by David Berens
“Capiche, compadre.” Troy grinned at his mixed slang.
“What’s that?” Country didn’t get it. “Compadre?”
“Oh, um, it’s Spanish. Means friend.”
“Of course. I knew that. Aight, friend. I’ll call ya in a day or two with some details.”
“Hey, Country,” Troy said, before the man hung up. “Say, I might need a place to crash for a while after tonight. You know of anything?”
“Aw, shit.” Troy could hear a smile in Country’s voice. “The little lady done got mad and is throwin’ ya out. Is that it?
“Uh, yeah. Somethin’ like that.”
“Don’t you worry, brother. I’ll check around, see if I can find you a room. And hell, if we cain’t, you can come crash on the couch at my place. Cool, compadre?”
“Cool.”
Troy hung up and chugged the first Corona. His head hurt trying to piece together all that was happening. Meet a beautiful girl working as a maid at the Airbnb. Girl disappears without a trace—presumably from the house. House is owned by Senator Boonesborough. Boonesborough is heading up McCorker campaign. Country works for them doing … what? Running drugs? Guns? Troy sat up. Human trafficking?
“Nah,” he said, lying back down. “Probably not that.”
He opened his second beer and glanced up and down at the soaked beach. Even in the storm, it was a beautiful place.
“Hell, I could be governor of Massachusetts,” he said. “Then again, I ain’t got no money.”
Money. It was all about money. He’d almost worked out the whole circle of guns, drugs, money, and politicians by the time he’d finished his sixth beer. He decided not to think about it for a few minutes and rest his eyes. The rain on the porch roof and the crashing surf lulled him to sleep in seconds. It also covered the distant sound of screaming.
“What’s that? What time is it?” Troy bolted upright.
The sky was clear, but it was still dark. Seagulls were starting to squawk and yell. Yell? What the heck is that sound? He rolled out of the hammock and opened the screen door. There was definitely a strange moaning sound that was not a seagull. He took the steps down to the sand and stopped to listen. Someone was crying.
He started walking faster, trying to follow the sound. His pulse thrummed in his neck, and his breath became shallow.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
The moaning sound got louder. It was muffled, but he could tell it was coming from one of the beach cabanas. He jogged over to them and found the voice was inside the middle one. He banged on the door. Prosperity’s voice groaned at him, and he could tell she was gagged. She sobbed and Troy pulled at the door. It wouldn’t budge.
He looked down to see a padlock holding the door shut. Dangit.
“Hold on, Prosperity,” he yelled. “I gotta get somethin’ to get this dang lock off. I’ll be right back.”
She cried out and his heart broke. But he ran back toward the stairs. He saw a small shovel tucked up underneath the wooden steps and grabbed it. With two good swings, he broke the lock and clasp away from the door. Prosperity was inside, laying on the floor, her hands tied behind her back with duct tape. Another piece of tape covered her mouth. She had a red bandana wrapped over her eyes. Troy tore it off and picked her up. He ran to the house, ignoring the pain in his knee and stumbled into the living room. He carefully pulled the tape away from her mouth and she cried out. He ripped the binding around her wrists and ankles and she fell into his arms, wracking sobs all over her body.
“You’re okay, darlin’,” he said, brushing his hand down the back of her head. “It’s all over. Ain’t nobody gonna get you again.”
She was ice cold. She shivered and gripped him tighter, her teeth chattering. They stayed that way for over an hour before she could speak.
“It was a guy I know from the club,” she said. “Santee Cooper. He locked me in the cellar.”
“The club? In the cellar? But I looked down there.”
“Tail Spinner strip club. I’m a waitress. And somebody moved me a couple of days ago. It wasn’t Santee though, but the man blindfolded me, so I couldn’t see who he was.”
“So, you work at a strip club?”
“Seriously, Troy?”
“Kiddin’.”
“Anyway, it’s all down there. Guns, drugs, money, everything.”
“In the cellar? But I didn’t see anything but household supplies.”
“It’s hidden. There’s a secret room. And ... the last maid is still down there.”
“Dang.”
“You’re telling me.”
Troy let it all process as he stood and paced around the living room.
“We have to stop them,” Prosperity said. “It’s Boonesborough and McCorker. They’re financing his campaign with cartel money. And now it’s turned into murder and kidnapping. Those men won’t let anything or anyone stop them.”
“A pretty simple operation, ain’t it?” Troy scratched his beard. “But something bigger is comin’. They keep tryin’ to recruit me for some big job.”
“They must need more money. McCorker is winning, but not by much. With only a week until the election, they must be gearing up for a big last minute push to the polls.”
“Well, that settles it,” Troy said. “Time to call the police.”
Prosperity nodded. Troy pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her.
“You have to make the call,” he said. “The um, local authorities actually might be onto me. I had a little run-in with ’em down at the Black Dog.”
”Oh, okay.” She took his phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
Prosperity Spartanburg opened her mouth to explain that they had discovered a political conspiracy involving drugs, guns, money, and murder, but then closed it. She wasn’t exactly sure all of that was relevant.
“There’s a dead body here!” she blurted out.
“What’s the address?”
