0 Miles (Again)
None of it was a surprise. Seeing him. Seeing him with a gun. Seeing him with a gun against a hostage's head. The surprise was seeing a gun against Theresa's head. That colored everything. Hal shoved the car door open.
"Wait, dumbass," Hanford said, jamming on the brakes so Hal didn't get caught and dragged under the wheels.
"I'm going to kill him and fuck what you think."
Hanford slammed an iron grip around Hal's arm and jerked him back into the seat. "Yeah, you'll probably kill him, but not before Theresa is dead. Goddamnit, Hal, think. The guy's a murderer. And a sadist to hear you tell it."
Hanford drove the car to the far side of the lot. When the engine died, Trenton nodded as though the brothers were doing the right thing, playing just the scenario he wanted. With the gun, he motioned them toward him.
"Fuck this noise," Hal said. "I'm tired of this bullshit."
"Hal, wait," Hanford said. "Wait, damnit, for--"
Violently, slamming the car door and hoping the glass would break, he headed for Trenton. He moved fast but there was a load of ground to cover. Call it fifty yards. All open ground.
Trenton's eyes were on him the entire way, a grin on his face.
"Hal, what are you doing?" Hanford came up behind him, grabbed his arm, hauled him to a stop. "This'll get all of us killed."
Hal tried to pull away but Hanford's grip was tight as a steel band. "Let go."
"No, I won't let--Stop pulling. Listen to me, dummy."
Hal spun to Hanford. "Dummy? That's what it all is, ain't it? Always comes down to that, don't it? Dummy. Stupid. Too dumb to stay outta jail. Too dumb to make anything of himself."
"Hal, stop it, that's not what I meant, it--"
"Yes, it is. That's exactly what you meant, it always has been." Hal looked at Trenton. The man stared back, his gun against Theresa's head, his eyes puzzled but still somehow pleased with the show. "Now let me go so I can get her."
"And how are you going to do that?"
"I don't know, but I can't not do anything. Last time--"
Hanford frowned. "Last time what?"
She died, he wanted to yell. He wanted to spit it right out, jam it between Hanford's eyes, prove his smarter, prettier, better-liked older brother had always been right, that his younger brother was just a fuck-up and by climbing outta that car when he was mad at Theresa, he had gotten her snatched.
"Last time she died," he said finally.
"Who?"
"The doer in the second whack."
Hanford frowned.
"On the DVD. She traveled with me from Nevada. Trenton killed her last night. He had her just like that." He indicated with his head. "Had a gun at her head just like he's doing now. Told me to give him the disk or he'd kill her. I wouldn't give it over."
"So he shot her."
"Yeah."
"That'd account for the blood on his clothes." Hanford stared into the rising sun, now about three hours off the horizon. "Well, you go charging over there if you want, but that'll just get both of you killed. If you want Theresa to survive this, then use your head."
Use his head? The same head Hanford had always said would get him killed? That didn't hardly make any friggin' sense.
"I could'a set that table."
For a moment, he thought Hanford had forgotten. But when a tiny curl slipped over the tip of his lip, he knew his brother had never forgotten it. "I know. She knew it, too."
"She said good boys never left their families."
"No," Hanford said. "She said good boys never left their families. It didn't matter where they were physically, they never left emotionally. She always thought you were still with us, Hal. She always thought you were a good man."
"Bullshit on you."
"Double bullshit on you. She--we--thought you were a good man. Maybe a little lost. We thought you'd find yourself eventually. She loved you."
"She never said that."
"Neither did you."
It was a revelation and it filled his spirit but it gave him no insight into the here and now. Eventually he turned back toward Trenton, about twenty yards away. Theresa stared at him, scared, but not hysterical. She was level-headed. She might not want to be in Hal's world, but she wouldn't let Hal's world overwhelm her.
"Theresa, you okay?" Hal called.
Silently, her eyes answered.
"We gonna do this again?"
"I guess so," Trenton answered. "I know it's not your game, you lost the last round so badly."
"I lost?" Hal said. "You're the one covered in blood."
