Crone’s Moon argi-5

by M. R. Sellars

Ben was just hitting the corner of the building and fell to a crouch at the side of an ice machine, arms cocked with his Beretta firmly gripped and aimed in front of him.

  As the woman’s first fear-filled cry broke the quiet atmosphere, the old metaphor about ‘hell breaking loose’ was instantly invoked. Her fading wail was punctuated by a muffled pop, and that was followed rapidly by two more. The woman snapped her head to the side, looking in what was apparently the direction of the noise, then stared into the store through the windows. She immediately broke into a second scream. A fleeting second later the metal-framed door flew open, and a young man bolted through. I couldn’t see his expression at this distance, but I could tell simply by the way he moved that he was panicked. In one hand, he had a paper bag and was clutching it in a death grip; in the other, I could see a dark object that I assumed to be a pistol.

  He was heading directly for the car that had been parked in front of the store when we first arrived. He had almost made it to the door of the vehicle when he hesitated and looked back toward the screaming woman.

  As the young man stood there, I caught my breath and felt my pulse beginning to pound in my temples. I couldn’t have looked away if I had wanted to, so I watched, unblinking, the fate which was about to be revealed.

  Constance came immediately up from her crouch, weapon stiff-armed before her as she moved forward, closing the gap. She couldn’t have been any more than twenty feet from the young man, and she kept her pistol aimed at his center mass. Ben was stepping out from the shadows, moving in behind her, but still had quite a bit of distance between him and the situation.

  “Stop!” Constance announced in a loud voice. “Federal agent!”

  Startled, the young man jumped and spun toward her, throwing his arm up at the same instant, pointing it wildly in her direction. There was a loud pop and burst of fire from the pistol in his hand, and at the same instant, the front window of the store sparkled with an instant spider web crack.

  Before the report of his gun had even reached its peak, the first of three bright flashes erupted from the muzzle of Constance’s Sig Sauer. The rest followed in unison with a resounding trio of sharp cracks. The young man jerked backward with each impact and then fell, disappearing from my view behind the vehicle.

  The bystander was backed against the windows, crouched down with her hands over her ears as she shook her head violently. She had fallen silent, apparently too frightened to scream any longer. Constance advanced forward carefully but quickly; her sidearm was still in hand, aimed with great purpose at the ground in front of her. Ben was a few feet behind and to her right, circling in with his own pistol stiffly pointed at the downed felon. I watched as they both moved in, Constance all but disappearing from sight on the opposite side of the vehicle while Ben’s head and shoulders remained visible over the line of the roof.

  Behind me, Felicity had stopped talking, but I could hear the thin strain of a tinny voice wafting into the air. I looked back to see her staring past me at the now quiet scene. The cell phone was resting against her shoulder and she slowly pushed it back up beneath her hair.

  In a calm monotone, she said, “Aye, I’m still here.” Then added simply, “Yes… She shot him.”

  A moment later, in the near distance, a siren suddenly began to wail, and I looked over to see flashing red lights barreling down the thoroughfare, heading in our direction. Glancing back to my friends, I saw that they had moved back up onto the sidewalk. Ben holstered his sidearm and then reached into his pocket. A second later, he carefully slipped a cord over his head then unclipped his badge from his belt and attached it to the bottom of the loop.

  Constance was now leaning against the payphone pedestal, her head hanging and her doubled fist pressed against her lips. I watched as Ben looked over at her, shot a glance up to the shattered window and then brought his eyes back to her. He reached up and began rubbing the back of his neck. I could see his lips move as he said something to Constance. A moment later, I saw her head slowly bob in the affirmative.

  And then, I started breathing again.

  *****

  Bright white flashes punctuated the flickering red lights that fell across the front of the convenience store. The area was cordoned off with yellow plastic tape, and evidence technicians were snapping photos and setting out numbered tent cards next to shell casings on the ground.

