Nicked

by Michael Arches

  Maude flushed. “Oh, right, Rufus had to find our chainsaw. Traded it for a side of beef. This way.”

  The old dingbat led Skye elsewhere into the bowels of the barn. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and soon, they reached a small room jampacked with broken equipment. A vicious-looking hay hook hung from one wall, but there was too much debris covering the floor between Skye and her tormentor. Skye didn’t think she could sneak up on Maude. Disappointing—she would’ve enjoyed burying the hook in the back of the evil woman’s head.

  “Look at that!” Maude’s voice was joyful, like she’d found a pile of gold coins.

  Skye followed her lead. “Crivens! Now we can fix that tractor.”

  She grabbed the trouble light and the extension cord. Keeping her tone casual, she said, “You know, you could earn some serious money out of a garage sale. This stuff isn’t doing you any good laying around here.”

  What she left unsaid was that if people came to the farm, that would improve her chances of being rescued.

  “Yeah, I probably should. I’ve been selling stuff off piece by piece, but most of the best shit is already gone. I might as well get rid of the rest in one fell swoop.”

  They were talking in a friendlier way and Skye decided to keep it up. “One of my grandas owns a farm in Scotland. He’s a packrat, so his barn is jammed with stuff. One spring weekend, Gran made him clear out just a little of what he owned. Sold it for six thousand pounds. That’s about seven thousand US dollars.”

  Maude’s eyes widened. An important clue. The woman was greedy.

  They walked back to the tractor, and Skye figured it was time to prove she actually knew something about engines. The key was in the ignition switch, and she turned it. The engine turned over, but it wouldn’t catch.

  Fortunately, tractors were simple machines, much less complicated than cars. “Okay, so you got plenty of juice from the battery. The most likely problems are either gas isn’t getting to the cylinders, or the spark plugs aren’t firing.”

  Maude stood back, arms crossed, and didn’t comment.

  Skye checked the fuel level and confirmed the tank was almost full. She removed the breather and smelled the carburetor. Gas was flowing into the manifold.

  She removed the spark plug wire and placed it near the frame. When she turned the engine over again, sparks arced from the wire. “Have you ever replaced the plugs?”

  “It’s been running fine until now. Why replace anything?”

  If the plugs were the problem, it was an easy fix. “Let me check something.”

  Without waiting for permission, Skye walked back to the shop. Maude followed. Tools covered the workbench, and Skye took a moment to find what she needed. She picked up the correct socket and wrench then headed back to the tractor.

  She removed one of the plugs, and the electrodes had mostly burned away. “Whoa! Here’s a problem.”

  Maude squinted as she looked at the plug. “Maybe it’s supposed to be like that.”

  The woman was as dumb as a rock. Skye suppressed a snicker to avoid getting shocked. “Yeah, no. Let’s go back to the shop and see if we can find a replacement.”

  Despite the mess, Skye managed to find one like-new spark plug. All its interior surfaces were bright and shiny, and the electrodes remained intact. She held both plugs side-by-side for Maude. “See the difference?”

  “Shit, yeah. Well, good. Put it in.”

  “I will, but your tractor’s engine has three cylinders. Each gets a plug. I can only find one replacement here. You’ll have to buy two more.”

  “Where?”

  Skye was about to explain when a man yelled in the distance.

  “Dammit! That’s Kane. You stay here, or you won’t like what happens when I get back.”

  Without waiting for a response, Maude hurried back through the barn.

  Skye couldn’t get far with shackles on her ankles, but this was still a great opportunity. What would cut the cellar bars? Whatever she found would have to be small enough to hide in her clothes.

  -o-o-o-

  Maude ran through the gloomy barn. In her hurry, she stumbled and banged her shin against an old lawnmower along one wall. That didn’t slow her down. Kane was too macho to yell unless he was in big trouble.

  Thanks to her fondness for smoking, by the time Maude reached the greenhouse she was out of breath. Kane stood in the center aisle, but the lower half of his face and the front of his golf shirt were covered with blood. He held his shock controller with both hands, pressing one button with each thumb. Both of the girls were lying unmoving on the ground.