"Fair point. I thought I'd try again. Seems like I got a little more to play with this time."
"True enough," Hal said.
"I figured you might be more willing to hand it over."
"I guess you figured right."
Trenton motioned with the gun. "Brother dearest, why don't you toss your cell phone over this way, if you wouldn't mind. Can't have you quietly dialing 911 and leaving an open line, can we?"
Growling deep in his throat, Hanford put his phone on the ground and shoved it across the lot. It bounced across the gravel and came to a rough stop near Trenton, who took a few steps to see if it was already an open line. Just to make sure, he slammed a foot against it. Bits of plastic went flying.
"Nothing left, Hal, except the disk. Let's do this so each of us can go our separate ways."
Hal said nothing.
"You set the disk down right where you're standing and then go back to your car. When I get it, I'll let Theresa go."
"Don't seem too fair to me."
"I don't really care how it looks to you. And by the way, don't take another step."
Hal had been moving slowly but now he stopped, about ten or so paces away. "You come get it, you want it so bad. I'll put it in your hand when you put her in mine."
Trenton laughed. "Dictating terms?"
Hal shook his head. "I got nothing makes me think you gonna give Theresa to me once you get this disk. I think I know you a little better than that."
"Yeah, you probably do. But since you do, you've got to know I'll kill her and then get the disk anyway."
Hal said, "When we were standing in that laundry, you told me to get rid of my gun. You knew I was carrying." With his free hand, he made a gun of his finger and thumb. "You drop her and there ain't no way in fucking hell you'll get outta here."
"I thought you weren't a murderer."
Hal remained dead quiet.
When Trenton fired, Hal's heart stopped. He grabbed his gun from his waistband and took a few steps, the gun up, before he realized Theresa wasn't dead. She screamed bloody fucking hell and stood at an odd angle. Blood ran down her jeans from behind.
"You shot her in the ass?" Hal screamed. He racked the slide and pointed the gun at Trenton's face.
"Yeah, good, shoot. You'll hit me…or maybe you won't…and I'll finish her right off." His eyes held Hal's. "Your choice."
Theresa said nothing. But in her eyes, Hal saw both answers. She wanted him to give Trenton the disk. At the same time, she wanted Hal to give him a few ounces of lead.
"Hal?" Hanford said. "Make damn sure it's the right choice."
Hal turned toward Hanford.
"Remember what your friend said," Hanford said. "Sometimes things got to be done."
Turning back toward Trenton, he slowly pulled the DVD from his pocket and set it on the ground. Trenton motioned with his gun and Hal jammed his in his waistband. Then Trenton shoved Theresa down to get it. When she moaned, Hal almost shot him anyway.
"Goddamn but this has been a pain in the ass," Trenton said. He looked at Theresa's bloody butt, "No pun intended," then shook his head, his eyes on the disk. "No more copies, I don't care who the client is."
"No more nothing," Hal said quietly.
He snatched his pistol and jammed it against Trenton's chin. A finger squeeze and it was all over.
0 Miles (One Last Time….)
Fiv
e minutes later, Theresa on her stomach in the back of the car, the disk in his pocket, and the gun at the small of his back, Hal stood with his brother. Hanford hadn't said anything. Neither had Theresa but Hal could see it in her eyes. She was torn to pieces over Trenton's death. She had been terrified because she'd seen him kill Shawn. But she had also seen Hal's face.
Hal knew how his face had looked. He had felt it.
It had been empty.
Finally, it had come down to that. He had killed Trenton but hadn't felt any particular way about it. He wanted to be upset, to be angry at himself or scared or whatever. Instead, he was hungry for some of the chorizo Theresa had mentioned.
Hanford wrote an address down on a slip of paper. "Park the car in the garage and sit your ass there."
"How long?"
"Until I come for you. A week, maybe two or three. I don't know."
"What's going to happen?"
"Don't you sweat it. I'll get it figured out one way or the other."
"There's no way I avoid prison, Hanford. I killed a man."
"There are always options."
"Bullshit." Hal chuckled and it felt as empty as his face had been and his stomach was. "Might be funny to have your own brother in the place, huh?"
