Exit Wounds

by V. K. Powell

  The memory of that awful day when she was fifteen flooded back. Her mother’s adamant statements still haunted her. “I will not tolerate a child of mine being that way. It’s not normal.” Her father had tried to reason with her for years until the stress became too great and he left. “If she didn’t hate me, she did a great job of acting. And after Daddy left, she turned against me even more.”

  “Dad didn’t leave because of you, Loane.”

  “And he didn’t stay because of me…or you. Look, I didn’t call to talk about this crap. Will you handle the house rental or not?” A year after her mother’s death, the house still felt like a connection to people she’d failed, and though the renovation was helping, she couldn’t face it right now. The ghosts of her mother and Abby were too strong.

  “Sure. Let me know where to send the checks.”

  “Deposit them into my account. I can access whatever I need electronically.”

  “I don’t like this. It sounds like I’ll never see you again. What’s wrong with hanging out at Eve and Thom’s again for a break?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Always is with you. I know better than to argue when you get in this mood. Who will I practice my moves with? You’re the only decent sparring partner I’ve got. Speaking of sparring, how are your hands healing?”

  “Fine.” She appreciated his concern but didn’t want to rehash the healing process. “And thanks for being there for me after the accident.” Not that it was an accident, but thinking of it in those terms occasionally allowed her to mentally gloss over the details. “I’ll keep in touch. It’s not like I’m leaving town. I need to be a little less visible for a while. If anybody asks, say I disappeared or whatever.”

  “You’ll keep your cell phone, right? I just got used to the number.”

  “Yeah, I’ll keep it…for you. If you’d save numbers in your phone, you wouldn’t have to remember them. You need to step into the technology age, little brother.”

  “Now you sound like my wife. Nag, nag, nag.”

  “Give my nephews a big squeeze for me.”

  “Will do. Take care, okay? You looked like a walking skeleton the last time I saw you. Eat occasionally.”

  “Bite me, Ty.” She wanted to say help me, but things had gone too far. She’d lost trust in everyone, even her brother. Her heart ached for the easy banter of their childhood and the competition over things that didn’t really matter. This mattered too much.

  Loane disconnected and made a to-do list. It was easier to tell Tyler she was taking a break than try to explain her real intentions. Maybe she simply needed a respite from the pressure and disappointment of not knowing. Maybe she wanted revenge. If so, the more she distanced herself from her home and the people she cared about, the better.

  The life she’d known didn’t exist anymore, and no amount of going through the motions would change that. She loved Greensboro—its rich history, mild climate, and diverse population. But the city was still small enough that blending in would challenge her skills and her determination.

  Chapter Five

  Loane sat in Center City Park, sipping coffee and petting Parker, the city-center kitty. She glanced in the direction of the Greensboro Historical Museum. Eve deserved a chance to organize her day and have several shots of caffeine before Loane complicated her life. She’d spent three days mulling over how to present her unusual request and had tried out several versions on Parker. He was more interested in having his ears scratched.

  She listened to the gentle splash of the fountains as she looked down at her gloved hands, remembering the hurt of that day. She still experienced tenderness when she touched something without thinking, but the sharp pain had lessened. Would she have scars? If so, would she ever be able to touch a woman without feeling self-conscious? Scars would be constant reminders of her failure and of the internal anguish that never subsided.

  She tried to shake her morose mood as she walked toward the historic red-brick Romanesque building with round arches and large towers that began its life as a Presbyterian church. Could Eve help flesh out her plan? What plan? She’d been talking to herself a lot more since moving back to her place. Not surprisingly the conversations often resulted in the same questions and answers. She needed a different perspective.

  Eve Winters embodied her mother’s practicality and her father’s love of history. She had always listened when Loane needed a sympathetic ear. Loane had even tested her coming-out story on her before springing it on her parents. She had thought it would be easier for her mom to accept her sexuality because she’d known Eve. That assumption had proved grossly inaccurate. But Eve had stood by her during that difficult time and had offered her continued assistance through the years in any way possible. Loane was about to test her sincerity.

