"Don't lose me," said Gabby. "I'll sink to the bottom if you let go of me."
"I've got you." She pulled the last knot apart and the rope began to loosen.
"I'm going under!"
Rebecca grabbed his arm and pulled him back up. She let go of the board and started tying the rope around Gabby's chest. They both began to sink.
"What are you doing?"
Rebecca reached up, grasped the board, and pulled them back up. "I'm going to tie you to the dock and go find a knife."
"Okay. Sounds good. I think."
"Here we go again." Several more times, she released the board, worked at tying the rope around Gabby's chest, grabbed hold of the board again, and pulled them back up.
She eased them over to the edge of the lower deck and looped the rope around a dock post and pulled on it until Gabby's head was positioned safely above the top of the water.
Rebecca pulled herself up, and climbed on top of the deck. "Okay. Now we need to cut the rest of these zip-ties off. There's got to be a knife on one of these boats." She began hopping toward one of them.
"Be careful."
She tripped on something and nearly fell off the dock.
"Maybe you'd better find a flashlight first."
"Good idea, Smart Ass."
CHAPTER 34 - Tuesday, 10:52 p.m.
Gabby shined the flashlight under the dash for Rebecca. "You really think you can hotwire this thing?"
"Sure."
"How do we know if this old truck will even run?"
"We don't. But we're about to find out. Our only other choice is to walk all the way back to town."
"I guess you do this a lot in your line of work."
"Haven't done it in years. But it's pretty easy on these older vehicles." She stripped another wire with the knife she'd found on an old fishing boat.
"I hear a car coming."
"Get down."
Rebecca peeked over the top of the dashboard, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a fully-restored, 1963 Riverside Red Chevy Impala Super Sport. She had dated a boy in college with that exact same car. She loved classic cars like her dad, and it had been the only reason she agreed to go out with the otherwise unworthy suitor.
"Rebecca, get down."
The car doors opened, and one of the men said, "Where the hell are they?"
Judging by the man's accent, he was Hispanic.
Rebecca took another peek, and saw the man taking out his cell phone.
"Bobby? We're here at the marina. Where are they? I thought you said they'd be sitting out here in the plain sight...yeah, we just got here...well, don't blame me. We were on the other side of town when you called...Yeah, we've been drinking. So, what?...You must not have tied them up very well, Bro, because they're gone...Okay, yeah, we'll look around. If they're here, we'll find them."
He led the other two men over to the stairs, and down to the lower deck. "If they're still tied up, they couldn't have gone far."
Rebecca said, "Okay. It's now or never." She touched two wires together and the truck's starter clicked.
"It's not going to work," said Gabby. "We'd better make a run for it."
The leader of the gang started barking orders in Spanish.
Rebecca tried again, and the starter clicked again. "The battery's weak."
Gabby took a quick look out the window. "They're coming fast. We've got to run."
Rebecca tried again. This time the starter worked. The engine coughed and sputtered at first, as though it had not been started for several weeks. She revved it a couple of times, dropped it into gear, and stomped the accelerator. The truck began to move.
"Can't you go any faster?" said Gabby.
Rebecca glanced back at the truck bed. "It's all that treated lumber in the bed." She had built a backyard deck with her dad, and knew that the eight-foot 4-by-4's weighed about forty pounds each.
They heard a gunshot and ducked. The back window shattered and shards of glass rained down on the back of their heads.
"We'll be okay as long as we stay low. That lumber is our bullet-proof vest," said Rebecca.
"I hope they're not smart enough to shoot the gas tank or the tires."
As they made it out of the marina onto the two lane road, the truck continued to pick up speed. Soon they were doing 60 mph.
But the Impala was coming up fast from behind.
"Don't let them come up beside us," said Gabby, "or we're dead."
"I've got it covered," said Rebecca.
Every time the Impala tried to pull up next to the truck, Rebecca steered the truck to that side and blocked it. She tried to do it without touching the car, knowing that a fender ding could send the driver of the Impala into a rage. Right now, he was just doing a job. But mess up his car, and it would become personal.
"We can't outrun this guy," said Gabby. "And when we get to the freeway, he'll be able to pass us—"
"—and shoot us through the door." Rebecca veered sharply to the right, into the grass. The truck began to bounce on the uneven, bumpy ground.
"What are you doing?" said Gabby.
"His car can't handle this."
"I'm not sure this truck can handle it either."
"But did you see the way the front his car was jacked up? His rear is going to drag bottom."
The headlights followed them into the grass.
Gabby looked back, "They're gaining on us."
Bullets hit the truck, but most were absorbed by the lumber in the bed.
"I hope the tailgate holds," said Rebecca. "Because if that baby falls open..."
Gabby peeked over the seat to look back. "They're slowing down. I think they stopped."
"Great. It worked."
"Now, can you get us back onto the road."
Rebecca steered to the left. "It's a pretty good slope. I hope we can make it back up."
"Maybe it would help if we dump the wood."
"Yeah, we might have to."
Gabby looked back. "The tailgate's open on one side. One of those bullets must have hit the bracket.