"Hal, I need you to tighten up, okay? Focus on what I'm saying."
His brother's face held no judgment, no disappointment or lecture. In fact, Hal wasn't sure at all what was there. Maybe right now that was good.
"Get yourself and Theresa there. He hardly shot her at all, a flesh wound, but I'll send someone over to get her bandaged up. So stay there. I'll come see you soon."
Hal swallowed. "You always thought I was a killer."
"Yeah."
"I never was."
"No."
"I am now."
"Yeah, you are, aren't you?"
Hal jumped off the car and wrapped his brother in a hard, even desperate, hug. "God, I'm so sorry, Hanford. I'm exactly what you thought I was."
Hanford hugged him back, just as tightly. He whispered in his brother's ear. "Yes, you are. You are exactly what Mama and I thought you were."
With that, Hanford turned and went back to his shot up car. Hal climbed in the stolen car and put a small kiss on Theresa's cheek. She leaned into him for just a moment, then he left the lot. Birds were already sniffing at Trenton's body.
410 Miles
Twenty-nine days later, Hanford came to the house. Deep dark smothered them as the clock slipped from 12:17 to 12:18.
"I can't help," he said. "There is nothing I can do."
"Too many other problems on that disk, huh?"
Hanford nodded. "D.A.'s all over the southwest want a piece of you. That's quite a trail you left behind you."
"Until the end, I never killed anyone, Hanford."
"I know that. I didn't believe you and that's something I'll carry for a good long while. But I know it, Hal, I know it."
"It's a fine line, maybe, but it's all I got."
"It's a solid line and it's all you need, as far as I'm concerned."
Hal sighed deeply. He'd known it was going to play this way. Tyler was long since off death row and would soon be out of jail completely. The warrant against Hal for Missy's murder had been vacated, but there were probably ten or fifteen more that had already taken its place.
He would have to run to Mexico.
"How is Theresa doing?" Hanford asked.
Hal nodded. "She's fine. We been talking. She ain't happy with it but--" He shrugged. "What else could I have done?"
"Trenton wasn't going to let any of us out of that parking lot."
Hal snorted. "No shit, he wasn't. Hell, I knew that in the fucking laundromat." He looked out toward the farmland across the dirt road from the house. "I gotta run now."
Hanford nodded and pulled a folder from his back pocket. He handed it to Hal. Inside, Hal found passports, ID cards, driver's licenses, two social security cards, a teaching certificate. None of it was in Hal's or Theresa's name.
"New names," Hal said.
"Get across the border, then you can have your names back." With a nod, Hanford handed over cash. A shitload of cash.
"The fuck you get all this?"
Hanford flushed. "I got more than one forger in my hotel, Hal."
A squeaky little laugh slipped out of Hal. "Forged? You got a little counterfeiting operation going down at the 'ol hoosegow?"
"I was hoping you could tell me about the cash."
Hal frowned. "What're you talking about?"
"A young lady showed up at the prison two weeks ago, said she was supposed to meet Shawn. She had $18,000 in a bag that had more than a little blood on it."
Hal's eyes went wide. "Are you fucking kidding me with this?"
"Hal?"
"That's the money," Hal said. "The money I stole from Dogwood. He sold Brooks' drugs to get it. But when Dogwood and Templeton started blasting each other, I got my ass out." He laughed. "Templeton told me it was missing. Son of a bitch. Shawn musta had her steal it. She knew I was comin' here. She musta told that woman to meet her."
"The young lady said Shawn was her aunt."
Hal's laugh died in his throat. "Her dead sister's kid." He leaned against the doorway.
"Well, that solves that. Listen to me. Leave now. Pack Theresa up and hit the road. You've got four good hours before you start to get any sunlight. Stay calm, drive like a normal human being and you might well be in Mexico before I even get to work." He pointed to the car he'd driven. "Take that. It's free and clear, you've got the title and insurance papers in the folder there. I'll get the stolen car back to the owner."
Hal said nothing for a great while. Eventually, he wiped standing tears out of his eyes. "Thank you."
