“Look here,” Kerry interrupted. “I want that suite.”
I turned to Kerry and smiled again. My father always told me, that when you faced a bully never back down, never show fear, and never pardon that behavior. “The only thing you show a bully is that you are one hundred percent crazy.” That helped a little when I faced Jason Finch in seventh grade. I still got a bloody nose and a black eye. Jason, though, ran away crying.
“Dr. Kerry, my understanding is that you don’t have a reservation.” I looked at the clerk and asked, “Is that correct? Is there a reservation for the Presidential Suite this week at all”
She instinctively shook her head. Kerry’s head snapped toward her like a reptile.
“I have booked the room for the week. I don’t plan to move.” I turned to the clerk again, “In fact, I’m extending my stay to another week since it isn’t booked yet.”
The poor clerk looked like a deer in headlights. She froze and stared at me. Her eyes flickering between me and Kerry.
“Go ahead and book that, ma’am,” I said politely. “And add whichever other suite doesn’t have a reservation either, for that whole time.”
Kerry stuck his finger in my chest. “Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am?”
Keeping the half-smile, I answered him, “Oh, I know exactly who you are. Do you know who I am?”
“No,” he said indignantly.
“I’m the last person to spend time with Becca before Jackson Morgan murdered her.”
Mrs. Kerry’s eyes widened in recognition of either Becca or Morgan. Kerry stared at me as the gears in his brain engaged. He took a second longer to respond than he should, and Mrs. Kerry turned to him.
“I don’t know who you are talking about?” he responded.
“That’s odd. Becca talked about you, and Morgan…Well, Morgan had lots to say,” I lied with the same crazy grin I used on Jason Finch. Maybe crazier, Finch wasn’t going to kill me. “Just so you understand, I’m not the local paper. You don’t own me.”
“Boy,” he said in a patronizing voice. “Do you know what I do to things that get in my way? I’m just an investor, but if I want to build a building where someone’s little house is. I buy the house and raze it to the ground.”
“This house ain’t for sale,” I said. “Do you know the problem with being the big, bad wolf? In one story or another, there is always the huntsman.”
“We aren’t staying here,” he stated. He glared at the clerk and said, “I’ll be talking to the manager.”
“Bye,” I said. “Thanks for visiting.”
Kerry glared at me. “We will meet again I am sure, Mr. Sawyer.”
“Guess Morgan won’t be coming though.”
Kerry herded everyone out the front door. The clerk looked relieved.
“I’m sorry to do that to you,” I told her.
Her face lit up. “Oh, it was awesome.”
“I hate douche bags.”
“Me too,” she said.
16
The Swampers Bar and Grill in the hotel had a patio that overlooked the pool. With a Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Whiskey on the rocks, I sat and enjoyed the satisfaction of taking Kerry down a peg.
I knew I had drawn a line in the sand, though. Now it was time to wait and see if he would step across it. His damaged ego would seek some retribution. He was not a man to disrespect the way I did. What can I say, I don’t play well with others.
The question was when could I expect trouble. With Morgan out of the picture and his partner wounded and in the wind, Kerry might not have a back up team that handles the rough stuff.
My phone buzzed.
“Hello,” I said.
“I got fired today!” Warlow said. “I, even, went to the damned flower show.”
“Ah, let me guess. Within the last hour?”
“How did you know?” she asked. “What did you do?”
“I know who is behind it.”
“Who?” she demanded.
“You aren’t going to like it. But if you play your cards right, you could take the story to a bigger paper.”
“Who?” she asked again in a gruff voice.
“Dr. William Kerry.”
Her response was more than my poor ears could handle.
“He owns the paper,” I said.
“And half the state,” she added. “Are you at the hotel?”
“Yes, I’m in the bar. Come over and I’ll fill you in.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I sipped on the Tennessee whiskey and watched the sky turn orange. The autumn night was beginning to cool, but the patio was equipped with fire pits that combined with the whiskey, warmed me quite nicely.
My phone buzzed again with another text message from Lindsay. She definitely mastered the art of seduction via text. I enjoyed her company, and her talents. She was looking to branch out and live. I was just a passing ship that she wanted to sail with for a bit. For me, she was wonderful, but the connection between us was nothing compared to what I had with Lisa, or even Lauren in that short hour. No fear of heartbreak, because neither of us had much expectations.
A tall man walked up to me. “Are you Mr. Sawyer?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied watching him closely.
“I’m David Brewer. I’m the general manager of the hotel. May I join you?”
I waved my glass to the other chair. He sat down with me.
“Mr. Sawyer, I understand you were at the front desk when Dr. Kerry was here.”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Dr. Kerry is quite an individual,” he began.
“Where I come from in Arkansas, we would call him a dick.”
“Yes, well, he’s a prominent individual and a regular guest of the hotel.”
“Of course, doesn’t change what he is, though. Does it?”
Brewer didn’t agree. At least, vocally.
“I’ve just come to apologize if you feel like the hotel was trying to oust you. We wanted to offer you a more than fair trade for moving your room.”
“Mr. Brewer. David, may I call you David.”
He nodded.
