Lesser Crimes

by Aitana Moore

  Officer Wright walked into the station, looking from James to the chief as Fisher said, "Sir, can you hold on one second?"

  James stopped. "I've been through this before, and we barely have a second. If there isn't a problem, it will be an hour of your time. If there is a problem, you'll be preventing another murder. The murder of an innocent woman."

  "What innocent woman?" Noah asked. "What's going on?"

  "He's talking about Lynn Miller,” the chief said.

  "Lynn? Murder? She was fine just a while ago."

  James took his arm. "When?"

  "Less than two hours ago. I went to have coffee with her. She wanted to know 'bout Scott Hoffman."

  "Who's Scott Hoffman?"

  "A boy who died of a drug overdose," the chief explained, and would have gone on remonstrating with James, except that he was interrupted.

  "Fuck me," James cried, hands over his eyes. "She has figured it out and gone there.”

  "What—?"

  Stepping toward the chief, James said urgently, "Listen to me, I know where she went. We need to go there. Now."

  Instead of protesting, Chief Fisher looked half hypnotized. "OK. Wright, you'll drive us."

  The three men walked together to the police car outside.

  "Watch your head," Wright said, probably out of habit, as he opened the back door for James.

  Chief Fisher cleared his throat. "And where is this place?"

  Opening Paxton's message, James forwarded it to Wright's phone. The officer put it into the GPS app.

  "That's out of my jurisdiction," the chief remarked. "We'd have to get the local PD involved."

  "We will," James said, holding on to the edges of his temper. "After we make sure no one is being killed."

  Fisher turned around to look at James. "I don't know how things are done in England, but here we can't just go into another county with guns blazing."

  "In England most citizens don't have guns."

  Fisher squinted at him. "You really sure Lynn is in danger of life?"

  "Yes, and I promise you that every minute counts."

  James had more than a bad feeling now; he knew that Lee was in trouble. Again. The important thing was that the car was moving, and that it was moving fast. Wright obviously had little reason to ever turn on the siren, because now he did so with a certain flourish. As they drove down Main Street, people ran out of stores to see what the hell was going on in that sleepy town, where people didn't know each other as well as they thought.

  Even in places with tricky coverage, calls could sometimes go through. James kept dialing. "Come on, Lee. Come on, answer!"

  But she never picked up.

  TWENTY-NINE

  From the cover of the trees, Lee watched in stunned silence as Ross walked to Caleb, rifle at the ready. He nudged the man on the ground with his foot and, getting no response, crouched and took the gun from Caleb's holster, frisking him for more weapons. Finally, Ross pulled the radio from Caleb’s shoulder, smashing it with the butt of his rifle.

  Now that the officer presented no danger, Ross touched his neck to feel for a pulse. He seemed to find one, as he muttered, "Shit, buddy. I wanted it to be quick.”

  Caleb was alive, and Lee had to distract Ross somehow. Then she might be able to get the rifle off his hands, or Caleb’s Glock, which he had tucked into the back of his waistband. But Ross wasn't a fool; if she betrayed her presence he would kill her, or at least knock her unconscious.

  Shaking his head as if with regret, Ross pulled the tarp from the boat and threw it on the ground, then dragged Caleb inside with a grunt of effort. The pool of blood on the ground revealed that Caleb had a serious wound and needed help as soon as possible.

  It was obvious by his expression of regret that Ross wouldn't manage to execute Caleb in cold blood. He was going to throw him inside the deepest part of the lake, probably weighted with rocks.

  But it was all open space between Lee and them. She would never get to Caleb, but she was closer to the cabin than they were. If she managed to trick Ross into entering it, she could lock the door on him from the outside. Ross didn't seem worried about the prospect of being seen: it was a weekday, and the sun was beginning to go down. It was unlikely that someone would row by to help her.

  She rummaged for the phone inside her bag with one hand, in the off-chance it might work there, while her other hand searched for a rock on the ground.

  And then, as if to prove that it could work, the phone rang, loud and clear.

