Stuck On You

by Christine Wenger

  "Where to?" Mack asked.

  "The lake."

  "Oh, a shoot and dunk, huh? Did you bring cement shoes for me?" Mack started up the car, but didn't hit the lights, so Kate wouldn't wake up from them shining on the cabin.

  The early morning was still dark yet, and chilly, but there were streaks of red and gold shooting across the sky in the east. It was going to be a nice autumn day. Maybe he’d even live to enjoy it.

  He put Kate’s car in four wheel drive, headed toward the rutted road to the lake, then hit the lights. "We could have walked this, Marty. A nice sunrise walk, you and I, for old times sake."

  "Shut up or I'll have to gag you."

  "I deserve to know why you want me dead," Mack replied.

  "You know why. You were getting too close to the whole operation."

  "The operation where you were re-selling confiscated drugs?” on the street?"

  "Yeah."

  "Tell me why."

  "For the money. Why the hell else?"

  "Hmm...a good cop's in the hospital, you blow up my house, you frame me and now you're going to shoot me. All that for money?" Mack shook his head, his brain working overtime as he thought about the best plan of attack.

  "Yeah. Money. I want the big money. For years I’ve watched the criminals get richer than me. It’s my turn."

  “Save it, Marty. I don’t even know you anymore.” Mack’s stomach roiled. “To think I looked up to you. That I wanted to be like you. I became a cop because of you.”

  “You became too good of a cop.

  Mack grunted. “A lot of good it did me.” He felt sick.

  “Aw...c’mon, Mack,” Crowley said. “I was a good cop once.”

  “Well, you stink as a criminal. You left a trail that a rookie could follow.”

  “We thought we could cover our tracks. We still do,” Crowley said.

  “Who’s we? Who are you working with?”

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” he laughed at the old joke.

  “Not funny, Marty.”

  “I thought so.”

  Mack snapped his fingers. "What are you going to do with Kate's car once I'm gone?"

  "I'm going to leave it. It'll look like you drove down here and shot yourself. Suicide. All the pressure and the shame. You know."

  Mack nodded. "Not a bad plan, but you've got to get out of here somehow. Who are you working with?"

  "Shut up, Mack."

  "Is it Pete Nash? It's Nash, isn't it?"

  "Shut the hell up!"

  #

  Kate awoke slowly as the morning sun filtered through the windows. It took her a moment to realize where she was and that she was naked. Stretching, she let out a small sigh. She wanted to make love with Mack last night, but she just couldn't. Not yet.

  She reached for him, but her hands only found cold sheets. She sniffed the air, praying that he had the coffee ready. No coffee.

  Mack must be in the living room. Maybe he was starting a fire. But she didn't smell that either.

  Kate dressed as quick as possible. She couldn't wait to see him again. She tossed on a tee shirt, put on her shoulder holster that contained her Glock, threw a flannel shirt on, and padded out to find him.

  But he wasn't there. And when she opened the door to see if he was on the deck, she saw that her car was gone.

  And Mack wasn't on the deck.

  She went back into the kitchen, her heart sinking with every step.

  Sitting down at the table, she saw his note.

  Sorry.

  That was all he had to say after she'd trusted him? After she cut off his monitor? After they almost made love?

  He must have had it planned all along. He took off.

  She loved him and he betrayed her. And now he was gone.

  A tear dropped on the note, blurring the "S".

  And she thought she heard her heart crack in little pieces, but then she noticed someone pulling into the driveway in a black SUV.

  She looked out the corner of the window and waited for the person to exit the car. Pete Nash?

  "What the hell is Pete Nash doing here?" she mumbled as she unlocked and opened the door, not in the mood for visitors or small talk.

  "Good morning, Kate. I'm glad I didn't wake you." His eyes skimmed the room and his hands fidgeted as he stepped in. “I can’t get cell phone coverage up here in the boonies.”

  “What brings you to Loon 12, Pete?”

  "Is Mack around?" he asked.

  He looked a little too wide-eyed and nervous, Kate thought. Not like his usual laid-back demeanor. "No, Pete. Mack's not here. He's gone with the wind."

  "What do you mean?" Pete's nostrils flared. He wasn't any happier than she was.