She rattled off the address, looking at Troy. He arched an eyebrow and held up his palms. They could explain the rest when the cops got here.
“Are you sure the person is dead?”
“Yes. She’s been dead for a while.”
“So …” the operator sounded confused. “Okay. Wait. Is there a suspect on the scene?”
“No, um, I was kidnapped and put in a room in the basement and there was another dead woman down there. Just send someone out and we’ll tell them the rest.”
“Okay.” Now Prosperity heard doubt in the woman’s voice. “I’m dispatching police to your location. Please stay on the line with me until—”
Prosperity hung up before the woman could say anything else. The phone immediately rang again and she clicked it off.
“Well,” she said to Troy. “They’re on the way.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you show me where this all went down before they get here.”
“Downstairs.” She pointed down the hall to the door to the cellar.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “How ’bout I just take a quick look-see? You stay up here till the cops arrive.”
She shook her head yes, and he disappeared down the hall.
It was a stroke of luck that Jed Manning was on duty and available to the call leading him out to the Boonesborough house to check into what the dispatcher called “a crazy lady saying she had a dead body in the cellar.”
Jed agreed with her and had laughed it off, blaming it on a young woman who probably overdid her first day on vacation. He told the dispatcher he was happy to check it out and take care of any revelers he found on the scene. He put the receiver down and immediately called Country.
“Hey, hillbilly,” he said. “I think our girl has escaped.”
“How’n the damn hell’d she do that?”
“No clue.” Jed spat tobacco juice out his open window. “But this is getting ridiculous. I need you to come with me. Let’s get this girl out of the house for good. Wh
atever you’ve got planned, it’s time to implement.”
“Well, I don’t know if I can make it happen right now. What about tomorrow?”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Jed, Dateline’s on and I need to see who killed this woman on here.”
“Dammit, Country,” he smacked his steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “It’s the husband or the boyfriend. It’s always the husband or the boyfriend.”
“Aw, shit, man,” Country whined. “Why’d you have to go and ruin it fer me?”
“Are you freakin’ ...” Jed started. “Never mind. Get your ass up and get whatever you need to take this girl out of WB’s house and make her disappear. I’ll be at your house in five.”
14
The Biggest Balls Of All
Prosperity peeked out the window by the front door to see the blue lights tearing up the driveway.
“Troy? They’re here,” she called, but got no answer. He was probably still downstairs.
The car skidded up in the drive, throwing pea gravel all over the front steps. That seemed a bit strange for a call about a dead body. There wasn’t much cause to be in that big of a hurry. She wondered if it was just her nerves, or maybe she was still in shock from being held captive for so long, but she didn’t feel right about this. She backed away from the window and watched as the cop got out of the car. And when his passenger got out, she felt the blood in her veins go ice cold. She tripped over the rug in the foyer and fell backward and let out a yelp. She propped herself up on her elbows to see the silhouettes of the two men step onto the porch.
“Troy!” she yelled.
Still no answer. And then it hit her. If he had found the drug room and gone inside, it was soundproof. One of the men reached down and turned the doorknob, but it was still locked. He jiggled it angrily and for a second, she felt relief. That disappeared when she heard the jangle of keys.
Shit, she thought. Of course they have keys. She crab-walked backwards away from the door, but she wasn’t fast enough. It flew open and the two men rushed in.
“Well, well, well,” Country said. “If’n it ain’t my little sexy maid girl.”
“Screw you, you asshole,” Prosperity said, turning over and getting to her knees.
“Not so fast, stupid bitch,” the cop said.
“Hey now, Jed,” Country said, a hint of anger sneaking into his voice. “She might be stupid, but she ain’t no bitch.”
“Whatever, dumbass,” Jed said. “Let’s get her in the car.”
Prosperity’s elbow bumped into something and the urn in the foyer that held umbrellas spilled over next to her. As Country leaned over to pick her up, she grabbed the first thing her hand touched and swung it up between his legs as hard as she could. The umbrella, which happened to have a detailed wooden handle carved in the shape of a duck, struck Country and made him let out what could only be described as a bark.
“Ow, shit!” he yelled as he clutched his crotch. “You are a stupid bitch!”
Prosperity leapt up and ran. She bumped into the couch and tumbled over it into the space between the coffee table and the recliner.
“Get out of the way,” Jed yelled.
She heard his footsteps coming closer and almost jumped up to bolt toward the back door.
“Where’d she go?” Country demanded.
“I didn’t see her.” Jed’s footsteps clomped past the couch and down the hall. “What the hell? She disappeared.”
“Did she go out the back?”
“No. I didn’t hear the door.”
“So she’s in the house.”
“Well done, Sherlock,” Jed said. “Stay there. Watch the doors. If anything moves, frickin’ shoot it.”
Prosperity held her breath. Tears leaked from her eyes and she was afraid Country would hear them hit the wood floor. She heard the sound of Jed’s muffled footsteps go upstairs. Where the hell is Troy? She thought about yelling out, but then Country would know exactly where she was ... and apparently he had a gun.
The house grew quiet, and she could hear Country’s jaw smacking on something. He was so close, she thought he might be leaning over the back of the couch. She was propped on her elbows and her left hand was going to sleep. Pins and needles began stabbing her fingertips. She had to move.
