by H. P. Bayne
“See what you made me do?” he said. “You see?”
Dez was still yelling his name, and Sully hoped the sound had gone unnoticed by Carson. Dez needed proof Sully was still alive, and Sully needed to know whether he’d stay that way.
“Are you going to kill me too?” he asked. Immediately, the phone quieted.
“Let’s go,” Carson said, using his gun hand to wave Sully toward him.
“Where?”
“We’re going for a little ride.”
The sound of sirens screamed in the distance as Sully sat rigidly in the passenger seat of Carson’s high-end car, the rail yard disappearing into the distance in the side view mirror.
Carson had forced him to empty his pockets before leaving the lunchroom. Sully’s phone was lying there on the floor, next to Norm’s body. Not only did it mean he was without means to call for help or alert Dez and Lachlan to his location and situation, it also helped Carson to put a plan into action.
“You’re going to take the heat for this,” he’d told Sully at gunpoint before they’d left the reception building.
Now, speeding away from the scene of his latest homicide, Carson produced a zip tie from the front pocket of his jacket. He dropped it onto Sully’s lap. “Tie your left hand to the bar next to the door handle.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask questions. Just do it.”
The gun rested in Carson’s lap, clutched in his left hand with barrel trained on Sully’s middle. Sully didn’t know much about guns, but he could tell this wasn’t a small-calibre handgun. From this angle, a bullet from that thing would shred his guts. If it didn’t kill him quickly, he’d wish it had.
He obeyed, placing his left wrist flush with the grab bar and, with some difficulty, zip tying the two together. He tried to leave himself a little space, enough he could pull his hand free if need be, but the tie wasn’t long enough to allow for it. The position meant he couldn’t reach the gun, nor put up a fight against Carson—at least for now.
“What are you going to do?” Sully asked.
“I checked into you and your colleagues after you came to see me,” he said. “Found out you’d made a couple of suicide attempts in the past.”
Ghost-induced suicide attempts, Sully added internally. No sense getting into it with Carson, though.
“You’re going to set this up to make it look like I killed myself? That’s your plan? It won’t fly. The people who know me know I’m not suicidal.”
“But you just killed a man. That would make you want to do yourself in.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re splattered with Norm’s blood already. All I need is to put the gun in your hands.”
“I’m not going to shoot myself, if that’s what you’re thinking. And just so you know, I’m not going down easy. You get close enough to try to force me to shoot myself, you’re going to have one hell of a problem.”
Carson carried on as if Sully hadn’t spoken. “There’s a freight train due to leave right about now.”
“Which you’re supposed to be helping with.”
“They’ll manage without me. They usually do. The train will come through Edge Creek shortly after you and I arrive. You’re going to be under it.”
Sully turned wide eyes on Carson. “Seriously? You’re going to try to kill me the same way you did Tim? And you think that’s going to work?”
Carson’s expression was just this side of madness, a humourless grin splitting his face. “It worked before. Why wouldn’t it?”
Sully suspected Carson wasn’t expecting an answer.
“Norm said you killed Tim because you were afraid he was going to blackmail you,” Sully said. “Over what?”
“None of your business.”
“Humour me. I’m going to die anyway, right?”
Carson remained silent. Sully decided he’d have to goad the man a little.
“You didn’t have a real reason, did you? You killed him over nothing.”
Carson’s head snapped toward Sully, then back to the windshield. “He was going to set me up. I know it. Bastard said he found a discrepancy in our financial records. Therrien had missed it, but Whitebear caught it. Made it sound like he was doing me a favour by coming to me before going to the police.”
“What kind of discrepancy?”
“Like I said, none of your business.”
“You’ve already murdered two people, and you’re about to kill a third. I don’t think an accounting issue is your biggest problem right now.”
Carson’s silence suggested he was considering this. “Why is it so important for you to know?”
“I’m an investigator. It’s my job.”
