Perverted Justice

by Michael Arches

  I pulled the trailer over to the barn and led the horses into a corral where they’d have access to hay and water. We were planning to stay for a few hours to do some work ourselves. No need to keep our mounts cramped inside the trailer.

  The outside of the house and the barn looked almost the same as they had when I first saw them weeks ago. The only obvious difference was they had new roofs and fresh paint on their walls. The old ranch was looking great.

  Boomer bounced around, checking here and there for smells. I would’ve preferred that he stayed outside where he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way, but he followed us close on our heels as we entered the house. Then he disappeared down a hallway.

  Willow had ordered her workers to gut the inside of the old two-story home. Walls were knocked down here and there. The kitchen now opened up into a large family room. The demolition was over, but the rebuilding had hardly begun. We were supposed to move in within two months, and I didn’t see how that could happen.

  Nevertheless, the workers were making progress. A large island now stood in the middle of the kitchen. That had been installed since my last visit. Some cabinets had already been hung.

  Most of the crews had finished up for the day, but I could hear someone using a screw gun upstairs. It sounded like they were in what would become our master bathroom suite.

  Willow went up to make sure everything was proceeding as planned. I stood in the new family room and gazed out of a pair of large windows that overlooked a new deck, the lawn, and the creek. The trees here also showed their fall colors.

  A few minutes later, my girlfriend walked up to me. “Have you given any thought to how we should landscape the back?”

  “It all depends on how much time we’ll be spending here in the spring. We might not need—”

  Behind us, the distinctive click of a revolver’s hammer being pulled back caught my attention. We spun around.

  “Ah,” Simon said, “a lovely picture of domestic bliss. I’ve been hanging around here hoping you’d drop by, Hank.”

  I tried to move in front of Willow, but the stubborn woman wouldn’t let me. She kept shifting to the side.

  “No need to involve her or any of the workers,” I said. “They’ve done nothing against you or anybody else.”

  He didn’t seem to have heard me. “I had high hopes for you once,” he said. “Thought you might join us in our holy crusade. Instead, you’ve come after me with a vengeance. It’s only fair I should do the same for you. Unfortunately for Willow and whoever’s upstairs, I can’t leave any witnesses.”

  “Let them go, and I’ll do whatever you want! Everybody already knows you’re a killer. These two can’t get you in any more trouble than you already are.”

  Willow started to speak but I elbowed her sharply in the ribs. I was the one trained in hostage situations, not her. The first rule was to minimize the number of people at risk.

  “Nope.” Simon chuckled like he was having the time of his life. “I make my own rules now, and one is, leave no loose ends. I’ll be happy to kill her first if you like.”

  I racked my brain trying to think of a way to distract him. Nothing good came to mind.

  Had to wing it. “Wait, we can work something out. I—”

  Simon shook his head and pointed his pistol at my chest. “Because you’re the tough gal—”

  At that instant, Boomer ambled into the room behind Simon. My mutt recognized him as a friend and did what he normally did to friends. Rushed forward to sniff him.

  Simon continued, “—you really should go first. Unless you tell me different, now!”

  I hoped Simon would hear the dog and spin around. That would give me a chance to rush the lunatic. But he was so focused on his fucking speech that he didn’t hear a thing.

  Then, the dog bayed in happiness and shoved his huge nose into the back of Simon’s crotch.

  The bastard yelped like he’d been stabbed in the ass with a red-hot poker. He spun around.

  I lunged forward. Pushed off my good foot and rocked ahead on the bad one. That got me almost close enough to tackle him.

  But he twisted back in my direction. Took aim.

  Too slow. With another step, I smashed my fist down on his wrist, knocking the pistol out of his hands. Then I slammed into him with my left shoulder while I reached with my right hand for the .357 on my hip.

  Simon rolled onto the dirty floor, pulling his knees up to his chest so he could kick at me.

  Boomer thought this was the wrestling game we’d played so often. He leapt past Simon and plowed onto me.