Gabby saw the Impala struggling to U-turn and go back up the way it came down.
The truck had slowed to 5 mph by the time they drove back onto the road.
"That was too close," said Gabby. He looked back. "Oh, shit! Here they come."
Rebecca downshifted, and floored the accelerator. Soon they were up to 50 mph.
"They're coming up fast."
They heard bullets hitting metal. They were now at 65 mph.
Gabby said, "Please. Not the tires."
They heard a bullet hit solid metal, followed by a loud clang.
"What was that?" said Rebecca.
Gabby took a peek. "There went the tailgate."
More shots rang out.
"Watch out for that pothole," said Gabby.
Rebecca swerved. At 70 mph, she was afraid the giant hole in the road could pop a tire or rip out the axel. The front tire cleared it, but the left rear tire hit it—dead center.
The back of the truck dropped and bounced up. The lumber in the bed hung suspended in midair for a moment, and crashed back to the bed. But now the jostled pile of wood was repositioned—a foot or so away from the cab. One of the top pieces was at a tipping point—about to fall onto the road.
"I've got an idea," said Gabby. "We need to hit another pothole."
"Are you kidding me? That last one nearly wreck us."
"Yeah, but if you do it again I think it will dump some of our lumber."
"And hit the car."
"Hopefully."
"That might work."
"There—coming up on the left side of the road. Can you hit it?"
"I'm gonna try."
More bullets sprayed the truck.
"Hang on," said Rebecca, aiming for the pothole.
She hit it with the front tire and the back. The lumber did a double bounce.
"That wasn't enough," said Gabby. "No, wait. There goes one."
The board
fell out of the bed, and flew down the road. The driver of the Impala apparently didn't see it in time.
"Bulls-eye!" said Gabby. "He's got a new hood ornament." He laughed. "That can't be good for the engine."
Bullets pelted the truck.
"The only bad thing is, if we drop too much lumber," said Rebecca, "we're not going to be bullet proof anymore."
"There goes another board. Whoa, it's airborne. Oh, God!"
"What happened?"
"It went through the windshield. The car's going off the road. It's slowing down. I think that board was a direct hit—to the driver's head."
"Well, I'm sorry if somebody had to die. But I'm glad it wasn't us."
CHAPTER 35 - Tuesday, 11:15 p.m.
The old pickup made it to the used car lot where Gabby's car was parked. They searched the area and found their cell phones, as well as Rebecca's holster and pistol. The phones were banged up, but still working. They got into Gabby's car and drove away.
Rebecca had missed a call from Wendy, her secretary. She called her back with the phone on speaker.
"Hey, Wendy. Sorry I missed your call."
"Rebecca, where are you?" She sounded funny.
"I'm...out and about—working on a case."
"Well, I went out earlier to pick up some baby formula and I passed by the office, and..."
Rebecca cringed. "You didn't go into the office did you?"
"Well, your car was there and the door was unlocked."
"Oh, Wendy..."
"So, I went in. But you weren't there. And I thought that was so weird, and—"
"—you went into my office?"
"Yeah."
"So, you called the police?"
Wendy hesitated. "Why would I call the police? Because the door was unlocked?"
"No, Wendy. What did you find in my office?"
"Nothing. Well, your dad's old gun case was sitting on your desk. And I thought that was odd since you usually keep it locked in a drawer, but—"
"—so, there was nothing on the floor?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't see anything usual—other than the gun case?"
"No, that was all. Are you okay, Rebecca?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. So, you locked the door?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you so much, Wendy. And take tomorrow off. I'm giving you a paid holiday."
"Oh, thank you, Rebecca."
"Goodnight."
"What the hell?" said Gabby.
"Are you sure Big Bill was dead?"
"I thought he was. He was definitely on the floor."
"So, you're not sure he was dead?"
"Well, like I told you—half his face was blown off."
"But you didn't check his pulse?"
"No. I didn't want to touch him. I don't like touching dead people."
"What if he's not dead? What if somebody came in and got him. Took him to the hospital."
"I suppose that's possible. But why would they clean up the mess?"
"Yeah, that doesn't make sense."
"What if he wanted to make you think you had killed him?"
"Or think I had been framed."
"Yeah."
"I don't get it," said Rebecca. "But one thing's for sure. Joey Ketrousie wants us dead."
"Well, now we can go to the police. Let them protect us."
"I don't know. It could be a trap."
"But if you're innocent..."
"I know. I just need to think about this."
Gabby pulled into the motel parking lot and drove up to their room. Rebecca looked around to see if anybody was watching them. They got out of the car and went inside.
"We're not the only ones who thought Big Bill was dead," said Rebecca.
"Yeah. Kimberly and Joey apparently thought so."
"And what about Wiley? And how about Harvey Hamstel and Phillipa Thagery? Did they think he was dead too? And if so, why? Who told them? Or were they in on the scam?"
"Maybe they're not. Maybe Big Bill faked his own death to see who he could trust."
"Yeah," said Rebecca, "that does sound like something he might do."
"And if he's alive, maybe he's the one who killed Carly...and Calvin. He could have even been the one who burned down my shop."