Another short stretch of silence. When Carson broke it, Sully knew he’d won this small battle. “Two people had signing authority on cheques: Whitebear and me. Both of our signatures were needed. Therrien was sloppy, but I’d hoped Whitebear either missed it or would ignore it. Therrien’s job was to go through the deposits and payments at tax time, just to ensure everything was in order. I figured I could slip a few payments past him.”
“Illegal payments,” Sully said.
“The company owed me. Head office cut managers’ pay a year earlier. There’d been a rail strike, which had seriously cut into profits. Then I found out bastards in corporate gave themselves a huge bonus. Retention bonus they called it. Far as I was concerned, if they figured they had it coming, managers did too. So, yeah, I cut myself a few cheques to make up the difference.”
“And you forged Tim’s signature.”
“Had to. No way he would have agreed to it. Anyway, I was trying to keep him out of it, in case something went sideways.”
“So that’s all? You just wrote yourself cheques for the difference?”
“I’m done talking about this. Shut up.”
The abrupt end to the conversation suggested strongly there was far more to Carson’s transgressions than a few cheques to earn back his previous wage. Chances were good he’d gotten a taste for fraud and the extra money that came with it, so invented reasons to continue. Tim, with an eagle eye for accounting and a desire to do the right thing, quickly became a serious liability.
Now the liability was Sully.
He tugged gently on the zip tie, testing it. It didn’t budge, save to dig into his skin. He wasn’t getting out of it without something to cut it.
He turned back to the conversation, to the remaining questions he had. “How’d you pull it off, exactly? Someone had to overpower Tim, and you’re not really the biggest guy.”
Carson sniffed. “Big enough.”
“So you knocked him out and forced the booze down his throat?”
Carson’s eyes snapped onto Sully’s. “How the hell’d you know about that?”
“Did you do it?”
Carson shook his head. “I hired someone. I wasn’t getting my hands dirty. Not like that. Figured there was a chance of being seen. I knew Will Pembroke had the hots for Tim’s wife and a real hate-on for Tim. Plus he’s a money-hungry bastard. Not much the snake won’t do for a buck. Problem is, he doesn’t have enough skill or talent to rise to the top in any profession. Once I waved the money in his face and told him he could slide into Shelby’s life after, he signed on. In the end, he did almost everything—knocked him out, brought him to the yard, pumped the booze into him, drove his car out to Edge Creek. He did everything save put Tim physically on the track. He chickened out when it got to that point. I had to do it myself.”
Sully thought back to Lachlan’s suspicion Shelby might be holding something back on purpose. “Does Shelby know what Will did?”
“No idea. If she does, nothing’s come of it.”
“And you’re not afraid Will might say something?”
“If he does, he’d implicate himself. He’s got too much to lose. I thought Norm did too.”
“Norm already lost everything,” Sully said. “He lost his job afterward; he lost his family
—”
“But not his freedom. I figured as long as he believed he’d face prison time for his role in Tim’s death, things would be fine. And he’s an ornery bugger, so he’s got no one much to talk to, anyway. Hadn’t counted on how yappy he’d be when drunk.”
One last thing nagged at Sully. “And the vandalism? Tim’s car was spray-painted shortly before his death.”
“That neo-Nazi was in town back then, stirring up shit. Figured if someone pegged Tim’s death as murder, we could make a case some hopped-up racist must have come after him. Therrien was a weasel, and he was into that garbage back then. If all else failed, I figured we could point a finger at him.”
“Why promote him if you dislike him so much?” Sully asked.
Carson didn’t answer, and it took Sully only another couple of seconds to clue in. “You’re still defrauding the company.”
Carson lifted his hand from the steering wheel to raise a finger. “Not defrauding. Taking what I’m owed.”
The turn to the Edge Creek crossing was just ahead. Sully knew right away because Tim was there, waiting for them, standing along the edge of the highway like a guard manning a post.
