by Nicole Young
A truck pulled out of the parking lot behind me and hovered on my tail, its brights blinding in my mirrors. I squinted against the glare, accelerating to see if the vehicle would ease off. It stayed glued to my tail.
I pressed the gas to put some distance between us. I couldn’t shake it.
“Back off!” My voice came out in a ragged scream.
I hung a right at the crossroads and picked up speed as I went downhill. The road made tight curves, then straightened out again. I swerved like a racecar driver on drugs, spilling into the opposite lane, overcompensating and hitting the dirt on the shoulder. I jerked back onto the pavement. Tears ran down my face as I hurled through the darkness, two circles of light my only guides.
What had I told myself just before going to bed earlier? That I would accept any circumstances God sent my way? This wasn’t what I had in mind.
Suddenly, the truck behind me connected with my rear bumper. I jerked at the blow.
“Lunatic!”
The guardrail fenced my right side. Headlights came at me up the hill, confining me to my own lane.
Then in front of me, like a scene from a nightmare, loomed Mead Quarry. My headlamps stretched across the big nothingness to the wall of rock on the opposite side, bathing it in creepy half-light. My tormenter pulled into the lane next to me, his pickup crashing into the side of my SUV, thrusting me toward the guardrail.
A scream ripped my throat. I fought to keep the wheel straight, but the sheer force of the strike jolted me into the rail. The screech of grinding metal made my heart spasm.
“God help me!” I squeezed my eyes closed.
I felt the pressure leave my side of the vehicle. I snapped my eyes open to realize the truck had pulled behind me, apparently so he wouldn’t get creamed by an oncoming car. I steered back onto the road.
The oncoming headlights passed by.
The truck made another slam into my rear.
I pitched forward against the steering wheel.
“Are you crazy?!”
I jerked the wheel and crossed the yellow line to the opposite lane, now empty. A steep bluff fenced me in. On my right, the pickup pulled even with me. Then, from around the next bend, more headlights appeared, rushing toward us. I gripped the wheel, moving onto what little shoulder there was, and slammed on the brakes. The oncoming vehicle wavered toward the middle of the road, apparently confused by the double set of lights. With nowhere to turn, my pursuer veered away at the last moment, smashing with a sickening squeal through the guardrail. With uncontrollable jittering, I ground to a halt and watched in horror as taillights arced silently to the bottom of the quarry. Then came the stomach-turning crunch of metal on stone.
I hugged the steering wheel.
It could have been me. I could be dead in Mead Quarry right now.
My racing heart gradually slowed. After a minute, I stepped into the stillness and crossed the road toward the breach in the guardrail. The occupants of the other vehicle had beaten me to the edge of the quarry.
A man and woman leaned into each other, lit by the rays of an early summer moon. The man spoke into a cell phone, giving directions to the scene of the accident.
“I’m s-so sorry.” I stumbled toward the couple, my vision blurring as tears threatened. “A-are you okay?”
“We are”—the man pointed into the quarry—“but they weren’t so lucky.”
I recognized that voice.
“Brad?”
The man turned. “Tish? Are you alright? What were you trying to do? You could have been killed.”
Brad held me up as I grabbed onto him, sobbing on his shoulder.
“They tried to kill me. Just like my mother.”
“Shh.” He kissed the top of my head. “It’s going to be okay.”
Samantha scooted over and wrapped us in an embrace.
I leaned into the two of them. “What are you guys doing here? How did you know where to find me?”
I felt Brad’s rumbly voice against my ear. “Your grandfather phoned me after he brought Candice the wrong box. Wanted me to get a hold of the right one and deliver it.” Fingers smoothed my hair. “But I guess Candice insisted on calling you next. Said it would be quicker. He tried to stop her, but she pulled a gun on him.” A kiss to my temple. “In the meantime, I’d driven up to the lodge to intercept you, but you were already gone.” Brad gave a quiet chuckle. “I made Sam come along for the rescue.”
