by Polly Iyer
Macon’s eyes were damp. He rubbed them so hard Diana thought he’d push them to the back of his head.
“She looked at me with half-open, pleading eyes. Then she was quiet. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I took the shovel out of the pickup and hit him over the head. He started to get up. He was mad, crazy mad, and came after me. I hit him again. And again. I guess I went a little crazy, because I kept hitting him. I wanted him to stop hurting her, but when I went to help her, she was already dead. They were both dead. I didn’t feel anything sexual.” He hesitated. “I didn’t feel anything at all.”
Diana couldn’t speak. The story was worse than she imagined, almost as if Harley Macon didn’t have a chance. That circumstances beyond his control had planted the seeds of evil without his knowledge or compliance.
Lost in his own story, he stood up and walked a few paces. “I carried him off and buried him deep in the woods. I threw some leaves over her until I could get back, but when she didn’t come home from school, her parents called the police, and they called you. You found the body before I could bury her. Before I had time to block you out.” He glanced at Diana. “I hated you for that.
“When they arrested me, I figured they couldn’t pin the murder on me, because I didn’t do it. I was wrong.” He shrugged. “So much for justice.”
Justice was on the money, you sick bastard.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Between Justice and Revenge
“No doubt about it,” Jenrette said. “Macon’s fingerprints are all over the place. Mayburn’s too. Must have been here a week or so from the looks of things. Any luck down there?”
“He’s got Diana. Snatched her out of the hotel a couple of hours ago using a newspaper reporter who was doing a story on her. About killed him.”
“You mean he left a witness?”
“Yup, so he could tell me I won’t be able to save her again. I have fucked this up, McCoy. I left her alone before the cop came on guard. If anything happens to her—” Lucier stopped. “Macon keeps slipping through my fingers. If I ever get him in my sights, I won’t let it happen again. I promised Diana I’d keep her safe, and I didn’t.”
“I don’t like talking vendetta shit, but I’ll make an exception this time. If you get the chance, take him out, but take him out right.”
“We haven’t a clue where he is, just a number made from a cell phone registered to Castor’s business about the time we think Joey Dree was in his restaurant. Problem is, the call was made to a local distributing company. There must be two hundred employees on second shift and a not very cooperative owner. We’re checking to see if he owns other properties that Macon could use for a hideout.”
“You haven’t found Castor?” Jenrette asked.
“He and his wife left for an unexpected vacation a couple of nights ago, and Dree’s disappeared. Not a trace of any of them. We put a watch on both cells. Nothing.”
“They’re hiding from you, Ernie. They’re guilty of something. Or dead.”
“I think Castor just skipped once he realized who he harbored, but I think Joey Dree’s bought the farm. Macon’s desperate and desperate men do desperate things. Right now I’m desperate too.”
“I’ll keep searching for Dree up here, although you’re probably right. I’ll call you if I have any news. Meanwhile, you take care. Keep me informed.”
“I will.”
“Oh and, Ernie, take it easy. You’ll get him.”
“I’ll get him all right. I only hope I’m not too late.”
Lucier hunched over his desk. Something had to break soon. He knew Macon wouldn’t drag it out this time. Oh no, he’d finish the job and get the hell out of town.
“We’ve got a couple of leads, Lieutenant,” Cash said, waving a notebook in his hand. “We checked Castor’s calls, and he’s buddies with the owner of Rico Distributing, Cappy Rico. He’s out of town at some food chain convention in Vegas. Left early this morning. His wife gave me his cell number, but he didn’t answer. I called the missus again. She didn’t want to help, but I reminded her of the liability if something happened in one of his buildings that she could have prevented.” He smacked the notebook. “Here’s the list of properties she knows about, but she said there may be more because she’s not privy to business information. I checked with Lands and Deeds and found one other building not on her list. I marked them on this map.” Cash pulled the map out of the notebook and spread it on Lucier’s desk.
Lucier called in Beecher, Halloran, and a few others.
“Now I’ve checked out Rico,” Cash said, “and the word is he’s straight. Started small and built the business with hard work. My guess is he’s clueless who he’s hosting.”
“Which property didn’t his wife tell us about?” Lucier asked.
“An old warehouse on the back end of Industrial Boulevard. Rico built a larger distribution center in the new part of the park but never sold the old one.”
“You’d think his wife would know about that one,” Beecher said.
“Maybe she thought he sold it,” Cash said. “He hasn’t used the place for business in years.”
“Or maybe he uses it for something else. Something he doesn’t want his wife to know about.”
Since two of Rico’s properties were residential, and two of the three industrial sites were in heavily developed areas, the group’s decision was unanimous—the old warehouse seemed the perfect location.
“Pull the guys together,” Lucier said. “We won’t have the cover of night, so we need to plan the best approach to the warehouse without spooking Macon.” If he’s even there.
After ironing out their strategy, they left in two cars. The building was at the end of a dead-end street. They could park a block or two away and circle around on foot without being seen.
“One last word,” Lucier said, after they gathered outside the cars. “If this is the place, no matter what we find, Macon is mine.”