She pulled her right hand up under her and started to push. The softest pop of her left wrist jabbed into the near silence. Dammit.
“Hey!” Country said. “I hear ya, Prosperity. I knows yer in here.”
She froze in a half push-up. His footsteps walked around the couch and into the living room. Using the sound to mask her movement, she eased herself under the coffee table. Her feet were sticking out, but at least they were at the opposite end from her kidnapper.
“Why don’t ya come out and save yerself a whole heap of trouble. It’s gonna go bad for you if you make this harder than it needs to be.”
She tried to breathe slow and easy. C’mon, Troy. Damn. What the hell is he doing?
Jed’s feet clomped back into the room. “I’m going to check downstairs.”
Prosperity realized that the cop was going to find Troy maybe unaware that anyone was in the house. As far as she knew, they didn’t know he was here. And if they got Troy, she knew she was as good as dead. She had to make a break for it.
She saw Country’s feet walk around the table, only inches from her face, and slowly eased herself out of his line of sight. The recliner creaked loudly as Country plopped down into it.
“Bitch!” he yelled into the air. “We know yer in here. Come on out!”
Prosperity rolled over so she was facing up and realized she’d moved forward, her head popping out from under the table. She was looking up at the ceiling fan creeping around.
“Shut up,” Jed called. “I need to be able to hear.”
Prosperity wasn’t sure, but she thought he was headed toward the cellar door. I have to distract them. Lead them away from Troy. That’s my only hope.
She put her palms on the bottom of the coffee table. In one swift motion, she shoved upward on the table, sat upright and flipped it over onto Country.
It flew end over end and smacked Country in the face. He must’ve been holding his gun with his finger on the trigger, because it went off, sending splinters of the table flying toward her. Thankfully, his shot went high, shattering the light under the fan. The room was thrown into darkness.
“Sonofabitch!” he yelled.
“Country? What the hell was that?” Jed’s voice preceded the sound of him running back toward the living room. “You find her?”
“Shit no,” he said, hurling the table to the side. “She found me.”
Go, Prosperity. Run! The voice in her head was right. She took two steps toward the back door, nearly making it outside. But before she could, another gunshot blasted past her and shattered the sliding door into a rainshower of glass.
“Freeze!” Jed shouted. “I’ll frickin’ shoot you.”
Why hadn’t he shot her already? Probably trying not to get any blood on anything up here.
“Just shoot her,” Country yelled, stumbling around trying to get up out of the recliner. “Bitch broke my nose with the coffee table.”
The breeze from the newly open door blew past her, making her hair flutter around her face. It’s so close. I could probably get out if I could distract them. But how?
Country’s silhouette bumped into Jed and she heard the cop swear under his breath. Now she had two guns pointed at her.
“Okay, okay. Don’t shoot. I’ll come with you. Just don’t kill me.”
“Oh, it’s gonna be worse than that now, bitch,” Country yelled, his gun shaking in the dark. “Die!”
Somehow, Jed must have realized that Country was going to pull his trigger, because he slammed his arm under Country’s, sending it flying upward. The gun fired and finished off the struggling ceiling fan. It let loose from the ceiling and slammed down on top of the two men. Prosperity bolted toward the broken
sliding door and jumped through.
Unfortunately, she forgot that there was a screen outside the glass. It wasn’t enough to stop her completely, but it tripped her up and she fell through, crashing down onto the deck floor. Bits of glass dug into her palms and knees.
“Girl, you better freeze right there, or I’m gonna blow your brains all over the beach.”
She couldn’t move. She tried to crawl, but there was glass everywhere. She could feel blood start trickling down her palms, and her knees hurt like hell. Hands wrapped around her biceps and she was lifted off the ground and jerked backward back into the house. She screamed out into the ocean air.
“Shut the hell up!” Jed squeezed harder.
Pain lanced up through her arms. He shoved her down onto the couch and pulled his tie off his neck then wrapped it around her head and tied it into a makeshift gag. He unclasped his handcuffs and clicked them onto her wrists.
“Jed,” Country hissed. “I think I saw a car pullin’ in.”
“Dammit,” Jed whispered. “It’s probably backup. We’ve been in here too long. They probably sent another car out. Wait here. Let me get rid of them. And don’t take your eyes off the girl.”
Country nodded and raised his gun to point it at Prosperity.
Jed stomped toward the door, and she heard him having a conversation with someone he apparently knew. After a minute, the other voice said something and she heard a car door close. Then the car started and drove away. Prosperity would have cried, but she had gone past that. Now she was mad. She guessed they were probably going to kill her anyway, so she decided to take another chance at getting away.
She looked up at Country, and winked at him. At first, he looked surprised. She arched her back and moaned, summoning all the memories of how the girls at the club did it.
“Alright. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he said, leaning over her. “How’s about I take that gag off and we get a little frenchin’ in before he gets back.”
He stuffed his gun into his waistband and as he leaned closer, Prosperity raised both feet up and slammed them into his chest. At least, she was trying to hit his chest. But her feet were heavier than she’d planned and she ended up kicking him with both feet in the crotch.
