by Brenda Novak
She didn’t want to hear that. As logical as it was, it pushed her into a corner. “Maybe that’s a chance we have to take. Maybe we have to risk our lives to make our lives worth living.”
“That sounds fine and good for us,” he responded. “I’m willing to take that risk. But what about Jake and Mia? And Virgil’s kids?”
“That’s exactly what The Crew’s counting on, that we’ll offer no resistance, play it safe.”
“Or, by killing your mother, they could be trying to coax you out of hiding. Which is why you can’t contact anyone, least of all the LAPD.”
She threw up her hands. “Oh, come on. The Crew can’t have moles everywhere.”
“They can in L.A.! That’s their home turf.”
She couldn’t even go to her mother’s funeral? “Then who’ll bury her?”
“Natalie.”
Ellen’s sister. “You think she’d bother to interrupt her life, to put herself out for us?” Natalie lived in Texas with her husband, who’d been in the air force for most of his career. She’d been very careful to keep her distance, didn’t want the taint of what had happened to ruin her life, too.
“If there’s no one else,” he said. “She remained loyal to Ellen throughout it all, right?”
Natalie believed that Gary had killed Martin as a favor to Ellen, but that Ellen had no foreknowledge of it. According to her, Gary only implicated Ellen because Ellen didn’t give him more of the money, and his ex supported this theory, which was another reason Ellen had never been charged. But letting Natalie take over the funeral arrangements meant conceding yet another battle to The Crew. “She was my mother. That makes her funeral my responsibility.”
He raked a hand through his hair, which was longer than she’d ever seen him wear it, longer than hers. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t go back to L.A. The Crew could be watching and waiting for you to do just that.”
Or they could be here in Montana. That was the problem. She didn’t know.
“I’ve…had it,” she said. “I don’t know how else to explain what’s going on with me.”
He sat on the edge of the closest picnic table. “You don’t have any other choice, Laurel—Vivian,” he corrected before she could protest. “You have to do what you have to do in order to survive.”
“No. I could fight back. I have that choice.”
“But do you know what fighting means?”
“It means I’ll endanger my children, like you’ve already pointed out. But what if you took them to Virgil?”
He got up again. “That’s crazy. I’m not leaving you here alone.”
He had to. He wasn’t well. “If I don’t have to worry about my kids, I’ll be able to defend myself.”
His expression said he didn’t think she stood a snowball’s chance in hell. And he was probably right. But she had to at least try to break free, didn’t she? Running wasn’t necessarily any safer. The Crew could find her again. And maybe next time she wouldn’t have the warning she did now.
“Against how many?” he asked. “One? Two? Don’t you remember what happened in Colorado?”
She’d never forget. But she couldn’t allow the fear inspired by that event to define her whole life. She could no longer live behind the boundaries of that fear, not anymore. “However many they send.”
Instead of arguing with her, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. No doubt he was hoping Virgil could talk some sense into her.
“Bad news,” he said into the phone. “She’s okay. But…she’s talking crazy. And she has something to tell you.”
At first Vivian refused to take the phone. She knew what Virgil would tell her. But Rex insisted they wouldn’t leave until she had this conversation, and she had no hope of getting the keys from him, even in his weakened state.
“Tattletale,” she muttered to Rex, then gave him a dirty look when he grinned at her. “Hello?”
“What’s going on?” Virgil demanded.
Tilting her head back, she stared up at the sky and breathed in the scent of pine. “Mom’s been murdered.”
His response, when it came, was so low she could barely hear it. “I’m sorry, Laurel.”
Suddenly the tears that’d been so conspicuously missing began to burn behind her eyes. Determined not to shed them, she blinked rapidly. She was done crying. She was done allowing herself to be frightened and intimidated, too. This was her life, damn it. She was taking it back.
“How’d it happen?” he asked.
“She was stabbed. Sonja Ivey found her on the floor of the laundry room.”
“The Crew got hold of her?”
“Who else? With Ink out of prison, that has to be it.” Tears leaked out despite her efforts to dam them, so she simply squeezed her eyes shut and relied on her glasses to hide them.
“I haven’t told you this, but…I tried to warn her.”
This took Vivian aback. “You called Mom?”
“I went to see her. Right after we left Washington, D.C.”
Her eyes popped open. If he’d contacted Ellen, he hadn’t been as impervious to the doubts that had plagued her as he’d pretended. “What did she have to say?”
“Nothing more than she always said. She didn’t know Gary was planning to kill Martin. She’d never be party to such a thing. She only thought it was me because of what the detectives told her.”
“And you said?”
“What could I say?”
“You could’ve said you believe her.”
“I tried. It just…wasn’t there.”
Vivian understood. How many times had she hovered on the brink of forgiving Ellen? Too many times to count. And yet, even when she wanted to believe, when she made up her mind to trust, Ellen’s story rang false. “Weren’t you afraid that showing up there might be exactly what The Crew wanted you to do?”
“I was careful to minimize the risk.”
“Meaning…”
“I flew into Phoenix, rented a car and drove from there. Then I returned the car in San Francisco and flew out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this trip?”
“I don’t know.”
