by Jeff Strand
Gaggles’ open mouth struck him perfectly���upper jaw through the chin, lower jaw through the neck. The cowboy hat stayed in place.
Farley stiffened.
Let out a gurgling sound.
Then fell.
My last bit of strength was gone. I couldn’t even call out my children’s names. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.
“ANDREW? CAN you hear me?”
I opened my eyes. Either Bruce or his twin brother Tony was crouched in front of me.
“An ambulance is on its way,” Bruce or Tony said. “You don’t have to worry about your children. They’re safe with Tony. They’re badly shaken, but they’re not hurt.”
“How’d you…”
“Find you? We followed you. We weren’t just going to let you waltz away from the police station without surveillance. You lost us for a bit, but the explosion led us right to you. Sorry about the fib.”
“Asshole,” I whispered.
Bruce smiled. “You just relax. Everything is going to be fine.”
“Maybe…but…not after…”
“Shhhh.No need to talk.”
“…not after…my wife finds out…”
Epilogue
IF HELEN was pissed, she didn’t show it. I’d never been babied so much in my life.
Michael hadn’t been bluffing about having to make a call by Friday. By Saturday the names of everyone involved in the snuff videos, from kidnappers to clients, had been made public. It only took about two weeks for the last of them to be caught.
Roger doesn’t throw a Frisbee as well as he used to, but after a nice long hospital stay he was all right. My hospital stay was even longer, but I healed pretty well, too. Helen’s broken leg did just fine.
Theresa and Kyle…well, there were a lot of nightmares at first, but they’re subsiding. It’s been six months now, and I think they’re both doing extremely well considering what happened. Their psychiatrist is one of the biggest nerds imaginable, but he’s good. And kids are tough. They’ll be okay.
They say that any publicity is good as long as they spell your name right, but the crew disbanded Ghoulish Delights anyway. Rachel became something of a hero for rescuing the prisoners, but I think she squandered her fame on getting more people to buy gym memberships.
Reverse Snowflake has a nice home now. Roger has a few new scratches every time I see him, but he’ll live.
Now I’ve been offered a generous amount of money to tell my story. I have to admit, there was some hesitation on my part. I mean, that’s what Farley wanted. The problem is, his story got out to the public anyway, even with all the interviews I refused to grant. The former prisoners shared everything, and Farley’s final tape (which miraculously survived my blowing up a large percentage of his cabin) seemed to be on television twenty-four hours a day. He got what he wanted.
But, what the hell?Here’s my book. Here’s a nice summer home for myself and Helen, and a college education for Theresa and Kyle. And I paid off the guy whose car I hit…though, unfortunately, Helen found out about it.
Yeah, this is what Farley wanted, but you know what? He’s dead, and I’m not.
I may suck as a detective, but right now I feel pretty good.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 9cefdca0-ea54-473c-bbb6-67cb138af58c
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 10.5.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.29, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
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Jeff Strand
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