by JJ Lamb
“Hold it right there!” It was a no-nonsense command.
Gina stopped leaning into the door, but couldn’t stop shivering.
“Come on out, hands high and in front of you.”
Gina pushed the door a little more, stumbled through the narrow opening, and raised her shaking arms, palms out. At the far end of the room, two uniformed cops were crouched, pistols aimed in her direction; a sullen, handcuffed Hiller stood off to the side.
She looked around for Eddie St. George, but instead saw Pepper Yee, who rolled her eyes and told the officers to lower their weapons.
Yee snatched a bloodstained butcher’s coat from a wooden peg, stepped out to block the cops’ view of Gina, and walked across the room.
“D-do I f-finally have your f-full attention?” Gina said as she passed out.
Chapter 40
Gina kept trying to open her eyes. Someone was talking to her, telling her she was going to be fine, but she couldn’t remember why that was important or why she wasn’t fine in the first place. Slowly, she climbed through a dense layer of confusion to a reassuring level of time and place. Then she was able to open her eyes.
She stared into the concerned face of an EMT, who smiled widely at her. “Becoming a polar bear means you should stop and get the fur coat first,” he said.
“Don’t listen to him,” a female EMT said, recording her body temperature before checking each of her fingers. “Close your eyes and get some rest. You’re going to be okay.”
“Just how cold did I get in that freezer?”
“Not too bad. And your vitals are all stable.”
She was now alert enough to be scared. What had the hypothermia done to her? “What about my fingers and toes? Am I going to lose them?”
The female EMT reached under the pile of blankets, took her hand and squeezed it. “Everything looks good. I think with some basic medical treatment you’ll cruise right through this.”
Well, at least she wasn’t shivering anymore. That had to be good. Gina shifted her head at the sound of a deep sigh, saw Yee standing at the back of the ambulance. The detective smiled when Gina looked at her.
“You manage to get yourself into the strangest situations, Ms. Mazzio.”
“What are you doing here?” Gina said. “Lose your cruiser?”
“Nope. Just not letting you out of my sight this time.”
Gina tried to read the continuous ECG strip they were running on her, count the drops running into the IV port hanging above her head. No deal. She couldn’t concentrate.
“Detective Yee?” She was becoming light headed, had trouble organizing her thoughts. “I’d appreciate it if you called my. my…fiancé.” She was suddenly very, very tired. She could barely get Harry’s cell number out of her mouth.
* * *
“Neither one?”
Gina awakened, looked around to see who was talking. It was Yee, a cell phone tight against her ear. She shifted her eyes, saw that she was on a gurney in the ER
“Yeah! Yeah! Keep looking.” Yee folded the cell and put in her pocketbook.
“Can’t you find Harry?” Gina mumbled.
“Looking for St. George and the Hendricks woman,” Yee said. “That call came from one of my people at his penthouse.”
“They aren’t there?” Gina remembered why she’d been trapped in the freezer and fought a sudden shiver. Even though blankets were piled on top of her and the fluid running through the IV was warmed, she didn’t believe she would ever really be warm enough again. She squirmed around, wished she had some underwear and socks to put on.
“Been and gone, from the look of things,” Yee said. She leaned back and gave Gina a stony-eyed stare.
“What?”
“What? Well, for starters, what ever possessed you to go to Eddie St. George’s apartment in the first place?”
“I told you, I was trying to find Megan Ann. Wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“You’re goddam lucky, do you know that?”
“That’s the third or fourth time you’ve said that since you picked me up,” Gina said.
“And you didn’t know anything about this God-awful business the St. Georges were involved in?”
“Of course not! All I knew was that a couple of our nurses were missing, and that maybe Megan Ann was missing too.”
“Damn lucky!”
“Agreed!” She rubbed her palms on her thighs, tried to create more heat under the covers even though she suspected her actual temperature was normal again. “But how did you happen to show up at the butcher shop? I’m pretty certain you weren’t looking for me.”
“To quote someone I know, damn straight about that!” Yee made a couple of notes on a pad. “We had a tail on this guy Milty Hiller, a sub-human type we were onto for dealing in illicit body parts.”
“That’s what the butcher was doing?”
“Yup!” She made a couple more notes. “We’d set up a sting at a funeral home and were going to take down Hiller and his accomplices there. But he surprised us. Took off in the opposite direction. Lost him for a while. Had to call out an APB. A patrol unit finally spotted his truck parked outside the butcher shop. By the time Daniels and I got there with our backup guys, Eddie St. George was gone. But we did find Hiller, all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
“The guy kept threatening Eddie with a gun, wanted him to cut me up for body parts. They kept calling them ‘packages.’ Yuck!”
“Yeah, we found some of those in St. George’s freezer, but the ones we found in slime-ball Hiller’s truck should be enough to put him away. He apparently made another stop before going to the butcher shop.”
