by Sarina Adem
Jolene 2
(Cozy Mystery Series: Book 2)
Sarina Adem
© Copyright 2016 All rights reserved.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
Perplexed, Jolene watched Troy drag himself across the floor, the chair following behind him as he climbed over Hightower’s colossal body and relieved the carving knife from his dead grasp.
Speechless. Jolene didn’t know what to say or think. Stranger laid somewhere underneath the titan Hightower, and a foot away from him Deputy Buck Gully grew cold.
Ex-Deputy Buck Gully. She didn’t know whether to feel sad for him or relieved that he got what was coming to him. Instant karma. A little backwoods justice. Still, there was a system for this sort of treachery. And now the question nagged at her: Who is Troy Ellis? Really?
As he cut away the duct tape on his legs, Troy said, “You saw I had to do what I did. No way around that. Death knocked, seemed imminent.”
Jolene reserved judgment, deciding instead to go ahead and appreciate the situation first. As far as she could tell, Troy had in fact saved their lives.
Troy stuck the tape to Hightower’s back and stood up. Facing Jolene with the knife.
“I’m going to cut you loose,” he said. “Do I have your permission?”
“My permission to cut me loose?”
“To touch your legs.”
Jolene’s jaw popped from gritting her teeth. “Yes, Troy. Please. Cut me loose.”
He kneeled and delicately pressed the blade to the tape between Jolene’s leg and the chair. “Sorry, just didn’t want you thinking I’m trying to cop a feel. Get it? Cop a feel? Why aren’t you laughing?”
Jolene said nothing. She hadn’t realized how tall Troy was until he stood over her, and now with him at her feet, she saw how broad his shoulders were. His arms were logs. Had he just torn his wrists apart to break free of the duct tape? Not that it mattered right now. He was obviously a good shooter. He even displayed some guile in freeing himself and killing their captors. The ease with which he executed their captors concerned her.
“What do you do for a living?” Jolene asked. “You said they were after you, and you lied about having a sister. Why?”
Troy cut one leg free. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Either.”
“Honestly, maybe I don’t know about you just yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s it matter, sheriff? Things went a different way.” Troy finished cutting the other leg free, but before he stood up, he said, “You know, I must be the envy of Bluff County right now. Can you imagine how many men wish they could get down on one knee before Jolene Flannery?”
“Troy, are you trying to protect your sister from me?”
“If I had a sister,” Troy said, walking behind Jolene, “why would I need to protect her from you?”
“Because you said she sold cocaine.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t have a sister.”
Troy slid the knife through the tape, freeing her hands.
Finally, Jolene flexed her fingers and joints, then stood up. Peered down at the bodies again. “And what is it you do, Troy?”
“At this point, I doubt you’d believe I’m a paperboy.”
Jolene felt she could trust Troy, oddly enough. At least right now. She wondered how deep his ties were with whatever outfit she pissed off, that coerced Buck Gully into corruption. What had Troy actually done? She needed to call for backup, but before that happened, a cell phone rang.
Stranger’s. And it was underneath Hightower.
Troy helped her lift the guy while she felt around Stranger’s bony torso for the phone. Found it. She slid the bar right to answer the call but didn’t formally say hello. Just held the receiver to her ear and listened.
Breathing on the other side. Light. Three seconds. Then it clicked.
Jolene waited, then called the number back. Someone answered, but didn’t say anything. Jolene decided to take a chance, hoping not to spook the other end, and said, “Hello?”
“Shit.” A female on the other end, her voice familiar to Jolene. But from where?
The woman on the line cackled. Then she said, “Jo-lene, Jo-lene . . . you are a bad bitch, Jo-lene.”
Now Jolene knew who it was.
C.C.
“C.C., how’s it going?”
“Oh, just fine. I guess you’re alive. How’s Stranger?”
“Dead.”
“Hightower?”
“Dead.”
“Damn. I liked him. They at least pop one off on Buck Gully?”
Jolene sighed. “Yeah. He’s dead, too.”
“I had a crush on Buck in high school. Quarterback. Drove a convertible Mustang. He knew how to treat a girl. Slept with him at prom, but you know Mick was the better kisser.”
“Why are you using Mick’s men to try and kill me, C.C.?”
C.C. cackled again. Jolene remembered that laugh, but something different about it now. Something insidious. Like an old, corny horror movie laugh. With a bit of smoker’s lung.
C.C. said, “Jo, Stranger, and Hightower never worked for Mick. Mick didn’t even work for Mick. They all worked for me.”
