Then, they printed out Brevard County listings for firearms and gun shops. There were twenty-seven. By then, they had their spiel down pat. “Hello, I trying to find out some information. Do you have a minute?” They all had a minute.
“I’m writing an article on the importance of private ownership of guns to our county citizens. You know, for their personal safety. Yes, I’m all for private ownership of guns. We’ve noticed that a lot more people over the age of fifty are either buying guns or buying ammunition for guns they’ve had around for a long time. Can you tell me blah blah blah…?”
When they finished the Internet listings, they had five possibilities spread across the county: four men and only one woman. Allie wanted to start with the woman, but she knew what Rand would say. Instead, she listed them geographically, which placed the woman third. Then, they went through the house looking for snapshots of his mother and father. Allie insisted they use one of Cord out of uniform. He would be too recognizable, otherwise.
They found dozens of Jean Arbutten, including half a dozen framed and hanging on the walls, but it took them almost an hour to find one of Cord. Allie thought that was pretty telling in itself. She stuck the photos in her purse.
As they left the house, Allie noticed that another officer had replaced Barry as their escort. When they walked out the door, he picked up his radio and spoke into it. She didn’t know if he was talking to Sheryl or the sheriff, but someone knew where they were at every moment. It should have made her feel safe, and earlier, it had. Now that she was with Rand, it just made her feel claustrophobic.
She waved at the officer, and they headed toward the rental car since the police cruiser was blocking Rand’s. Besides, Allie would rather be in a Jeep if anyone forced them off anything like a bridge. It might only be an illusion created by Chrysler Corporation, but she felt safer in a Jeep. Right now, she wished it were a Hummer. Or a tank.
Their first stop was in Cocoa. The store was on US 1 and looked like a converted mobile home. The parking lot was a single gravel driveway. Allie figured the store must not cater to many customers at once. Cheap plastic latticework skirted the exterior, hiding the wheels, and a path of twelve-inch pavers led across a yard of sand and weeds to the front door.
In the interest of partnership, Rand and Allie had agreed to take turns questioning the gun dealers. Allie was up first. She went through the motions of conducing the promised interview even after the salesclerk there told them his customer was a regular—an old guy who lived on the river and used the gun to shoot snakes in his yard. Allie thought it would have been nice if he’d mentioned that when they had him on the phone. He probably just wanted to get in his two cents worth for the right to bear arms. She let him rant for a full ten minutes before she snapped her notebook closed and thanked him for his time.
The second store was in West Melbourne. It was so far off the beaten track that she couldn’t imagine how anyone could find it without the help of Mapquest—or maybe if he’d been raised in the area. After turning off US 1, they wound along three miles of wooded, two-lane dirt road made up mainly of hairpin curves, before Allie spotted the building, a single-story wood frame that seemed to lean dramatically to one side. The roof was rusted tin and the front steps, such as they were, fashioned out of cinderblocks.
The man behind the counter looked like he should have retired a hundred years ago. He was stooped and arthritic, but his faded eyes widened when he saw Allie come into the store. Too bad it was Rand’s turn to ask the questions. The old guy seemed unwilling to talk to him, answering his questions in monosyllable, so Allie took over. “We work for the Brevard Sun, and we’re doing that article my associate told you about on the phone.” She was practically batting her eyelashes, and the old guy was eating it up. His hand shook as he brushed the gray strands on his forehead across his bald spot.
“You know, the one about how important we feel it is for private citizens to have the right to own guns. What we’re trying to do is get an idea of how many people over the age of fifty are either buying new guns these days or buying ammunition for the guns they already own. You said you remembered a man…” She let her voice trail as she started to reach into her purse. The old geezer tried to help her and knocked her purse over in his eagerness. Both photographs spilled out on the counter.
He picked them up and turned them over. He glanced at the photo of Cord without recognition, but his eyes widened when he saw the photograph of Jean Arbutten. “I remember this one,” he said, his finger shaking as he pointed it at her face. “In here, lo, about a month ago, I suspect it was.”