  The son of a bitch rolled away, scrambled to his feet, and bolted.

  Just as he reached the archway into the main entry hall, a loud gunshot rang out. Willow had kept her head and grabbed her Sig Sauer micro-compact pistol from her purse.

  Good try, but her shot missed.

  I untangled from the dog and ran after Simon. On my way out of the room, I yelled, “Call 911. Tell them he’s here. Grab Boomer.”

  She tried to say something, but I didn’t understand and couldn’t stop to listen.

  By the time I passed the main staircase upstairs, Simon was dashing out the open front door. No good shot available. The bastard was going to get away.

  Ricky Lang, a sheetrocker from upstairs, yelled down, “What’s going on?”

  “The vigilante!” I yelled back and kept going.

  I reached the front steps and spotted Simon as he passed the horse trailer and plunged into the windbreak on the north side of the property.

  I followed, pushing my way through the stiff branches of the evergreens. Before I could catch up, though, I watched him through the foliage ahead as he climbed the tall, wrought iron fence like a monkey. At the top, he did a back flip over and dropped to the ground on the other side. The bastard must’ve once worked for a circus or something.

  No way I could pull that off.

  He raced for an older white coupe, a Honda Accord with Utah plates. I fired at him when I got a clear shot but missed. He ducked inside the car. I tried to hit one of his tires, but he was already driving away. Tore off northeast in a cloud of dust and gravel.

  After I quickly wove back through the windbreak, Ricky was standing by his pickup, a large, old, long-bed Chevy. I knew I’d never catch Simon in Barney’s pickup because of the attached trailer.

  “Can I borrow your truck?” I asked Ricky.

  He gave me the keys. “You have to pay for any damage.”

  I nodded and climbed in.

  Willow ran out of the house with Boomer, but I couldn’t stop to talk. Waved goodbye.

  I tore out for the gate. It automatically opened as I approached, but it swung too slowly.

  Before I could get through, Willow opened the passenger door and jumped in.

  “Nope!” I yelled. “You stay. Do what I asked.”

  “Already did,” she snapped back. “I’m not letting you go off half-crazed. You might do something stupid.”

  I probably would, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “Please stay. Take care of the mutt!”

  “Ricky said he would. I’m not getting out. If you push me out, I’ll climb in the back. Go!”

  I didn’t have time to fight with her. “If you come, you have to swear you’ll do whatever I say.”

  She didn’t answer. The gate stood open. I didn’t move. “He’s getting away while you act so high and mighty.”

  Her face turned red. “Okay! You win. Go!”

  I tore out, spewing gravel until we hit the pavement on the county road. I’d seen Simon head northeast. Drove that way, but I couldn’t see the car anymore. The son of a bitch might escape!

  “Call the sheriff’s dispatcher directly. Tell her we’re in pursuit.” I rattled off the number.

  Willow reached Muriel and told her what was going on. The truck lumbered along, but the back was full of bags of mortar and tile. Damned heavy stuff. The weight made the truck rock
on each curve.

  I reached the junction where Capitol Creek Road merged with East Sopris Creek Road. Couldn’t tell which way Simon had gone. North would take him to Highway 82 and Old Snowmass. West would lead to the spot where that pickup had plowed into my SUV the other day.

  I guessed Simon had headed west because he would know we patrolled heavily near Old Snowmass. I turned west.

  East Sopris Creek Road was paved along this stretch, but the road was narrower than standard two-lane roads. I couldn’t drive as fast as I’d like because the truck was so wide and heavy. If I met someone coming from the opposite direction on a curve, I had to be able to stop. Even so, I drove as fast as I dared.

  A minute later, a guy on a mountain bike approached, wearing one of those jerseys advertising everything. I stopped and asked the rider, “Did you just see a white Accord heading west?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Son of a bitch going too fast. Almost hit me.”

  I waved and took off after Simon, but with little chance of catching up.