Jolene stepped over the puddle of blood slowly becoming a lake under her coffee table and entered the kitchen. Her Glock 17 and the Smith & Wesson sat on the table next to a couple cups of coffee and half a plate of bacon.
“So what you’re telling me is,” Jolene said as she holstered her wea
pons back where they belonged, “you’ve been running things the whole time.”
“No sense in hiding it now. You’re a smart woman. I knew if you lived long enough after killing Mick, you’d figure out. By the way, about killing Mick – fuck you.”
“Yeah.” Jolene picked a piece of bacon up and sniffed it. Took a bite. Crunchy, but the pepper actually was a nice touch. “I told you, he drew on me. And you accepted my apology.”
“Jolene, does it really come across to you at this moment like I accepted your apology? Are you eating something right now?”
Jolene swallowed the bacon. “No. Listen, I took your apology at face value but now I’m going to have to bring you in.”
C.C. cackled, a sound quickly becoming a source of irritation for Jolene. C.C. said, “How are you going to bring me in, sheriff?
“Guess I’m going to come get you right now.”
“Do you think that Stranger and Hightower were the only ones I put on detail? Sugar, if you survive the next wave, I’ll meet you at the station in my Sunday best.”
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot you went to church. God alright with you selling cocaine and all the other nefarious dealings you’re running?”
“God helps those who help themselves, sweetie.” C.C. kissed the phone making a smooch sound, then said, “When you see Mick, tell him I know he cheated, and I forgive him because I cheated, too. Glad to have that off my chest actually. Goodbye.”
“Wait just one second.” Jolene peeked in on her fellow hostage still standing in the living room. He listened to the phone conversation intently. “What about this fella you had tied up with me? Troy Ellis?”
“Would you sleep with him? I sure as hell would. Sadly, it never came to that. What about him?”
“What’s his deal?”
“What’s that matter? Want to engage in a little gossip before you bite a bullet? Make up for lost time? You know, you never called after the wedding.”
“Phone works both ways, C.C.”
“Touché. You want to know about Troy Ellis, why don’t you ask him?”
“Does he work for you?”
“I paid some nice gentlemen to put a hole in his head, Jo. What do you think?”
“Just wanted to hear it from you.”
“I missed you, Jo. Maybe I’ll plant some flowers on your grave. Your favorite still tulips?”
“See you soon, C.C.”
Chapter Two
“So let me get this straight,” Troy said, following Jolene out of the cabin, “you want to drive to C.C. Lily’s ranch, by your lonesome, and you think you’re just going to arrest her?”
“That’s about right.” Jolene had already called the station. Put them on alert, told them to set up road blocks leaving town. Told them to get close to C.C.’s house, too, but not close enough to spook her. She might be waiting. Said three bodies were ready to be picked up at her own house. The business needed to be tended now was personal. She walked at a brisk pace, shotgun in tow. Troy struggled behind. “You heard me say more men are on the way, right?”
Troy sped his gait up, Jolene aware he still had possession of Hightower’s gun. “Where do you think they parked? Stranger and Hightower?”
“I don’t know, maybe off the road before they got to your house.”
As they arrived at her car, Jolene threw the shotgun in the trunk and told Troy to get in the back.
“Why can’t I ride up front?”
“Because you’re a prisoner of Bluff County.”
“Because I’m a what – “
Before Troy could even blink, Jolene’s Glock 17 stared up the bridge of his lacerated nose.
“You’re going to drop that gun,” Jolene said.
Troy gulped. “Seriously, sheriff? After I just saved your life?”
“I am thankful, Mr. Ellis. And although you are cute – “
Troy grinned. “Thanks, Jo.”
“I just watched you kill two men without so much as blinking or showing any kind of remorse. Leads me to believe it might be something you’ve done before.”
“Jo – “
“Sheriff Flannery, Mr. Ellis.”
Troy grumbled, slowly lowering Hightower’s gun to the ground.
“No, in the trunk.”
“You want me to ride in the trunk?”
Jolene almost laughed. “Put the gun in the trunk.” He did.
“Now put these on,” Jolene said, extending a pair of handcuffs.
“Really? Are those necessary?”
“I’m letting you put them on yourself, Mr. Ellis. Doesn’t have to be behind your back, but you’re going to wear these. One way or another.”
Troy put the cuffs on. Jolene opened the door and he sank in the back. Then Jolene sat in the driver’s seat and felt over on the passenger side. Found her brown Stetson with the badge above the brim. Slipped it on and glanced back at Troy. He grinned at her.
