by Linda Lovely
Mollye’s hands fluttered above her head. “What are you doing?” she squawked, tilting her head forward to peek around her arm. “Put your hands up or they’ll plug us!”
“Shhh. I only need a sec. They won’t shoot us in your car. Too big a coincidence to have two car hijackings gone bad. They’ll take us somewhere private.”
Mollye awarded me a black look. Pretty obvious my prediction hadn’t made her feel safe and cozy.
“That SOS you had me send won’t do us a bit of good if my phone’s off, but we’ll be in a worse fix if the sheriff hears it ring. I’m putting it on vibrate.”
Jones looked like a Neanderthal and West looked enough like a wraith to play the part of Death. I held my breath as they lumbered to within five feet of our bumper. Both men squinted as they tried to peer through the windshield’s glare.
“Damn you, Brie Hooker, put your hands over your head.”
Moldy Munster, a positive ID. Now I understood what the phrase “heart in your throat” meant. My ticker pumped blood so fast the veins in my neck twitched like hopped-up junkies. I couldn’t swallow.
They’d search us. Tear our car apart. They’d find the receivers. Not a doubt in the world. They’d go back and search Victor’s car for a bug. They’d know we’d watched and listened.
Think. No way to hide the receivers, but I couldn’t let them find my cell phone.
Ah ha! Light bulb lit. Good old Dad. He told me one of the cop instructors at the Writers’ Police Academy said he learned the hard way where girl gangbangers hid knives. Snug in their undies. A place no man would pat if his mama had pounded a speck of decency in him. Parking a cell “down under” seemed infinitely less perilous than hiding a switchblade near my privates.
Mollye’s eyes widened as she watched me suck in my tummy, pry open my slacks and undies, and clear a silken chute for my contraband. Thank goodness, I didn’t go for thongs. And I’d thought insidious discomfort was the only reason not to wear them.
I shimmied my iPhone down, down, down until I wriggled it in place. Cold. Yeehaw! Glad I hadn’t upgraded to a newer, beefier model. I needed to walk with my pant-a-phone in place. Uh-oh. What if Andy or Paint rang me back? I’d seen a vibrating phone walk itself off a table. Sitting I’d have no problem. But what if a call came in while I was standing? Could it shimmy its way out of my drawers?
“Hooker, did you hear me? Hands up, or I swear I’ll shoot.”
My hands shot up. I mimicked Mollye’s waving routine, making certain my empty hands caught Jones’ eye.
Guns drawn, the sheriff and Deputy West bracketed our car. Jones took my side; West the driver’s side. Our doors yanked open in unison.
“Out!” Jones yelled.
West herded Mollye over to my side of the car. The sheriff kept his gun trained on us while the deputy patted us down. I figured if West could look the other way while Jones gunned down friends, he wasn’t above copping a feel. Still I counted on his need to hurry. The deputy’s bony fingers ran down my ribcage and up the inside of my thighs, but stopped short of cell phone territory. Fortunately, there’d been no pulsing phone calls to alert West to the presence of my contraband.
“Cuff ’em,” Jones ordered. “Put ’em in the Camry and drive ’em back up the hill. I’ll be along. Need to have a little chat with Max first.”
Who was Max? Another rotten deputy? Last thing we needed was one more villain.
“What you gonna tell him?” West asked. “Max’ll wonder why we didn’t follow him into the lot after we got that anonymous tip about a carjacking.”
“Got it handled. I’ll say we stopped these folks, thinking they might be involved or potential witnesses. Once we discovered they were out-of-towners, I asked you to ride back up the hill with them and take their statements. Doubt Max’ll even wonder what out-of-towners were doing on a dirt road to nowhere. If he asks, I’ll think of something.”
West nodded. “Got it.”
“While you’re waiting for me, search the girls’ car. Take out the seats if you have to. Make sure there’s nothing to come back on us. But remember, we need the car later. Everything’s gotta go back nice and neat.”
A chill slithered down my spine. Whatever Jones had in mind, it didn’t sound like we’d be around to refute his version of our meet-and-greet. There’d been so many murders, I didn’t think he’d risk shooting us. My bet? Mollye and I would have an “accident.” Our car would plunge over a cliff.