“I haven’t been out here in years,” Carson said. His tone was somber, as if he’d suddenly found reason for regret.
He slowed as he reached the turn, and Sully held Tim’s eye out the car window as they turned beside him. Carson reached the bank of trees and rolled to a stop, almost exactly where Tim’s car had been found seventeen years back.
Sully had thought through the upcoming moment multiple times on the drive out. Carson would have to either cut Sully free himself or hand him something to use to cut free. Either way, it would give Sully an advantage, if he was fast enough to make use of it.
Carson, though, wasn’t making it easy. Gun still in hand, he slid out of the driver’s seat first, then dug in his pocket for something. Sully had been hoping for a knife. Carson instead produced a set of nail clippers.
Sully’s heart sank.
Carson tossed the item to Sully so it landed on his lap. “Cut free and get out. If you make me shoot you in the car, I’ll tell the cops you carjacked me.”
As he had multiple times on the drive, Sully considered telling Carson that Dez and Lachlan had overheard the confession, making it pointless to commit another murder. Once again, he killed the idea. Carson wouldn’t be dissuaded easily; Sully knew too much. But keeping quiet about Dez and Lachlan might be enough to keep them safe—at least long enough for them to go to police and put the wheels in motion for Carson’s arrest.
For now, Sully was on his own.
Or on his own with a ghost. Tim stood next to Carson, waiting next to the passenger side door as Sully snipped at the tough plastic with the clippers. Sully had no idea if Tim could hear him at this distance if he spoke quietly, but he tried anyway.
“I could really use a hand right now, Tim,” he muttered. He cast another quick glance out the window.
Tim gave a slow nod.
A tiny spurt of relief moved through Sully. How the ghost could help him, he had no idea. But right now, he’d take whatever help he could get.
One more snip and the zip tie snapped. Sully took a moment to rub at his wrist, but stopped short at a sharp rap on his window. Carson and his gun were waiting.
Sully took as deep a breath as he could manage and opened the car door.
Dez slammed on the brakes as he reached the entrance to the east rail yard.
A police cruiser guarded the entrance, lights flashing, while two more cars had positioned themselves just inside the gate, next to the office’s front entrance. Dez imagined another vehicle sat on the back of the reception building, ensuring no comings and goings that way.
The officer guarding the front stepped from her car as Dez pulled up. As recognition dawned, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or concerned.
“That’s your wife, isn’t it?” Lachlan asked.
Dez nodded dumbly, then pulled himself from the vehicle to meet her embrace.
“Came as soon as I heard,” she said, her voice muffled into his coat.
The question was there, the one Dez didn’t want to ask. “Is Sully inside?”
Eva’s head shook against his chest before she pulled away to look up into his eyes. “No. He’s not here. Neither is O’Keefe. Norm Phelan’s dead though. And they found Sully’s phone, wallet, pocketknife and apartment keys. They asked me to identify them.”
“Have you found O’Keefe’s car?”
“No, but we’ve reviewed surveillance video. Nothing over the back door, but one mounted out front shows his car leaving and turning left onto the street. One of the employees ID’d the car for us.”
“Could you see anyone inside?” Dez asked.
“No way to tell from the angle and distance. Sorry.”
Dez nodded and blew out a breath. “God. What the hell do we do now?”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Eva said. “Major Crimes is on the way, and Forbes can’t take this one because of Sully’s involvement. They’re going to want to take you in for questioning, given you overheard Norm’s murder.”
Lachlan stepped to Eva’s side and produced a digital recorder. “Overheard and recorded. Take this and give it to whoever comes calling. Your hubby and I don’t have time to stick around here and answer questions right now. I’ve got a missing associate to find.”
Eva gave Dez a parting hug. “Don’t do anything crazy, all right? And for God’s sake, if you clue in to where they are, don’t confront them alone. Call it in immediately and wait for backup, you hear me?”