  "He took my car and left. Gone. Absconded. On the breeze."

  "I thought he was on your freakin' program."

  Kate didn't answer. She couldn't tell him that she had trusted Mack enough to cut the ankle monitor. In the cold light of morning, she felt stupid. But, heaven help her, she still loved him.

  She tried to change the subject. "What brings you way out here, Pete? Did you come alone?"

  "Yeah, I came up alone," he said, his eyes not meeting hers. "I came to see how Mack was doing after his house blew up and after someone shot at him at your father's cabin, but since you lost him, I guess that's not going to happen." He gave her a look that pinned her to the wall. "I'm afraid I'm not going to recommend your program to the county legislature or use it ever again."

  "I didn't think you would."

  "And I'm sure this will make the newspapers. Matter of fact, I'll see to it."

  "Gee, thanks." Kate wasn't liking his haughty attitude in the least. And something Pete had said was bothering her. She walked to the window. Something wasn't right.

  "I'd better issue a warrant for his arrest," Pete said.

  Kate sighed. A warrant was inevitable. "Off the record, tell me the truth. You're his friend. Do you think he's a dirty cop or do you think that someone's trying to frame him?"

  Just as she asked the question, it hit her. She tried not to gasp out loud. She knew what was wrong now. She'd never told Pete they'd been shot at. That meant Pete Nash was working with Crowley! But why? Why?

  She tried to remain calm and expressionless as her stomach clenched. What was she going to do?

  "I'm going to go and look for Mack. I'll produce him. Hold off on that warrant, Pete." She managed to keep her voice calm and even.

  "I'll go with you," he replied.

  "No. I'll take care of it. This is my problem, Pete."

  He shook his head. "No. I insist, Kate. I will go with you."

  She didn't like his tone in the least. Her heart pounded and she tried to think. She needed a plan. And quick. "We're going to have to use your car," she finally said. "Mack took mine, remember?"

  Nash raised his hands into the air. “Let’s face it, Kate. It’s you that I’m here for. You are a loose end that we hadn’t counted on.”

  “Why’s that Pete?” She had to get a plan. Pete was going to kill her. She might have to pull her gun.

  “We’re sure that Mack confided in you. You know, pillow talk.”

  Kate laughed, but as they stepped out on the deck, Kate spotted a chunk of firewood under the window. Mack must have dropped it when he fell.

  “That’s why we have to eliminate you. It’s nothing personal.”

  As Nash walked down the stairs, Kate picked up the chunk of wood and swung it like Mickey Mantle.

  Thud!

  The Honorable Peter Nash landed face first in a carpet of pine needles and dirt.

  She handcuffed his hands behind his back and fished in his pocket for the keys to his car.

  "Got 'em!" Kate ran to the car. When she opened the door, she saw a shiny metal object on the floor of the passenger's side. A badge. Under that, was the uniform of the Rose Lake Sheriff's Department, a new uniform with a shiny new name plate. She didn't have to even read the name plate, but she
did it anyway. Martin Crowley, Chief, Rose Lake County Sheriff's Department.

  He must have been promoted.

  Kate’s heart began to race as she tried to figure out what was happening.

  Crowley must have come up with Nash and changed his clothes. Crowley and Mack were missing. Crowley probably had Mack.

  She spotted Nash's car phone, and breathed a sigh of relief. She phoned 9-1-1 and got the dispatcher of the Reedville Sheriff's Department.

  Filling her in quickly, Kate knew that the poor dispatcher was clearly overwhelmed.

  "The s-s-sheriff is at his granddaughter's b-b-birthday party over in West Hedeman," the dispatcher stuttered. "S-She's five years old today."

  "Well, find him and get him over to Lou's Lakeview Cottages, Loon 12! And send the State Police in the meantime," Kate ordered. "And hurry. Hurry! An officer's life is in danger!"

  As she was about to start the car she heard the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.

  "Mack! Nooooo!"

  Before the shot could stop echoing, Kate fired up Nash’s SUV, put it in four wheel drive and took off down the rutted path to Loon Lake.

  #

  Crowley's too confident, Mack thought.