“Inside.” West shoved Mollye toward the Camry’s backseat. She tried to scoot to make room for me but didn’t make it past the middle hump. I squeezed in beside her. The front seats were reclined so far our knees grazed the seat backs.
Mollye’s cuffed hands found mine. A tear dribbled down her cheek. I wanted to give her hope, assure her all was not lost.
The vibrating gizmo below grabbed my attention. An incoming call. Was it Andy? Paint? Mom? I could only hope. No way to answer.
With West sitting in the front seat, I couldn’t risk even whispered conversation. I mouthed the word “Posse.” She nodded, but none of the worry left her face. My mind flitted across all the things she may have thought I said. None were good, and one was naughty.
When we reached the barn at the top of the hill, the deputy opened the Camry’s back door, ordered us out, and marched us inside the decrepit structure.
“Sit over there.” He pointed at a post in the middle of the barn. “Put your backs against the post.”
We sat. He unsnapped Mollye’s right cuff and my spirits soared. Was he freeing our hands? Then he clicked the just-freed cuff around my wrist. My hopes dashed. He undid one end of my steel bracelet and attached it to Mollye’s free wrist. We were now linked arm and arm with the rough wood post in the center.
“It’s all your fault, you know?” The deputy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone. You shoulda got the message when I bumped your preppie car into that ditch. Or when the sheriff paid the Nelsons to torch your barn. But no. You just had to push it. You’ve sealed your fate with Robbie. He’ll never let you go now.”
Neither Mollye nor I spoke until West’s backside disappeared outside the barn.
“What were you mouthing at me? Police?” Mollye whispered.
Police. Of course she’d have thought police. “No. Posse. Someone’s been phoning me. Could be Mom, but I’m hoping that tracker app really works, and Andy or Paint got our SOS. If so, they’d know we’d answer if we could. I’m praying they’ll just send help. Otherwise I need to be scared for them and us.”
“What about your mom?” Mollye asked. “What’ll she do when she gets your message?”
“What can she do? Call the state police, but she has no clue where we are. Too bad your psychic skills don’t include telepathy.”
“I wish. I’ve been directing all my mental energies to making a bucket list and figuring out if there was anything I could cross off while handcuffed. Only thought of one. If I go, I want to take Jones or West with me.”
“It’s not over, Mollye. Keep your eyes open for opportunities. Anything to delay Jones’ plans. Anything to buy time.”
Mollye sighed. “You’re thinking car accident, right? Bet they pour alcohol down our throats or shoot us up with some confiscated drugs. Make it look like it’s our fault. Wild women come to a bad end.”
Fried pork rinds, my mind hadn’t gone that far. I only figured “accident.” Didn’t consider that Jones might try to make it look like we were to blame. More heartache for our loved ones.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
They’d pushed me back to my old curse vocabulary. Cheeses and processed meats simply wouldn’t cut it.
No way would I let those scumbags get away with making us look like druggies in death.
FORTY
We could hear West swearing as he ransacked the Camry. His expletives wen
t viral when he found our illegal listening devices. Then it got very quiet. He hadn’t started the car. Hadn’t driven off. What was he doing? Was he lurking within earshot?
I had no idea how long we sat alone and mute. Each minute that passed felt like an hour. The wait unraveled what remained of my frayed nerves. Where were Andy and Paint? Had they received my SOS? What “accident” did the Sheriff and Deputy have in mind?
“Hope you got ’em cuffed so they can’t pull any stunts.” Jones’ voice drifted in from beyond the barn doors. “We should have stuffed something soft inside those handcuffs so their wrists won’t look bruised.”
“Why? What you planning?” West’s tone suggested he was genuinely curious.
Jones sauntered inside as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Well, maybe with us in handcuffs, he didn’t. West looked a little more hangdog. Probably wishful thinking, hoping one of the two lawmen had a heart or a conscience.
In the low light, it was hard to get a read on their faces even after they came within spitting distance. I looked past them to the world outside. Sky. A beautiful one, with clouds painted lavender and scarlet by the setting sun. Gorgeous. But night followed sunset. Was that what they were waiting for?