“Lucky me you showed up when you did,” Gina said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Gina tried for a second time to sip some warm water the nurse had brought her, but she couldn’t get the fluid to go down. “So,” she said, “you caught Hiller, Eddie’s father is dead, Megan Ann and Eddie are missing, and you still don’t know what happened to Shelly Wilton and Arina Diaz.”
“That isn’t quite true,” Yee said.
“Which part?”
“The missing nurses part.”
Gina grit her teeth, took a deep breath, and said, “At the butcher shop?”
Yee looked away from her. “The crime scene people discovered that the late Mrs. St. George’s plastic-wrapped head wasn’t her husband’s only trophy.”
“How many?”
“More than you want to know about, all packed nicely in pork loin boxes,” Yee said. “The late Mrs. St. George was the only one on display, so to speak.”
“God!”
“Should close out a lot of missing person files throughout the Bay Area,” Yee said. “What I need from you is every single thing you know or think you know about Eddie St. George, no matter how insignificant you may think it is.”
“What would you say if I told you I feel kind of sorry for the guy? He–“
“Knock it off, Mazzio. Eddie St. George is either a mass murderer or an accomplice to mass murder. And if I get the smallest inkling you’re not telling me the truth, Ridgewood General is going to be missing the services of another nurse.”
* * *
Gina was still wiping tears from her eyes when she was released from the ER, almost two hours later.
Poor Arina, poor Shelley. And all those other women.
Yee had offered her a lift home, but she’d declined, lied and said she had a ride. She wanted to get away from any semblance of crime and the police as quickly as possible.
The staff had found her some used, disinfectant-smelling clothes to wear, none of which fit very well. She didn’t want to think who might have worn the scratchy garments before she got them. But the hospital scuffs were great, except that they kept falling off her feet.
When she reached the sidewalk, using one hand to keep her drawstring pants from falling, she looked for one of the taxis usually lined up at the ER exit.
“They found you,” she said.
“Yee chased me down, but a couple of EMT friends picked up on her operation on their scanner and let me know even before she did.” He opened the car door. For a moment they just stood and looked at each other.
Gina grinned, ran into Harry’s out-stretched arms, grabbed him around the middle, and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.
-The End-
BONE PIT
by
Bette Golden Lamb
&
J. J. Lamb
TWO BLACK SHEEP PRODUCTIONS
NOVATO, CALIFORNIA
Bone Pit
Copyright © 2013 by Bette Golden Lamb & James J. Lamb
www.twoblacksheep.us
All rights reserved
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or, if real, used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the expressed consent of the publisher.
Cover Designer: Rita Wood www.ritawoodcreative.com
Dedication
To Peggy and Charlie Lucke,
our long-time and valued dear friends,
who may or may not be related to
one of our protagonists.
Prologue
“Stay down, bitch!”
Need to get up. Get up or pee the bed. Oooh, shoulders hurt. Glass crunching inside. Fire in my knees. Hot. Hot like Hawaii! Ocean hanging upside down, hanging from the sky. Oh, God! Rocky, stop it! Stop stabbing me! Stabbing my arm! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!
“Hold her!” Rocky yelled. “Crissake, I can’t do this alone.”
Pete snickered. “She's only a bag of bones. You could crush her with one hand.”
Move … inch … inch … inch. Careful. Careful.
“Damn it! Hold onto her or I’m gonna pop you in the mouth!”
Light bouncing. Dark … light … dark … light. Supposed to remember. Promised if I took the medicine I’d remember.
“Man, I hate going into that friggin’ lab with Ethan lookin’ like some freaky scientist straight outta the comics. And those floatin’ brains. Gives me the creeps.”
* * *
Ocean falling. Snake dangling, falling into my hair. Can’t scream. Hit me when I scream. Oh, my God! It’s sliding across my neck. Curling around my head, moving through my hair. Squeezing tighter and tighter.
“Rocky, get the snake!”
“Shut the fuck up, lady!”
“Did you give her the meds?”
“Course I did, Doc.”
That sound? Buzzing?
“No! Don’t!”
Hammering in my brain. Boom! Boom! Boom!
“The two of you are idiots. I told you to sedate her. How am I supposed to work on someone who’s flopping around like this?”
“Hey, Doc, I gave her the juice. Right in the vein. She shoulda been long gone.”
Burning, throbbing. Eating me inside.
“Get away! Get away!”
“All right, you fools, get her out of here! This was a total waste of my time. Why can’t you ever do anything right?”
“Don’t know what happened, boss.”
“Wheel her out! Now!”
* * *
“Jesus, can’t you give her more dope? She’s creepin’ me out with those crazy eyes.”
“Used up all the shit.”
Deep breaths. Swim away in the cool ocean. Waves crashing down. Ocean coming. Breath hurts. No air. Swimming. Swimming harder. God, God, dear God! Father in heaven, please help me. Save me! Air. Need air. Someone help me! Save me!
“Throw her in the pit.”
“Sounds like a goddam dying animal. You really fucked up. Should have been dead by now.”