"Get to Mexico and start over. Take that woman, live in her world for the rest of your life."
Hal pulled Hanford close, put a kiss on his cheek. "I love you."
"I love you, too. Now get the fuck out of here." He handed Hal a postcard with a jackalope on it. "Send this once you get settled, I want to come see you. But for Christ's sake, don't put your name on the damned thing."
Hal watched his brother walk to his car. "Probably be a bad decision."
"You think?"
"Yeah. And I'm done with those."
Hanford turned to him. "You think?"
Hal took a deep breath and stared into the darkness. Mexico wasn't too far away and this time of night, the road should be fairly clear of traffic. "Yeah," he said finally. "I think."
---End---
Enjoy the following sample from Terry Holland's first Harry Pines Adventure called An Ice Cold Paradise. It is available from Down and Out Books.
Chapter 1
Monday, March 10,
Kailua, Oahu, Hawaii
I was on my knees cursing the mealy bugs or aphids or whatever the hell was having lunch on my hibiscus kokio when a little red convertible driven by a lot of dark hair pulled through the gate and nosed up to the low wall of my front yard.
Cursing the critters is my first line of attack. I want them to get the message and just go away so I won't have to go nuclear. I hate killing them. It offends my affinity with Francis of Assisi. I said, "Fuck every one of you and all the horses you rode in on," and a few of them scuttled off. I'm not going all the way to sainthood with this and I think some of them, maybe the leaders, understood I have my limits. I hope so.
I stood up to take a look at my company. She was healthy, and nimble, too. I observed this as she took the three steps up into the yard with a quick little hop that did nice things for her legs and my imagination. She wore a yellow sundress with little straps at the top and a flouncy skirt that stopped well short of her knees. She walked right up and looked me in the eye and said, "Nice hat."
I'm not stupid. I know sarcasm when I hear it. I said, "I'm not stupid. I know sarcasm when I hear it."
"No," she said. "I really like it."
I glared at her and she smiled at me. I
said, "If you knew anything about the demands of tropical gardening, you'd show more respect for this hat." It has about a three-foot brim and a high pointed crown. Straw. Think of a witch in a rice paddy.
"I'm looking for Harry Pines," she said.
"You played lucky. Who're you?"
"Valerie Sabatino."
"That a stage name?"
"Nope. That's my real name."
"And?"
"Can we talk?"
"What about?"
"A missing person. Missing here. My nephew."
"I look like a guy who looks for missing people?"
She backed up a step and looked down at my feet and came up slowly from there, slowing at my torso, and settling at my face with her head tilted a little. She said, "I don't know what a guy like that looks like."
"So, was it my ad in the Yellow Pages?"
"My nephew is Danny MacGillicuddy. His father is Packy MacGillicuddy. He sent me."
"Far out. You just earned yourself a glass of iced tea." I went up the front steps, across the lanai, and into the kitchen and she came along with me. I put the hat on a wall hook as I entered. Leanne and a girl I didn't recognize were at the counter eating sandwiches. They wore bikini tops and shorts, either just up from the beach or on the way.
"Leanne, Valerie," I said.
"Harry, Sally," Leanne said.
"Hello," Valerie and Sally said.
I washed my hands, filled two glasses from the pitcher in the refrigerator, cut a lemon into quarters, squeezed and dropped one into mine and glanced at Valerie, who nodded, so I put another into hers. "You won't need sugar," I said, handing her a glass. "Off we go."
I went out the other side of the kitchen, along the breezeway just the few steps to my apartment. I held the door for her and she went in and I followed. I sat on a stool by the door and took off my sneakers. She watched me and said, "That's a custom over here, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. But I'm not observing the custom. I just like to go barefoot. It's up to you."
She kicked off her sandals.
I said, "Sit anywhere you like," and she slow circled the room like an old dog and plopped into the best seat in the house, a huge armchair big enough for two, swung her legs in a wide arc and put them up on the ottoman. She took a long draw on her tea and set it beside her on an odd copper thing somebody once told me is an Oriental Tea Caddy.
2,000 Miles to Open Road (Barefield) Page 25