When the group dispersed, Beecher stayed, narrowing a cold, hard stare at his boss.
“What are you looking at me like that for? Don’t you think I know the difference between justice and revenge?”
“Ordinarily, yes, but these aren’t ordinary times. This man isn’t another suspect. He took your woman. Not once, but twice.”
Lucier stared back. “You’re beginning to sound like my conscience.” He put his hand on Beecher’s shoulder. “You finished?”
“Yup.”
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Coming Unglued
Diana had to keep Harley talking. Come on, Ernie. I’m here. Find me. “You were innocent. Why didn’t you tell the truth at your trial?”
“And implicate myself in three more murders, one of which I carried out all by myself? Three murders everyone thought I’d committed anyway? I’d die in prison of old age. Besides, I was a minor. Good chance I’d get off with a few years. All the evidence was circumstantial. A fucking pebble in my tire, a footprint near the tracks. How could a jury convict me on that? Certainly not enough for the death penalty, even if they did. When my court-appointed attorney explained that, I decided to keep my mouth shut and hope for the best. Either way, I was going to prison.” Macon plunked down on the sofa next to Alice. “I played the odds and lost.”
“But I never found the others.”
“Every time the police brought you in, the papers made such a big deal. I blocked you. Except for the first girl. I never knew where she was. I wasn’t sure I had the power, but I did, and I didn’t need a T-shirt either.” He laughed. “I proved my point. You weren’t so perfect after all. The little prodigy failed.”
Diana fought to restrain her ego. She wanted to argue the point, to defend her record, but she didn’t need to prove her percentages to him. “How did you explain the disappearance of your stepfather?”
“He wasn’t my stepfather,” Diana had never heard words delivered in such a cold, unforgiving voice. Macon’s voice pierced th
rough Diana’s skin like icicles, cold and unforgiving. “He was my mother’s fuck. And they never found him because they never looked for him. I told the cops he’d left with another woman. Ha. That they believed.
“You know, I could touch a person, and if I tried, I could see his fate, just like you. I knew the monster would die. But I didn’t know I would kill him.”
“But why hate me? I was a child. I never found the murderers, just their victims.”
“I couldn’t let go. All those years in prison I thought about how I could have been like you. How I could do what you did. Even now.”
In that moment, Macon woke from the false sense of security into which Diana had lulled him. “Don’t you think I know what you’re doing? You’re buying time so the cops will find you. They won’t find you this time. You have to die, Diana. Don’t you see? I won’t be free until you do.”
Alice sat silently through Macon’s story. But now that it looked like he’d come to his senses, she said, “You gotta get rid of her, Harley. You told her too much. Don’t go soft now.”
Macon acted like he’d forgotten Alice was there. He dragged his focus from Diana. “Don’t tell me what to do, Alice. I make the decisions around here.”
“Fuck you, Harley,” Alice spit out. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d’ve been caught by now, back in jail, fucked by the first faggot got you alone. I got you this far. Me. I put my life on the line. For you. If you get caught, I go down with you, and all because you ain’t got the balls to do some snot nose bitch who could put us both on death row.”
Macon turned around and punched Alice so hard she staggered across the large room. He stared down at her, his face contorted. “I never once asked you to do that.” His voice was calm. “Fact is, if you hadn’t you’d be dead now. So don’t get in my way. I need to think.”
Alice groped to a standing position, her cheek marked in red where he’d hit her. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “What’s to think about? It’s either her or me, and she ain’t gonna do the things to you I can.” She moved closer, put her hand on his crotch. “We deserve each other, Harley. She says you two are alike. That’s bullshit. We’re two of a kind. See, I don’t give a fuck if you did everyone in prison. I don’t care if you screwed your mother or your father or did them both at the same time. She was a pig, like my father. Kill Diana and let’s get the hell out of here while we still can.”
Macon raised the gun in a shaky hand and aimed at Diana.
Afraid Alice’s words were getting through to him, she said in the soft therapeutic voice that had worked before, “Your mother wasn’t a pig, Harley. Tell Alice that. Tell her your mother loved you. She came to visit you in prison often, didn’t she? Would she have done that if she didn’t love you? No, you were her one and only.”
Alice’s patience had run out. “I can’t listen to this shit another minute. Dammit, Harley, kill the bitch. Isn’t that what you wanted all along? Can’t you see what she’s doing? She’s trying to get into your head, distract you from what you gotta do. Kill her, goddamn it, kill her. If you won’t, I will.” She grabbed Macon’s arm. “Gimme the fucking gun, Harley.”
Macon yanked his arm away. “Shut up, I said. Just shut up. And stop saying my name in every goddamn sentence.”
He swiped the dampness from his eye with the back of his hand, but the two women saw. Diana kept on, doing exactly what Alice said—getting inside Macon’s head. “Your mother loved you, and you loved her. That’s natural. Sons love their mothers.”
“Kill her, Harley,” Alice demanded. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Forget your mother. She didn’t love you. Sold you out to fuck the first real man who came along.”
Macon paced back and forth, never taking his eyes off Diana, waving the gun in a shaky hand. “I told you to shut the fuck up, Alice.” He glared at her. “You don’t quit, do you?”
