by George Wier
“I didn’t kill anyone, Rachel,” he said. “You have to believe that.”
“I do. I know you. I know you better than anyone. Oh God, you’ve done terrible things to your beautiful face.”
“I’m sorry,” Shelby said. He quickly reached down and scooped up Squire. “I’m sorry for not being a good husband. For telling you to leave like that. For hurting you and everyone I’ve ever known.”
“Stop it, Shel,” she said quietly. “Stop being sorry. I have never stopped loving you.”
The tears came into Shelby’s eyes. He reached up with his free hand and swung his visor down.
“Don’t be ashamed,” she said.
Shelby Knight swallowed the egg-sized knot in his throat. It was difficult.
“Someone tried to kill you,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“I will stop them.”
“I know you will. I can’t go home. I’m staying in a hotel room next door to Billy. He won’t leave my side. I’ve wanted to call...my mother, and—”
“Don’t call her, Rach. If you call her, she’ll get one of those old goons to come and hover over you. Maybe Sully. Not the best of people.”
“I know. But Sully’s not so bad. He’s kind of like my father, you know. I just don’t know what else to do. Ever since you went missing...”
“Did you remarry?”
“No.”
“Neither did I,” Shelby said.
“I know.”
“Come with me to my place. It’s not very comfortable, but it’s safe.”
“Where is your place?”
“I’ll have to show you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Stop being a big baby!” Lily said. She had Sully’s right foot braced between her thighs, the balls of his canoe-length foot resting against the small tube of belly fat below her navel, which thankfully was covered with a bloody towel. Sully winced at every movement. He ground his teeth and his brows furrowed in pain. She had already dosed him with hydrogen peroxide in an effort to boil out any residue from the shoe. Skillet’s bullet had passed through the top of Sully’s faux-leather shoe, through his cotton sock and through the skin and tissue beneath and through the narrow gap between his right third and fourth metatarsal— perhaps widening that space a tad—before exiting the delicate skin on the underside of his foot and lodging in the neoprene of his shoe. That is to say that it hurt like bloody hell from the first instant, and would not stop hurting until either the six aspirin she’d given him began to take effect or until he passed out.
Lily held a capful of isopropyl alcohol in one steady hand and held Sully’s foot down against her crotch with the other. It was the first time in more than ten years that a man had been so close to her womanhood, and the exotic thrill of it made her tingle in all the wrong places. “This is the final treatment. It’s going to hurt like the devil. Ready?” she said.
Sully clenched his teeth and compressed his lips in expectation for what he knew was coming and gave her a single nod.
Lily poured the capful and reached for the cotton batting with a lightning quick hand. The foot came off or her lap and narrowly missed her chin.
Sully shrieked. The chair beneath him nearly toppled backwards, but Lily grabbed his leg and brought it back down. She suppressed the smile that threatened to spread over her face. Sully wouldn’t have understood it if he saw it. It would have been impolite, given the circumstances.
She stuffed the cotton batting into the hole, grabbed more and stuffed it in after.
Sully shook from stem to stern. His eyes started to roll back in his head and she slapped his leg. “Don’t you dare pass out on me! I have something to tell you. Something important.”
“Wha...ow...what...is it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Fuck. Yes, what?”
“Don’t you use that kind of language in my house, buster.”
“Yes what?”
Sully’s eyes fluttered. Maybe it was the aspirin beginning to take effect.
“Stay with me, Sully.”
“I’m here.”
“Starting to feel better?”
“Yeah. A little. Probably need to change my drawers.”
“That’s not funny,” she said. “Like I said...Yes.”
“Yes to what?”
“You once asked me to marry you.”
“I asked you fifty thousand times. Every time you said no.”
“I know. But what you did tonight—protecting Rachel like that. I’ll marry you, Sully Kross. If you’ll have me.”
“Does that mean you’re over Ben? After all these years?”
“Ben’s been dead for thirty years. I was never in love with him anyway.”
“You’re crazy,” Sully said.
“Of course I am. I just said yes to you.”
“You mean it?”
The shaking was over and he began to quiet down. She held his foot in both of her soft hands. Held it almost lovingly.
Lily nodded.
“I have a confession to make.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been in love with Rachel since she was about sixteen.”
Lily laughed. “Of course you have. She’s a beautiful girl. But you loved me once.”
“Yeah. Now I mostly hate you.”
“I know. But do you still love me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then...do you want to ask me something?”
“Yeah. Will you marry me, Lily? Make me an honest man?”
“Yes, Sully. I’ll marry you.”
“Good.” He nodded slowly. “Do you think you can wrap my foot? I’ve got to go follow Rachel. She may need my help.”
“You’re taking a few days off. I’ll have a talk with Rachel over the phone and see if she needs your help right now. You said she left with the FBI fellow?”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m sure she’s going to be fine. You’re staying home with me tonight.”
“Where will I sleep?” he asked.
“In my bed, with me, you big, dumb doofus.”
“I love you, Lily.”
“I love you too.”