“They’re so interested in Sunrise Ridge, thought we’d give them one last visit. Not sure they got a good look at Sunrise Lake.” Jones’ voice had a jokester’s lilt to it. Did he really find this funny?
West swallowed and his prominent Adam’s apple did a little jig. “You gonna drown ’em? Weigh the bodies down and dump ’em in the lake so they’ll never be found?”
“No. The folks that originally bought the property out of foreclosure tried to make it into a fishing camp. Dammed up a mountain stream to fill a big depression and stocked it with bass. Burks kept the lake, perfect way to jack up the price of adjacent lots. But the water’s only about thirty feet deep and clear. You can see clean to the bottom when you stand on the bank.”
“So what you gonna do?”
“They’ll drown all right. We’ll try to rescue them, but sadly our efforts will be too little too late. It’ll be a shame how they missed the sharp curve on the road that circles the lake. The crash will have knocked ’em out. No chance to escape the car before their lungs filled. Or maybe they’ll die of hypothermia first. Who knows? That lake’s colder than a witch’s tit this time a year.”
Jones smiled, apparently enjoying taunting us with his fatal plan. “I thought about pouring liquor down their gullets so the medical examiner could declare it another horrible example of the heartache drunk drivers cause. But those meddling Hookers would raise hell and demand an investigation. I’m afraid some doctor might be able to prove the booze wasn’t in their systems long enough to make ’em drunk. No point in taking risks.” The sheriff knelt and brought his face even with mine. “You should have learned that texting while driving could be a killer when your aunt bought it.” He looked up at West. “You found their cell phones, right?”
West’s eyebrows scrunched together. He looked like Jones had asked him to solve a tough algebra equation.
“Found one in Mollye’s pocket, but the Hooker broad didn’t have no phone in a pocket or her purse. Didn’t find one in the car either.”
The sheriff grabbed my chin in one of his big calloused hands and squeezed hard. “Where’s your cell phone?” he demanded. “I don’t know any thirty-something who can draw breath without a cell phone within reach.”
I tried my best to look puzzled. “It wasn’t in my purse?”
Mollye clutched my hand. “Bet it fell out when we switched cars,” she said.
Mollye, bless her, was super-fast on the uptake.
“We were in an awful hurry,” she added. “Don’t know how many times I’ve told you not to stick your phone in that open side pocket. It probably got dumped on the ground back at the Bi-Lo parking lot.”
Sheriff Jones released my chin and patted my cheek. “Guess it doesn’t matter. Mollye will be the one texting since it’s her ma’s car and she’s driving. Let’s see her phone. Need to figure out who she’ll be texting, and what her last words will be.”
“How about ‘Screw you, asshole?’” Mollye blurted.
Jones’ hand drew back to deliver a slap, but he stopped himself. “No, can’t risk any injuries inconsistent with a car accident. Just before we run the car into the lake, we’ll knock them out. But even bumps on the head need to look accidental. Have to give some thought to the how of that.”
I fought my sudden nausea. I’d underestimated the sheriff. He was no dummy. Guess he’d investigated enough accident scenes to know how to stage one so it looked authentic. Still I saw a few flaws in his plan. Sunrise Ridge had a security gate, and the guards kept track of who came in and out. How were they going to get Mollye’s Camry through the gate so both of us were registered visitors?
Oh, Limburger on a Ritz. Not exactly a puzzler if the sheriff had a security guard in his pocket. Is that why he’d picked Sunrise Lake as our last resting place?
FORTY-ONE
Jones and West perp-walked us to the Camry.
“You’ve been very naughty girls.” Jones squeezed my upper arm hard enough to leave a bruise. Guess his concern about leaving mystery injuries had momentarily escaped him.
“We found your two-bit listening devices. They’re long gone.”
He shoved me in the back behind the passenger’s seat. West bundled Mollye in from the opposite side. I expected the car to show some evidence it had been torn apart. It looked neater than mine ever had. Jones reached across to buckle me in. For a fleeting moment, I thought he wanted to keep me safe. Then I realized it was another form of restraint. Safer for them, not me. At least they’d cuffed our hands in front of us. No arms torqued behind our butts for the ride up the mountain.