Because their mother was a hard subject for both of them. Because the visit hadn’t changed his mind, as he’d probably hoped it would. Because it was easier to pretend, as he had for years, that he didn’t care.
“You could’ve taken me with you.”
“I needed to meet with her alone. Give her one last chance.”
Ellen hadn’t realized it had been her last chance. She’d been trying to convince Vivian as little as six months ago that they could still be a family. But that was so typical of her.
“I told her about The Crew,” he said. “I explained why I joined them and why they wouldn’t let me go. I made sure she understood that they’d use any means available to find me, including her, and that they weren’t going to give up anytime soon. I suggested she leave the area.”
“Advice she obviously ignored.”
“Yes. She felt safe since she didn’t know where I lived or how to contact me. We haven’t been part of her life for so long…I guess she thought they’d continue to assume she was out of the picture. And she met Randall the day I left. After that she forgot about everything else.”
Suddenly the irony of the situation became clear to Vivian. Ellen cared more about the men in her life than she’d ever cared about her kids. Her many romances always came first. Yet, in the end, she’d been alone.
Not only that, but if Ellen had instigated Martin’s murder, it was her fault that Virgil had gone to prison. And it was because he’d joined a gang in order to survive that Ellen had lost her life. What she’d set in motion nearly twenty years ago had come full circle.
Too bad there wasn’t more satisfaction in knowing that. No matter what Vivian believed, she could never wish this kind of death on her own mother. “So why would they kill her now, after all this time?” she asked. “They could’ve gone after her four years ago.�
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“They knew we didn’t have any contact, so they didn’t see any point in it. But enough time has passed that…they must’ve decided to take a chance.”
She watched a cruiser drive slowly past, knew the cop inside was probably wondering if they were doing a drug deal. They were standing in a park, just the two of them, and they didn’t have kids, a dog or a picnic basket. “It’s not only that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s Ink.”
“You think he killed her himself?”
“If not, he’s behind it.” Which meant her worst fears were becoming a reality. “Question is…how close is he?”
“That depends on what our mother told him.”
“She couldn’t have told him much. Maybe she jotted down the numbers I called from, and passed that along, or turned over her phone records. But that’s it.”
“So we have to assume Ink knows you live in Montana. Maybe, through Horse or some other contact, he even has a cop on the payroll who’s been able to trace one of those numbers to Pineview.”
It was chilling to hear Virgil say that. His acknowledgment of how easily Ink could find her made it that much more real. He could be waiting at her house right now. “That’s why I need Rex to bring Jake and Mia to you until this thing plays out.”
“Are you crazy?” he snapped. “No way do I want you there alone.”
“It’s better than having me here with the kids. What if I can’t protect them?”
“What if you can’t protect yourself? Come with Jake and Mia. You can start over. One more time. This is a great area. I’ll pay for the move, whatever you need.”
She wished it could be that simple. She missed Virgil and Peyton. But she didn’t want to leave Pineview, especially because she had no assurance that this would be the last time she’d have to flee. “And when they find us in New York?”
“We’ll deal with that when we come to it.”
The cop appeared again, slowed and parked next to her Blazer. He didn’t get out, but he distracted Vivian, irritated her. The police were present and available when she didn’t need them, but she had no confidence she’d have help when it mattered most. They’d never been able to help her before. “No. I’m finished running. I won’t move again.”
“Then I’ll have to come there.”
“You can’t leave Peyton unprotected!”
“I can’t leave you unprotected, either.”
“This is my choice.”
“You must not be thinking straight.”
Rex wasn’t comfortable having that cop so close. He eyed the cruiser as he leaned against the picnic table. He was shaky, not feeling good. Vivian could tell. But he was trying hard not to show it. “I’m making perfect sense. And that’s what has you so angry. You don’t have a better plan.”
When he didn’t immediately reply, she knew she had him. “Tell me the truth,” she said. “What would you do if you were me?”
“I’m not you. I spent fourteen years fighting with men in other gangs. I’ve had to kill to save my own life, Laurel. Even if I thought you could defend yourself, I don’t want you to experience that. It’s too much. You never forget it. Listen, Peyton’s not due for two weeks. Let me come out there and—”
“No. She could go into labor at any time. Gestational diabetes makes it a high-risk pregnancy. I know how worried you are. Are you really going to leave her? What if she loses this one, too?”
No answer. He was weighing his options, trying to decide, so she gentled her voice and tried to persuade him. “Stay, Virgil. Take care of your family. I’m guessing Ink’s already here. That means I need to deal with it.”
“Why not send the kids but have Rex stay with you?” he asked.
Vivian shot Rex a sideways glance. “Because Rex needs help himself.”
“What kind of help?”
“You know what kind of help. Get him into rehab as soon as he walks off the plane.”
“That’s bullshit,” Rex said. “Give me my damn phone. Rehab can wait.”
She stepped out of reach. With a cop watching, he wouldn’t force the issue. “We have no idea how long this situation might take to resolve itself. One week? Two? A month?” she said to Virgil. “Rex is barely hanging on. He won’t admit it because he’s a stubborn fool but he needs help.”