  Ross turned, and his eyes locked with hers showing surprise, then horror.

  "Lynn," he muttered. As she fumbled to get the call, he stepped forward, repeating more loudly, "Lynn!"

  The phone stopped ringing before she could answer, but Ross hadn't yet raised his rifle. Lee had hesitated in Mexico when an old man attacked her, and she wouldn't do that again: she threw the heavy rock, hitting Ross on the right shoulder. He yelped in pain, the arm with the rifle dropping to his side. She was only going to have a moment, but it was long enough for the only thing she could do: run inside the cabin that stood between them and pull the door closed.

  Lock it, lock it!

  The damned old door fit badly, but it had a latch inside. Lowering it gave her time to turn the big rusty key in the lock several times. She jumped back as a fist hit the wood and Ross said, "Lynn, open the door!"

  "I don't think so," she said, looking around for something she could use as a weapon.

  There was nothing inside except a sofa and the cloth that covered it. The cabin had obviously been emptied. She ran into the small bathroom, but it had no mirror she could break to use the glass as defense.

  Why was Ross there? Caleb had probably called him, and they had met to make sure there was no sign of them left in that property.

  "Lynn, listen to me," Ross said through the crack. "Please, please don't make me hurt you. I don't want to."

  She looked at her phone; no signal. Call me! Keep calling me, it might go through again!

  "You shot Caleb," she said as she forwarded the GPS map of her location to James and wrote, I'm in this place! Caleb is hurt. Hurry!

  The message might go through the next time a bit of signal reached them, but would James — or anyone — make it to her in time?

  "He's not dead." Ross pleaded, "I didn't want to hurt him, and I don't want to hurt you. I'm not a killer, Lynn. I was just desperate. We needed to care for Billy. We needed money, and I had a bad idea. I swear I wanted to give up, but things got out of control."

  It wouldn't be wise to voice her doubts or talk about Scott. She had provoked Caleb before because her gut had told her that he wasn’t capable of harming anyone; not really. That same gut now told her that Ross would be ruthless. Standing in a flimsy cabin with an armed man right outside and telling him she knew he was a murderer was just about the dumbest thing she could do.

  Negotiate until you can think of something. Time is running out for Caleb.

  "Ross, I'm scared of you."

  "Don't be scared, Lynn. How could I hurt you? We've gone through a lot together, haven't we?"

  "Yes. You took such good care of Billy, Ross."

  "I just couldn't make ends meet with the medical bills. Not even with your help, Lynn. Maddy needed me. She has nothing to do with this. She doesn't know."

  "All right."

  "Now, please open the door."

  Open the door, or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow the house in.

  The door rattled; she wished she had the big wooden bar inside, but she only had a flimsy latch and a flimsy lock on bad wood.

  As the door rattled again, Lee searched inside the bag that hung across her body. If only she had carried mace or a pen knife. If only she had a gun!

  Her hand found something sharp. Abby's comb. It had been there since the night at the Osprey.

  All she had was a fucking comb, but she took it, holding it next to her body, just as Ross kicked the door open, splinters flying from the loc
k. He stood there without pointing the rifle at her and looked haunted. "I don't want to hurt you, but what am I to do? I did this for Billy, for our family."

  "I sent you money," she said.

  He took a step forward. "I know you did. We all did what we could, but bills pile up and you never get out from under them. I can't go to prison, Lynn. I want to live with Maddy and have kids."

  Now he was right before her.

  "I don't want you to go to prison," she whispered.

  "But how can I trust—?"

  He was close enough. She drove the long metal end of the comb toward his left eye.

  Ross moved, and the comb tore through his eyelid, which opened like an envelope and flapped over his temple. Blood spurted out as he screamed, fingers hovering over his bulging socket without daring to touch it. Lee didn’t waste a second: she kicked Ross' groin with all her strength, and when he flew against the wall, she pulled the rifle from his hand and ran backwards.

  She wasn't going to have mercy, not this time. Raising the muzzle, she pulled the trigger.