Sam gave a deep sigh. “We almost killed you instead. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Brad’s serious demeanor returned. “Anyway, your grandfather snuck in a call to Joel from the men’s room a little later. Warned him to be on the lookout for Majestic’s cronies coming to do some intercepting of their own. So Joel headed up to the lodge. Called me on his way.” Brad peered into the quarry at the dimming taillights. “Looks like Joel won’t have anything to worry about now.”
My stomach reeled as I processed all the information. “If Candice has a gun, what’s going to happen to my grandfather?”
Brad aimed my body toward his vehicle and helped me get walking. “Joel seems to think she’s harmless with a gun. Says the only thing she can shoot is a camera.”
I shuddered, picturing the bullet wound dead center on Drake Belmont’s forehead.
“Your grandfather is a professional. He can handle her,” Brad was saying. “And Majestic’s crew too, if it comes to that.”
All I could do was pray for Puppa as Brad and Samantha settled me onto the rear bench seat of Brad’s SUV.
“The police should be here any minute,” Sam said. “Then we can get you back to the house.”
I reached for her arm. “Hey, I need the box from the front seat of my car. And all the pictures I put on the floor, okay?”
Samantha nodded. “We’ll take care of it, hon. It’s okay.”
“Okay.” I laid down across the seat and rested my head on the leather. Within moments I was asleep, safe from my waking nightmare.
39
My soft bed thumped and I heard road noise in my ears. Oh, yeah. I was in the back of the car. I’d climbed over the seat before we crossed the Mackinac Bridge. The Mighty Mac, Gram called it. She said it wasn’t even built when she was young. Back then, they had to drive their car onto a ferryboat to get downstate.
I didn’t want to wake up yet. The sun had just been coming up when we crossed the bridge awhile ago. It had looked really pretty over the lake and made the water pink and gold. Looking at it made me feel better, like things weren’t going to be so bad after all. But then I had started thinking about the stuff I’d never see again. Like Puppa. And Jellybean. And the horses. And my cat Peanut Butter. And my friend Anne. Probably my dad. And for sure my mom. Every time we passed one of the big wires holding up the bridge, I’d think of something else that I could never have back. And I wondered what would happen if the big wires broke and we fell into the water so far down, like what happened with my mom when she drove into that big pit.
Then I’d started to cry. Grandma didn’t yell at me for sniffling this time. And before we made it all the way across the bridge, I had lain down on the seat and looked up at the pink sky through the back window.
I must have fallen asleep, because here I was in the backseat, just opening my eyes. Only this time there were stars shining out the window. How long had we been driving, anyway?
I sat up. There were people in the seats in front of me, but it wasn’t Grandma and Grandpa Amble. I rubbed my head. The years rushed past and then there I was, in the backseat of Brad’s SUV with him and Sam up front.
“Wow. Was I ever sleeping. Where are we, anyway?” I asked. The highway rolled past with nothing but pine trees as landmarks.
“About halfway home,” Brad said.
“What a horrible night. I can’t believe that truck tried to kill me. I don’t even want to picture the shape my Explorer’s in.”
“It’ll be fine,” Brad said. “I had it towed to a body shop. The other vehicle wa
sn’t so lucky. The driver was dead at the scene. The passenger is in critical condition and on his way to Marquette.”
It seemed unfair that one of the men who tried to kill me should survive the plunge to the bottom of the quarry. My mother hadn’t survived. And she’d deserved to. At least I knew for sure now. Her death was no suicide. It was murder.
Brad glanced back at me. “I talked the officers at the scene into questioning you later. I hope you’re up for it when we’re in town this afternoon.”
I sighed and nodded. A few more hours of sleep would help take the edge off my latest trauma before I had to cough up the play-by-play.
I leaned forward between the front seats. “Are Puppa and Candice going to be okay?”
Sam and Brad looked at each other, but neither answered.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
Brad kept his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. White knuckles shone in the glow from the dash. He cleared his throat. “We searched the vicinity of the Watering Hole for your grandfather and Candice. We couldn’t find them.”
“What?” I gripped the seat backs. “Where could they be?”