The deputy took the wheel; our crooked-toothed chauffeur from Hades. Standing outside the car, the sheriff leaned in to give West his orders. The deputy might be our driver, but Sheriff Robbie Jones was clearly in charge of deciding how our ride would end.
“I’ll take the lead,” Jones said. “Stay right on my tail. I radioed the gate. My nephew’s on duty so it’s cool. Told him we’d be there in about twenty. He’ll put a note in the log that a Mrs. Ellis called to say she was expecting visitors. Justification for letting our young ladies in. He’ll give us a guest pass to hang on the mirror before the Camry goes for a swim.”
Jones ducked lower and turned to look over the seat at Mollye and me. He raised a hand next to his pock-marked puss and waggled his fingers in a cheery wave. “See you soon, girls.”
The Camry purred to life. No duct tape slapped over our mouths or hankies stuffed down our throats. Not a slip up. How would they explain gummy residue on our cheeks? Besides gags weren’t needed. We were in the boonies; they were in total control. Screaming wouldn’t do a thing except further annoy the jerk in the front seat.
Had my posse gotten our SOS? Were they riding to the rescue?
“Deputy, how about a little entertainment?” I heckled. “Given the Camry’s swan dive will be our swan song, why not give us the lowdown on how you and your boss Robbie got launched on your crime spree.”
I hadn’t a clue if West would bite, or if it would make a whit of difference if he did. But my curiosity was real. Besides, if Paint and Andy actually managed to rescue us, knowing how many bodies the lawmen had buried could come in handy.
While the deputy didn’t utter a word, I caught the strange look on his face as his gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror to meet mine. Did he have regrets? He didn’t look exactly happy about killing us.
“Come on, tell us. Why’d you kill Jed Watson? Wasn’t he a buddy?”
“Didn’t kill him,” West mumbled. “Jed got the whole ball rolling. Just his bad luck he took a bullet.”
“What the frick?” Mollye joined the conversation. “You saying it real
ly was Eva who shot him?”
“No, stupid. Kaiser shot Jed.”
Huh?
“So how did Kaiser end up dead?” I wanted to know. “A shoot-out at Udderly corral?”
West snorted. “Not quite. Once Jed found proof Kaiser was a con artist, he convinced Robbie and me to help him rob the Yankee scumbag, steal back some of the money he stole. Figured Kaiser couldn’t exactly file a complaint with the cops.”
“What went wrong?” Mollye asked.
“We ambushed Kaiser, but that slick bastard was faster and meaner than we bargained. Somehow he grabbed Jed’s gun, and it went off when they tussled. Bullet went straight into Jed’s brain. Don’t think he even blinked before he died. ’Course it didn’t do Kaiser no good. Jones offed the Yankee slimeball a minute later.”
“So why bury their bodies half a mile apart?” I asked.
Though it was getting darker by the minute, enough twilight remained to see West’s crooked alligator smile in the mirror. Okay, he wasn’t sorry about everything that had gone down.
“Robbie came up with one heck of a fix. We’d pot Kaiser near where we ambushed him, carry Jed’s body back to his house, and shoot Jed’s wife. Make it look like what they call a domestic dispute. Jed had told us he thought his wife was fixin’ to leave him. Robbie said it would be plain wrong for some Yankee witch who wouldn’t stick by her man to inherit Jed’s farm, Watson land. Normally I don’t go in for killing women, but Robbie’s mind was made up. No point arguing with him.”
West paused and shook his head. “Only we couldn’t find the damned woman. Waited till three in the morning. When she didn’t show, we dug a grave for Jed. Robbie figured if she ever came back and the body got dug up, he’d investigate. No matter when that happened, she’d be the prime suspect.” West chuckled. “Damned if he wasn’t right. It worked like he said. Just a little late.”
The fog in my brain was lifting, but I still had a dozen questions. Act one in this little drama took place forty years ago. How did the banker and Sunrise Ridge connect with the current murder spree? Might as well try to keep the deputy running off at the mouth.