"This is a real tangled mess," said Rebecca. "We've got to find Big Bill. There's a website that lets you search for owners of property. We can search on his name and see all the properties he owns. Maybe he's hiding out at one of them."
"Great idea."
Gabby took out his smartphone. They found the site and ran the search.
"Oh," said Rebecca, "look at this property. It's outside of town."
"It's just a piece of land. Acreage."
"Let's plug that address into Google Maps and see what we get."
"Okay."
When it came up, Rebecca said, "What's that? Zoom in."
"Looks like a barn."
"That could be it."
"You really think a wealthy guy like Big Bill would hide out in a barn?"
"Maybe it's not a barn. Maybe it just looks like a barn. Besides, we don't know when this picture was taken."
"That's true. These images are not real-time."
"Look, I know it seems like I'm grasping at straws, but I've got to go out there."
"No. You're right. It's the only lead we've got. I just hope we don't piss off anybody else, and make them want to kill us too."
CHAPTER 36 - Tuesday, 11:48 p.m.
Gabby drove slowly along the black abyss between two fields of moonlit grass. The vibration from the tires assured him they were still on the dirt road.
Rebecca leaned forward and squinted. "There's the barn. See the light? And I think there's car out front. Let's park here and walk the rest of the way."
Gabby pulled over and killed the engine. They got out and started walking toward the barn. "Don't you think I should have a gun too? I could carry your dad's old gun."
"Have you ever fired one?"
"No. But I'm sure I could do it—if I had to. We don't know how many people are in there, or what kind of weapons they have."
"But we've got the element of surprise."
"I hope that's enough."
Rebecca stopped walking and reached into her pocket. "Here, take this."
Gabby held out his hand. "A pager? What am I supposed to do with this? Throw it at him?"
"It's not a pager. It's a high-voltage stun gun. Don't let the size fool you. That thing is powerful."
"Yeah, but I have to be close enough to touch him with it, right? I'd rather have a gun. A big gun."
"Look. You turn it on here, press the electrodes against his skin, and push this button."
"What if he touches me when I do it? Won't it shock me too?"
"No."
"Okay. Thanks." He put it in his pants pocket.
Now within twenty feet, Rebecca realized there was no light coming from the barn. What she had seen was moonbeams reflected off the metallic blue finish of a brand new Mustang parked out front. And right beside it was a black Maserati GranTurismo. Big Bill's car.
Gabby followed Rebecca to the back of the Mustang. Before Rebecca could decide what to do next, lights came on. Powerful lights, all around them. She and Gabby might as well have been standing on the pitcher's mound in Rangers Ballpark. There was no place to hide.
An amplified voice said, "Why it's Rebecca Ranghorn and her sidekick, Gabby G'Blee."
They looked at each other and said it in unison. "Big Bill."
"Don't be afraid, guys. Would you like to come in?"
The front of the barn didn't look like a barn at all. More like a fortress. The door opened.
"Come on in."
They walked into the building.
"Walk forward, then right, please," said Big Bill over the speakers.
The door automatically closed behind them. They followed Big Bill's directions, which led them into a large room. There was a young man wo
rking at a computer terminal with his back to them. He seemed oblivious to their arrival.
And there was Big Bill, to the right, sitting atop a two-foot high platform, in a huge Captain Kirk style swivel chair. "Welcome."
The back wall was covered with large flat-panel displays of what appeared to be live video feeds from cameras in Café Nue, including one in Joey Ketrousie's office. Another camera captured Phillipa Thagery working in a lab coat. Still another was trained on Kimberly Smotherburn's bedroom. She was sitting at a dresser, brushing her hair. Even Calvin Cinaway's garage had been equipped with a hidden camera.
Then Rebecca saw her office. "You bastard."
Big Bill chuckled. "I suppose you'd like an explanation."
"Yeah," said Rebecca, "and I'm really disappointed that you're not dead."
"Well, I would think you'd be relieved that you won't be charged with my murder."
"You sure looked dead to me," said Gabby.
Big Bill laughed. "Yeah, Wiley is quite talented with special effects makeup—the kind they use for movies. He used to scare the neighbors half to death at Halloween. One time a lady called 911. She thought somebody had taken an axe to his face."
"But what was the point?" said Rebecca. "Why did you go to all that trouble just to make us think you were dead?"
"I wanted to frustrate you—to put you on the defensive, and make you do crazy things. And it worked."
"But somebody fired her gun," said Gabby.
" Oh, yeah. Sorry about the hole in your ceiling, Rebecca." said Big Bill. But I guess it doesn't matter since you're going to prison."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you murdered Carly Cinaway for $100,000."
Rebecca stared at him in disbelief.
"The police have an eye witness—the desk clerk. They also have your DNA at the scene. Two of your lovely, long hairs were found in her hotel room."
"You pulled those hairs from my head while I was passed out in my office. Then you planted them in Carly's hotel room."
"Do you have any proof of that?" Big Bill laughed. "And hiding the money in Gabby's saving account was just lame. Didn't you realize it was one of the first places the cops would look? What were you thinking?"
Gabby took out his smartphone.
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