This Doesn't Happen In The Movies (The Reed Ferguson Mystery Series)

by Renee Pawlish

  “But why did you talk to me about your group? Weren’t you afraid I would find out about your involvement?”

  “I really didn’t give you that much credit,” she said, hurling the insult at me. “I did believe, however, that you would make good on your threat to go to the police if I didn’t speak with you. I chose to try and throw you off.”

  “But you pointed me right to you.”

  “You already knew about the organization, thanks to Amanda. The matter of Derek Jones was inconsequential in the bigger scheme of our operations, which is why I chose to tell you about it.”

  I thought about our conversation at the club. “You felt that justice wasn’t done for your daughter’s friend, so you took matters into your own hands. You created the organization to have that boy killed, and you made it look like an accident. You make all your killings look like accidents. That fooled law enforcement for a long time. But are you any better than those you seek to destroy?”

  “Our legal system did nothing for me. Something precious was taken away, and I wanted payment for that. An eye for an eye.”

  “So you set everything up to kill Derek Jones. You didn’t hire anyone, did you? You used your own group.” My mind was battling against pieces that didn’t fit in the puzzle. “But that was only five years ago. The X Women have been around a lot longer than that. How could you have started it then?”

  “The death of Derek Jones was nothing more than an execution of our services. That incident alone would never have prompted me to start the X Women. It was merely a favor for a friend.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “I had something far greater taken from me. Eighteen years ago.”

  I thought back to our previous conversation. What had I missed? “Who was taken from you, besides Elaine Richards?”

  “Her daughter,” a male voice, not mine, interjected. Maggie and the other X Women whirled around. Amanda and I sat in stunned silence. A tall man walked around some boxes, edging his way to the outskirts of our little semicircle.

  Maggie recovered quickly, hiding her surprise. “You are correct, Peter.”

  Amanda sagged in her chair, her chin resting on her chest. I stared at Peter Ghering. He stood tall, but his tense jaw and dark circles under his eyes screamed of exhaustion. He needed a shave, and his suit could’ve used some serious pressing, but other than that, he generally resembled the picture Amanda had shown me a week ago.

  “How did you get here?” Amanda gasped.

  Peter glared at Maggie. “No, let's hear what Maggie has to say. I'm as curious as you all are.”

  I'd been thinking about what Peter said. I turned to Maggie. “Your daughter lives on the East Coast. She works in Washington.”

  “Her first daughter,” Peter said. “Sally. She was kidnapped and murdered eighteen years ago. There was never a conviction.”

  “You had another daughter?” I stared at Maggie.

  “She sure did,” Peter said. “From her first marriage. Sally was eight years old, wasn’t she, Maggie? Little Sally, taken from your front yard while she played.”

  “Did you know this?” I spat at Amanda.

  She shrugged. “I think I remember some rumors about it at the club. I really didn’t think it was important.”

  “Not important?” I nearly screeched.

  “My wife pays attention to little more than the brand of vodka she’s drinking,” Peter said, turning to Maggie. “I, on the other hand, have golfed with Maggie’s current husband. He’s spoken a time or two about her first marriage, and the tragedies from it.”

  Maggie faced me, but her eyes focused someplace far away. “She was just a child, so innocent.” Her voice cracked. “She was violated and then murdered, and her frail body thrown in the woods.” She paused. “And my husband, her father, couldn’t take it. He killed himself, leaving me a sizable inheritance. But my family was destroyed. Sally’s murderer got away on a technicality. He roamed free while I lived in a prison. I tormented myself over what I could’ve done differently. And then I had a realization that I was letting her murderer kill again. My grief and anger were killing me, and it was because of Sally’s murderer.” She fixed her gaze on Peter again, her jaw locked determinedly. “I decided I wouldn’t let that happen again. I had brains. I had money. And I wanted justice for my husband and daughter. I hired someone to take care of Sally’s killer. I felt released. And I knew that others longed for justice the way I did. I am fulfilling that need.”