  A handful of local officers were now on the scene, from those in uniform, to plainclothes detectives. At present, one of the uniformed officers was directing a white SUV toward a parking place. As it passed us, I could see that it was emblazoned with the words SAINT LOUIS COUNTY CORONER.

  Constance was locked in conversation with one of the detectives, occasionally motioning toward the pay phones or the suspect’s vehicle. Felicity and I had been told to wait with the van. Initially, one of the officers had asked us some cursory questions and then said that we would eventually need to give statements since we had been witnesses. That had been a little better than thirty minutes ago, and lag time was not sitting well with Felicity.

  The longer we were forced to wait, the more agitated my wife became. So, I wasn’t at all surprised that when Ben finally broke away and walked over to check on us, she greeted him with a hand cocked on her hip and an attitude to match the pose.

  “We have to go,” Felicity announced, her words leaving no room for negotiation.

  “We ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while,” Ben said, giving his head a quick shake.

  “How long is ‘awhile’?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I dunno. As long as it takes.”

  She stared back at him with a hard look and then shook her head, speaking tersely. “We simply don’t have time to wait around, Ben.”

  He looked back at her, then drew in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he closed his eyes. You could almost see him mentally counting to five. He slowly let out the breath and then opened his eyes.

  “Let’s try this again,” he announced. “I came over here to tell you two that ya’ should prob’ly get comfortable. ‘Cause we ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”

  My wife continued glaring at him defiantly. He raised his eyebrows and glared back at her.

  “You were here,” he finally said, motioning to the scene behind him. “You saw what happened, right? Or am I just imaginin’ that?”

  “Aye, we saw it. And your point?”

  “Felicity, there are two dead bodies over there,” he explained, hooking his thumb over his shoulder again. “The clerk and the kid who shot her.”

  “I understand that,” she replied, “But what about Kimberly?”

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked as he splayed out his hands, palms up in resignation. “I can’t help that we stumbled into a fuckin’ armed robbery. Believe me, I wish we hadn’t just as much as you do.”

  “Can’t we just give our statements and get out of here?” I asked, trying to help defuse the tension between them.

  “I wish it was that easy,” he replied. “But one of those dead bodies over there has three government-issue, forty-caliber Hydra-Shoks in it, courtesy of Mandalay. There’s no way to just give a statement and walk away from that.”

  “What about us?” Felicity pressed. “You didn’t shoot anyone and neither did we.”

  “I was backing her up, and you two were witnesses,” he replied.

  “Can’t you just get them to hurry up?” She was almost physically shaking from her frustration.

  “I’m a city cop, Felicity. This is the county, and I’m not with the MCS so it ain’t my jurisdiction. Besides, you don’t rush this kinda shit. Not when people are dead. You know that.”

  “So, how is Constance anyway?” I interjected, trying to change the subject.

  “Holdin’ up,” he replied, pursing his lips and casting a glance back her way. “It’s never easy… Especially when it’s a kid.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Got no ID yet,
but he looks like he can’t be more than fourteen.”

  “Too young,” I muttered.

  “Tell me about it,” he replied and then reached up to his neck.

  “Ben,” Felicity appealed again, her voice softer but no less demanding. “We have to go. Kimberly can’t hold out much longer.”

  “Felicity…” His voiced trailed off for a moment, obviously tired. “You don’t even know for sure where she is.”

  “I showed you on the map,” she replied.

  “You showed me the Chain of Rocks Bridge to the other side of the river,” he returned.

  “But it has to be somewhere close to there.”

  “Yeah, but where?” he asked. “Twenty-five mile arc? Fifty-mile arc? Huh? What are we gonna do, go across the bridge, start yellin’ ‘er name and hope she answers?”

  “Dammit, Benjamin!” she snipped. “There’s a way to find her, I know it, but we have to go!”

  “What way? How?”

  She shot me a furtive glance. “You wouldn’t understand. Just… We need to go!”

  “Try me.”

