by Laurel Dewey
Emily winced as Chris dug his forearm into her neck. “Jane . . .” Emily muttered.
“Shut up!” Chris yelled at Emily, squeezing her even tighter.
Jane saw that the sheriff and his deputy had quietly taken up strategic positions next to the tower. Dan followed suit. “You want to kill somebody?” Jane shouted, trying to divert Chris’ attention away from Emily. “Kill me!”
“No!” Emily screamed.
“Oh, fuck! I thought I already did that! I thought that was you under the blanket that night. Not Martha! Christ, I gave you so many chances to look good. I had that bum with the cigarette case I took from the house. Weyler would have gone for it. But you had to throw the wrench in it. Then there was good fuckin’ ‘Christian Ron!’ You know the trouble I went through to set up that asshole? He could have gone down for it and everything would have been sweet! But you stuck your fuckin’ nose in that one, too!”
“You would have been found out one way or the other!”
“Do you mean this little bitch here?” Chris tightened his grip around Emily’s neck. “Shit! I had all that worked out! I’d wait ’til the smoke cleared and you were away from her. Then I’d track her down in Cheyenne and take care of business!”
“Chris, listen to yourself! You’re not rational!”
“You try tweaking off meth and tell me how fucking rational you are!”
Jane had to buy time. “Is that how it all started? Getting high on meth? The Stovers?”
Chris was taken aback by Jane’s words. His surprise then quickly turned into hatred for Emily. He pushed the gun barrel with more force into her forehead, leaving a circular imprint in her skin. “I knew it! I knew your dad would open his fucking mouth!” he yelled at Emily.
“I figured it out, Chris! Emily didn’t know shit! Chris! Look at me!” Jane was desperate to distract Chris. “Why’d you do it?”
“What choice did I have? You think I was gonna let that prick Stover walk into the DA’s office and give me and the others up? They thought I was doing it for them! To protect their asses! But I was doing it all for me!”
Jane observed his body language. “But they still threatened your life.”
“Fuck you!”
“Is the meth one of the perks?”
“Don’t get righteous with me, bitch! Don’t pretend you’re not an addict! You know what it feels like when you can’t get it! And you know how good it feels when you finally taste it!”
The sweat dripped down Jane’s face under the searing solar glare. “I am a drunk! But as fucked up as I am, I’ll never be as fucked up as you!”
“Oh, Jane, I look at you and it’s like I’m looking in a mirror! We know what hell looks like because we’ve been there, baby. We love the dark and the shadows and everything that goes with it—”
“Don’t shove me in your nightmare, Chris!”
“You know you love it! You just don’t want to look bad in front of the kid!” Chris pressed his lips against Emily’s ear. “You want to know the truth about your pal?”
“I don’t care!” Emily said, choking on her tears.
“Of course you care!” Chris said, jerking Emily closer to him. “She’s got a real appetite for brutality. It’s amazing she hasn’t kicked the shit out of you, ’cause she’s into serious pain.”
“It’s not true!” Emily yelled defiantly.
“It is true!” Chris stared at Jane in silence as a twisted grin crept across his face. “Emily, you love little secrets, don’t you?” he said with an eerie quiver to his voice. “Wanna know a dirty little secret about your protector? Violence runs in her blood. She likes to punch hard because she likes to be punched. She loves to get the shit kicked out of her.” Jane’s eyes widened in shock. “Gee, Jane,” Chris said with a crazed look. “Now, who do you suppose told me that little gem of family trivia?”
For Jane, it was as if the earth turned on its axis. All that had come before fell away. Every memory that had haunted her faded into the background. There was no apprehension. There was no doubt. There was no fear. There she was, standing there with both hands wrapped around the Glock. And there was Emily and the absolute knowing inside of what she had to do.
“Emily?” Jane said, as an intangible calm washed over her.
“Yes?” Emily quietly responded, fearful of what she knew was to come.
Jane focused on Chris but her innate connection to Emily was palpable. “Look at me, Emily.” Emily peered up at Jane through the reflected sunlight. If there truly was any kind of otherworldly link between them, Jane prayed her thoughts would resonate loudly. “Do you understand, Emily?” Jane asked, not quite sure if it was possible.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Chris interjected.
Jane directed every ounce of energy to Emily. “Do you understand, Emily?”