  Peter stood with his hands clenched at his sides, shaking. “You thought I deserved the same as all those others?”

  “No, Peter,” Maggie said. “You don’t understand. Amanda talked at the club. She said you were abusive to her, that you beat her, manipulated her, controlled her. She said she feared for her life. I had little way of knowing what happened in the privacy of your home. My husband inferred that you cheated on her, that you didn’t care.” She shrugged. “After hearing her complaints for a while, I relented and gave her a number to call. I took pity on her, and acted before I thought about what I was doing. But when the organization realized that she was lying, we contacted the women who had taken you. I ordered them to abort the mission.”

  Peter’s nostrils flared and his lips slid back in a snarl. He looked like a rabid wolf as he listened to Maggie. “Do you know what I’ve been through these last two weeks?” he yelled.

  Amanda slowly raised her head, coming back to reality. “Peter, what are you doing here?” She looked completely baffled.

  “What does it look like? I found the people who were trying to kill me. I didn’t know what to do at first, and I didn’t know who to trust. I couldn’t trust you,” he said to Amanda with contempt.

  “But how did you know I wanted to kill you?” Amanda asked.

  “It wasn’t hard to figure out. I was in an airport restaurant having breakfast, and I began to feel lightheaded. I started for the bathroom and felt faint. A lady,” he pointed at Georgia, “offered to help me. The next thing I know I’m blindfolded, lying on the floor of a car. I began to fight, and someone hit me over the head. I lost consciousness again and woke up in a ditch outside of Philadelphia. After they left me for dead, I found a phone and called you. Do you remember what you said to me?” Peter turned on Amanda. “You said ‘Oh my god, you’re still alive.’ I knew right then you had tried to have me killed.” Peter took a ragged breath. “I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know who to trust, who was after me. I didn’t know if I should go to the police, or if I should just show up at home.” He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “And then I decided to come after you.”

  “And here you are,” I murmured.

  Amanda shivered.

  “This is all fascinating, but we have things to attend to,” Maggie interrupted.

  “Don’t you want to know how I ended up here?” Peter taunted her, his face an angry mask.

  Maggie studied him cautiously, seeming to sense the danger in Peter’s coiled fury. “Please indulge us,” she said politely.

  “Your organization isn’t as careful as you might think. You see all these boxes,” Peter pointed to the shelves around us. “They’re paper boxes. Quality Paper Products. They're an office supply company. When I was in the car, before they knocked me out, I heard one of the women mention something about paper – quality paper. At first I didn’t know what they meant: why would they be talking about paper? Then I realized they were talking about a business that your husband owns.” He pointed to Maggie. “I’ve even been here myself. So I figured this company was a place to start, that it had some connection to the people who kidnapped me. I didn’t know what or why, but I was going to find out. I hitchhiked all the way back, staying in cheap motels the whole time. Do you know what it feels like to bum money off of truckers and women? That's what I did. And I bought binoculars and have been down the street from here, watching this place for the past few days, so I could find out what was going on. Today I’d about given up whe
n, to my surprise, I see a van pull into the garage with Amanda in the back seat. I had to know what was happening, so I snuck past the secretary out front. And now I know all about you and your organization.” He smiled triumphantly.

  “I applaud you,” Maggie said. “In other circumstances we could’ve used your resourcefulness. As it is, we really must be moving along. I’m afraid you do know too much now. How unfortunate, when we tried to spare your life. Come, ladies. And bring our friends along. We have work to do.”

  Maggie turned her back on Peter, which was uncharacteristically stupid of her. Peter, functioning at a near crazed level, roared and lunged at Maggie, dragging her to the ground. The X Women around her stood frozen, shocked by Peter’s actions. And then all hell broke loose.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Peter leaped on Maggie, cursing her as he pummeled her with his fists. The van driver and two of the women jumped into the foray, trying to pull Peter off Maggie, and at the same time avoid coming into contact with his punches. The driver’s gun, body parts, and curses were flying all over the place.

