‘Should I go, too?’ Ellie’s voice sounded uncertain, and I could tell that she didn’t relish the idea of being inside alone.
To my amusement, Sal opened the closet once more but instead of pulling out another sweater, she reached in and fished out another rifle. She tossed it to Ellie who caught it with one hand. The look on her face was hilarious, or at least it might have been if I hadn’t known how petrified she was of anything that required ammunition.
‘I’ll stay, Ellie. You go with Sal,’ I offered, taking off the jacket and holding out my hand for the gun.
‘No, it’s fine, AJ, really,’ said Ellie with an offended look as if I’d just called her a sissy. Really. There’s just no understanding her sometimes, you know?
‘Let’s go,’ commanded Sal, striding to the door with her rifle over her shoulder. ‘We’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
As she walked through the door, I looked back over my shoulder and grinned at Ellie. I was starting to think we’d been transported into the Midwest somewhere and not to San Blanco’s resort area.
Sal was moving at a fast clip, heading for the area by the rear of her house. By now, the sun had set sufficiently for the edges of the property to be thrown into shadow. I trotted to keep up with her, reminding myself that I really needed to start exercising. It’s embarrassing when an old gal can out-walk you without all the huffing and puffing I was doing.
I could see an old shed, outlined in sunset, leaning into a stand of eucalyptus trees. That seemed to be our target, and when Sal pulled out a bunch of keys from the pocket of her pants and unlocked the door, I could clearly see why. Tucked into every corner and on every available surface were the accoutrements of a police officer’s dream: large metal flashlights; packages of batteries; stacks of goggles both for night vision and the kind used at a shooting range; boxes of ammunition. It looked liked she’d robbed the local precinct.
‘Here, take one of these.’ Sal tossed a flashlight at me.
I caught it by mere chance, not being one of those talented folks who can snag a baseball out of the air with one hand without even looking. Call it a self-preservation move – the thing weighed at least three pounds and could have done some real damage.
‘How do you keep this stuff out here,’ I asked, looking around the shed, ‘without anyone taking it?’
Sal barked a laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right? No one breaks into Sal Bacon’s property. Not unless they want a wrasslin’ match with a bear. And I say, if you’re going to be a bear, be a grizzly.’
She grinned at me, turning around to leave the shed. I’m sure it was just a trick of the rapidly disappearing light, but I could have sworn I saw a row of teeth that any bear would have been proud to own. Shaking my head, I followed her out into the yard.
Chapter Twenty-six
By ‘patrolling the perimeter’, Sal meant just that. With me still slightly out of breath – the stop at the shed had let my lungs recover a bit – we marched around the edges of her property. The weather had turned chilly, so I was grateful for the jacket. Sal did her thing in complete silence, stopping every so often to poke her rifle into the undergrowth or to peer over the fence that surrounded most of the land. Who or what she was looking for I had no idea, but I figured I’d know it when she found it. Or them.
The flashlight I carried was indeed a lethal weight, and I amused myself by thinking of folks who deserved a rap over the noggin, beginning with David. I hadn’t spared many thoughts for him lately, so I supposed I was on the road to recovery. For that matter, Detective Baird’s dimpled face hadn’t entered my mind either. Did that mean I was losing interest in men in general or just those two in particular? Hmm. That would be a challenge for Ellie and her ever-lovin’ cards. I grinned to myself. Giving my cousin permission to dig into my private life was like tossing Hershey bars to a chocoholic.
Sal’s steps halted abruptly and I almost knocked into her. I’d been so caught up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed what had gotten her attention. Putting a knotted finger to her mouth, Sal nodded in the direction of the back door to her house. It stood slightly open, a thin stream of light creeping around the door frame. I frowned. We’d gone out the front door, locking it securely behind us, and I couldn’t remember if the back had been left open or not. By the way Sal was reacting, though, my guess was for ‘not’.