How had I slept through all the drama? I looked at the clock on the console. 3:36 a.m.
Brad’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Hopefully it means your grandfather got away.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “What’s happening, Brad?”
He sighed. “Near as I can tell, your grandfather has been working to pinpoint a major drug connection in this area. He’s set a few snares, but none have been successful. Until now. I don’t know how to tell you this, but everything points to your friend Candice being a main drug pin around here.”
I stared at the blur of yellow lines flashing past on the highway. Assorted conversations ran through my mind. Candice’s condemnation of the entire peninsula, her avoidance of my grandfather, the confession that she’d killed Paul and Sid and Drake—all seemed to uphold Brad’s accusation. But what about her reminiscences of our time with my mother, her love of horses, her gracious hospitality, her parting kiss? How did that fit in with a lifetime of drug distribution? She had admitted that she’d taken over for Paul while he was in jail, but she’d also implied that she’d gone straight somewhere along the way, hadn’t she? And yet, how did one get a box full of photos of drug manufacturing locations and dealer faces if one wasn’t on the inside of the trade?
It was depressing to think the accusation was true.
“Brad.” Samantha said his name low and urgent. “What is this guy doing?” Her eyes were glued to the side mirror.
Brad looked in his rearview. “Hang on.”
I turned around. Headlights glared through the back window, close to our rear bumper. I held up a hand to shield my eyes. Brad sped up. The vehicle stuck with us.
“Here we go again.” I sat back and tightened my safety belt.
Brad switched lanes, so did the other car. Brad slowed, the other car slowed. Brad floored it, the other driver mimicked him.
“Oh, I don’t believe it,” Samantha said, bracing herself against the dash.
“What?” Brad asked.
“It’s Gill. I’m pretty sure it’s Gill.”
Sam’s ex-husband drove a white, rusted-out Suburban, the one I’d seen leaving my driveway awhile back. As we passed the yard light of a rural home, the vehicle behind us shone pearly white.
“What are we going to do?” My heart raced with this latest threat.
“Like I said, hang on.” Brad stepped on the gas, kicking his new-model SUV into overdrive. He floored it down the highway. The white Suburban fell behind, but stayed in sight. We flew past Hilltop Grocery and a few minutes later, Ed’s Bar.
“Brad, I can’t take this.” I hadn’t yet recovered from the high-speed chase earlier that evening. “Please slow down.” I held my stomach, sure that the next jolt of the car would force me to stick my head out the window.
“It’s okay, Brad,” Samantha kicked in. “He’s not really going to hurt us. He just likes to put on a show.”
Brad lifted his foot a notch. The SUV slowed to just under break-neck speed. “I’d rather not take any chances where Gill’s involved.”
“Come on. You know he’s all hot air.” Samantha put her hand on the crook of Brad’s elbow.
“Would I have sent you up here if I thought Gill was just hot air?” the older of the two siblings asked.
Sam conceded by crossing her arms and giving a big sigh.
“Fine.” Brad stepped on the brakes. “You know what? Let’s just see what he’s full of. Let’s settle this once and for all.” The car slowed to fifty-five.
Behind us, Gill raced ahead, closing the gap within seconds. The Suburban pulled into the opposite lane until the passenger door was even with Brad’s. Gill rolled down his window and gestured for Brad to do the same.
Brad complied. Samantha leaned forward for a full view of her ex-husband. The two men maneuvered the vehicles to keep them from colliding.
“Samantha, baby,” Gill shouted from his vehicle. “I’m sorry. Come home.”
“It’s over, Gill. It’s been over for years. Quit following me.” Her voice was sucked out the window as she yelled.
“I want you back.” Gill’s vehicle veered toward ours. “I’ll do anything.” He jerked the wheel and took it back to a safe distance. “Let’s work things out.”
“No. It’s over. Leave me alone.”
“Had enough, sis?” Brad asked Samantha.
She nodded.
Brad braked, letting Gill get ahead of us and back in the correct lane. Gill slowed and pulled his car to the shoulder. Brad parked behind him, leaving the engine running and the headlights on high beam.