Dez agreed and returned at a jog to the vehicle. The problem wasn’t hearing Eva’s warning; it would be obeying it. If it precluded keeping Sully alive, waiting was the one thing he wouldn’t do.
18
The sun had set. The early evening carried a chill. Nothing to hear in this quiet place but the crunch of footsteps through snow and the crackling of the ice on the nearby creek.
That and the approaching rumble of a train.
Sully walked ahead of Carson, ever-conscious of the gun’s presence. Carson had kept a few steps back, far enough to avoid a possible struggle. He had the upper hand as long as he held the weapon and avoided a fight. If it came to a hand-to-hand battle, Sully knew he stood a solid chance of coming out on top.
Problem would be getting Carson into a position to duke it out. With a gun, he had no need to get close enough to Sully to chance a physical confrontation. One bullet would solve all of his immediate concerns.
Of course, it would create a whole new one once police arrived to investigate. Train-caused injuries were one thing; it would be a lot harder for Carson to explain away the bullet wound in Sully’s back.
Sully resolved himself to remain faced away from Carson. “You realize if you shoot me in the back, you won’t be able to pass it off as self-inflicted, right? You can’t even put it down to self-defence.”
“Shut up,” was all Carson offered in response.
Sully reached the tracks and stopped. A quick glance right revealed no sign of the Edge Creek Light. Not at first anyway.
Then Tim appeared, hovering directly across the tracks from Sully. A flicker in Sully’s peripheral vision had him turning his gaze back down the track.
The light was there, a bright, unmoving orb in the distance.
“What the hell?” Carson muttered. “There’s not supposed to be a train coming in from the east for another hour.”
Sully resisted the urge to turn to face Carson. “You’ve never seen it, have you?”
“Seen what?”
“The Edge Creek Light. That’s it.” Sully returned his eyes to Tim’s. Tim held up a hand, palm out. Wait.
“I don’t believe in that crap,” Carson said.
“And yet you’re looking right at it.”
The rumble to Sully’s other side grew louder, more pronounced. Tim’s hand remained raised.
“You didn’t see
it the night you killed Tim?” Sully asked.
“Nope, but I didn’t stick around to sightsee.”
A bright light from the west told Sully the train—the physical one—had rounded the tracks.
“But you must have stuck around for a while, just to make sure.”
“I watched from the bushes, which is where I’ll be for you. Lie down on the tracks.”
“No.”
“Lie on the tracks!” Shouted words. A tone no employee would dare stand up to.
The man wasn’t signing Sully’s paycheques. “No!”
The train’s operator had sighted him. He knew when the horn blared.
Carson was screaming at him now, the sound inaudible over the continuing long blast from the horn. Sully didn’t need to hear to know what was being commanded. Didn’t matter. He was obeying one man now, a dead man who stood directly in front of him, palm still raised.
Wait.
Wait.
Sully held his breath.
The train whistle broke only for a second, long enough for Sully to make out a portion of Carson’s repeated demand.
The light from the oncoming train was huge. Just seconds left before it roared past.
Sully held his breath and watched Tim. He crouched, readying himself, knowing now what Tim intended.
Wait.
The horn blared one more time. Tim’s eyes widened. He turned his hand, rapidly beckoned toward himself.
Sully sprang. He thought he heard a shot ring out behind him, but it was impossible to say for sure over the rumble of the train, the blare of its horn and the sickening screech of brakes against the iron rail.
All that mattered now was the train between Sully and the man who intended to kill him.
He nodded his thanks to Tim, then looked to where the locomotive was disappearing into the distance, toward the Edge Creek Light. He could run for the engine, ask the men working there to call for help. But that would put them at risk if Carson found him there.
Woods stood on the other side of the creek. Sully could try to lose himself there. Chances were the men working in the locomotive would call this in anyway. They’d have to take the time to check the tracks to ensure the man they’d seen hadn’t ended up under the train. They’d provide a description, which would bring Dez, Lachlan and the police here.