The silence in the house scared me more than if Ellie had been screaming her head off. Sal began inching toward the steps that led to the door, using the rifle to nudge it open. A sharp creak made me jump and I fully expected gunfire to erupt at any moment. There was nothing, though, nothing but the quiet of a house that is standing empty.
And that meant no Ellie.
Only, once we got inside, I could see that this wasn’t the case at all. Ellie sat in the couch, not curled up and relaxed as she had been earlier, but ramrod straight, hands in lap and eyes opened as wide as they would go. Standing behind her and seated next to her were two of the toughest-looking men I’d ever had the misfortune of seeing. The one on the couch had both beefy arms crossed in front of him, one large tree trunk of a leg crossed over the other. His eyes, a deep blue and set too close to his nose for my taste, tracked Sal and me as we moved into the front room. I tried not to look directly at either guy; I’ve always heard stories about looking crazed animals in the eyes and then being attacked. I certainly didn’t want that to happen, not to me, or Sal, or Ellie.
Sal stood frozen, rifle slung over her shoulder and one hand on her hip. She looked for all money like she’d just come from a day of hunting in the back forty, and the two visitors must’ve had the same idea. Instead of telling her to drop the gun, they simply raised theirs in a macabre greeting. I almost expected them to go into some hunt-inspired fist bump or something equally cheesy.
Ellie’s frightened eyes met mine and I saw the tiniest tremble on her lips. My blood started to boil. I have these family defense genes that kick into high gear whenever someone in my clan is being harassed or hurt, and Ellie was clan. I slid my eyes around the room as cautiously as possible, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. I needed a starting point for my campaign, somewhere to aim for when I made my first move.
Unfortunately for me, this first move included handing over my flashlight to Goon Number Two who moved from behind the couch and wordlessly held out his hand. I’ve never claimed to be brave, just defensive. Without a sound, he pocketed my would-be weapon in his jacket pocket and resumed his post behind Ellie.
‘McClellan. What a surprise.’ Sal’s words were dry as unbuttered toast, and I saw the man on the couch eye her with undisguised hatred. Well. Sal obviously hadn’t made a friend here, and I was beginning to get an idea of where she’d met him before.
‘We don’t need none of your guff, Bacon,’ retorted Keith McClellan, for that’s indeed who it was: another name from the list.
‘That’s Detective Bacon to you,’ Sal replied calmly, turning her gaze to Ellie.
‘You OK, sweetie?’
Ellie glanced nervously at her two captors, obviously too scared to speak for herself. The man who’d pocketed the flashlight clapped one large hand on her shoulder and answered for her.
‘She’s fine. In fact, she insisted we wait for you two so’s we could get this here little party started.’ His thin smile didn’t quite make the journey all the way to his cold dark eyes. By process of elimination, I’d figured that I was looking at the first name on the list, José Ramirez Something-or-other.
‘And Rascon, too. How can a gal get so lucky,’ Sal drawled, all but rolling her eyes. She remained on her feet, and I noticed McClellan’s eyes had shifted to the rifle held loosely in her hands. Before I could get another thought pieced together, he sprang from the couch and lunged at Sal. I screamed. I shouldn’t have worried, though. With one swift step to the side and a chop to the bridge of his nose with the rifle butt, it was suddenly three to one, advantage Team Bacon.
Ellie, moving with more a
lacrity than I’d seen since we were kids running from Sammy Burkheart and his pump-action air rifle filled with rock salt, leapt to her feet and all but flew at me. I grabbed her and together we raced out the back door, leaving Sal to tackle Rascon alone. Oddly enough, I wasn’t worried.
‘We’ve gotta get some help.’ Ellie’s teeth were chattering so much I almost couldn’t understand her. Shock was setting in rapidly and I knew from experience that if I didn’t get something into her soon – of course, I was thinking sugar – she’d be unable to move on her own accord.
I chewed my lip, trying to come up with a plan that would make sense. My first instinct, naturally, was to run screaming for help, but all that would do for us was put a target on our backs. And if my calculations were right, there was still one name on the list that was unaccounted for: Richard Olsen. For all I knew, he was standing guard somewhere nearby, waiting for his compadres to get rid of three more witnesses. That thought scared me into action.