  Georgia seemed mesmerized by the fight. She stood unmoving, and I chose that second to hurl myself at Amanda, knocking both her and me to the ground. I felt my chair slide sideways on two legs as I tipped her chair over. It broke with a crack and we ended up in a heap of arms, legs, and chair parts. I struggled to get up, my hands still cuffed in front of me, my feet entangled in pieces of the chair and Amanda’s legs. The commotion of our fall jolted Georgia out of her trance, and she stepped toward us, gun held low. Amanda crawled to her knees, yelling at me.

  “You idiot,” she screamed. She swung her handcuffed wrists back, clearly intent on maiming me. And Georgia stepped right into her fists, catching the backward blow in the stomach.

  “Oof,” Georgia groaned, buckling over. I dove at them, laying Amanda flat on the floor, catching Georgia squarely on the knees with my shoulder. She dropped her gun and yelled in pain as her legs bowed back in an unnatural way. I finished the tackle, sending her into a fall. Her head slammed on the hard cement floor with a sickening thud.

  “Get off me!” I heard Amanda shouting from under me. I scrambled to retrieve Georgia’s gun, clutching at it as I scooted across the floor. I grabbed the gun with both hands, rolled over into a sitting position, and pointed the gun toward the general melee before me. I saw two of the X Women piled on the floor, bucking to and fro, Peter’s feet and arms protruding from under the heap. Maggie stood a few feet away, her dress torn at one shoulder, her lip bleeding and one eye swelling up, her usually perfect hair flying in any number of directions. Another X Woman used one hand to pull Maggie farther back from the pile. The X Woman waved the other hand around, her gun pointing randomly at the pile, at Amanda, and at me.

  I pointed my gun at her. “Stop!” I yelled.

  What happened next seemed like a movie playing frame by frame. The van driver turned her head and looked at me, surprise crossing her face when she saw my gun aimed at her. Maggie’s mouth opened slowly and she yelled “noooo...”. The other woman raised her gun, her arm wavering slowly. Then I was looking into that gaping black hole from where a bullet would emerge and kill me. I gritted my teeth and pulled the trigger of my gun, my eyes closing involuntarily. I heard an explosion, and at the same time I lurched to my right. As I tumbled, I heard another explosion, and a stinging sensation on my backside. I ended up on my elbows and knees, dropping the gun. It skittered a few feet away. I heard a third explosion, and screams. I ducked my head, aware that my elbows and knees hurt. Then the movie slipped into fast forward.

  I opened my eyes and saw the woman sagging onto the floor. Her gun slipped from her hand and she clutched at her left shoulder, where a red spot grew out of her white shirt. Maggie bent over her, trying to see where the bullet had gone. Amanda whimpered as she cowered behind the chair that hadn’t broken. I scrambled over and retrieved the gun, giving Georgia a wide berth. I didn’t need to; she lay unmoving where she’d fallen and struck her head. As I stood up, my ass hurt, even though I’d fallen on my face. I began to tremble as I leveled the gun with my cuffed hands at the X Women.

  “Freeze!” I shouted, hoping my command would be more effective this time.

  To my surprise, the movie paused. Everyone stopped and stared at me. The pile of X Women and Peter quit bucking, and even Amanda grew quiet. The gun wavered in my hands. Sweat trickled into my eyes and I heaved for breath. I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  “Everybody freeze!” Everyone looked around in confusion. I hadn’t said a word. Then who…?

  Agents Forbes and White came running around the corner, guns held high. A small army of agents followed them, spreading out among us. Some descended on the X Women, yanking the two off of Peter, while others subdued Maggie and the wounded X Woman, both of whom put up little protest.

  “Are you all right?” Forbes asked me. I stared at him. “Reed, are you okay?” he asked again. He eased my gun down and grasped me by the shoulders, studying me cautiously.

  I took a second to realize who was talking to me. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “Good,” Forbes said, letting me go. “We thought we were too late.” He turned to the action going on behind his back.

  “Hey. Where the hell were you five minutes ago?” I barked at him. “Do you always wait until the work is done to show up?”