For Emily, the dream fused into the moment. “I do,” Emily replied in terror.
“Hey!” Chris yelled out. “Who’s in charge here?”
Jane raised her pistol to Chris’ forehead. “I am, Chris.” There was a whisper of silence between them, before Jane yelled to Emily, “Now!”
Jane pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Chris square between the eyes. Within that second, Emily skillfully ducked just as Chris’ finger depressed the trigger on his pistol. The bullet from his gun singed past Emily’s scalp. A surge of blood poured from Chris’ head wound, splattering across Emily’s face and shirt. Chris fell backward, his arm still tightly encircling Emily. Emily reached out toward Jane as she felt herself heading over the edge of the tower with Chris. Jane raced across the tower and grabbed Emily’s wrist, just as Chris began his fatal descent. The momentum, however, proved too powerful for Emily. Still grasping onto Jane’s wrist, Emily slipped over the rim of the tower, slamming her chest against the metal side.
Jane fell to her stomach, hanging on to Emily’s wrist. Chris hit the ground head first, snapping his neck backward with a loud pop. Emily screamed, flailing against the side of the tower.
Emily turned her tear stained face toward Jane, slightly losing her grip on Jane’s wrist. “Don’t let go!”
“Hold on to me, Emily!” Jane ordered Emily as she let go of her Glock and slid her other arm over the side of the tower.
Sheriff George, along with his deputy and Dan, ran toward Chris’ body, kicked away his gun and called up to Jane. “I’ve radioed for help!”
“I’m gonna die!” Emily shrieked.
Jane looked down at the trio standing sixty feet below, realizing it was too risky for them to try to catch Emily. “Emily!” Jane said abruptly. “You want to live?”
“Yes!” Emily said, choking on her tears.
“Then quit thinking you’re gonna die!” Jane felt herself losing her grasp on Emily. “Grab my wrist with your other hand!”
Emily complied. The child’s weight started to pull Jane over the side. To brace herself, Jane curled the tip of her boot around an eight inch metal rod that jetted out from the tower’s surface. “I’m gonna pull you up, but you gotta help me. Come on!” Jane harnessed every last ounce of energy and yanked Emily toward her. Emily tightened her shoulder muscles and wedged her boots flat against the side of the tower. The child struggled against gravity but was finally able to reach the edge of the tower with her hand. Jane grabbed Emily by the belt loop of her jeans and hauling her frail body closer to safety. With one last pull, Jane swung Emily onto the tower’s flat surface.
Emily collapsed into Jane’s arms. “I’m safe,” she sobbed, as if questioning it.
Jane held her tightly. “You’re safe.”
Emily buried her head in Jane’s chest. “It changed,” she whispered. “It really changed.”
“What changed?”
Emily held on to Jane tightly and then passed out.
Chapter 29
The Denver police contingent—led by Sergeant Weyler—showed up in Peachville about three o’ clock that afternoon. They spent four hours at the water tower, taking crime scen
e photos and interviewing Sheriff George and his deputy. Emily was driven to a local doctor’s office to be examined and then released to her home in Peachville, in the temporary care of a nurse.
By seven p.m., the shooting death of Detective Chris Crawley in Peachville was the top story on every Colorado news station. Likewise, everyone in Peachville knew the true identity of Jane Perry and that she pulled the fatal trigger. Jane paced nervously in the front yard—a cigarette carelessly dangling from her lips—and watched as cars crept in front of the house. The occupants often pointed at her. Some of their faces showed fascination and awe; others looked disgusted and angry.
“How does it feel to be on display?”
Jane spun around and saw Dan standing on the sidewalk, outside the front gate. “Dan!” She quickly crossed to the gate. “How’s your head?”
“Oh, it’s nothin’. Couple stitches.”
Jane noticed that Dan seemed reticent. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. How’s Emily?”
“She’s in her bedroom with the nurse and Sergeant Weyler. They’re talking. I haven’t had much of a chance to be with her since it all went down.”
Dan looked away. “I keep thinking this is some sort of dream . . . or nightmare. God, what you must think of me—”
“What are you talking about?”
Dan stiffened, keeping his distance. “All the comments I made to you about cops and how worthless they were—”
“Dan, I agree with you! I don’t have a lot of respect for most cops—”
“And me tellin’ you how I was gonna rescue you! Man, I looked like a fool all these weeks!”