  “There’s no time for explaining!” she insisted. “We have to go!”

  “Okay! Fine! Whaddaya want me ta’ do?”

  “Get us out of here.”

  “Okay, how?”

  “Tell them about Kimberly.”

  “Tell ‘em what?”

  “That she’s out of time!” she spat. “That she’s going to die if we don’t do something!”

  “So, lemme get this straight. You want me to go to the lead detective and say, ‘hey, the little redheaded Witch over there says we gotta go now, ‘cause she saw a kidnap victim in her crystal ball’ is that it?” he asserted.

  “I thought you believed me,” she snarled.

  “I do, Felicity,” he shot back. “I’ve always fuckin’ believed you two.”

  “Then just trust me!”

  “I told you, I do, but right now what I believe doesn’t mean shit to these cops!”

  “How do you know if you don’t try?!” my wife demanded.

  “You know better than that. You think tellin’ ‘em some Twilight Zone crap is gonna fly? Gimme a break.”

  She glared back at him for a moment, then stepped around him and started across the lot. All she said was, “Well if you won’t do it, then I will.”

  CHAPTER 35:

  She didn’t get very far.

  It took Ben less than two full steps to catch up to her and clamp a large hand around her arm, stopping my petite wife dead in her tracks.

  “You don’t wanna do that,” he told her.

  “And why not?” she demanded.

  “Because I doubt they’re gonna be as understanding as I am, for one,” he retorted. “And for two, they’re liable to put your ass in a rubber room. Want some more?”

  “We’ll just have to see what they do, won’t we.” She offered the question as a rhetorical statement.

  My friend shook his head. “No. No we won’t.”

  She tugged hard, trying to pull away. “Let go of me!”

  “Dammit, Felicity, don’t make me cuff you to the fuckin’ van,” he barked.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” my wife returned angrily.

  “Watch me,” he growled.

  “Fek tu!”

  “Yeah, right back atchya’.”

  Felicity twisted harder, still trying to pull away. She struggled for a moment, and having no success, she suddenly cocked her leg back then kicked him hard in the shin. Ben winced as he let out a stifled yelp but still maintained his grip on the auburn-haired firestorm. When she tried to repeat the attack, he shuffled quickly out of the way, causing her to miss and almost lose her balance.

  He responded to her near fall by pushing her against the front corner of the van and steadying her there. Stepping back, he held my wife at arms length and then simply glared at her without so much as a word.

  Felicity started her struggle anew and found herself locked in an even tighter grip. She looked over and called out to me. “Rowan?!”

  From the tone of her voice, I knew she was appealing for help, and that was going to be a problem. I had been purposely staying out of the middle of this for the most part. I knew Ben wouldn’t hurt her, although I wasn’t entirely sure about the reverse. I also knew better than to get in front of Felicity when she was on a mission, and that put me in a quandary, because with everything that had happened, I could plainly see what Ben was up against.

  Of course, the fact that they were both too stubborn to admit fault didn’t help. In truth, I had seen this coming. As on edge as we had been the past few hours, this altercation was all but a forgone conclusion. And, it came as no surprise that it was between the two of them.

  As usual, life was an obstacle course, and unlike the movies, you couldn’t always make the hurdles in a single, graceful leap. In fact, you usually fell flat on your face and skinned your knees before moving on. Even worse, some of the bars were set higher than others, and this particular one was starting to look more like a wall.

  Now I was caught with my back against that barrier, knowing exactly how my wife was feeling at this very moment but also fully aware of how police investigations worked. I didn’t like the situation any more than they did. But, in the end, we had no choice in the matter, and that was an irrefutable fact.

  “Honey, Ben’s right,” I told her. “There’s nothing he can do.”

  “You’re taking his side?” she almost pleaded.

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side,” I explained. “I’m just telling you how it is.”

  “That’s fine!” she snapped. “I said I’d do it myself then.”