“David, there is no need to apologize. I completely understand the situation you and the clerk were put in. I am in no way offended by your actions.”
“Then would you consider moving to a different room. We will cover your entire stay, and offer you two weeks at no cost.”
“David, I still understand your position. However, the only way that Dr. Kerry gets my room is if you physically oust me, or I die in the next two weeks.”
“Mr. Sawyer, I don’t understand.”
“Are you and Kerry friends?” I asked.
“No, I only know him through the hotel.”
“Dr. William Kerry, I believe, is a murderer,” I said.
“That’s a bold accusation, Mr. Sawyer.”
“Maybe. I haven’t gone on record with it.”
“May I offer you a word of advice?” he asked.
“I love advice.”
“Be very careful who you go up against.”
“You might want to offer that same advice to Kerry when you call him to tell him he can’t have his suite.”
Brewer stood. “Thank you, Mr. Sawyer, for your time. Can I send you a drink on me?”
I smiled at him. “Yes, I would like that.”
Brewer turned and walked back inside. The same dark haired waitress that brought me my first Jack came out two minutes later with another.
“Compliments of Mr. Brewer,” she said.
I thanked her and watched the orange in the sky turn red. I was still sipping when the red vanished and purple painted the horizon.
I hadn’t heard from Leo in several hours, but I expected him soon. Once he got here, he and I would probably grab some dinner while I filled him in on the details.
My phone buzzed again with another text message.
I swiped the screen to see the message from Lindsay.
“If you want to see your girlfriend alive, walk out the hotel without any fuss and get into the black Tahoe.”
I stared at the message.
Another one followed, “You have thirty seconds to be in the truck, or she is dead.”
A picture came through next. Lindsay was in the trunk of a car. I couldn’t tell what the make or model was.
I jumped up and ran for the front door counting seconds in my head. I had reached twenty-seven when I opened the door to the Tahoe that pulled up under the portico.
“Get in,” a voice demanded.
I stepped into the back seat of the truck. Three men sat in the car. One in the back seat with me held a gun on me.
“Give me your phone,” the one in the front passenger seat said. He had a blonde mustache and short spiked hair.
I handed him my phone.
“Okay, you have me. Let the girl go.”
“We’ll see,” he replied.
The Tahoe drove out of the parking lot. I noticed a familiar blue Chevy truck in the lot as we drove past.
Blondie rolled down the window and tossed my phone out as we sped down the street.
17
The guy in the back seat with me was a body builder. Even sitting down, I could tell his torso was monstrously larger than his waist. He looked shorter that the other two. Probably overcompensating for height by bulking up and popping steroids. His hair was cut high and tight, but something in his eyes said he never could make a career out of military. He wore a high school ring on his right hand despite being in his mid-twenties.
The driver was silent, but big. While High and Tight spent a lot of time to muscle up, the driver was just born big. A quick glance could fool someone into thinking he was just fat, but his hands were defined and rough. He was definitely strong.
Blondie was obviously in charge of the other two. He was the smaller of the three, but he had a meanness in his eyes. He probably killed cats as a kid.
“Are you going to let Lindsay go?”
“Not my call,” Blondie answered.
I could guess the answer. I knew it before I got in the Tahoe. Lindsay was dead if I didn’t think of something.
“Just so your boss knows. I’m not stupid. I have taken measures to expose him if something happens. So, she better be okay.”
“Not my call,” he repeated.
A regular word slinger, this guy was.
The Tahoe was crossing the dam. I couldn’t help thinking that I was screwing with Farrar. These guys planned to kill me in his jurisdiction.
Once across the river, we were driving through a TVA area. I could chance taking a leap from the car, but we were already going forty miles per hour. Even if I could roll when I went out the door, it would hurt. My best bet at that point would be to run for the woods and hope to evade them. Best case if I was successful would be hearing where they dumped Lindsay’s body.
Blondie’s phone rang.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“We got him,” he continued.
“Said he has measures,” Blondie answered the person on the other end.
Blondie then chuckled and hung up. It was a scary evil chuckle.
I hadn’t thought clearly when I got in the truck. I should have left Leo a message somehow. My only consolation was that if Kerry killed me, then he had no idea Leo was in town. Leo could kill everyone in town and disappear without leaving so much as a ripple on the water.
Of course, that consolation isn’t really very comforting. I would probably still be dead. Lindsay would probably still be dead. Lauren would still be dead.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Dr. Keller just wants to have a word with you.”
“I guess I was mistaken. I thought Morgan and his buddy were it. You guys must be the bench.”
Blondie turned around. “Where is Jack?” he asked.
“That I can’t say. I only know where he isn’t.”
“Lonnie said they killed him,” the driver said.
High and Tight said, “This guy couldn’t taken Jack out.”
I grinned, remembering to never show fear or back down. Maybe they could underestimate me.
“Any of you guys have tattoos?”
High and Tight definitely did. His wrists showed the end of what I guessed were sleeves. Blondie just cut his eyes to me.