Alice looked like she’d been struck by lightning. For a minute she didn’t move; her mouth hung open. Then the spark turned into a slow burn. “You fuckin’ pussy,” she hissed. “I thought you were a man. Why, you’re nothing but a pussy-whipped mama’s boy.” She grabbed her purse. “If you don’t kill her, I’m walking, and I’m taking the car. I ain’t spending the rest of my life in jail over some dickless man-boy who’s so stupid he can’t see what’s going on in front of his crazy nose.”
Diana backed away. Stupid and crazy in one sentence, not to mention mama’s boy. This is not good.
Macon’s face turned purple. He opened his eyes so wide they looked like they were going to pop right out of his head. His arm trembled; the gun wobbled in his hand. The gun aimed at Diana.
“Doesn’t matter what I do now,” he said to Diana. “I could kill you on my way to hell, because as far as I can see, there’s no other place to go. He took aim and cocked the gun.
* * * * *
Lucier wished it were nighttime. Then they might see a light, a shadow, something to know they were right. But it wasn’t night. It was a quiet Sunday. So quiet he heard the underfoot crunch of dead weeds and broken glass trashing the deserted area. The sun shone down on them as if they were under a spotlight, hot and bright and relentless.
Lucier pointed Halloran and Cash to the far side of the building to check for other exits. He and Beecher made their way to the side stairway. Cash and Halloran came around the back and reported that the other entrance was boarded up, but motioned Lucier to the back and the two cars under the building. Beecher pointed to the old Mustang and mouthed Dree, but Lucier’s interest settled on the Volvo. Macon was here. Diana too. Please, God, let us not be too late. When Beecher indicated the dark stain on the trunk, Lucier waved him off. Later, he mouthed. First things first.
Cops should never allow emotions to interfere with their duties. Lucier knew that. Agreed with it. Yet here he was, about to lead an attack that conflicted with everything he believed. He felt neither calm nor reasonable as he crept up the stairs, hoping to save the woman he loved. His head felt on the verge of exploding.
A spine tingling scream followed by a gunshot shattered the silence of the peaceful day.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Harley’s Way
Diana’s scream echoed in her ears. Horrified, she watched Alice Mayburn’s expression change from defiance to disbelief as she clutched her stomach. The woman pulled her hands away, apparently mesmerized by the bright crimson staining them.
Alice slowly panned to Macon. “Why, Harley?” she asked as she slumped to the floor into a motionless heap.
“Because you just wouldn’t fucking shut up,” Macon answered. “And goddamn it, how many times have I told you to stop saying my name in every sentence?”
Macon seemed to wait for an answer, but Alice lay as still in death as she was vibrant in life. Blood formed a dark stain on the pine floor beneath her. Macon, as if he’d just realized what he’d done, leaned down and put his finger to her throat. “Damn you. Why couldn’t you just shut your mouth?”
Diana inched toward the door, the promised escape route a short scramble away. The sound of footsteps barreling up the outside stairway stopped her. God, please, let it be Ernie. Then she realized Macon would shoot whoever charged through the door. “Don’t come in,” she yelled, and hoped the thudding charge wouldn’t block out her warning. The assault stopped.
Lucier’s voice broke the silence. “Diana, are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Stay back.”
“She’s okay for now, lover boy,” Macon said. “She’s my ticket out of here.”
“You’ll never get away, Macon. My people are all over the place.”
“Well, then. I’ll take her with me. No problem.”
Diana’s heart pounded. It’s just Harley and me. Get inside him, Diana. You did it once, you can do it again. “You don’t want to hurt me, Harley. I understand you. We’re alike. Two of a kind.”
Macon snorted. “Don’t patronize me. You were right when you said we’re nothing alike. You’re Diana R
acine: famous, rich, respected. I’m Harley Macon. My name will be linked with the worst of them. Twisted murdering pervert, they’ll say.” He looked off, pensive, as if he saw something behind her. “And they’ll be right. Everyone’s been right about me all along.”
She reached out her hand and touched him. He didn’t move. A vision played before her. She saw tears in his eyes, and something, she didn’t know what exactly, passed between them. Could he have seen what she saw? Contact worked both ways with someone like him, didn’t it? Like the night of the Marigny ball. Like the murder of Eleanor Hartman.
She kept her voice low. “I know what it’s like to see inside people, just like you. We share a curse, don’t we? To sometimes know what will happen before it happens.”
“And what do you see when you look inside me, Diana? What are you seeing now?”
“Same thing you saw.” From his expression she knew she’d been right. “Give me the gun. Prove the vision wrong.”
He flashed a cynical smile. “I don’t think so.” Leaning toward her, he spoke in a whisper. “I can’t go back there. I’m fucked whatever I do. Been fucked forever.”
“You need help. I’ll help you.”
The lipstick-smeared smile twisted on his ghoulish face. “Nice try, but help won’t undo everything I’ve done.” He pulled her up. “Come on, get up. If you really want to do good for me, tell your boyfriend and his friends to keep their distance.”