“Dan, you did rescue me . . . and Emily.”
“You don’t need to patronize me—”
“If you hadn’t distracted Chris, God only knows what would have happened!”
“You weren’t that far behind them—”
“Every second counted! You did make a difference. And that’s not me bullshitting you!” Jane let out a deep sigh. “Look, I realize this is awkward. But I want you to know something. I hated having to lie to you all those weeks.”
“You were just doin’ your job,” Dan replied curtly.
“Okay, fine, you’re pissed off at me. I can deal with that. But Emily really likes you. Before we leave, you owe her a decent good-bye. So do me a favor and put aside your attitude when you talk to her!” Jane turned toward the house.
“Jane, wait!” Dan called out. She turned around. “I don’t want to leave it like this between you and me.” Dan gathered his thoughts. “It’s my own damn fault. I thought maybe you and me and Emily had a future together. I just gotta get my head straight. And I gotta face the fact that I never really knew you.”
“You did know me, Dan. Do you remember when you and I were walking around the carnival after the dance contest? You told me about your sister and that ex-husband of hers that almost killed her.”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“You compared your ex brother-in-law to my supposed ex-husband. You told me that when a woman is used to gettin’ beat on, she tends to pick that kind of man, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s doing it. Then you said that you’d bet a dime to a donut that that’s the kind of guy I’d fall for. And you were right.”
Dan stood dumbfounded. “You’re so much better than that, Jane.”
“You know, I’ve said those exact words on the job to hundreds of women. They just ring differently when they’re aimed back at you.”
Dan teared up. “From this moment on, you deserve the best life that anyone could ever ask for.”
Jane was touched by his words. “Thank you. Now, all I gotta do is convince myself of that.”
“Tell Emily I’ll come around later to say good-bye.” Dan turned and walked down the street.
Jane discarded her dying cigarette and quickly lit a new one. Weyler had been inside talking to Emily for over an hour. Jane felt like she was at the whim of protocol and other people’s agendas. She was just about to storm into the house when she caught sight of a familiar car parked across the street. It was Kathy. There she was sitting in the driver’s seat with Heather buckled into the passenger seat next to her, gawking at Jane. Jane clipped her cigarette between her lips and barreled across the street toward the car. Kathy started to jam the key into the ignition. Jane rounded the hood of the car, heading toward the passenger door. “Take the key out of the ignition, Kathy!” Jane ordered with every ounce of cop attitude.
Kathy dutifully obliged, scared to death. “What’s going on?”
Jane swung open the passenger door. “Get out of the car, Heather!”
Heather turned to her mother, paralyzed in fear. “Mom! Do something!”
Jane quickly reached in, unbuckled Heather’s seat belt and dragged the kid out of the car by her arm. “I said get out of the car and I mean it!”
Kathy stormed out of the car and onto the sidewalk. “Where are you taking her?”
“Police business!” Jane said with a serious tone.
“Police?” Kathy said, frightened. “But wha—”
“Stay on the sidewalk, Kathy! This is between your kid and me!” Jane lugged Heather across the park about fifteen yards before jerking the child behind two large bushes that obscured them both from sight. Jane kept a tight grip on Heather’s shoulder as she leaned down to get on eye level with the kid. For dramatic effect, Jane pushed back her jacket to reveal her Glock in its holster. Heather shook with fear. Her eyes widened when she spied the gun.
“Well, look at you!” Jane said. “You’re really shaking!
“I . . . I . . .” was all Heather could force out of her mouth.
“How does it feel, Heather?”
The kid couldn’t take her terrified eyes off the Glock. “Please, don’t—”
“How does it feel to be so terrified and so trapped at the same time? That’s exactly how Emily felt when you locked her in that closet!”
“Please . . . I—”
“How does it feel to think you’re gonna die?”
“Die?” The air caught in her throat. “I don’t want to die. Don’t shoot me!”