Shelby got out of the car with some difficulty and onto the gravel parking lot.
The outside light came on above the office and the door opened.
“Shit,” Shelby said. Squire stepped down gingerly from the car. Up front, Rachel and Billy Strongbow got out.
Billy Strongbow took a look at the black man standing in the doorway of the storage facility office and smiled.
“Mr. Payne,” he said.
“Agent Strongbow,” Sheppard said.
“Wait a minute,” Shelby said. “You two know each other.”
“Yes we do, Danel,” Sheppard said.
Billy Strongbow, on the verge of stepping forward and shaking Sheppard’s hand, instead stopped in his tracks.
“No,” he said.
“No what?” Shelby asked.
“No, not Danel. Shelby. Shelby Knight.”
“Not so loud,” Rachel whispered.
“I think you white folks better come on in here,” Sheppard said.
Billy nodded slowly. He moved to the door as Sheppard stood aside and held it open. “I’m not white,” he said. “I’m an Indian.”
“When did you know?” Billy asked Rachel.
There were now four chairs and four seated individuals around Sheppard Payne’s desk. Two of the chairs had be brought in from the junk room that Shelby should have cleared out a week prior.
“I suspected when I saw the news broadcast,” Rachel said. “But I knew for sure the moment I asked you to wait in the car.”
“Wait a minute,” Sheppard said. “What news broadcast?”
“The White Knight was in front of the TV cameras tonight at the State Capitol,” Billy said. “A bit of minor celebrity will likely ensue.”
“Shit,” Shep
pard said.
“Sorry,” Shelby said. The plate armor, shield and sword lay against the wall near the hallway to the do-jo. He still wore chainmail. It was not too terribly heavy, and was surprisingly comfortable.
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Rachel said.
“Well,” Billy said, “I would get on the phone right now and turn yourself in, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He hates him too,” Rachel said.
“Hates who?” Sheppard asked.
“Quinn Thompson,” Billy, Rachel and Shelby said in unison.
Sheppard’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Who the hell is Quinn Thompson?”
“That’s a long story,” Shelby said.
“And all you white folks—”
“White folks and one Indian,” Billy said.
“All you cowboys and Indians are going to do...what?”
“Somebody tried to kill Rachel earlier today.”
“This is Rachel your wife, right?”
“Ex-wife,” Rachel and Shelby said together.
“I think all of you people need counseling,” Sheppard said. “Getting divorces, running from the law—”
“Harboring a fugitive,” Billy said.
“Harboring a fugitive...wait a minute. You mean me. Okay. So maybe I need counseling too. Running from the law. Doing interviews with reporters. And now you’re what, gonna get your own TV show? Maybe it could be a reality show. You could call it ‘Weird Austin.’ And what about you?” Sheppard asked Billy.
“What about me?”
“You gonna be in on the reality show?”
“Shut up, Mr. Payne,” Billy said. “Okay, look. I don’t think there’s enough room here for everybody to sleep. And—”
“Oh laws,” Sheppard said. “Here it comes. I ain’t sleepin’ here, and that’s for sure. I had to sleep here for twelve years. I got my own house now, thank you very much. And there ain’t enough room for the three of you to stay here.”
“I’m not staying here,” Billy said. “I’ve got a comfortable hotel room. Before anybody decides what to do about anything, I have a question for the White Knight.”
“Go ahead,” Shelby said.
“Okay. Did you kill Richard Moore?”
Shelby looked carefully at the FBI Agent. “No. I didn’t.”
“All right. So you didn’t kill him. Do you know who did?”
“I do not.”
“Why did you run?”
“Because it was apparent to me that I had no alibi, that I was about to be jailed on a warrant, and I wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing for myself. I have zero money for bail and I’ve narrowly missed having my house foreclosed on a number of times. I decided that it was best for me to avoid the whole jail thing completely. There was no other way out.”
Billy nodded. “Okay. So you didn’t kill him. You’re innocent and you have no idea who did.”
“I didn’t say I had no idea,” Shelby said. “I said that I didn’t know.”
“Okay. I guess that’s technically correct. So who do you suspect?”
“I don’t know who to suspect, but I believe that my good friend, Quinn, is in this somehow up to his eyeballs.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Me too.”
“So,” Sheppard said. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. “Now what?”
Billy pursed his lips and everyone waited. “Okay. Rachel, you stay here. I’ll bring your things from the hotel. Are there any decent beds back there?”
“No,” Shelby said. “Just my cot and the cushioned floor mats.”
“So I’ll see if I can find an air mattress or something for tonight while I’m collecting Rachel’s things. This is now a full-fledged federal investigation. And because of that, I’m calling in a few assets.”
“Assets,” Sheppard said. “You mean more white people.”
Rachel began to protest, but Billy raised his hand. “I at least want someone in a car down the block watching this place. Maybe another one on the side street keeping an eye on the back and side fence. In the meantime, I think I can start putting some pressure on our man Quinn.”