Taking Ellie’s arm, I all but dragged her back toward the little shed. I hoped with all my heart that Sal had forgotten to lock it, although I sincerely doubted that would be the case. Anyone as security savvy as Sal wouldn’t forget a detail as important as that.
Someone must have been watching out for us. To my surprise, the lock gave way easily, its hasp not fully secured by the heavy bolt. Thanking my lucky stars and vowing to start giving more thought to churchgoing once more, which would thrill my mother no end, I dragged Ellie inside. The sun had disappeared completely now and the shed was in total darkness. I felt my way around the small room, trying to remember exactly where the flashlights had been stored. I didn’t need a light as much as I needed something heavy to knock some would-be killer over the head.
I could still hear Ellie’s teeth chattering against one another. She was in serious condition, no big surprise there, considering all she’d been through in the past few days. Chancing Olsen’s location, I crouched down and switched the light on, holding the bulb end close to the floor. Ellie stood where I’d left her, her eyes focused on something I couldn’t see. She looked awful.
‘Ellie, I want you to stay in here. I’m going to get some help, OK?’ I rose to my feet, grasping both her arms in mine, forcing her to look at me. ‘OK, Ellie?’
She nodded slowly, but I could see that some of the color was coming back into her face. I was relieved; it looked like she’d be fine to leave for a while. I didn’t have much time, though, and I knew it. It would only be a matter of minutes before someone, either Olsen or Rascon, would be out looking for us.
I grabbed another flashlight and handed it her before heading back out into the darkness. I’ve never been overly excited about ghost hunts, or haunted houses, or anything that makes me jump, so it was no surprise that my heart had begun to pick up speed with my first tentative steps. I held my breath, forcing the rhythm to slow down. I might need to run and having a pulse already at sky-high levels would probably not be a good thing.
I looked around the yard, waiting for my eyes to fully adjust themselves to the blackness. It took just a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. All I needed now was for someone to come pouncing out of the night and take me down. Ellie would be trapped in the shed and Sal would be left to fend for herself against the marauders. I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. I still had that old ratty jacket on, glad now that I’d taken it from Sal. Slipping my hands into the pockets, I froze: something cold and metallic and cellphone size met my fingers. There was no way, I thought stupidly. I’d seen Sal’s cellphone and it was in her pocket. How in the Sam Hill had it managed to find its way to my jacket?
Whirling around, I ran back toward the shed. I needed to get to Ellie and call the San Blanco PD. I was two steps away, no more, when a voice reached my ears.
‘Well, well, now. If it isn’t Little Miss Nosey herself. I thought I told you to get lost. Too bad you don’t take friendly advice.’ The words were spoken in a low tone, so soft that if I had wanted to, I could have convinced myself that I’d imagined the whole thing. Unfortunately, I don’t have that good an imagination.
The man who stepped forward from the shadows was tall, that much I could tell. If his voice was anything to judge, he was also dangerous. I’d seen movies where the hit man or assassin or mob don would speak softly, almost kindly, just before he let go with a blast from his gun.
OK – maybe I did have an imagination. What I wouldn’t have given at that moment to be wrong. Or at least to have seen different movies. Knowledge may be power, but it’s also painful, especially when you know what’s coming. Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the voice.
And froze in astonishment. I realized that I had known Richard Olsen all along.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Have you ever had one of the moments, an epiphany of sorts, when it dawns on you that you’ve played right into the hands of the enemy? Well, that was my moment, standing in the chill San Blanco evening, fingers curled around a lifeline – my cellphone – and staring danger straight in the eyes …
Detective Baird, dimple and all, faced me across the yard. I felt like my feet were nailed to the ground as he sauntered over to me, one hand resting lightly on the nine millimeter handgun strapped to his side. I felt confused, betrayed. Did police officers really ‘go bad’ as they did in the cop shows I watched? (Note to self: change viewing habits immediately!) Maybe he was here to help. Or maybe he was here to …
I heard the tiniest of creaks behind me. Ellie, or someone, was trying to open the shed door as softly as possible. I truly hoped that it was Ellie and not one of the thugs from the house. I thought quickly, trying to formulate a plan. If we could trade places, if I could get Baird (I couldn’t bring myself to add the moniker ‘Detective’ to his name) to move somehow, so that his back was to the shed, we might have a chance. I wasn’t quite sure what the chance might consist of, but I was desperate.