  “Let go!” Maude shouted. “You’ll kill them.”

  With a growl, he yelled, “Heather deserves to die. Bitch tried to kill me!”

  Maude hurried over and grabbed his controller. “Tell me what happened—no lying. I decide who lives or dies around here.”

  Blood trickled from his nose. He gingerly touched it and winced. “Dammit, she smashed my nose in.”

  He hurried toward Heather’s inert body, as though to kick her.

  Maude pushed him away. “Start at the beginning.”

  He took a couple of deep breaths. “I was watching a Friends rerun, minding my own business. Heather started washing off the concrete with the hose, using that aluminum wand attached to the end. Suddenly, she whipped it around. Tried to hit me in the head with that big spray head. I jerked my head sideways. Even so, the pipe caught me. Hurts like a bitch!”

  She’d told him a dozen times that the girls were tricky little shits, but he’d always said he was a big ol’ guy who could handle himself. “You’re lucky you’re still alive, idiot. What else happened?”

  “She reached for the controller in my shirt pocket, but I got it first. Shocked the living shit out of her and Dawn.”

  Maude couldn’t blame him for zapping Heather, but why hurt the other one? “Dawn attacked you, too?”

  “She didn’t do anything. Too far away. But I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  That was bullshit. “You better not have killed Dawn. I need help around here, but I’ll finish off the other one for you.”

  He shrugged.

  Maude took her pistol out of her holster, cocked it, and shot the sneaky bitch in the side of the head.

  Chapter 8

  After Maude had raced away, Skye knew she wouldn’t be left alone for long. So, she rifled through the four toolboxes in the shop, looking for useful weapons. Didn’t find much.

  Then, she noticed two halves of a broken hacksaw blade lying on the floor near a trashcan. The shorter section of the blade was only a couple of inches long, basically useless. The longer piece would work great, and she hid it in her left shoe.

  A gunshot boomed in the distance. Skye flinched. This place was incredibly dangerous. She had to take advantage of any chance to get away.

  Her eyes frantically scanned the bench looking for anything else that might be useful.

  An open pocketknife with a rusty blade rested on the bench, but it was too big to hide in Skye’s other shoe. She also found a box cutter, but it was even thicker than the knife.

  Before she could remove the blade, she heard Maude approaching.

  Skye barely managed to compose herself before the old woman appeared in the workshop.

  “Enough of this for now,” Maude said. “Come with me.”

  She led Skye to the greenhouse. The old woman kept hurrying ahead but then had to stop. Skye could only shuffle so fast with shackles on.

  Inside the glass structure, Kane stood in front of the recliner. The bridge of his nose was a pulpy mess, and blood had sprayed everywhere. He moaned and slowly rocked from side to side.

  Dawn stood a dozen feet away from him, chained to a metal post. Much worse, Heather was lying on the concrete center path, motionless. Her head was surrounded by a pool of blood. The watering wand a few feet away from her was also bloody.

  Skye couldn’t take her eyes
off Heather.

  Maude snarled. “Bitches, that’s what you’ll get for fighting back. Dead. Dead. DEAD!”

  Skye’s legs almost gave out, and her vision dimmed. She’d never seen a murder victim before. It took all her willpower to keep her gorge from rising.

  Maude unlocked the chain holding Dawn in place. “You two are going to the cellar so I can take care of Kane. Forget eating today, and maybe for the rest of the week.”

  Skye steadied herself and kept her mouth shut. So did Dawn. Maude might not be satisfied with killing poor Heather. It looked like she’d given her life in a brave attempt to save them all, but the water wand wasn’t the right weapon.

  -o-o-o-

  While Maude locked up the girls and pondered her next steps, Kane washed the blood off his face and changed his shirt.

  “Throw the old one into the woodstove,” Maude said. “You’ll never get it clean, no matter how many times you try to wash it.”

