuzzle of his weapon into the back of her head. “Turn off the tears. Now.”

  She did.

  “Good. You were always the best actress. I’ve watched you cry in public over your husband, remember? So, do you understand the gravity of your situation?”

  “What do you think, Gabriel? There are two dead bodies in my house, and you’ve just told me that you and this man here murdered two of our residents. I didn’t get Charles and I into this position by being stupid.”

  Gabriel snorted. “She’s back, the Priscilla we know and love.”

  “What do you want? It seems that if we don’t come to some arrangement now, then I die, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail, so is it not best to discuss terms? Did you forget the money I offered?”

  “The only thing I want is the truth.”

  “The truth about …?”

  “About Collette, my sister.”

  “What could I possibly—”

  “Enough … enough!” He dug the gun in, forcing her head down. “You were in a relationship with Mason around the time my sister disappeared. If you lie to me about that now, I will end this conversation, and I will end you.”

  “Alright. So, I was in a relationship with Mason, and then I wasn’t. That doesn’t mean I killed your sister.”

  “You know what happened. The way you tried to control me, silence me. You know. I have never been so certain of anything in my life.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Tell. Me.” He pushed hard with the gun, forcing her head right down and her back into an arch.

  “The truth will disappoint you.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “Loosen the gun, then. Let me back up straight.”

  Gabriel obliged but kept the weapon against her head.

  “Our relationship lasted a few months—for me, at least. For him, it seemed to have lasted a lifetime.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we had some fun. He seemed to think it was something more than that. Still did, up until about half an hour ago.”

  “Up until? What are you talking about?”

  “It seems we really are in a room full of killers, Gabriel. He’s in the Skweda now.”

  Gabriel turned with a hand to his forehead and shuffled away.

  “You killed him?” Jake asked.

  “That’s what I said,” Priscilla said. “Well, technically, Lucas did, but on my order.”

  “Lucas?” Jake asked.

  “The one you just shot in the hallway. Anyway, I know your secrets, and you know mine, so I guess we’re all in a comfortable position?”

  “Comfortable?” Gabriel turned and bared his teeth. He marched forward and put the gun to Priscilla’s head again. “Comfortable? Mason killed my sister, and you knew about it. That makes you as far from comfortable as you can possibly be.”

  1990

  THE HEAT PRESSED down on Priscilla Stone. As always, the sex with Mason had been intense.

  While she sweated on the shop floor by the magazine rack, Mason leaned against the counter, dressing. She admired his toned body just before he concealed it behind a collared shirt and a pair of jeans. Briefly, she wondered if this affair, which had been born from lust for the local gun shop owner, was developing into something more.

  “I think I’m in love with you,” Mason said.

  She thought about his admission, thought some more about her own developing feelings, and opted not to respond. Instead, she reached for her underwear which Mason had cast to one side during their earlier frenzy. As she slipped on her panties and fastened her bra, she settled on the safer of responses. “I need to get back before Charles returns from his council meeting.”

  “Can’t you just tell him you’re working late?”

  “Quite the risktaker, aren’t you? What happens if Lorraine comes back early?”

  “She never gets back early when she’s visiting her mother. She’ll always stay until the nurse asks her to leave. We’ve still got time.”

  Dressed only in her underwear, Priscilla slipped against him, and they kissed. When she pulled away, she said, “Do you ever wonder what’ll happen to us after Lorraine’s mother dies and there is no reason for her to leave your side?”

  “I try not to think about it.”

  “It’s best to be ready.”

  “By then, you’ll be as convinced about me as I am about you.”

  “Even if I was in love with you, I could never leave Charles.”

  “There’s still time for me to change your mind.” Mason smiled. “Lorraine’s mother is a tough old—”

  The bell on the shop door tinkled.

