Hellion

by Shannon McKenna

  He imagined Demi finding out. This whole thing had been organized to turn her against him. To make him look like a dangerous psycho.

  That made him so murderously angry, he barely noticed the vehicle behind him on the highway. Not until he felt the thump and got nudged almost off the road.

  He steadied the car, accelerating around a hair-pin curve to get away from it. A big Army green Humvee, riding his ass. Bump. Bump. The fuck?

  That bastard was actually trying to run him off the road. Holy shit—bump.

  He barely kept on the roadway this time. Now he was going as fast as Boyd had been driving just to stay ahead of his pursuer. The Humvee jammed into him on one side, sending him bouncing off the guard rail. Eric overcorrected, fishtailing on the dew-slicked asphalt—

  Crunch, the Humvee got him a good one. He crashed against the guard rail again…

  …and went through it. Right over the edge.

  The world flipped, and green rushed past his eyes, branches snapping—

  He stopped short with a hard jerk. Listened to rocks and dirt continuing to tumble and slide down the steep hillside, pattering down on the bottom of the car from above.

  He was hanging upside down.

  Empty space outside the window. Tree branches waved far, far below him. There was a stand of young trees clinging to the side of the hill that had stopped the Porsche in its slide. The driver’s side of the car was pointed down—over a yawning nothing.

  Water rushed, somewhere far below him. The seatbelt was all that held him in place. Men’s voices. They were getting closer. One higher, more nasal, one low and growling.

  “…to make sure he’s dead.” The high-voiced, nasal guy.

  An indistinct snarling sound from the other one.

  “I don’t fucking care,” the first guy said. “Hit him on the head with a rock, snap his neck, smother him, whatever the fuck you want. Just finish it.”

  More inaudible mumbling.

  “Because I said so, asshole.” The voice sounded impatient. “Climb down. Get it done.”

  It took a minute for it to sink in. When it did, Eric started struggling with the door. It had been warped in the crash, but by kicking and straining, he pounded it loose.

  It swung heavily open, dangling straight down. The weight of it falling open caused a sudden shift in weight, making the car jolt and slide even further down the steep slope. It caught against still more slender new trees that looked too small to hold it. Some were already splintered and bent, about to give.

  He blinked blood out of his eyes, and contemplated the empty space below. It was a long drop to the steep, rocky slope. When he hit it, he would bounce and then keep sliding right on down. Faster and faster. Nothing to keep him from rolling right off the cliff. From there, it was another long free-fall to the rocky bottom of the canyon.

  That, or get killed by those guys who were crawling down here. He was in no condition to fight them. He was all fucked up.

  He saw Demi in his mind’s eye. At the waterfall. Drops of water sparkling in her thick black eyelashes. Her beautiful smile, shining in his mind like a faraway star.

  He released the seatbelt and fell.

  16

  “He used you, sweetheart,” Elaine Vaughan’s voice caught in her throat. “I am so sorry. I wish that it weren’t true, but it is.”

  “We warned you.” Her father’s face was a mottled red mask of fury. “We fucking warned you, but you had to blunder right into his trap.”

  Demi looked blankly from one parent to the other, and then to Chief Bristol, who had followed them into the kitchen. “Eric did…what?”

  “You heard us the first time. He seduced you just to get inside this house. My goddamn house. You probably even gave him a tour. Elaine, did you check your jewelry box? I haven’t even looked at the safe yet.”

  “Please, Ben, not now.”

  “That son of a bitch weaseled his way in, and when he’d had his fun with you, he took the keys off the board in the kitchen and made off with my Porsche. Those are the facts.”

  “I…I can’t believe it,” Demi said blankly. “It’s just…it’s impossible.”

  “You have to believe it!” her father bellowed. “They found him in the wreckage! Or beneath it, anyway, in the streambed at the bottom of the canyon. Evidently he’d fallen out of the open car door when the car hit the trees.”

  She sucked in air, sharply. “Is he hurt?”

  “Of course,” Benedict snorted. “Of course, that’s all you can think about.”

  Demi kept her eyes fixed on Chief Bristol until he answered.

  “He’s pretty banged up,” the police chief admitted. “A concussion, cracked ribs, a broken wrist, various lacerations. He’s lucky to be alive. Either the crash or the fall should have killed him, but it didn’t. He’ll recover.”

  “Worthless piece of shit can recover in jail,” her father muttered.

  “Where is he now?” she demanded. “Here in town?”

  “No, they took him to Granger Valley for the trauma unit when they thought he might have internal bleeding. Turned out he didn’t need it. No internal injuries.”

  “Just my luck,” her father snarled.

  “Ben, don’t.” Elaine’s voice was sharp. “We don’t need any more ugliness.”

  “She was the one who brought the ugliness in here, and took it to her bed. And then showed it where I kept my car keys.”

  “Is he conscious?” Demi cut in.

  “No, no, no,” her mother said hastily. “You’re not going to see him. You can’t.”

  “Mom, I just want to talk to—”

  “You damn well won’t. Hasn’t he done enough? He’s a degenerate. What was left of the car was soaked with tequila. I just hope you’re not pregnant, or infected with some vile disease.”

  “Shut up, Dad,” she said. “Your gross is showing.”

  “You still have the nerve to mouth off to me? After what you just did to me?”

  Chief Bristol put down his coffee cup with a sigh and stood up. “Calm down, folks.” He turned to Demi. “Don’t try to see Eric. He’s heavily sedated. And be honest with yourself. What could he possibly say to you right now that would be worth hearing?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, and stopped. Unable to think of a single thing.