“I thought you said it was a man over fifty,” Rand said, his voice dark.
The old guy peered at him through rheumy eyes. “And it were. Jessie McCallum over to Palm Bay. Comes in here all the time. Has a gun collection the county sheriff would envy. But you asked about folks over fifty. There was no way this little chickie was over fifty, or I woulda told you about her. She was all gussied up in this short little dress that showed a lot of leg. Well, now, that I think about it, maybe she was pushing fifty, but they all look like spring chickies once you get to a certain age. You’ll find out one of these days,” he added, pointing a shaking finger at Rand’s chest.
The gun dealer looked at the picture again, pursing his lips. “She was a live one all right. Had the gun stuffed right in her handbag. Can you believe that? Said it might need old bullets ‘cause it was an old gun,” he cackled. “Some people don’t know shit. It was a beauty. The gun, I mean. Python. Tidy little four-inch barrel with rosewood grips. Can you believe it? I tried to buy it off her. Even tried to talk her into a trade of some kind. You know, give her a newer gun in exchange for that old thing.” He cackled. “Figured I could turn a hefty profit with that little baby, but she said no. Wasn’t even nice about it. I remember I almost didn’t sell her no bullets. She seemed a little off to me. Only wanted two bullets. Can you believe that? I made her buy a box. I mean, who the hell wants just two bullets.”
Why indeed, Allie thought, when one would do.
Rand had walked out of the place by then. Allie got the salesclerk to write on the back of Jean’s picture what she’d bought and when and then sign it. It cost her fifty dollars. She considered it a bargain.
The cruiser was parked across the street when Allie came out of the gun shop. She gave the officer a wave. Anything to stall getting in the car and facing Rand.
Rand was seatbelted in and staring fixedly out the windshield when Allie climbed in. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through, and his face gave nothing away. She heard the police officer crank his engine. She followed suit, but she didn’t put the car in gear. “I’m sorry, Rand.”
“She said she was afraid. Maybe she bought the bullets for protection.”
Allie had expected this. Denial was a hard thing to let go of, as she knew from personal experience. “Two bullets? Not a lot of protection.”
“Maybe she was going to kill him.”
“Maybe, but then why wouldn’t she have agreed to the gun trade? And why did she want you there at that exact minute? To witness her committing murder? She had her own getaway car. She didn’t need a ride.”
His eyes were still straight forward, his jaw set.
“Think about it, Rand. Why would she have made a special point of making all kinds of plans for the upcoming weeks, plans she never would have made a few months ago? It sounds like she wanted people to believe she planned to live a lot longer.”
“She wrote me that letter.”
“Telling you exactly when to come to the house. She knew Cord went to the firing range on Tuesday. She might have thought his having gunpowder residue on his hands would implicate him. She waited until Cord drove into the garage. She could hear him open the car door. That’s when she did it, knowing you were right outside, and knowing what you would believe.”
She could actually see his defensive armor crack as his posture sagged.
He rubbed his face with his
hands. Then, he dropped them in his lap as if he’d never have the strength to lift them again. “It’s what you said all along. You said she killed herself to spite him.”
“I didn’t tell you that because I believed it then.” Rand looked over at her. “I really thought Sidney killed her. I was trying to throw you off the scent so you wouldn’t go to Titusville and get yourself shot.”
“You were going to go after him and get shot instead.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not if I could help it.”
He shrugged his shoulders back, and Allie could see his painful acceptance in the gesture. “I’ll have to look for that dress. It doesn’t sound like something she would wear.”
“She might have destroyed it, but it could still be there. I’d look in the attic. And she’s from West Melbourne. She probably knew about this store.”
An old truck crept by on the road. The driver took one look at the police cruiser parked across from the gun store and sped up. Rand looked at Allie, his face bleak. “What kind of a woman would do something like that? Destroy herself just to make someone pay?”