  When she walked into Eve’s office, Eve greeted her with a big smile that then faded slightly. Eve pushed a button on her phone and without preamble said, “Hold my calls and cancel my appointments until further notice.” No one responded. You didn’t question an edict from Eve Winters, who stood and opened her arms.

  Loane hugged her and rested her head on Eve’s shoulder. At seventy, and in better shape than most forty-year-olds, Eve wasn’t the grandmother type, but at that moment she felt like home—warm and accepting. Loane couldn’t remember the last time she’d held someone and known without a doubt that she was loved. She fought the urge to cry. If she did, she was afraid she’d never recover. They hugged until Loane reluctantly pulled away.

  Eve motioned to a cozy sofa nestled among artifacts in the corner of her office. “You look like a scarecrow. You obviously needed to stay at our place longer. What the hell is going on and what can I do?”

  Eve wasn’t exactly sensitive and tactful, but Loane had always admired her ability to suss out the problem, get to the point, and solve it. She’d become wealthy in real estate using that approach. If you needed help, there was no better person to have on your side. And you got the added bonus of Thom, who was tremendously sensitive, loving, and diplomatic.

  “I have a big favor to ask, Eve.”

  “Name it.”

  “Please listen to everything before you try to talk me out of it. I’ve thought about this a lot.” She’d thought through some of it, not other parts, like leaving her job. Eve would know that. She’d guided her through her impulsive years as a young, horny lesbian testing her sneakers and butch card.

  “This should be refreshing.” Eve smiled, clearly teasing.

  “I need to get to the bottom of this weapons case, and I can’t do it living my life like normal.” The slight darkening of Eve’s blue irises indicated her surprise. Talk about vague. She had to do better if she expected Eve’s help. This woman dealt with concrete facts, not philosophies and ambiguous notions. “It’s Abby, the explosion, and not knowing whether she’s dead.” Loane still found it difficult to talk without a choking sensation in her throat. “I want to sort of blend into the background for a while.”

  “I hate to state the obvious, Loane, but you’re not exactly a high-profile citizen with immediate facial recognition.”

  “I know, but a little distance from family and friends might be a good thing right now.”

  “Maybe you better tell me the whole story.”

  She relayed the details about the gunrunning case and explosion that she hadn’t already shared. The hardest part was explaining that her fellow officers refused to help her. “So I took a leave of absence.”

  “From your job? With the police department?”

  Loane nodded.

  “Did a tree fall on your head?” Eve’s blunt sayings were legendary in the community, and Loane had grown to accept them as part of her eccentric personality. “That seems a bit rash, though I understand your frustration.”

  “It’s more than frustration, Eve. I don’t trust anyone. I have to find some answers. If she’s dead, I’ll know for sure. If she’s not—”

  “You need to think about that one.
If she’s not dead, can you forgive her for letting you believe she was all this time? It’s almost killed you.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t have that answer yet.

  “I don’t think I’ll like this, but what do you need?” Eve swiped an unruly lock of gray hair from her forehead as Loane pulled a crumpled note from her pocket, handed it to her, and waited for the fallout. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “Please, you’re the only one I trust.”

  Eve placed the list beside her and took Loane’s hand. As she traced the stitching on the leather glove, her eyes filled with tears. “What if something happens to you? I can’t be part of that directly or indirectly.”

  “I’ll be fine.” The words sounded mechanical. Was she only lying to Eve or had she started to believe it herself?

  “I know you. You’re going after these people—the gunrunners, maybe a killer, and possible corrupt police. All of it sounds pretty dangerous to me.”

  Loane wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Everybody else had let her down too. No problem. She’d manage. “Then you won’t help me?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady.”

  “What tone?”

  “That Little Red Hen I’ll-do-it-all-myself attitude. This isn’t a game. I’d highly advise against trying to play it alone. At least with the police department, you had backup.”