“Now you’re really pissing me off,” Rex growled. “I’ll take the kids to Virgil, but I’m coming back.”
“He will, you know,” Virgil said. “He won’t let you face this alone.”
He’d probably try. But she didn’t think his body could handle much more. “We’ll talk about that once you have the kids.”
She had a feeling it would all be over by then, anyway.
17
The digging seemed to go on forever since Ink couldn’t do much of it. L.J. was young and strong, but it took one man with a shovel several hours to dig four graves, even in the soft, loamy earth of the forest. Ink would’ve skipped burying the bodies; he was anxious to return to town now that they had a car. But he couldn’t leave his victims in the house. The stench would soon be unbearable, even if they shoved them into a closet or a back bedroom. And they couldn’t just dump them in the forest in case someone stumbled across them. Provided no one realized these men were missing, quite some time could pass before anyone came looking for them. Certainly long enough for him and L.J. to finish their business here in Pineview.
That meant they had to bury the dead.
Ink was glad they’d made that decision, out of sight, out of mind. While L.J. toiled in the forest, Ink had been swabbing up the blood in the living room—as much as he could reach. He’d been so determined to shoot every man before that man could react he’d slaughtered them all before they knew what hit them. And it’d created quite a mess.
Relieved to be done with the cleaning, he stood and watched L.J. work.
“This is bullshit.” L.J. rested against his shovel and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “It’s hotter ’n hell this afternoon, and here I am doing manual labor.”
“So? At least you won’t have to sleep on the ground tonight.” Ink tossed the camera belonging to one of his victims into the grave that would soon hold another of the bodies. “No more going without a shower, either.” He took the beer he’d carried out under his arm and popped the top. “There’s another one of these waiting for you in the fridge.”
“You gotta be joking! You think I care about having a beer right now?” L.J. motioned to the blanket that covered the only man he hadn’t yet pushed into the ground. “This guy’s blood’s all over me.” He held out his arms to show Ink the pink rivulets where the dead man’s blood had blended with sweat.
Ink merely shrugged. He’d seen and done a lot worse than shoot a few guys who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. After he’d killed his sister for getting him in trouble with the cops because he’d robbed a liquor store, he’d stood by her casket and cried along with his mother, all the while smiling inside that he didn’t have to deal with the bitch anymore.
“So? Someone had to carry him out,” he told L.J. “It didn’t hurt you.” He took a long drink of his beer, found it as refreshing as he’d hoped. “Just be glad you’re not him, huh?” He pointed at the dead guy and laughed but L.J. didn’t join in.
“You scare me, dude.” This wasn’t a casual statement. Ink had been the kid’s idol in prison but L.J. no longer seemed impressed, and Ink wasn’t all that surprised. No one liked him once they really got to know him, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Pretty soon, every person who encountered him looked as horrified as L.J. did now. His own sister used to stare at him as if she’d never seen a bigger monster. That was another reason he’d killed her. She was his first murder, not that anyone had been able to pin her death on him. Not yet, anyway. The police were still working on that one. Had been for fifteen years and probably always would be. He’d done it as a drive-by while riding along with some of his more viole
nt friends and she was walking home from school. Everyone assumed a rival gang had made the hit.
“That’s good.” He told himself the change in L.J.’s feelings about him didn’t matter. L.J. wasn’t going anywhere until Ink was done with him. “You should be scared. Because if you ever cross me—” he grinned “—you know what’ll happen.”
L.J. gaped at him as if he’d never seen him before.
“Why so glum, huh? Now that we’ve got a cabin and a car, the fun’s just starting.” Ink lifted his can in a salute and hobbled back to the house. He’d taken eight hundred bucks off the men he’d killed, four cell phones that didn’t work, thanks to the remote location, the keys to their vehicle and several credit cards. He didn’t understand why L.J. was so shaken. They were set.
Now all they had to do was head into town and find Laurel.
Myles put out a Be on the Lookout, or BOLO, on the two men he’d found with the Toyota truck. Then he spent the afternoon and evening driving around Libby and Pineview, asking everyone he met if they’d seen anyone fitting either description. “Ron Howard” and his younger companion seemed to have disappeared into thin air, but they had to have gone somewhere. When Harvey left them on the side of the road, they’d been on foot, which gave them only three options. They’d walked. (Which meant they couldn’t have gone far.) They’d stolen another car. (There’d been no reports of that—at least, not yet.) Or they’d hitchhiked. Surely, anyone who’d picked them up would remember.
Bob, down at the Gas-n-Go, told Myles they’d been in to get gas yesterday. Based on his estimate of the time, Myles figured it was right before he’d found them on the road. He hoped their images had been captured on the security tape; he planned to create a flyer. A picture would be a far better search aid than mere descriptions.
But the tape was so old and overused he couldn’t differentiate one customer from the next, let alone capture images clear enough to print. He told Bob to buy a new tape, just in case they came in again, and left disappointed. He wanted to find out who these men were, what their backgrounds were and why they’d driven a truck stolen on the outskirts of a farming community in central California all the way to Montana. What business did they have here? Unless they had family in the area, the backwoods of Lincoln County was a bit out of the way for a random visit.