  “Okay, but tell me this,” I said. “What makes you think they’re going to listen to you if they won’t listen to him?”

  She stared back at me with anger, anxiety, and a host of other emotions dancing in her eyes. I could tell she was on the verge of declaring one of the Gaelic epithets she kept in her arsenal of curses, but I could also see a look of resignation behind her molten gaze. As impetuous as she could be under the right set of circumstances, she was also one who subscribed to logic. Even though it was obvious that she didn’t want to admit it, she knew we were both correct.

  A long moment passed with nothing said, then she literally shrieked, venting her frustration into the night with an audible burst.

  “All right!” she said. “Let me go.”

  “You gonna calm down?” Ben asked pointedly.

  “Yes, damn you, now let me go.”

  My friend slowly released his grip on her upper arm, a tentative look filling his face. She jerked it away and began rubbing the spot where he had been clamped on. I could tell by the way Ben had positioned himself that he was expecting her to bolt, but to his surprise, she stayed put and simply glared back at him.

  “Sorry if I hurt ya’,” he apologized.

  She answered him in a flat tone. “Aye, you did.”

  “Yeah, well that fuckin’ kick wasn’t exactly pleasant either,” he offered in reply.

  “Be glad I actually like you then,” she returned flatly. “With someone else, I would have aimed differently.”

  Ben shook his head, then said, “Listen, just stay here and calm down. I’m gonna see what I can do, but I’m not makin’ any promises.”

  “Thank you,” Felicity said.

  “Yeah, well don’t thank me yet, I’m prob’ly not gonna get anywhere.”

  “For trying, Ben,” she returned. “Thank you for at least trying.”

  *****

  “What are we going to do, Rowan?” Felicity asked.

  She was parked in her seat, and she had reclined it even farther than it had been earlier. The light of the streetlamp above was filtering in through the tinted windows, bringing a dim glow to the interior that made her pale complexion look just that much more ghostly. She had her eyes closed, and she was slowly massaging her temples.

  “Wait, I guess,” I replied. “It’s all we can do.
”

  “I’m having a hard time with that,” she said.

  “I know, me too,” I agreed.

  Ben had been gone for almost half an hour now. We had watched the goings on for a while but finally lost sight of him after he followed one of the detectives into the convenience store. Apparently Constance was already in there, because she had disappeared long before he did.

  We waited expectantly, milling around in front of the van and watching for any sign of his return. However, when he didn’t come back out of the building for several minutes, it became obvious that his earlier assessment had been the correct one. We weren’t going anywhere for a while.

  We eventually gave up the anxious vigil and climbed into the van to escape the chill of the night air. We were both pushing the limits of exhaustion, and it felt good to have someplace reasonably comfortable to sit. Had it not been for the emotional fuel we were both burning, I suspect we would have fallen asleep where we sat.

  I yawned and then asked, “So how’s your head doing?”

  “Killing me.”

  “Yeah…” I murmured. “I know the feeling.”

  “What about you?”

  “Dull ache,” I answered. “But you seem to be taking the brunt of it.”

  “Yes I am,” she muttered.

  We fell quiet for a few moments, and I rested my eyes as I listened to her breathing. Her respirations seemed to cycle, coming shallow for a measure, then deepening, and even holding on occasion. She was obviously fighting with some pain, and she reminded me of myself when I was dealing with the lingering effects of channeling.

  She suddenly drew in a deep breath, but instead of simply exhaling she spoke. Her words were offered as a matter-of-fact statement, devoid of emotion. “Kimberly is going to die.”

  “You don’t know that,” I told her.

  “Aye, I do. I can feel it. She can’t take much more.”

  “She might have a better constitution than you give her credit for,” I offered. “You never know.”

  My wife remained silent with the exception of repeating the series of panting breaths. I continued watching her as she worked through the pain and began to wonder about what she was experiencing. There was a very guarded feeling about her, but I’d paid little attention until now.