by JG Faherty
Eddie laughed. Outside, a peal of thunder shook the town. “You want me to tell Hank to make all nicey-nice? How do you think that’s gonna go?”
“Think of it as an episode of Scared Straight. Hank gets a look at his brother, shackled and probably somebody’s prison bitch. Maybe he thinks twice about ending up there himself.” Even as he said it, it was obvious Johnny Ray didn’t believe his own words. Hank – and any other Hell Rider – would give their left nut to transform themselves into the badass Ned had become. Even if it meant being locked away for a couple of years. Eddie figured Jones was trying to think fast on his feet, come up with something to cover the fact that he had no idea why he’d arranged for Ned’s visit.
Moselby shot his boss a look, one eyebrow raised. “That’s why you brought him here?”
Johnny Ray ignored him, continued staring at the person he believed to be Ned Bowman.
“Of course, if you don’t get your brother on the straight and narrow, then he’ll either end up in the loony bin or up at Everglades with you. You can be butt-buddies together.”
“Well, we can’t let Hank have all the fun. Tell you what. I’ll talk to him on one condition.”
Johnny Ray shook his head. “No conditions, Ned.”
“You ain’t even heard it yet! All I was gonna ask for was something to eat. Your boy grabbed me before breakfast and it looks like I ain’t gonna be home for lunch. Least you can do is feed me.”
“Damn it.”
Moselby looked at Johnny Ray. “What’s the matter?”
“Technically, we do have to feed the sonofabitch while he’s in our custody.”
Eddie clapped his hands. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. All I want is an order of gator nuggets from Rosie’s.”
“Gator nuggets?” Johnny Ray smiled. “That’s cheaper than the burger and fries you would have gotten. Ted, have Sharon place the order. The sooner he eats, the sooner we bring him to the hospital, and then you can drive his ass back to the pen.”
* * *
An hour later, a handcuffed Eddie found himself being led into the hospital room that housed Hank Bowman, who had one wrist and one ankle shackled to the bed. Other than looking haggard from lack of sleep, Hank appeared to be relatively coherent. Part of that stemmed from no drugs or alcohol in the past two days. But Eddie also knew Hank had a crafty side and was probably waiting to see his lawyer before he decided whether to fake an insanity plea or do time in jail.
When Hank saw his brother’s face, his eyes went wide.
“Ned? Jesus fucking Christ, what’re you doing here? I’m not dying, am I?”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Johnny Ray rolled his eyes at Hank. “No, you’re not dying, you idiot. I brought him here to talk some sense into you.”
“That’s right, you ain’t dyin’,” Eddie repeated. “but you’re gonna be, real soon.”
Johnny Ray and Ted Moselby both turned and stared at Eddie, who continued as if he didn’t notice their expressions.
“Heard you done fucked with the wrong person at the Laundromat,” Eddie said, enjoying the terror blossoming in Hank’s eyes.
“No!” Hank shouted. “That wasn’t me. Who told you that?”
“Oh, I heard it from a little birdie. Or was it a mouse?” Eddie let that sink in, and then went on. “In fact, I hear you been having a lotta problems lately. Takin’ things that don’t belong to you. Rattin’ me out to the cops. Lettin’ the club fall apart.”
Hank shook his head, his unwashed hair slapping the pillow like a damp mop. “Ned, no, it’s not like that. There’s shit goin’ on in this town, weird things happening—”
“Damn straight there is. I know all about it.” He stood up, and both Moselby and Jones went for their guns.
“Sit down, Ned.”
“Easy, Chief. I ain’t gonna hurt anyone. I just want to make a point.” He turned back to Hank. “I know everything. Like how you and Sandy Powell was gettin’ it on behind my back. And how you been havin’ blackouts lately, and dreamin’ about Eddie Ryder comin’ for you.”
“It’s you!” Hank’s neck bulged from the force of his scream. He pushed himself up in the bed, trying to put space between him and his brother. “Stay away from me!”
“Yeah, I know everything,” Eddie said, raising his voice above Hank’s cries. “And I know Eddie’s comin’ for you. Just like he came for me.”