“Let him do it, Rach,” Shelby said.
Rachel slowly nodded.
“It’s settled then,” Billy said.
Sheppard sighed and leaned back again in his chair.
Squire put her feet up on Rachel’s leg and she reached and hefted the puppy up.
“I love your dog, Shel,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I don’t want a vigilante on the streets of Austin,” Quinn Thompson said into the phone.
He listened to the voice and conjured images of strangling the man. He waited for the man to finish, then said, “Listen, Mayor. I’m a professional at this. Right now it’s all media bullshit and everybody’s talking about it. But let me tell you, that worm will turn. The first person this Sir Danel stabs with that sword in the name of doing what is right, this whole thing is going to backfire on you.”
The mayor took his turn.
“No, I haven’t read it,” Quinn said.
He listened some more, growing tired of arguing with the man.
“I’m sure it’s an excellent code. Okay, creed. Yes. I promise I’ll read it as soon as I can get a copy. No, I’d rather not talk to the man. Mayor, my mind is not closed and I—”
Quinn Thompson frowned and slowly set the phone on its cradle. “Why is everybody hanging up on me these days?”
Quinn picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory.
“Hello?” a man answered.
“I think we have a problem.”
There was a long pause. “What’s the problem?”
“That Strongbow guy who is investigating the Moore killing is now demanding all the data on Shelby. The only thing is, the files have been purged from our system, including the personnel records and especially the Holloway shooting. I think this Fed already has them. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Is he in Austin?”
“Yes,” Quinn said.
There was another pause, this one not quite as long. “Tell you what. You sit tight and let me handle everything. You may not like what’s about to happen, but you will live with it. You will roll with the punches, do you understand?”
“What are you going to do?” Quinn asked. His voice was nervous, and it nearly broke in exasperation.
“Calm down. Don’t you worry about what I’m going to do. I’m going to clean up your mess. But it is going to cost you.”
“Look, it’s not my mess. It’s your mess. By the way, are you and your brother still selling illegal guns?”
“So, you figured that one out. How long have you known?”
“Long enough. I should have hung you out to dry when I had the chance.”
The other man laughed. “But now we’re in bed together.”
“I hate that euphemism. I am not nor ever have been in bed with you. Technically speaking, I’m your superior. I won’t be tied to you in any way when you fall, and I think you will fall.”
“Shut up,” the man said calmly. “If you say another word, they will be the last words of a dead man.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. He began to turn in his chair towards the window.
“Don’t bother looking out your window. You’ll only present a better target.”
Quinn froze.
“That’s better. I only want to hear one more word from you before this conversation ends, and that’s the answer to a question. Here’s the question. Will you do as I have instructed?”
Sweat beaded up on Quinn Thompson’s brow. His face flushed and the back of his neck felt as though it was aflame. The window was right there, but he dared not look. Quinn swallowed. “Yes,” he said.
“Good. You can hang up and go home now. Goodbye.”
He sat for a moment, breathing slowly. Then he got up, removed his jacket from the back of the door and slipped it on, turned the light off in h
is office and made his way down to the parking garage. He got into his car and turned it on, and drove slowly home. The night around him passed in a surrealistic, almost telescopic blur.
“Will you get a load of this shit,” Gil said to Skillet.
Gil was looking nominally better, which was to say that his face no longer exactly resembled a plum. Gil was missing two molars and his jaw was still somewhat swollen, but the black and blue was starting to fade. Now he merely looked as if someone had beaten the crap out of him.
He had picked Skillet up that afternoon and the two had spent the better part of the time watching old action movies on Netflix in Gil’s temporary apartment, while Gil awaited further instructions. They would need to be ready to head out at a moment’s notice.
Gil had gotten up to heat up something on the stove, and so Skillet got the remote and flipped over to regular television and caught a late-night newscast, which was mostly likely a repeat of the seven o’clock newscast.
“What is it?” Gil called from the kitchen.
“We’ve got a knight in Austin.”
“We’ve got a what?”
“A knight. One them guys wearing metal and waving around a frog-sticker.”
“You mean a medieval knight. Maybe there’s a renaissance festival in town.”
“Naw. Come watch this, boss. This guy is crazy.”
Gil stepped into the living room and watched a repeat of the broadcast from the steps of the Texas State Capitol.
When it was over, Skillet muted the television and looked up at Gil.
Gil shook his head. “There’s all kinds of crazies running around. That guy looks like he’s dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Skillet said. “Mutha fucka crazy.”
“Stop talkin’ like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you were raised in the ghetto.”
“That’s where I’m from.”
“But there’s not reason to talk like it. I gotta get back to the kitchen. If the phone rings, make sure it doesn’t get to the third ring. If you have to, answer it and hand it to me, but don’t say a damned word.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And stop calling me boss.”
“Okay, b—okay, Gil.”
“That’s better.”
Rachel looked down at Shelby’s cot, his lone pillow and his covers, then at the books and notebooks scattered around. “Nice accommodations,” she said. “You live here now.”