“Don’t get out. Lock the doors behind me.” Brad stepped from the vehicle.
“Are you crazy?” Samantha asked. “What if he’s got a gun?”
Brad patted under his arm. “So do I. Besides. He’s all hot air, right?”
I jumped on Sam’s bandwagon. “Let’s just call the police and let them take care of it. Don’t do anything foolish,” I pleaded.
“I am the police.” He slammed the car door and walked toward Gill’s vehicle.
My macho cop boyfriend was about to get his Achilles’ heel crushed. “Sam, do something. He’s going to get hurt.”
“Sit tight. He must know what he’s doing.” Sam didn’t sound so sure herself.
“I’m calling the police.” I flipped open my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. NO SIGNAL, came the response. Why did Brad have to confront Gill smack in the middle of nowhere?
I watched with my heart in my throat as Brad approached Gill’s rolled-down window. They talked for a minute, then Brad gestured with his finger for Gill to get out of the car.
Trepidation washed over me as Gill stepped out, chest puffed like a fighting cock, and rolled up his flannel sleeves. Brad pointed to the grassy shoulder. The two men walked to the shallow ditch, their huge shadows blacking out the space behind them. They took up aggressive poses, paused five seconds, then lit into each other.
40
Inside the car, Sam and I had our noses glued to the glass.
Brad made fists and did some fancy footwork. Gill danced around him making half swings. Then he lunged. Brad dodged the attack. Gill landed on his face in the grass. He stood and brushed off. They went at it again.
“This is nuts.” I couldn’t take the thought of Brad bleeding. The whole idea twisted my guts. So what was I doing dating a cop? I wanted to jump out of the car and separate the two ruffians.
I looked at Sam. In the backwash of headlights, a tear glinted on its way down her cheek.
“Oh, Sam.” I reached over the seat and touched her shoulder. “You must feel terrible about this.”
She shook her head. “No. I feel lucky.”
“Why lucky?” I couldn’t grasp her logic.
“Lucky to have a brother like Brad. Look at him out there, defending my freedom.”
/> Brad was a protector. A defender. I bit my lip. It was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I was the lucky one.
Brad ducked a punch, then lunged, taking Gill to the ground. The two grappled on the slope, nothing but black blobs rolling and tossing in the beams. Then Gill was facedown with his arms twisted behind his back. Brad bent close to Gill’s ear and said something. Then he got up and brushed off. Gill stayed in the ditch while Brad walked back to the car. He got in, put the car in gear, and drove in silence.
“Well,” Sam said. “What’d you say to him?”
Brad gave a smirk. “I told him your new boyfriend eats dweebs like him for breakfast and he was lucky it was me in the ditch with him.”
“Do you think that’s going to work? I don’t even have a boyfriend.” Sam sounded distraught.
He reached over and gave her a playful noogie. “Come on, sis. You think I don’t know about Joel?”
Sam pouted in her seat.
“And,” Brad said, his hand on her arm, “I approve. After getting to know Joel and Bernard Russo, I’ve decided they are the best sort of men. You’re in good hands. Joel definitely comes from a good family.”
Brad’s sparkling eyes met mine in the rearview mirror.
I snuggled back in my seat, my stomach at rest for the moment. We drove the last ten minutes to the lodge in silence.
By the time we reached my road, the bare light of dawn cracked on the horizon. Brad parked next to Gerard’s truck and Joel’s car. He turned off the engine and just sat there.
“Hey. Are you okay?” I leaned forward and rubbed his back. His neck muscles felt like clenched fists under my fingers.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Samantha opened her door. “Are you guys coming in?”
“Give us a minute.” Brad sounded as weary as I felt.
“Well, I’m hitting the sack,” Sam said.
The passenger door closed and Sam walked toward the house.
“What’s up?” I asked in the cushy quiet of the SUV.
He sighed. “Tish. There’s more to the story than you realize.”
“What story? Sam and Gill’s?”