  “I work best on my own.”

  Eve stared with those penetrating blue eyes, as if drawing the facts from her. Loane finally looked away.

  “Is this about revenge?” Eve asked.

  Loane considered her answer. Would Abby contact her if she were still alive? She wanted to believe she would. They’d shared long nights wrapped in each other’s arms, told stories of their lives, and reveled in the joy of sex. And if she weren’t dead, someone had to know. Maybe Bowman was hiding the truth. Perhaps he’d heard from Abby and wasn’t passing along messages, lying to Abby at the same time.

  “It’s about the truth.” At least it was right now, but her answer could change. If Abby was dead or someone had intentionally kept them apart, revenge would definitely be an option. Eve didn’t need to hear that.

  “All right. Remember that we all need help sometime. We might not always recognize it, but we do.”

  “Does that mean I can count on you?”

  “Under one condition.”

  With Eve there were always safeguards or conditions, probably a result of her successful career in business. Loane tried to imagine what she’d require. “Okay.”

  She placed her hands on either side of Loane’s face and forced her to look her in the eye. “You give me a contact number for emergencies, and I promise not to call unless there is one. Sorry, but that’s my condition and it’s non-negotiable.”

  Loane considered the pros and cons of what Eve was offering. “I can live with that.”

  “You want me to find you a temporary place to live under my corporate name, pay the bills, and not tell anyone where you are. That’s it?”

  “Pretty much. I’ll arrange to pay you in cash for the bills. It’s not a foolproof plan, but at least if anybody is looking for me, they’ll have to work for it.”

  As Loane detailed her plan aloud it sounded lame. It was almost impossible to disappear off the grid entirely. But the more invisible she became, the better her chance of sliding unnoticed into the underground of gunrunners. She had to appear to have crossed over to the criminal element. With her current non grata status with fellow officers and the unfavorable publicity the case had received, it shouldn’t be difficult. Criminals always seemed willing to accept another convert into the fold. If Eve agreed, this would be the first step.

  “I assume everything else will remain intact—bank accounts, retirement—and Tyler will get forwarded mail? And your house?”

  She nodded. “He’s renting it for me, for now.” Once Eve made a decision, she was full steam ahead and God help anyone who got in her way.

  “And what about Abby? Were you in love with her?”

  It’s not like the question hadn’t crossed her mind a million times, but she still couldn’t answer it. “I’m not sure. I can’t walk away until I know the truth.”

  “What if she isn’t dead and tries to find you?”

  The possibility should’ve filled Loane with hope, but it settled into her consciousness with a dull thud. Maybe deep inside she already knew the answer she was seeking. Abby wasn’t going to call because she couldn’t. She shrugged, unwilling to voice the morbid thought.

  “Grief is like an infection, Loane. It can be fatal if you ignore it. At some point you’ll have to let all this out. Don’t wait too long.”

  She couldn’t look at Eve. What Eve said was true, but she couldn’t deal with it right now. What was the point of grieving something that might not be true? And if it were, time could make it easier, though that hadn’t worked so far.

  Eve squeezed her arm. “Any particular requirements for your new place? Single-family ranch, condo, townhouse, yurt, or hovel under a bridge?”

  “You know what I’m trying to do, so something easy and anonymous.”

  Eve handed the slip of paper back as she got up from the sofa. “Take care of yourself. You look like you’ve lost twenty-five pounds. That’s not healthy.”

  It had been easy not to eat. No appetite, no food. She’d lost track of how much she weighed before and after the explosion. It didn’t seem important.

  “You’re sure about this, Loane?”

  She nodded, but she wasn’t sure at all. The thought of being alone in the middle of a dangerous case without the legal authority of the police department or fellow officers for backup worried her. She preferred order and at least a small degree of certainty. She found comfort in structure and procedure, but the system had let her down. She had no other choice.

  “I still advise against this,” Eve said.