“Oh, I bet you do don’t you,” I said to him. “Lil A-Rod back here for sure does. Probably all over him. He probably doesn’t feel pain anymore anyway. Creamy Blind Side, there, likes his mama too much to deface himself. Probably still go to church with her in the morning after you kill me.
“But you, you have one, maybe two. From back in the day. Something you got at eighteen to prove how tough you were. Hurt like hell, so you never got another. Figured the one would prove it.”
Blondie turned back to the front.
“Let me guess,” I added. “Some Roman centurion looking thing. You know most of the Romans liked little boys too.”
Blondie spun around and punched me in the mouth. I was halfway expecting something. Luckily his angle was odd and his fist didn’t have a lot of momentum. Still, it was enough to split my lip and knock my head to the side.
I licked the blood off my lip and looked back at him. Tasting the blood, I grinned again at him.
“I knew I had seen you before. In Jack’s little video collection.”
High and tight said, “Bobby, he’s seen the videos?”
Blondie, or Bobby, said, “Shut up!”
I glanced over at High and Tight. I didn’t remember seeing him in any of the videos, but I hadn’t watched them all. “Oh, I’ve not only seen them, I have nice clean copies.”
“Bobby!”
“Shut up!” Bobby said.
I continued, “Those copies are amongst the nice little package of goodies that will go out there. How long do you think before the FBI associates you guys with Keller and then identifies you in those videos.”
High and Tight had a look of panic in his eyes. If he was distracted long enough, I might could get the gun from him before Bobby pulled his. Not a pleasant proposition for me. Leo would have taken High and Tights gun within seconds. I didn’t have that training or that confidence.
“Calm down,” Bobby said. “We’re going to get everything he has on us and the doc.”
“You think,” I said. Looking at High and Tight, I asked, “Do you know what they do to child molesters in prison? Imagine, what they do to child pornographers?”
“How do we know, Bobby? He might be right. What if he already sent it to someone?”
“He ain’t going to send it anywhere. He doesn’t want to email that stuff without a lot of care. He doesn’t want to be arrested for it either.”
I laughed. Bobby glared at me, and I said, “You idiots. What if I made hard copies and sent them to a lawyer or something. In the event that something happens to me, those will be released.”
This time Bobby smiled. He looked at High and Tight with a grin that I didn’t like at all.
“See what he said,” Bobby commented. “He said a lawyer or something. If it had been a lawyer, then he would have said lawyer. He added the ‘or something’ because it wasn’t a lawyer. Probably a reporter.”
I watched Bobby trying to figure out what he was getting at. High and Tight noticeably relaxed.
“Maybe Mr. Sawyer should look in the back,” Bobby hissed.
Turning around, I looked over the back seat. A blanket covered something. I pulled it back to see the face of Elizabeth Warlow. A very neat hole was in the middle of her forehead. I cursed to myself and closed her eyes with my fingers.
18
The Tahoe stopped behind a building that I couldn’t identify. The area was a darkened lot despite the lights of Muscle Shoals all around. There was a maroon Mercedes GLE and a black Lincoln town car.
“Get out,” Bobby ordered.
I obeyed. Still dismayed by the corpse of Warlow in the back. Pissed a
t myself for getting her killed, I wanted to rip the gun from High and Tight and kill all three of them. I forced myself to remain calm. I still needed to find Lindsay, if possible.
Past the buildings was the main road. Even in the obscurity offered behind the buildings, the location was close to prying eyes. Maybe if someone could see me, the police would be called.
“Walk,” Bobby demanded prodding me with the barrel of his own gun. “That way.”
Now I had two guns on me if I was going to make a break. I didn’t like the way my odds were going.
“Just to clarify for you boys. I never gave the videos to the reporter. They are still out there.”
“He’s lying,” Bobby said. “He’s out of rope.”
Headlights on the road slowed, and I considered making a break for them. An eighteen-wheeler roared past, and I knew it was futile.
“Whatever, boys. I know where my night ends. You guys have no idea what is coming for you.”
The barrel pushed against me. “Shut up,” Bobby said.
I walked until I saw a gloomy structure that I couldn’t make out. The river was in front of me. The main road crossed the river about a quarter mile from where I stood. I began to recognize the structure as a bridge. An old railroad bridge. The tracks were gone, and there were signs that warned to stay off the bridge.
“Look guys, the signs say we shouldn’t go out there,” I quipped.
Bobby just pressed his gun against me. I think that he might be looking forward to killing me.
The bridge was an old steel construction. Looking down the bridge, though, it looked like it just ended. Bobby walked behind me with High and Tight. The big guy walked behind them. The sound of the cars on the bridge rumbled through the air.
As we neared the middle of the river, the bridge ended. It appeared to have just fallen off. Four figures were silhouetted in the opening. As Bobby kept nudging me forward, I realized one of the figures was Lindsay. One was clearly Kerry, while the other two looked like the rest of Bobby’s troupe.
“Mr. Sawyer,” Kerry said, “so nice of you to join us this evening.”
I ignored him and looked at Lindsay. She appeared safe, for the moment. The sinking realization of what Kerry planned was definitely in my gut. The two guys with Kerry had three concrete blocks at their feet.
Crimson Blood Page 9