With my heart thudding somewhere in my throat, I stepped forward.
‘So. Nice to see you – I don’t think,’ I added sarcastically. I could see a grin spread across his face. Good to know I could still entertain.
I took another step toward him then casually, as if I had no other thought than to get a better look at him, I turned around with my back toward the house. He stayed put, though, not taking the bait.
Move, you big jerk, I screamed silently, willing him to turn his back to the shed. He did, to my great astonishment. I’d have to remember to tell Ellie that I possibly had some sixth sense-type abilities as well. If I managed to get out of this alive, of course.
We stood staring at one another, an ‘OK Corral’ stand-off in Sal Bacon’s backyard. I hoped it would end with me still standing and him in handcuffs, though. I didn’t want to think about what the other possibility could be. I fished around in my mind for something to say, something that would at least stall the inevitable, but my thoughts wouldn’t slow down long enough for me to catch one. Instead, I did what came most naturally to me: I opened my mouth and let ’er fly.
‘How’d you find me?’ Stupid, really stupid. Of course he knew exactly how to find me, since he was the one who’d suggested Annie Bronson’s house in the first place, and had probably already known that this was where we were, assuming that he’d spoken to Annie. And there was no reason why he wouldn’t talk to her. They were on the same team, after all, or at least that’s what Annie would expect, and she wouldn’t think twice about sharing information with a fellow detective.
As I stood looking at the man I’d once thought to be the most handsome person I’d ever set eyes on, I could feel my blood pressure starting to rise. What was it with men? The best-looking ones were absolute failures as potential partners, and even a uniform wasn’t a complete guarantee. I gritted my teeth. I was either going to burst a blood vessel or tell this jerk what I really thought.
‘You are the most inane, scummy, low-down excuse for a man that I have ever met, you know that, Detective Baird?’ I made the word so
und like a slur, and from the way his jaw line tightened, he’d gotten my message, no question. That might not have been the wisest thing to do at that moment, but I was furious. I’d been outsmarted, tricked, by a dimple. How dumb can you get, AJ?
He took a step toward me, and I involuntarily moved back. I wasn’t scared any more, or at least not to the degree I had been at first, but I still had no desire to tangle with someone almost twice my size and probably ten times my strength. Better to keep some space between us.
Over his shoulder I saw movement. Purposely keeping my eyes firmly on his, I moved another few paces backward. I could see that his mind was moving, trying to figure out just what I was up to. If I could keep him focused on me just one more minute or so …
With a yell that seemed to come from her belly, my cousin, the crazy, card-reading, sometimes irritating Ellie Saddler, burst out of the shed, a metal flashlight raised above her head like a club. Whenever I think about this scene, it always seems to play out in slow motion: Ellie racing toward Baird; Baird’s face a mixture of anger and surprise as he turns to face her; me leaping forward to knock him off balance. Her weapon caught him on the side of the head, causing him to stagger but not go down.
Ellie, possessed by something unworldly – I swear I’d never seen her act this crazed before – continued to bring the heavy flashlight down on Baird, making contact wherever she could.
Baird sank to his knees then slowly, very slowly, toppled onto his side. Blood was streaming down his face and out of the various cuts she had opened on his scalp, and he lay absolutely still. I reached over him to grab Ellie’s hand. She was poised to take another shot at him, but I figured if she kept on like this, she’d kill the jerk. And I wanted nothing more than to see his worthless hide go to prison.
Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) Page 16