“What the hell does Eddie Ryder have to do with anything?” Moselby asked, but no one answered him.
“Because Eddie’s the shit, man. He’s the motherfucking devil and he’s gonna make things right. Which means it’s time for me to leave. Say goodbye to Neddie. I gotta pay a visit to Jethro next. But you can bet your ass I’ll be back!”
With that, Eddie turned and sprinted toward the big window that was open to let in the late-morning breeze. Johnny Ray lunged for him but Ned’s body was too strong and he knocked him aside. Then the only thing between Eddie and a four-story fall to the parking lot was a piece of heavy screen, and Ned’s body went through it like it was paper as Eddie slipped free.
Hovering in the air on Diablo, he watched Ned tumble through the air and hit the blacktop, sending blood and brains in all directions.
With a laugh that rattled the windows, he rose up one floor and entered the hospital again.
Chapter Thirty
Johnny Ray had to shout, “Shut up!” three times at the top of his lungs before Hank Bowman stopped screaming. Two nurses ran in, and they started shouting as well when they went to the window and saw Ned’s body down on the pavement.
“What the fuck just happened?” Moselby asked, looking at the smashed, bloody remains of the Hell Riders’ founder.
Hank Bowman moaned and pulled the sheets over his head.
His thoughts whirling like house shingles in a hurricane, Johnny Ray just shook his head and stared at the corpse, as if it might rise up and do him a favor by explaining what the hell was going on in his town.
Ned had mentioned Eddie Ryder’s name. Why? Guilt over having him killed? That didn’t make sense. Ned Bowman wouldn’t feel guilty if he ran over his own grandmother. And what was all that shit about Eddie coming for Hank? It didn’t make any sense, but at the same time it almost seemed as if Hank knew what his brother had been talking about.
Well, that was one question he could get answered.
“Hank.” Johnny Ray touched a hand to Hank’s arm. Beneath the starched, stiff sheets, Hank thrashed and shouted for him to go back to where he came from.
“Hank, it’s just me. Chief Jones. Why did your brother say those things?” He had to repeat the question several times before Hank stopped crying and answered.
“He didn’t, he didn’t, it was him that did it.”
“Jesus.” Moselby joined him by the bed. “One’s crazier than the other.”
“I’m not crazy!” Hank peeked out from beneath the sheet. His mussed hair, wild eyes, and tear-streaked face were in direct contrast to his statement. “I’m not crazy,” he repeated, in a softer voice.
At that moment, a nurse pushed Jones aside and administered a sedative. In the space of two heartbeats, the tension left Hank’s face and his eyes drooped to half mast.
“You’ve got about two minutes before he’s asleep,” the nurse said.
Moselby crossed his arms and frowned. “He’s not going to say anything we can use. His brain is fried like bacon.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Johnny Ray leaned closer to Hank. “Hey, Hank,” he whispered, “why did Ned say Eddie was coming for you?”
“’Cause he is.” Hank’s eyes slowly closed but he kept talking, his words beginning to run together. “Already here. Been here for days haunting me at the clubhouse, taking away my memory and making me do things gonna kill me soon then maybe everyone else too he’s crazy he’s the devil he’s….”
The words faded away and Hank’s head tilted to one side. He started snoring.
Moselby shook his head. “Told you. It’s all those drugs. There’s nothing but Swiss cheese in his head.”
“Yeah.” Johnny Ray headed for the door, his mind awhirl worse than before.
Taking away my memory. Making me do things.
Like what happened to me last night?
* * *
Unaware of what was happening one floor below them, the nurses were doing rounds as usual when Eddie stumbled out of Jethro’s room, dragging the IV pump behind him. The morphine coursing through his veins made his movements slow and awkward, but Eddie managed to stagger down the hall to the stairwell.
“Sorry, gotta go!” he called out, his words garbled by Jethro’s swollen mouth and lack of teeth. “Time to make the donuts!”