  He turned around and gave me a stern look, but his eyes sparkled. “We got here as soon as we could. If you hadn’t been so intent on losing us, it would’ve been sooner. As it was, we had to do some quick work. We thought you all were taken to Maggie’s house, but when we didn’t find anyone there, we came right here. We were talking with the front desk lady when we heard the shots and came running.”

  Amanda peeked from around the chair. “It’s about time someone came to my rescue.” She stood up unsteadily.

  “You might not think that after we book you,” Forbes said.

  “What?” The innocent look on her face didn’t fool anyone.

  “At least you’re alive,” Agent White said. “Isn’t that what you wanted? You’ll face the music now.” Amanda grimaced, but she couldn’t argue with her own words.

  My body was screaming at me, sore in too many places to count. “I feel lightheaded.” I blinked hard at Forbes.

  “Hey, buddy, you’re bleeding.” White, who had been helping with the other X Women, pointed at me.

  I began examining myself, but didn’t see anything.

  “No, back there.”

  I craned my neck around, exploring my backside with my hands. “Oh, man! She shot me in the ass?” I couldn’t believe it, but it was true. My rear end suddenly hurt like nobody’s business.

  Agent Forbes tried to hide a smile. And then I fainted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Everything was white. Puffy white clouds surrounded me. I had wings. And a harp. What? Was this what it was like when you died? But I’d only been shot in the ass. That wasn’t life-threatening, was it? I saw a tunnel and white light coming at me. I opened my eyes.

  Agent White had his prodigious face inches from me. “So, you’re awake.” He leaned down at me, and I smelled his onion breath.

  I was lying on my side, facing away from the door. My whole body ached, but especially a certain area underneath bandages and tape that I couldn’t see. I swallowed and my throat felt like sandpaper. I glanced around. Everything was white. White light shining through white curtains, white sheets on the bed. And Agent White sitting there. How appropriate.

  “Yeah,” I croaked at White. I was definitely awake.

  “Good. Maybe you can tell us why you ignored a specific order to stay away from Amanda Ghering.” He took a seat on a wooden chair with a plastic seat cushion. The chair squeaked under his bulk, the cushion hissing loudly.

  I left his question unanswered, more concerned about my well-being. I felt like shit, and I wasn’t sure how I got here, wherever here was. I knew who I was, who the President was, and I t
hought I knew what day it was. Did they ask anything else when they wanted to find out if you were oriented? I began to check out my injuries. An IV-tube ran from my left arm to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal pole. I reached over with my other arm to a rolling table for a water pitcher the color of puke. I managed to pour myself a glass, groaning from the exertion. Agent White crossed his arms over his massive chest, apparently too disgusted with me to lend a helping hand. My elbows were scraped and bruised, and as I moved my legs, I knew that my knees must be in the same condition. I took a long gulp of tepid water, the sandy feeling in my throat subsiding.

  “So?”

  “What time is it?”

  He didn’t bother looking at his watch. “After five. Why did you keep working on the case?”

  I lay back on my side, with a pile of white pillows propped under my right shoulder and head. “I wanted to finish it,” I said.

  I heard the door open and shut, and Special Agent Forbes came around the bed and into my line of sight. “You’ve had quite a day,” he said. It didn’t sound friendly, but then it didn’t sound unfriendly either. He leaned against the window ledge, put his hands in his pockets and examined me. “How do you feel?”

  I squinted at him. “Like I got rear-ended by a truck,” I said. “Muscles I didn’t even know I had are sore.”

  “You’re lucky that bullet didn’t hit somewhere else, or you might be in more trouble. As it is, you should be grateful you have as much muscle there as you do.”

  “Don’t hold back,” I grimaced. “You can tell me I have a fat ass.”

  Forbes actually smiled at that. “You’re going to be just fine. They removed the bullet and patched you up, and that muscle will be sore for a while. You lost some blood, too, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.” I stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. “The doctors want to keep you overnight for observation. They’re going to release you in the morning.”

  He stopped talking. I waited a moment, then said, “What?”