Allie knew he didn’t expect an answer, but she gave him one, anyway. “She wasn’t an evil woman, Rand. She was emotionally disturbed. If you’re going to feel anything, feel pity for her. God knows she deserves it.”
He sat for another minute. Finally, he said. “Let’s go.”
She put the car in gear. “Where? Back to the house?”
He shook his head. “No. We need to see—my father. He deserves to know what we’ve found out.”
Allie eased out onto the highway, the cruiser a car length behind. When she reached US 1, she made a U-turn and headed north in the direction of Cord’s apartment. A mile or so later, the cruiser behind her cut on his blue lights, then his siren. At first, Allie thought he would pull her over for making the U-turn, and the absurdity of that almost made her laugh. A minute later, he shot around her. She could see him leaning forward speaking into his microphone.
With him gone, she felt naked, as if all her protection had been stripped away, but she told herself she was being silly. Not long ago, she’d felt that the deputy behind her was an intrusion, a claustrophobic presence. After all, she had Rand, and they were headed to the sheriff’s house. Allie hoped he was there. She would hate to drive all the way to Titusville to headquarters, and she didn’t think this was something they should tell him while he was at work. On the other hand, men wearing guns would surround her. That held definite appeal.
She was about halfway to the turnoff to his apartment when her cell phone rang. It scared her so badly, she almost went off the road. Rand reached in her purse and pulled it out, handing it to her. She glanced at the display. Sheryl.
“Hel—”
“Where the hell are you?”
Allie laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to ask my 10-20 or something like that?”
“Very fucking funny. Where are you?”
“I’m on the way to Cord’s house. If he isn’t there, we’re heading to Titusville. And by the way, my watchdog went flying past me, so I’m out here all by my lonesome.”
“We had a drive-by shooting on US 1. Two people injured. Sidney was spotted in the area not long before that. He’s gone again. We’re scrambling all units trying to box him in, but he could already have slipped through. Go to the sheriff’s. I’ll call and tell him you’re on your way. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
Allie punched the END button, uneasiness settling on her like a dark cloud. Had Sidney staged that shooting? Had he shot two innocent people just to pull her escort off her tail?
She gave Rand the condensed version. The shooting, Sidney slipping through their fingers again. “He’s a cop,” Allie said. “He knows how to play them, how to get them to react. Damn him.”
She intermittently watched her rearview mirror. Traffic was moderately heavy for midday. It was about a mile farther north on US 1 when she saw the dark sedan slipping in and out of traffic behind her.
Rand must have been watching her. “What’s the matter?”
“I think Sidney’s behind us. We don’t have far to go, but you’d better hang on.”
Allie did a little dodging between cars herself. When she neared the turnoff for Cord’s, she whipped into the right emergency lane intending to shoot off from there. Then, she saw a stalled vehicle not far ahead.
She barely made it back onto the road without taking off its rear bumper. She ignored the blasting horns of the eighteen-wheelers in front of and behind her. When she glanced to her left, she saw the black sedan one lane over. The passenger window rolled slowly down. Sidney was driving with one hand, his face contorted. Allie didn’t have to wonder what was in his other hand.
She zagged back into the emergency lane and took the exit with a squeal of tires, watching in horror as Sidney shot between the eighteen-wheelers with only inches to spare. He was right behind her now.
Allie flew down the ramp and made a right turn at the bottom without applying the brakes. The Jeep fishtailed, throwing up a cloud of dust before straightening and leaping ahead.
She heard Rand mutter “Jesus,” but she didn’t have time to reassure him.
Cord’s street was only a hundred yards away now. She saw Sidney trying to pull up on her left side, so she swerved into his lane. She barely had time to spin her wheel to the right to make her turn, and then she almost lost control. The back of the Jeep shot out to the side. She had to bring the vehicle almost to a complete stop before she could accelerate again. In that brief instant, she lost her advantage.
As she turned into Cord’s driveway, she saw Sidney coming up behind her. She thought he meant to ram her. “Get ready to jump,” she yelled at Rand, unsnapping her seatbelt. He did the same.