  She noticed the schoolgirl at the front of the shop—Chief Jewell’s daughter, Collette. Priscilla’s first thought was, Look at the huge hole in those tights. Grab yourself another pair from one of the aisles. Her second thought was, Jesus, Mason, you left the shop door unlocked? She regarded him and saw the disbelief etched on his face; to forget something so important was so unlike him. At this point, he may very well have quipped, “Love makes you do the funniest things,” if they hadn’t been faced with the catastrophic fact that their dangerous liaison was about to become public knowledge.

  Priscilla looked back and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Collette looked as stunned as Priscilla felt, and why wouldn’t she? Priscilla was a married woman in her underwear, standing close to a married man. “Sorry,” Collette said. “I thought you were open. My dad sent me for fluid for his Zippo.”

  “Of course, dear,” Mason said.

  Was he serious? Or was he responding out of shock too?

  “If it’s not a good time, though …” Collette said.

  “Of course. It’s fine. I was just helping Mrs. Stone with …” He ran his gaze over her half-naked body. He didn’t bother finishing the lie, because it wasn’t possible to create a believable one. “Come over to the counter, dear, and I’ll grab you one from the shelf.”

  Priscilla backed away, past the magazine rack, into one of the aisles.

  Collette, pale and rigid, edged across the shopfloor to the counter.

  Mason bypassed his lover and headed down the same aisle she stood in front of.

  Priscilla listened to Mason fumble around for the tin on the shelf while she kept her gaze on the timid girl at the counter—the timid girl who now possessed information that could destroy everything she and Charles had worked for.

  As Mason slipped past her with the tin, she gripped him. He turned his pale face to hers, and she hissed, “She can’t leave.”

  He raised an eyebrow as if to say, But what does that mean?

  She shrugged. “You created this mess, so you now have to fix it.”

  “Got it right here, dear,” Mason said, approaching Collette.

  “Thanks, sir,” Collette murmured.

  As Mason rounded the counter, he said. “Ah, darn it, it’s out of date.” He put it on the counter. “And I don’t have any more on the shelf.”

  “It’s okay, sir. I could take a box of matches or a disposable lighter
until you have—”

  “No, dear. You came here for lighter fluid, and lighter fluid you shall have. Let’s head to the stock cellar.”

  “It’s fine, sir. Honestly. Dad won’t mind. As long as he gets to smoke tonight, he’ll be happy. Please don’t trouble yourself!”

  “Nonsense! Come with me!” Mason came around the counter, gently put his hand on Collette’s shoulder, and led her across the shop floor.

  Priscilla followed at a distance so as not to make the girl more nervous than she already was.

  When Mason reached the door by the shelves of liquor on the final aisle, he unlocked it, opened it, and switched on the light. He pointed down some old steps.

  Collette looked up at him.

  “Now, if you wait here, dear,” Mason said, “I’ll shoot down and grab it.” Mason disappeared down the steps.

  It seemed like he was gone ages. Collette tapped her foot impatiently. Even an overly polite girl like Collette would turn her back on this most awkward of situations if it didn’t end anytime soon.

  A crash sounded from below. “Help me!”

  Collette looked back at Priscilla with wide eyes, then back at the open cellar door again.

  “I’m trapped. Help me!” Mason shouted from below.

  Collette responded how her policeman daddy or her elder brother wannabe policeman would probably have done. She opted to help.

  Unsure of what Mason was planning exactly, Priscilla turned her back and placed a fist to her mouth and waited …

  And waited.

  Eventually, she heard the door slam and turned to see Mason standing there, locking it.

  He turned, out of breath, and sidestepped to lean against a shelf of beer to compose himself.

  Then the thumping began. “Please! Let me out!” Collette called through the door.

  Mason scrunched his face at Priscilla.

  Even from this distance, she saw the tears starting in his eyes. She’d never seen him cry before. Part of the reason she’d been attracted to him—or rather, lusted over him—was his manliness. She’d never seen this vulnerable side before.

  “Please … I’m scared.” Collette said. The thumping grew louder.