  There was a click and nothing more. Ross hadn't shot his way inside because there were no more bullets in the rifle. But even in pain and with a bleeding eye, he was already reaching for the gun behind his waistband.

  Lee leapt outside, slammed the door of the cabin and pushed the heavy wooden bar across it. A bullet hit the door as Ross shouted her name.

  He would have a hard time shooting through the thick wood of the door with a Glock, but she couldn't stick around to see what would happen. Her phone still had no coverage: to save Caleb she had to stem his bleeding and get him away from that place.

  Lee’s best bet was the creek, since she wouldn't be able to lug Caleb up to his car, which was parked on the driveway at the back of the cabin.

  "Caleb!"

  She jumped into the boat, pulling at his shirt so that she could find his wound. The bullet had entered his side, and she saw no exit wound on his back. He was very pale, and although the hole was in his muscle, he was losing a lot of blood. She tore a strip of her own shirt and began to fold it several times.

  "Caleb!" She slapped his face softly. "Caleb, can you hear me?"

  His eyes rolled several times and his white lips opened as he tried to speak. Finally, his lids lifted. "Lynn?"

  "Caleb, you've been shot. I need to get you away from here, but you have to help me. Put pressure on this." She placed the hard square of cloth over his wound and his hand over it. "Just hold that with all the strength you got, you hear me?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't pass out."

  "I'll try not to."

  Jumping out, she pulled the boat toward the water. It moved easily on the wheels until she gave it a last tug to get it off the dolly and onto the water.

  Caleb remembered where he was. "Ross?"

  A roar answered him. Ross was kicking the door, and Lee could see it bulge with the blows. A second of silence proceeded two shots that splintered more wood.

  Caleb raised his head to look but winced with pain and let it fall again. "The fucking guy shot me! He shot to kill!”

  The propeller was in the water, and Lee pulled at the string in the outboard motor. It didn't start. Shit, she had forgotten to put it in neutral. She tried again, but the motor wouldn't start.

  "No fuel," Caleb said weakly. "That's the sound of no fuel."

  "God damn it!"

  "He had cans of gasoline back there. Round the side of the house. And I'm guessing you don't have ammo? In my car there's ammo and another rifle."

  "All right, I'll be back."

  "Lynn, careful 'cos he got my Glock. There's fifteen rounds in that thing."

  Wonderful.

  The door of the cabin still held as Lee ran past it, although Ross was giving it some mighty kicks. Sooner or later he would manage to open it, and this time he would no longer try to talk to her. He would shoot her dead, and Caleb too.

  She saw the container of gasoline and a box of big matches, but she hesitated. Maybe Ross would break the door down before she could fill the fuel tank, which meant that she would need Caleb's rifle. Lee decided to keep on running toward the police car; she had almost reached it when she heard glass breaking, a buzzing by her ears and loud cracks.

  Ross had broken the back window and was shooting at her. She ducked out of his range: to kill her, he would have to put his head and his arm out and run the risk of losing his gun. He was too smart to do that.

  She could still get to the gasoline, but more glass broke at the front of the cabin. Ross could now shoot both ways, hitting her if she tried to get to the car or to the boat. He would also soon clear the window of shards and step out. There was no way for Lee to reach Caleb, unless she created another diversion.

  "Lynn, I'm gonna get out there," Ross said. "You blinded me, but I'm still willing to talk to you."

  No, you aren’t.

  Lee took the container and began throwing gasoline on the wooden walls of the cabin. She talked over the sound of the liquid spilling, "I don't believe you Ross. I'm scared!"

  "Come on, Lynn! It's still me! I’m not a monster. I’ve known you since you were a little girl.”

  "I'm scared, Ross."

  I'm not scared of you, motherfucker. Lee stepped back and picked up the box of matches. It really only took one for a good fire to light and catch. The whole side of the house began to burn.

  "You crazy bitch!" Ross screamed inside the cabin.