  Chapter 19

  The road cut along the side of a large, mostly barren hill on our right. The route remained about twenty feet higher than the flat pastures on the left.

  Soon, we left the more populated area behind. “We’re about to lose our cell signal. Tell Muriel he’s driving west on this road. See if anyone’s available in the western part of the county to intercept. If not, ask for help from the Garfield sheriff or Basalt’s police.”

  Willow passed on the info and was listening to the response when she dropped her phone in her lap. “No more signal. What do we do now?”

  “We play the hand God dealt us, darling. Look up ahead. See that dust plume about two miles up? That’s where the pavement ends. I’ll bet that’s Simon. He keeps gaining ground because we have to slow for the corners. The asshole doesn’t care whether he kills more people.”

  “Why aren’t we going faster?”

  “We’d never catch him in this boat. That’s someone else’s job. Simon’s problem is he has to outrun our radio network. That’ll be tough. We’re here to keep him from switching back or hiding somewhere along the way. If he stops at a house, he could grab a hostage.”

  Willow’s eyes opened wide.

  “Yeah, scary shit. I told you to stay behind, but noooo. Too stubborn.”

  “How’re we going to stop him?” she asked.

  I patted the steering wheel of this forty-year-old three-quarter-ton pickup. “This rig was built by the same folks who made Stonehenge. I can block the road with it in most places. If I do, you won’t have much time to get out and back off.”

  She gulped. Didn’t speak.

  The dust cloud continued to billow up ahead. He was going to get stopped soon, or not at all. This road was only about five miles long before it branched in lots of directions.

  I stopped. “Listen, Willow, things could get really crazy in a minute. I need you to get out here. I’ll come back as soon as I can to pick you up.”

  She shook her head. “Just ignore me. I’m not leaving. If you push me out, I swear I’ll climb in the bed.”

  Damn, she was annoying. “Here’s the problem. Depending on where Simon decides to confront us, we might not have time to stop and position the truck, so both of us can run away. If not, I’ll have to crash into him. That’s the bottom line. Official policy—stop felons at all costs before they endanger anyone else. I agreed to follow policy when I put on a badge. You didn’t.”

  “Keep going,” she said. “I’ll take the same risks you do. Life’s not worth living without you.”

  Her comment caught me by surprise, and I shrieked with laughter. “You’re crazy. Not even thirty. You’ll meet someone else. Hell, you have fifty years to meet them. You said it yourself, you can’t stand the stress of my job.”

  Her face turned bright red. She was probably furious. I’d spoken the truth.

  “Stop fooling around,” she said. “Look, the plume is coming this way.”

  Dammit! Time had almost run out. “Please jump out now! I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

  She sat still. “Do what you’d do without me.”

  I was out of time. A ranch house was a few hundred yards away. I had to get to its driveway before Simon could. He might head in there and take a hostage.

  I popped the clutch and hit the gas.

  She stayed silent.

  “Might have to hit him head-on,” I said. “Normally, I’d turn the vehicle across the road and force him to hit my right side, but noooo, my damned girlfriend’s sitting there.”

  “Plow into him straight on!” she yelled back. “We’ll take our chances together.”

  The road followed the hillside on our right. On the left, a steep slope dropped about twenty feet to a pasture. The creek flowed next to the bottom of the hillside.

  More dust ahead. Simon was coming our way fast.

  The main advantage we had over him was that this loaded pickup weighed two or three times as much as his Honda. If we crashed, he’d suffer much more than us. Maybe we’d all die, but his odds were worse.

  I wondered whether he cared. If he wanted to end it all, he’d already said he wanted to take Willow with us. That thought chilled me to the core.

  “Make sure your seat belt is tight,” I said. “Brace your arms against the dash. I love you.”

  I passed the driveway to the house. The road curved to the right.

  When I rounded the turn, Simon came into view, flying at us. A hundred yards ahead.

  I hit the brakes and kept the truck in the center of the road. He’d have a hard time getting by on either side.