“I like the hat, Sheriff Flannery.”
She started the car and began to back up.
Troy said, “You know, sheriff, you in a Stetson and me in handcuffs is exactly the way I always imagined our first date would be.”
Jolene pulled off her driveway onto the old country road and headed north. Toward Folsom. C.C.’s ranch waited on the other side of Bluff County and Jolene planned on dropping Troy Ellis off at the jail first. He suggested they pull over, make out for a minute, just in case one of them really did end up dying.
Jolene did not oblige.
“At least turn the radio on.”
Jolene still did not oblige.
The road ran straight through a forest for the most part. Here and there it cut a sharp curve. They were on the road about five minutes, made it around a particularly nasty bend when a black Cadillac shot past them. Jolene watched in the rearview mirror as the other driver hit the brakes. She pressed on.
About ten seconds later the Cadillac reappeared around the curve, now following the Charger.
“Alright,” Jolene said to Troy, “brace yourself because this might get ugly.”
“Those were C.C.’s men, right?”
“Yeah. How do you know C.C., anyway?”
“Funny story, see – “
The Cadillac burst full force into the back of Jolene’s Charger. She didn’t realize how fast they made their approach but she wasn’t exactly keen to shy away from a fight either. Not this fight, anyway.
She slammed the brakes as the Cadillac tried to smash her bumper again. The driver understood immediately her tactic and veered to the left, flying past her.
Jolene brought the Charger to an immediate halt, skidding sideways.
The Cadillac stopped not too far past that. Maybe one hundred feet away. No one exited either vehicle. A stalemate.
“Sheriff Flannery,” said Troy.
Jolene shushed him. “Wait a second.”
The Cadillac reversed. Jolene rolled her window down quickly, held her Glock out and fired several times. The Cadillac stopped and drove forward again, speeding away.
“Alright,” Jolene said. “They’ll be back. No telling how many are in there, but there’s only one way this works out in our favor. We’ve got to enter the woods.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Troy said.
Jolene let Troy out and hurriedly retrieved the shotgun. She led the way into the forest. Sunlight trickled in through the canopy. Birds chirped. Then tires squealed, signaling the return of the Cadillac. They ducked behind tree trunks and waited.
The Cadillac parked next to the Charger. Four men got out. Two held rifles. The front passenger gripped a shotgun and the driver pulled a pistol.
“There’s a hunting lodge somewhere around here,” Jolene said quietly. “Belongs to the Butlers. We need to find the path that leads to it and take cover.”
“Sheriff,” Troy said, “I’d be a lot more useful if my hands were free. And if I had a gun.”
Jolene paused. She knew he was right.
“If you turn t
his gun around on me,” Jolene said, handing him the shotgun after taking the cuffs off, “I will shoot a hole through your mouth, cheek to cheek. Now you lead.”
“I don’t know where I’m going.”
“I’ll tell you where to go. I don’t trust you behind me.”
“Afraid I’ll check out your butt?”
“Troy, just move. Now is not the time.”
“It’s always the right time with a – “
“Shut up, Troy. Move.”
Chapter Three
C.C. Lily watched Leon Warbler peek through the blinds of her country ranch, his stocky frame old, sunburnt, and weathered. Hair silver. Eyes lazy. Voice gravely. Her second-in-command since Mick passed, her personal bodyguard for nine years, and her lover since the day he showed her his scars. Leon fought in Vietnam. Staff sergeant of his squad. Came back disgruntled and now spent his golden years raking in mountains of cash and banging the cocaine queen of Bluff County.
C.C. made herself a margarita in the kitchen. Leon didn’t want one. She needed to take the edge off. Hard work smuggling snow, managing killers, and trying to raise two young boys. She liked strawberry margaritas. Poured one over a man’s head once before she shot him.
Dillard? Was that his name? Didn’t matter now. Old news.
The boys ran through the kitchen, the two-year-old, Tommy, stopping at his mother’s feet. Reached up with both arms and grunted.
C.C. lifted the boy and cradled him on her side, using her free hand to hold the margarita. As she joined Leon at the window, the former staff sergeant raised a hand-held radio, pressed down, and said, “Report, Sparkles.”
The radio clicked with static and a male voice responded, “Dammit, Leon, stop calling me that.”
“Don’t you dare use my name on this channel again, boy. We’re using codenames. I’ll call you what I named you.”
“I ain’t a Sparkles, Boss.”
“Shake it off, Sparkles. Report.”
A short pause, then Sparkles said, “They’re still there. They ain’t moved.”