  He should have kept me cuffed until after he marched me into Loon Lake. Mack decided to keep his hands behind his back anyway so maybe Crowley wouldn't realize his mistake.

  Crowley grinned. "So, how long did it take you to figure out it was me?"

  "Selling confiscated drugs? About the time I was sitting in jail. You're the only one who knew what Tom and I suspected. You're the only one we told. When my house blew up, I knew you were the one who did it." Mack shook his head. "You're a terrible criminal. Both of you are terrible criminals. You were either too arrogant or too lazy to even re-bag the stuff."

  "It was all Nash's idea." Crowley waved the Glock and Mack turned around. "Now get walking."

  It wasn't as if he hadn't already figured it out that Nash was in on it, but to hear him actually implicated by Crowley, was like a kick to his gut.

  "I thought Pete and I were friends," Mack said.

  "Naw...he's jealous of you."

  "What the hell for?"

  "Something about how he had to go to college on that scholarship you passed up. In the meantime, his girlfriend married someone else. And he thinks that you got the more exciting job. He was tired of sentencing criminals.”

  “So he became one instead?” Mack grunted at the sheer stupidity of it all. "Yeah, lately, my job's been more exciting. Thanks to the two of you." Mack purposely steered Crowley to where he and Kate had been the afternoon before. With any luck, the family of loons was still there. "Where's Nash now?"

  "Probably with Kate the cow shooter."

  "Dammit! Tell him to leave her alone!”

  "She’s a loose end."

  "Dammit, Marty. Call him off."

  Mack was on full alert. He knew he had to act fast. He didn't want Nash anywhere near Kate.

  C'mon loons!

  With one more step, the loons flew up and honked. Startled, Crowley lost focus.

  Mack executed his best quarterback tackle and Crowley fell to the ground. The gun went off in the air, disturbing more wildlife. All kinds of birds squawked and flew away.

  Mack tossed a handful of sand into Crowley's eyes. Crowley dropped the gun and clawed at his eyes. Mack secured the gun, handcuffed Crowley, patted him down, and retrieved his own .38.

  "Get up, Crowley, or I'll drag you behind the bumper back to the cabin."

  The man wasn't moving fast enough for Mack, so he hauled him to his feet.

  Hearing the sound of bushes or grass rustling, Mack drew and hit the ground with Crowley.

  Nash was coming for him.

  Instead of Nash, Kate burst into the clearing, panting. Her gun was drawn, and she was swaying, trying to catch her breath.

  Mack smiled. She had come to his rescue.

  "I heard a shot," she said in between gulps of air. "But I see you got your man." She nodded at Crowley.

  "I'm fine. No one got shot."

  "Good. I'm glad. Then I'm going to kill you myself, Mack." She dropped the gun and let it dangle at her side, as she panted. "Why did you sneak off?"

  "I wanted to lead them away from you. I didn't want you hurt."

  "So you never had any intention of letting me help you."

  It was a statement more than a question. Mack searched for the words that would soften the blow, but naturally they wouldn't come. "I thought I'd be better off on my own."

  "Oh." She shrugged. "Then all that practice and role playing we did was just to pass the time."

  "Yes and no." He met her gaze. "I didn't want it to escalate to that point, Kate."

  She holstered her gun, bent down, picked up a piece of driftwood and handed it to him. "Toss it in the air."

  "This isn't the time to play Annie Oakley."

  "You treat me like Calamity Jane, not Annie Oakley," she said. "Now just toss it in the air."

  With a shrug, he threw it as high as he could. Kate split it in thirds with two shots.

  "See that low hanging branch on that straggly tree?" she asked.

  Mack had to squint. It was far off. He could never make that shot.

  But Kate did.

  "That's nice shooting, but it isn't a person, Kate. Could you shoot a person?"

  Kate looked at Crowley, and the man's eyes got as big as dish plates.

  "Sure, especially if that person was endangering the life of someone I care about. And I care about you, Mack," she said, staring intently at him. She could have sworn that he blushed, the big, tough cop.

  Crowley grunted. “Ain’t this touching?”