Jane eyed Heather with a sinister glare as she sucked the life out of her cigarette and flung it on the green grass. “Shoot you?” She waited, oozing the kind of intimidation usually set aside for hard-core criminals. “Well, let me think about that.” Jane said, as if she were actually contemplating the notion of plugging the brat. “No, I think shooting is too damn good for you. Here’s the deal, Heather. I’ve always known the truth about you. Now, you know the truth about me. So, here’s some advice. Number one, I strongly suggest that you straighten up fast and be kinder to those around you. And number two, you better grow eyes in the back of your head. Because you will never know when I’m gonna be right behind you. You may think that you’re all alone, but I’m gonna be watching you. And if I see any sign that you are harming another human being . . .” Jane stopped and sent angry blades of malice toward Heather.
Heather seized up, cringing at what was coming next. “Wha—What?” she stuttered.
A satisfied grin crept across Jane’s face. “If I told you, I’d ruin the surprise.”
Heather bought Jane’s story. Jane matter-of-factly adjusted the kid’s collar and glanced down at the moist grass where Heather stood. Jane found another reason to smile. “So, you’re gonna remember what I’ve told you?”
“Yes,” Heather replied, still frightened.
“Okay. You’re gonna walk back to your mom’s car, you’re gonna get in and you’re gonna keep your mouth shut about everything I just said to you. Because if you don’t, this entire town is gonna find out that you just wet your pants. Do I make myself clear?” Heather’s mouth dropped open. Jane leaned closer to the kid’s face. “Do I make myself clear?” Heather nodded, absolutely terrified. “Go on! Get outta here!”
She watched Heather make a mad dash across the grass toward the car, jump into the vehicle
and urge her mother to get in and drive fast. Jane lit another cigarette as Kathy tore up Main Street. Just then, Jane spotted Weyler walk out the front door carrying a briefcase. As usual, he was dressed in his tailored navy blue suit, crisp white shirt and crimson red tie. She made a beeline toward the house and met him on the front steps. “Can I go in and see her now?”
“Not yet. The nurse hasn’t finished with her,” Weyler replied, sitting down on the porch steps, his long legs awkwardly extended.
Jane anxiously sat next to him. Weyler clicked open his briefcase and pulled out a sealed plastic bag that held a one page, single spaced, typed letter. The notepaper had obviously been crumpled into a ball and then recently flattened. “After I got your call today,” Weyler said, “I stopped at the Lawrence house per your instructions. I pushed on that damn desk for fifteen minutes to find the secret button. Finally, I got that back compartment open and I found this.” He handed Jane the plastic bag. “You were right.”
Jane looked at the paper. “The letter.” Reluctantly, she read it to herself.
David,
After we talked the other night at my office, I gave your offer of help a lot of thought. I hope it wasn’t the booze talking on your end, because I really need you to back me up in case the shit hits the fan. I got myself painted into a corner and I now I have no choice but to testify and tell the court what I know about the T. mob and all the Denver big shots that front for them. They’re going to be putting Yvonne and Amy and I into protective custody until it blows over. But, like I told you, I got a bad feeling about things. I’m pretty much screwed either way you cut it. When I told you the names of the players the other night, I couldn’t remember the last name of that homicide cop I mentioned. You know? The one from the Denver Police Department? Well, I remembered it. It’s Chris Crawley. He works homicide at the Denver PD. I’ve never met the guy, but from what I’ve been told, he’s a loose cannon. He works both sides of the fence. From what the boys told me, late last year he cut in on some off-hours ‘security’ jobs downtown in the immigrant section where the T. mob has a foothold. He was strong-arming the Asians, lying to them, telling them they had to have protection if they wanted to succeed. He got some sweet deals out of it, money, a boat in trade, etc. Anyway, the way I heard it, the T. mob said they were going to blow his cover to the higher-ups in the police department if he didn’t agree to what they said. So Crawley agreed to work with them. But it wasn’t like they had to twist his arm to do it. I heard he pretty much got off on the idea. He protects them. He hides evidence for them. Sometimes, he even steals evidence so it goes permanently missing. He’ll lie in court for them. But here’s the thing, David. The word I got is that he’ll partner with them on hits and then work the same case to swing attention away from the mob. He got fucked up on meth like I did so there’s no telling what he’s capable of. The thing is, I was just shooting the shit with one of the mob guys and I let it slip that I knew about the cop. And I may have mentioned that I told you about Chris. David, I was high and I wasn’t thinking straight when I said it. Anyway, I’m not sure but I think it might have gotten back to Chris. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the rest.