“Give her a few more minutes and she will be, asshole.”
Help! Oooh, ooooh, hurts.
“Rocky! Pete! Don’t leave me! Don’t go!”
“Shut up, bitch!”
“Come back! Stop the water! Please stop the water!”
Chapter 1
Gina and Harry inched along in a deserted silver mine north of Carson City. She refused to think about the ancient, rotting timbers that were supposed to hold back the tons of rock over their heads. Instead, she concentrated on the dancing beam of light coming from the flashlight Harry was holding to guide them through the inky blackness.
From their first step inside, she’d grabbed the back of his jacket, bunched it up until she was grasping a sweaty clump with one hand, while the other hand trailed along the exposed jumble of rock in the vertical wall. For some reason, touching the inanimate rocks was reassuring even if they were scary companions.
“What is this cockamamie fascination you have with mines, anyway?” Gina said. “You know how claustrophobic I am. I can barely breathe in here.”
“Hey!” He wrapped an arm around her. “You could have waited outside.”
“No way! I’m not letting you out of my sight, Harry Lucke. Besides, waiting alone in that creepy canyon would have been just as weird. I swear there are ghosts hiding behind every single rock—some old miner with an axe or a frustrated gambler with a six-shooter.”
“A city girl from the Bronx; what would you know about Nevada ghosts?”
“I have news for you, mister. The alleys in the neighborhood where I come from could make even you wig out.”
“Well, Ms. Mazzio, if you were raised in my neck of the woods, you’d know not to keep poking your fingers in between those rocky crevices. It’s a great spot for black widows to hide.”
She jerked her hand away from the wall and stuck it in her pocket. “Very funny.”
“So who’s laughing?” Harry said, laughing.
Without warning, the flashlight blinked out, leaving them both gasping in surprise.
Gina’s voice was shaky. “Oh, God, this is like being blind.” She grabbed for his arm and squeezed him with all her might. “Harry, please, please, please put the light back on. If this is supposed to be some kind of joke, it’s not funny.”
“It’s okay, babe. Give me a moment and I’ll have it working.”
She squirmed. An invisible hand was crushing down on her chest. “Harry, I can’t breathe!”
She heard him going through his pockets, clothes swishing with his movements. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounded hysterical even to her; it bounced around them―not really an echo, but something like it. No matter how hard she squinted, all she saw was a flat black wall.
“Batteries, doll. Always carry an extra pair if you’re exploring a mine. Big daddy taught me that.”
The light was back.
Gina threw her arms around his neck, thought she was going to cry with relief, but a smile won the contest. “I love you, do you know that, Mr. Lucke?”
Then his mouth was on hers and they were lost in each other in the middle of the deserted mine.
Gina yanked away. “Did you hear that?”
“Just some rocks. They drop all the time.”
“You know what? I’ve had it. If this is panic therapy, it’s not working.” She tugged his sleeve, taking backward steps. “First the light disappears. Then the mine is collapsing. I get the message—time to run, live to fight another day.”
“The mine’s not collapsing. Land moves, rocks shift all the time. A few are going to drop here and there.”
“You might be right; it’s a perfectly logical explanation. But get me out of here.” She tugged at his arm again and again until he gave in. They walked back out of the mine.
* * *
Gina and Harry agreed that all the electricity required to power the blinking outside lights of The Silver Dollar casino could have powered a small town.
/> It was like stepping back in time when they pushed through the wooden swinging doors. The sawdust-covered plank floors creaked with every step; old guns and mining relics clung to the walls and ceiling, filling every inch of available space.
Gina thought this must be one of those old leftover gambling joints she’d heard about that had gone through the gold and silver rushes of the 1800s. But it had somehow managed to slide through later eras of transformation without losing its original mining-era vision of hard times.
She couldn’t imagine how this historic casino could compete with the ultra-modern places in the center of Reno and Carson City. There, electronic slots, convenient credit tickets, glitz, glitter and showgirls gave the illusion of no tomorrow. Riches all round were there for the taking.
That's what the suckers came for.
The place was jam-packed, the customers surrounded by the clatter of slots being well-fed with coins and the wild shouts of the three-deep crowds around the blackjack and craps tables. Gina felt a rush of adrenaline.
The restaurant area was also mobbed. Gina and Harry had to cool their heels for thirty minutes before they were seated.
And it was a Sunday night!
“You know, when I was going through nursing school,” Gina said. “I never quite pictured myself working in Nevada. And tell me, how the hell can anyone breathe in here with all the cigarette smoke? You could scratch your name in the fumes.”
Harry smiled at her. “But look at how happy everyone is, even while losing their money.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “How about I move my bod over and crowd the hell out of you?”
Gina laughed as his bottom bumped her against the wall of the small booth. She made a point of ignoring his hand creeping up her thigh as she fingered her way through the menu. She stopped at the double-page, 24-hour breakfast section.