Two nurses ran to intercept him and Eddie stopped, leaning against the wall so he wouldn’t fall over. Damn, this shit is good!
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed.” One of the nurses took him by the arm.
“Sorry, I’m outta here. Got other fish to fry.” Eddie yanked the IV needle from his wrist and shoved it straight into his eye. Even through the morphine-induced fog, the pain was incredible and he cried out. Hot, wet liquid flowed down his face and his other eye closed in reaction, leaving him blind.
The nurses screamed and he pushed past them at a run. “You haven’t seen the last of me!” he shouted. Then he hit the exit door. The needle rammed deeper, all the way into Jethro’s brain, at the same time his hip slammed into the metal bar. The door swung open and Jethro’s body, already dying, tumbled down the twelve stairs to the between-floors landing.
Halfway down, his neck snapped and Eddie slipped free, the pain mercifully gone.
“Another one bites the dust,” he said, and then gunned Diablo. The stairwell lights flickered and popped, showering sparks onto the twisted corpse.
“Now it’s time to set a mouse trap.”
* * *
By the time Johnny Ray finished at the hospital and got back to his desk, there was a shit-storm waiting to rain down on him and its name was Warden Miguel Ramos. Thanks to everyone and their mother having a cell phone and a Twitter account, Ramos had learned about Ned’s suicide on the news before Johnny Ray had a chance to call him. And there’d been nothing he could say to defend himself against Ramos’s tirade. He’d screwed up, plain and simple. Had they known Ned was suicidal – not to mention batshit crazy – he’d have had two more men with him.
Except according to the prison records, Bowman’s problems tended more toward a bad attitude and a big mouth. No signs of depression or psychological problems, other than his rampant anti-social tendencies.
In the end, it was the lack of any warning signs that kept Ramos from bringing charges of negligence against the Hell Creek police force in general, and Johnny Ray in particular.
“You’re damn lucky you went by the book,” Ramos said, his voice still loud enough even at the end of the phone call that Johnny Ray had to keep the phone two inches from his ear. “And I’m gonna want a detailed report. And don’t think I won’t go through it with a magnifying glass. If I find one thing that even hints you screwed up—”
“You won’t,” Johnny Ray told him. And he wouldn’t, because for the first time in all his years as Chief he was going to fudge the hell out of an official report. There’d be no mention of Eddie Ryder. No talk about people coming back from the dead. Nope. Ned accused Hank of stealing money from the club and then jumped out the window. Plain and simple, case closed, end of story. And he’d send the damn thing off himself, so Ted Moselby would have no chance to see how his own statements had been modified.
After emailing the documents to Ramos’s secretary, he spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with the load of standard paperwork that accompanied any prisoner suicide or death. He was signing the last pages when someone knocked on his door.
“Come in.” He prayed it was Sharon with a cup of coffee from Rosie’s. Or two. Instead, the door opened and Kellie stepped in, Carson Ryder trailing behind her.
“Hey, Dad. Busy?”
“Hi, Chief Jones.”
“Hi, kids. Yeah, I am busy. Think you can fend for yourself for dinner tonight?” He took a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to Kellie. “My treat. Grab a burger or some pizza. And do your dad a favor. Wherever you go, have them send something over for me.”
“Okay. Thanks. When do you think you’ll—”
“Hey, Chief?” Wilbur Dennis gave a perfunctory rap on the door frame and stuck his head in. “Angela Mason is making a big stink in her cell. Says it wasn’t Hank who tied her up at the laundromat, it was Eddie Ryder, of all people. Only he was pretending to be Hank. She wants to talk to you.”
Johnny Ray’s stomach felt like it was about to hit the floor. He heard Kellie gasp, and he looked over at Carson just in time to see him turn white.
“Oh, for Christ’s....Tell her I’ll be down there in a little while. Jesus.”
“Okay. She must’ve been smokin’ some wicked shit. Oops, pardon my French, kids.” He waved and disappeared.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that, Carson. But don’t pay any mind to it. It seems like some of the Hell Riders are trying to use your brother’s name as part of some stupid plan to avoid doing jail time for their crimes.”