  Loane pulled her into a hug. “I know. Give Thom my love, and don’t worry.”

  “Those aren’t very reassuring words. Be careful, and don’t be too damn proud or stubborn to ask for help.”

  “I’ll check back in a few days, and I’ll be careful. Promise.” Even she wasn’t convinced. At least Eve didn’t know what she planned to do next.

  *

  Loane backed into the doorway across the street from the Sky Bar, blending with the shadows. Neon glowed over the club’s opaque glass windows and door, giving it an eerie, otherworldly sheen. When patrons entered they disappeared, swallowed by a huge sightless monster. The bar was popular because it allowed folks to check their morals and values at the door. She’d answered calls here and seen young and old engaged in behaviors from pot smoking to full-on sex, unusual for a quiet Southern town in the middle of the Bible Belt.

  She watched a couple of bouncers set up orange cones down the center of the sidewalk in front of the bar and string rope between them to form a cueing line for the patrons who would arrive later. Raising her night-vision camera, she focused on the two employees she hadn’t seen before. Fuck the Greensboro Police Department. By the time her surveillance was over, she’d know every employee of this dive and how they were connected to the Torre family.

  In the months she’d worked with Abby on the case, they’d never made a definite link between the club, the Torres, and illegal weapons, but it was the only place she had to start. There was bound to be more going on here than a little pot smoking and sex play. Experience had taught her to dig deeper than the initial layer of grime.

  As she snapped pictures of the bouncers, a brisk wind whipped around the corner and kicked a plume of dust into her face. She stepped back too quickly and slammed into the door behind her. The thud echoed across the street as she tried to balance the camera with one wounded hand and keep from falling with the other. She lost both battles. The camera skidded across the sidewalk toward the street and she landed flat on her ass in the doorway, unwilling to slap the concrete with her palms. The bouncers’ heads swiveled
in her direction like lions stalking a gazelle.

  “Hey, you, what the fuck?”

  By the time Loane got up, they were on top of her. The camera dangled from the taller one’s fist like a prize. “Lose something, cop?”

  She tried to be professional in spite of her clumsiness. “Who said I was a cop?”

  The short one with a ponytail sniffed around her like a bloodhound. “Smell like pork. Not too subtle. Taking pictures where you don’t belong. Spells cop to me.”

  She automatically reached toward her belt for her walkie-talkie. Maybe it was best to let them believe she was a cop for the time being. “Then I guess you better give me that department-issued equipment, or I’ll have to charge you with theft.” Invoking authority she didn’t have made her uncomfortable. Bluffing wasn’t her forte.

  “Looks like it got broken in the fall. Even the card is missing. Too bad.” The tall guy handed the camera over with a shrug. The card slot was empty.

  Damn it. This wasn’t a fight she could win with her hands still tender. She grabbed the strap and yanked, immediately regretting it. The rough cord dug into her palm through the leather glove, and she bit her lip to stifle a groan. “You two better get back to work before I make up a reason to arrest you.”

  They simultaneously stepped closer, pushing her farther into the darkened doorway. “Think you could pull it off?” One of them reeked of cheap cologne and the other of cigarettes, not smells she’d want to be her last.

  “Hey, I know you,” Ponytail said. “You’re the cop that’s been stirring up shit—the department dumped you. I’m right. So, photography your new profession?”

  How the hell did he know about her leave? Personnel issues were supposed to be confidential. But his information might play nicely into her plan to switch sides as a disgruntled cop. “So what? Screw the police department…and you too.”

  “If you’re not a cop, whipping your ass won’t be quite as much fun, but I’ll still enjoy it.”

  Getting a street beating to prove she wasn’t a cop wasn’t her idea of fun. She glanced around for an escape route, but they had her pinned. Ten officers had been killed in the line of duty in Greensboro since the department was formed. She didn’t want to be number eleven. Loane calculated how much elbow room she needed for an effective martial-arts move and was about to try it.