  For once, he did as she said. The stupid fucking moron had almost got himself killed. And if he’d managed that, her three girls might’ve ganged up on Maude. Or they could’ve just run into the house and called 911. His carelessness had almost sent her to prison for decades. She was tempted to finish the job that Heather had started.

  “Got any pain meds? My face is killing me.”

  The bastard was stupid, but she needed somebody’s help to manage the girls and her farm. As soon as Rufus got his butt out of jail again, though, Kane would become expendable.

  “I have Percocet left over from a root canal a few years ago. Want one?”

  “Perfect, I’ll take them all.”

  She had seven but damned if she’d give them all away. She needed them in case she had a problem, and they were worth money on the street.

  She gave him one. “If you want more, they’re ten bucks apiece.”

  He grumbled but accepted. Then, the twit yelped as he opened his mouth to take the pill.

  She felt no pity. Life is hard, and it’s harder if you’re stupid.

  She took his keys and helped him into his car’s front passenger seat.

  As they drove off, she asked, “Do you have health insurance?”

  “Not anymore. After I lost my job, I would’ve had to pay eight hundred bucks a month.”

  In hindsight, she realized that mistake on his part was probably a blessing for her. If she took him to an ER or a real doctor, they’d want to know who hurt him. That could lead to a call to the cops. “So, where do you want to go?”

  “I know this Mexican doctor in Greeley. Not licensed in the US, but he does good work. He stays busy fixing the illegals in the area. Take me there.”

  Because there were lots of low-paying jobs in the area, including a big meatpacking plant, Greeley had more than its fair share of wetbacks. “Fine, do we need to grab your cash?”

  “I carry my money on me.”

  Maude couldn’t help but wonder how much dough he was carrying. Probably not enough to make killing him worthwhile, and she preferred not to have to get rid of a second corpse.

  -o-o-o-

  Once Skye and Dawn were alone in the cellar, Dawn said, “I didn’t know what Heather was planning, but I worried as she inched closer to Kane. She was washing dirt off the cement path, casually getting closer to him. He seemed clueless. Laughing his ass off at some video.”

  Heather had done what Skye had dreamed of. “So, when she got close enough, she whacked him in the face with the wand?”

  “Exactly, like she was swinging a baseball bat. She’s strong, too. But he moved his head sideways at the last second. The metal tube hit his nose instead of the bulb at the end. Asshole roared in pain and fumbled in his pocket for the controller. She lunged for it, but he grabbed it first and punched two buttons. I passed out from the pain.”

  Skye nodded. Heather had no chance after that. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I woke up when Maude’s gun boomed, and I staggered to my feet. Heather was on the floor, blood pooling around her. I tried to go to her, but Maude stopped me. She chained me to a post and ran off to get you.”

  “Listen,” Skye said, “I thought about doing the same thing to him, but the wand didn’t seem to be heavy enough.”

  Dawn nodded. “Heather was incredibly depressed lately. She’d been here so long. Couldn’t stand the thought of Rufus coming back. I hate to think about that, too, but I’m not going to take any stupid risks.”

  Skye hadn’t thought about the choice that way, but she had to agree with Dawn. Skye had great plans for her life, and she could still realize them—if they could live long enough to escape.

  That reminded her about what she’d found in the workshop. She removed the broken hacksaw blade from her shoe.

  Dawn beamed at her. “My, aren’t you the clever one! That could be damned useful.”

  “Particularly now that both of our jailers are gone,” Skye said. “This will cut through wrought iron, but it’ll make a helluva racket in the process.”

  “Let’s do it as much as we can before our jailers get back.”

  Skye examined the bars in front of the window. They were spaced six inches apart, so they’d have to cut through at least two, but only at the top. Wrought iron was malleable, so once they freed the top of each bar, they could bend it down out of the way.

  “Too bad I didn’t see any tape,” Skye said. “We need something to wrap around the end of the blade to grip it better while we’re cutting.”

  The two looked around the cellar. In the far corner, Skye found a discarded pair of Venetian blinds. Using a rough edge on a rock protruding from the basement wall, she cut one of the cords that held the blinds together then wrapped it around one end of the blade. It provided a good grip.