“Why would they do that?” Kellie asked. Next to her, Carson sat down and hid his face in his hands.
“I don’t know, honey. They’re crazy, for one thing. Angela, Hank, Jethro. Even Ned. That’s what happens when you do as many drugs as they do.”
“Ned?” Carson looked up. “He said something about my brother, too?”
Not wanting to divulge too much about the case – or subject the boy to any more misguided talk about his brother – Johnny Ray opted for a watered-down version of the truth. They’d know soon enough anyway, from people talking in town.
“He mentioned Eddie’s name today before he…killed himself. I think it was a code word for Hank, to keep up this farce they’re running.”
“He killed himself? Why?” Kellie asked.
I wish I knew. “Like I said, he was nuts. Maybe high. The tox screens aren’t back yet. Ted said he was acting weird in the car, and even when I talked to him this morning, he wasn’t all there. Whatever it is, Jethro Cole must have been on it too. And Hank.”
Johnny Ray stopped. The last thing he should be talking to the kids about was an ongoing case. “Just forget all about this stuff, okay? Get your dinner, do your homework, and I’ll see you later tonight.” He reached out to ruffle Kellie’s hair, then drew his arm back, not wanting to embarrass her in front of Carson.
“Okay, Dad. Love you.” She turned and headed for the door.
“Bye, Mr. Jones. Thank you for dinner.” Carson’s words were polite, but there was something in his voice that caught Johnny Ray’s notice.
He’s afraid. Something he did, like maybe with my daughter? Or is it because of all this talk about his brother and the Hell Riders?
With a tired sigh, Johnny Ray returned to his paperwork and hoped the kids remembered to have his dinner sent over.
Chapter Thirty-One
Before they reached Rosie’s Diner, Carson pulled Kellie onto a bench. “It was Eddie. He killed Ned.”
“I know.” Kellie’s face was a mask of fear. “And Jethro. But what can we do?”
“We have to stop him, and there’s only one thing I can think of. A séance.”
“What? Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We call his spirit to us, and then we make it go away for good.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That will just leave us open to getting possessed. It’s too dangerous.”
Carson waited for an elderly couple to walk past before speaking. “He can possess us
any time he wants. But if we do the séance right, maybe he’ll be under our control, instead of the other way around. Or maybe I can just talk to him, tell him to stop, that he’s gone too far. He’ll listen to me.”
“Your brother would have listened to you, you mean. It’s not Eddie anymore, remember? He’s a ghost, or a demon. Something supernatural. And he might not be sane anymore.”
“I know.” It hurt Carson to admit it; just hearing her say the words made him want to tell her to shut up, to stop talking about his brother that way. But he couldn’t deny Eddie was acting crazier than the people he was taking his revenge against.
Still, if there was a chance they could make him stop, or send him back to wherever he’d come from….
“I have to try it. Will you help me?” He didn’t look at her, afraid of what he’d see, what he’d hear.
No, Carson, I won’t. You’re as crazy as your brother. I’m not risking my life for—
“Yes.”
Yes? “Wait, what? You will?”
She put her hand on his, and his heart soared.
“Of course I’ll help. I think you’re probably nuts, but you’re also right. What else can we do?”
“Okay, but we have to be careful. He could be watching us, listening to us. So it should be you who looks up the information and gets what we need. He hasn’t, you know, taken you over yet, which means he probably won’t be spying on you or anything.”
“That makes sense, I guess. I’ll go get started. You should go home, too. Check on your mom. Act like nothing’s wrong. In case….”
“Yeah. Send me an email when you think you’ve got all the information we need.”
“Okay.” She leaned forward and kissed him.
His lips tingled all the way home.
* * *
At the same time Carson and Kellie were sharing a kiss, Eddie hovered near the ceiling inside the Hell Riders’ clubhouse, where Mouse Bates was busy telling a group of prospects and hangers-on that both Bowman brothers were totally fucked in the head, and that Ned probably committed suicide because he was afraid of Angela flipping to the feds.