  “I’ll show you just how good I am, Mack,” Kate said, picking up a tiny piece of driftwood. "I'll put this on Chief Crowley’s head, or maybe between his teeth and he can turn sideways and–"

  "No...wait...what do you want from me? A confession?" Crowley sputtered, backing away. "Okay. I'll confess."

  "Of course you will. Later." Mack said. "But first, I have to find Nash."

  "Oh, Nash isn't going anywhere,” Kate said. “We have time to take Crowley's confession. I just so happen to have my cell phone. It has a microphone. Kate put her gun back into her shoulder holster. "Shall we adjourn to the picnic table and you can interview the captain?"

  Mack raised an eyebrow. "But where's Nash, Kate?"

  She smiled. "Sleeping off that chuck of firewood that hit him on the back of the head."

  Damn! He sure had underestimated Kate. "But how did you know? How did–"

  Kate held up her hand. "Because he knew we were shot at when we were at my father's cabin, and I never mentioned that when I called him." She took him aside and whispered, "But right now we need to get Crowley's confession. Then we can play one against the other and get Nash's confession, too. That way maybe someone would believe you over a judge and a chief."

  "You are brilliant!" He went to hug her, but she stepped back.

  "I told you that I could help you, but you didn't believe me."

  He had some fence mending to do and he knew it.

  After Mack read Crowley his rights into the tape, and Crowley spewed enough into the tape recorder to suit Mack, they drove up to the cabin with Crowley handcuffed and sitting in the back seat.

  When they arrived at the clearing, Mack leaned over the seat. "I'm leaving you in the car, Marty. Don't say a word. Hear me? I want Pete to confess, too. If you blow this, you're going to take the fall alone. If you help me, I'll help you out. Understand?"

  "Yeah, Mack. I know how it works."

  Mack's heart sank. His captain, a man who he had worked with and respected throughout the years, was nothing but a dirty cop–the one who was responsible for shooting Tom. He looked deep into the man's eyes, and was disgusted by what he saw: a lack of remorse. Hell, Crowley seemed sorry enough for getting caught, but not sorry for what he had done and for the damage he had caused. It was all for money–the almig
hty buck.

  Eager to get away from him, Mack got out of the car and walked to Pete Nash who was struggling to get up from the ground. Kate was already there, sitting on the steps, not making a move to help Pete.

  Mack noticed the cell phone behind Kate's back on the step. Clever. Very clever.

  When Nash finally stood, he winced, swaying on his feet. His hands were handcuffed and Mack could tell that the man had one hell of a headache.

  "Now what?" was all Pete said.

  "We know everything, judge." The word left a bitter taste in Mack's mouth. "Crowley already confessed. It's your turn."

  "I'm not going to confess. It's your word against mine," Pete said, closing his eyes.

  "It's my word, Kate's word, and Crowley's confession against yours," Mack said, taking Kate's hand in his. She didn't pull it away, so he took that as a good sign.

  "Go to hell," Nash sputtered.

  "That's where you're going, Pete. For about twenty-five-to-life, give or take, depending on how many Attempted Murder of a Police Officer charges they convict you of, along with a few dozen charges of selling drugs. I think another name for your hell is the New York State Correctional Facility at Attica." Mack pointed a finger at him. "And don't forget to bring a toothbrush."

  Nash spit into the dirt at Mack’s feet.

  Mack sprung up. "You know, I ought to unlock those cuffs and you and I can go at it right now and settle this thing. What do ya' say?"

  "Let's do it!" Nash pushed at the dirt with his feet, like a raging bull. "Get these cuffs off me."

  Mack felt Kate's grip on his arm, holding him back. Grounding him just like she did before.

  "No," she said. "No more."

  "Okay, Kate. We'll do it your way. I'll read him his rights, or maybe you'd like to recite them yourself for old time sake. What do you say, Pete?"

  "Unlock me, Mack. Give me a head start out of here."

  "Just like you gave me?"

  "I released you to Kate's program, didn't I?" Nash asked.

  "Yeah, Pete, why did you do that?" Kate asked. "Because you believed in my program?"

  He looked at her as if she had just landed from another planet. "I didn't give a damn about your stupid program. I wanted to get him out of jail, so Crowley could do a good hit on him, but he never was in his house, dammit! Not even when Marty blew it up."