As she squealed to a stop behind Cord’s car, she and Rand both bailed out of the Jeep. Simultaneously, she saw the sheriff wrench open the apartment door, and Sidney screech to a stop. Then, Sidney knelt behind the open door of his car, his gun aimed at Allie.
As Allie watched in horror, another police cruiser charged up the driveway. For just an instant, it seemed the cruiser was slowing. Then, it lurched forward and rammed Sidney’s car from the rear side. Almost simultaneously, she heard the gunshot.
Allie cringed at the impact of metal meeting flesh and bone. Sidney flew forward about ten feet and came to rest in a crumpled heap on the asphalt driveway. He didn’t move.
Sheryl jumped out of the cruiser and headed toward them at a dead run. “Jesus. Jesus. You okay?” Her hands were all over Allie, feeling for wounds.
“I’m all right,” Allie said, probably the biggest lie she’d ever told in her life.
That’s when the sheriff reached them.
“Jesus, Sheriff, I didn’t mean to hit him. I was going to bail and shoot him, but then I realized I didn’t have time before he got a shot off. I rammed him hoping to deflect his shot.”
“Calm down, Levine,” Cord said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You did good. You did what you had to do.”
“But he shot…”
“You deflected it, just like you intended.”
Allie thought she saw him weave just a bit, and suddenly she realized there was blood dripping down his left arm.
“Cord!”
Sheryl’s eyes followed hers, and she lost what little color she had left. She grabbed the radio off her belt. “Make that two EMTs. Repeat two EMTs,” she barked into it.
Cord snatched the radio out of her hand. “This is the sheriff,” he said. “We need one EMT and a band-aid, for God’s sake.”
He handed the radio back to Sheryl, but Allie noticed he pressed his hand against his shoulder. As he turned toward the Jeep, he saw Rand standing off to the side and froze. Sheryl walked over to Sidney. She leaned over and put her fingers on his neck. “He’s alive,” she called out to the others. Cord nodded absently, but his eyes never left Rand.
Slowly, Rand made his way toward his father, his expression unreadable. W
hen he was about two feet away, he stopped. “I was wrong. About all of it. I’m sorry.”
The words must have cost him all he had to give at the moment, because he fell silent. Cord studied his face. Then, he gave a short nod. “It’s all right, son. We all make mistakes.”
Allie couldn’t believe it. That was it? All those years of misunderstanding, all the hate and resentment and grief and loneliness, and that’s all they were going to say? She and Sheryl exchanged glances. Maybe Allie’s macho cop friend understood what just happened better than she did, but maybe not. Sheryl just shrugged.
Chapter 24
Sidney Finch was being held under guard at the Brevard County Jail medical facility until his injuries healed enough for him to be transferred to the Seminole County Psychiatric Facility to await trial. Cord told Allie that law enforcement officers were transferred to jails outside their own county for their protection. It didn’t do to run into someone you incarcerated on the inside.
Sidney faced a slew of charges, but lucky for him, none of his victims had died. His trial wouldn’t be for murder. His injuries almost outnumbered the charges against him, including two broken legs, a crushed foot, a broken arm and collarbone, and other less serious injuries too numerous to mention. Just hearing that made Allie’s bruises hurt less.
About why he’d tried to kill Allie—twice—people could only speculate, because Sidney was lawyered up to his browline and not saying a word. Scuttlebutt was that he was trying to prevent Allie from exposing his hero, which meant he had to believe Cord killed his wife. But the bigger question remained—how many people had Sidney been prepared to kill before it was over? Rand? Sheryl? Right in front of the sheriff? It was crazy. If Sidney didn’t plead insanity, he was missing a golden opportunity. Allie didn’t care what he pleaded as long as it kept him off the streets. Bad enough she’d have to testify at his trial. She truly never wanted to see his ferret face again.
LIVE Ammo (Sunshine State Mystery Series Book 2) Page 23