  He might still shoot her if she went to get the rifle, but the front of the house was on fire, and it would be hard for him to stand at the window, so she took the chance and ran to the boat, jumping in again.

  The fuel line didn’t fit in the container, and glass was flying from the back of the house. Ross was about to make it out the bathroom window.

  Taking the oar, Lee pushed the boat further onto the water and began rowing with all her might.

  "Caleb? Are you there?"

  "I'm here, Lynn."

  "Are you pressing like I told you?"

  He nodded once, but his freckles stood out on his white face. She took the phone from her pocket and handed it to him. "Keep hitting redial with your other hand."

  Caleb took the phone with slippery fingers and obeyed. She managed to row them beneath a weeping willow, out of sight. Ross was still breaking glass, but there must be only a few shards now. She didn't have a funnel, or anything that would help her to pour the gasoline into the small hole of the tank. Why didn’t they just have an old-fashioned motor?

  Maybe the boat did have fuel. She turned the valve handle to choke setting and again she pulled the cord. It didn't start, and now there was an ominous silence coming from the cabin.

  Ross stood on the banks, looking at the traces the boat had left on the water with one naked eye and another that blinked too much. He had still not dared cover his wound, as if afraid to tear the lid completely off — or as if fearing he might give himself a terrible infection.

  "Come on, Lee!” he called out. “You got a dying guy with you, you got no fuel, and you can't make it. Be reasonable, we'll talk. I swear, Lynn. I swear on Maddy."

  "He's got shots in that thing still," Caleb whispered. "Don't believe him."

  How was she going to stop Ross without a gun? He had begun walking toward them on the banks. In a moment he would find them, and he would kill them.

  "Keep pressing on that wound, you hear?" she whispered back to Caleb.

  "What you gonna do?"

  She put her fingers to her lips as her hand closed around the oar. There was only one chance for survival, and that was to surprise Ross before he got too close. On light feet she hit the shore and ran among the trees.

  "Stop!"

  Lee froze. Ross had left the path, guessing what she might do; he was right behind her.

  She turned, the oar still in her hand. He was too far to reach. Lord, but he looked a mess with blood all over his face, neck and chest. His hands were cut, his hair scorched, and he was
panting. At least I've done a bit of a number on him, Lee thought as she stared at the black barrel of the Glock. She had always told herself to go down fighting.

  "You won't leave this alone, will you Lynn?" Ross asked. "You won't ever be quiet, not like you were for your mama, though she never did anything good for anyone."

  Thoughts ran through Lee's head — of April, of Cora of Billy. So many thoughts of Cora and Billy.

  "I'm so sorry," she said out loud, although she was saying it to James, and he wasn’t there. She had done it again: that's what he would think. He would think that she hadn't trusted him; that she hadn’t wanted to be happy with him, and she had.

  "I'm the one who's sorry," Ross said.

  There were tears running out of his right eye. People weren't always all bad. Sometimes they just got desperate, and that was the real tragedy. Ross held the gun with both hands and made a whimpering sound to bring himself to pull the trigger.

  "I'm so sorry, Lynn, but I can't let you live!"

  THIRTY

  Thick smoke spiraled through the trees, and James could both see it and smell it as they drove toward the cabin.

  "Shit, something's on fire," Chief Fisher said, reaching for his phone.

  "It's the place we're going to," James said. "Hurry up!"

  Noah stepped on the gas as they sped by the billboards Jada had described and turned toward the gate. The smoke was too thick for them to use the driveway, so they left the car after the gate and began to run down through the woods.

  "Don't shout," James told the others. "She might have been taken hostage, or she might be hiding."

  Chief Fisher took out his gun and coughed, his eyes streaming. "Now you let us take over, Mr. Bryce."

  "Sure," James said as he kept running. Surely not.

  The smoke was drifting the other way; he only needed to get away from it so could get his bearings. Either someone was inside the cabin (not Lee, not Lee...) or it had been set on fire to hide evidence of meth cooking. He caught a glimpse of water a long way down and made his way through the trees.