  He drifted toward the hillside. I pointed the truck to meet him head on. He was speeding, but I barely crept along. Maybe he thought I’d chicken out. Move out of the way?

  He didn’t know me. Duty, Honor, Country.

  I guess he figured that out because he tried to slip between the truck and the drop-off on my left. I skidded to a stop. Still pointed straight at him. Not enough room for his car to squeeze by.

  “Pray!” I grabbed the wheel tightly.

  At the last instant, he avoided the direct hit. He tried to scrape past the pickup on the driver’s side.

  No room. His car smacked into the left corner of the truck’s bumper and bounced off. He careened down the rough drop-off. Didn’t flip.

  After bouncing over a bunch of small boulders, he slammed into a thick clump of scrub oaks lining the creek.

  I hit the truck’s flashers and made sure my .357 Magnum was still in its holster. It was. “Stay put! I mean it.”

  “Okay,” she said in a quiet voice. “Be careful.”

  I laughed hysterically. That word didn’t mean a thing to me anymore.

  Unfortunately, the fight wasn’t over. I had to get him under control before he could recover from his crash landing. I didn’t have much time.

  Used my left hand to scramble down the steep embankment while holding the Magnum in my right. Had to go slow to make sure my fake ankle didn’t throw me for a loop. The ground was softer where his tires traveled, giving me a better grip. So, I followed straight behind him.

  No obvious movement in the Accord yet. The engine was hissing. The sharp stench of gasoline fumes filled the air. His car could explode any time.

  When the ground leveled off, I could move faster. Kept my eyes focused on the inside of the sedan. These next few seconds were most dangerous. Crept up on him from almost straight behind.

  Simon was moving around. Not good. Both of the driver’s side windows were gone.

  “Freeze!” I yelled.

  But a semi-auto pistol emerged from the driver’s window. Stupid. He had a terrible angle to shoot back at me. Without waiting for his head to poke out, I aimed at the gun.

  BOOM!

  The bullet must’ve hit his hand or his pistol. He shrieked. The gun spun in the air and flew forward. Landed in the dirt.

>   “Don’t move, idiot!” I said. “Or my next shot goes into your head.”

  Because of the door pillar, I couldn’t see him, but his hand had to hurt like a bitch. I hoped that’d keep his mind occupied for a few more seconds.

  I stepped forward quickly, looking for any more movement. Nothing. Came up alongside his window. His chest was pressed against the steering wheel. He groaned.

  I pulled on his door’s handle. The door creaked as it opened.

  Grabbing him by the shirt collar, I dragged him a good thirty feet back from the car in case the damned thing lit up.

  With my left hand on his back, I kept him face down. He didn’t resist. His right hand was a bloody mess. Several fingers missing.

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. The Vigilante was done.

  -o-o-o-

  I kept my good foot on the small of his back and yelled, “Willow, Ricky might have a first aid kit behind the seat or in the bed. Can you bring it? Or some rags. And look for rope or twine or wire.”

  “Okay,” she yelled back. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, but Simon’s not feeling feisty anymore.”

  If the son of a bitch hadn’t tried to shoot me a moment ago, I would’ve felt a lot more sympathy for how much he had to be hurting.

  He continued to moan and begged for help. I stood there, uncaring, and I kept my foot low on his back so he could breathe. I also kept a close eye on the car in case it exploded. No smoke, though, and the gas fumes seemed to diminish.

  Willow came into view at the edge of the road, looking for a way down.

  “Be really careful,” I said. “The closest doctor ain’t close, and we don’t have any way of asking for help.” I pointed at the way I’d come. “Try that track, nice and slow.”

  She did. In her hands, she carried a first aid kit and a roll of twine. They would do.

  When she reached me, I said, “Keep your weight on his lower back so he can breathe. Don’t let him get up or twist around.”

  She was light, but she kept him down.

  I took the twine and wrapped a couple of feet of it around his right wrist to slow the bleeding. Then, I bound his feet together and tied his left hand to his belt in the back.