  The two moved a cardboard box filled with books under the window so they could stand high enough to reach the top of the bars. Skye explained how a hacksaw worked and started cutting.

  -o-o-o-

  Magic Beans Café, Boulder, Colorado

  Beau dropped Athena and Hagrid off and kept going. As they drove up, Athena looked for Roger Conway from the US Marshals Office. He was already waiting at a seat outside with his beverage of choice steaming in his hand.

  Roger had always been a mellow guy for a cop, tall and gangly. His hair was a mixture of gray and white. He sat outside with Hagrid while Athena got something to drink.

  When she was ready, she asked Roger, “So, where are we going?”

  He glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “A house we rented in the hills west of Cheyenne. Near Curt Gowdy State Park.”

  Athena knew the area because she’d worked as a prosecutor in Cheyenne for several years. The rolling hills west of town were great for hiking and boating. “I’ve seen some nice houses in that area. It sounds like a good location for a safe house.”

  -o-o-o-

  US 34, east of Greeley

  As Maude drove toward town, Kane kept silent. She continued to wonder how much money he had on him. When they’d talked the day before, he’d sworn he was dead broke. That was the only reason she wasn’t charging him for food or a place to sleep. But doctors were expensive, even the ones working in the shadows.

  More and more, it seemed that Kane had outlived his best-if-used-by date. She wore a pistol on her hip, and he was unarmed. The guy was leaning back his seat, his eyes closed. Might even be asleep. No other cars nearby. She could easily pop him while she drove.

  The more she thought about the idea, the better it sounded. From this point on, he was likely to be a burden while he healed. Maybe it would be more practical to get rid of him before they reached the Mexican doctor’s office.

  But then a dipshit teenager in an old cargo van zoomed up behind them and tailgated, even though there was no oncoming traffic that would keep him from passing.

  Maude slowed down to force the teenager to go around, and when she did, Kane opened his eyes with a start.
>
  “Hey! What’s happening?”

  The putz was more alert than she’d thought. No chance for her to go for her pistol. “Just forcing some kid riding my ass to pass.”

  Kane didn’t respond, but he kept his eyes open after that. And the traffic built as they approached the city. Her opportunity to get rid of the latest pain in her ass had vanished.

  Maude followed Kane’s directions, and minutes later, she pulled into a parking lot in front of what looked like a cheap Mexican restaurant.

  A red and white sign on the stuccoed wall read Hacienda Hernandez. Over twenty vehicles were already parked. She helped Kane out of his car and followed him into the only entrance.

  A cute teenager with a low-cut dress and too much makeup greeted them without looking up. “Hi, do you have a reservation?”

  Kane had either lost his mind, or the doctor he’d heard about had long-since left the premises. Maude peered past the hostess and spotted what seemed to be a bar. A light fixture on the ceiling rotated slowly. It was emblazoned with the name José Cuervo. Actually, a margarita sounded pretty damned good.

  “No appointment,” Kane said. “Just got bashed in the face and need to see Doctor Hernandez right away.”

  The girl looked up for the first time and nodded. “One moment, please.”

  She left and returned a moment later with a heavyset older Mexican woman in a nurse’s uniform. She took a quick glance at Kane’s face and shook her head. In unaccented English, she said, “Follow me, please.”

  They entered a patient examination room, and the woman snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “It must be very painful, sir.”

  By then, Kane’s Percocet seemed to be kicking in. His voice slurred. “No kiddin’.”

  The woman had never identified herself, but she peered into Kane’s nostrils using a scope with a light.

  After several minutes, she snapped off the light and looked him straight-on. “There is considerable internal damage, in addition to the surface injury. We can offer you palliative care with a week’s worth of pain medication for three hundred dollars. Unfortunately, that would leave a permanent, visible depression where you were struck. For thirteen hundred dollars, Dr. Hernandez can repair the internal damage and restore your nasal passages to their prior state. This would require you to remain here overnight for observation following the surgery.”