  “Walk away,” Chief Bristol urged her. “That’s the best thing in these cases. Forget him and get on with it. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

  “Yes, that’s best,” Elaine said. “I think Demi and I should leave town for a while.”

  “Demi has to make her statement,” Chief Bristol said sternly.

  “Of course, right away. Then we’ll go to my sister Helen’s summer place in New York, up on Long Island. Some time in a beach house sounds like just the thing. We’ll be available by phone anytime you need to ask Demi anything. And your dad can join us later. After he’s taken care of the, ah, details.”

  “What details?” Demi demanded, swiveling to stare at her father.

  “Honey, it’s just like the chief said. Walk away. It’s a big mess, and nobody is going to talk about anything else for weeks in this town. You don’t need to deal with that.”

  “I’m the one who was robbed,” Dad said. “I’m the one pressing charges. You should just disappear. Please. Get gone. I certainly don’t want to look at you.”

  “Stop it, Ben,” her mother hissed. “Once you’ve given your statement to the chief, we’ll head to New York. Take in a few Broadway shows, do some shopping on Fifth Avenue, just the two of us, to take our mind off things. Then off to Aunt Helen’s beach cottage in Bridgehampton. Won’t that be relaxing?”

  “But…my job at the—”

  “I already talked to Raelene. She understands. In fact, she said it’s probably for the best if you go. Don’t worry about the job. That’s the least of your worries.”

  Demi stared at her parents. Her father scowling. The anxious furrow between her mother’s brows. Mom’s l
ips were moving, but Demi couldn’t hear the words.

  Sounds had retreated behind a thick wall in her mind.

  She’d been numb up to now, as if she were watching something on TV that didn’t really touch her. Now the reality slammed into her with all its freezing, paralyzing force.

  Dad was bellowing again, she had no idea about what, and couldn’t bring herself to care. Chief Bristol was talking quickly, making calm down gestures with his hands.

  Just picture us together. It would be good.

  He used you, sweetheart.

  They found him in the wreckage.

  You could blow me while I sit in the desk chair in the study.

  What was left of the car was soaked with tequila.

  I told you I love you, and I meant it.

  Phrases and fragments ricocheted around in her mind, but she kept seeing Eric’s face when he held her in his car after their waterfall hike. The raw, shining look in his eyes when he told her that he loved her.

  She pictured him in a hospital bed, bandaged up. Bruised, battered and sedated. Maybe even handcuffed to a bedrail.

  I still want to run away with you.

  Oh, God, she wanted it, too. She wanted it so fucking bad. But he’d taken it away from her forever. Her shining fantasy, gone. He’d punished her by punishing himself.

  It was spiteful and cruel and self-destructive, but if he’d wanted to hurt her to the core of her being, well, damn. Mission accomplished.

  “…statement taken care of, then we throw some things into a bag and we’re off.” Her mother babbled on with forced cheerfulness. “I’ve already got our tickets. Our flight for New York leaves tomorrow morning. We’ll stay in an airport hotel at SeaTac tonight.”

  She turned to her father, and the question just fell out of her mouth. “You just hate him so damn much,” she said. “Even before all this happened. Why do you hate him so fucking much?”

  “Watch your language!” her father snarled. “I think we’ve been more than vindicated in our low opinion of him!” His eyes darted toward Bristol, then back to her.

  “Honey, we don’t,” her mother said anxiously. “We really don’t hate him—”

  “Bullshit.” She pointed at her father. “He does. He went ballistic about Eric spending time with me even before all this mess. What aren’t you telling me, Dad? I really want to know. Please. Clue me in.”

  “Honey,” her mother said. “It may be tough to understand, but this is just a stupid thing that women do. All the time. They fall in love with a man’s potential, not with who he really is. Even attractive, talented people with immense potential can be damaged beyond repair. It’s almost like there are holes in their brain. You can’t even blame them.”

  “But you can put them in jail, right?”

  “Of course!” her father broke in. “He’s a menace! He stole from me!”

  “This thing you’re saying about loving a man’s potential, and holes in the brain,” she said, looking at her mother. “That’s not about Eric. You’re talking about Dad.”

  “Demi!” Her mother’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare!”

  “You snotty bitch.” Her father’s chair screeched as he leaped up, face reddening.

  “Like mother, like daughter,” Demi went on. “We have the same weakness for screwed-up men, huh? The drinking, the tantrums, the secrets, the problems with Granddad. The mysterious phone calls he gets on those burner phones. The weird stuff with all that disappearing money at the Tacoma Distribution Center—”

  “Stop it right there!” her mother said wildly. “Stop attacking us, Demi! We’re just trying to protect you!”

  “No you’re not, Mom.” Demi felt exhausted and empty. “You’re protecting him.” She pointed at Dad. “You always have. From Granddad, from himself, even from me. Because of the holes in his brain. He’s like Swiss cheese, and he’s always hated me for seeing it. I see right through him. Right, Dad? You just have to punish me for that.”

  “No! No, not at all! You’re not making sense, honey.” Her mother gave Chief Bristol a pleading look. “I’m so sorry you had to hear all this crazy nonsense, Chief. She’s just so terribly upset.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” the Chief said, putting down his coffee and rising to his feet. “I’ll just be on my way, and leave you to continue your conversation in private.”

  They watched Chief Bristol hurry down the steps of the side porch to his pickup, eager to get well away from the fucked up, toxic weirdness of the Vaughan home.

  Mom rattled on anxiously, trying to cover the ominous silence with chatter. Demi heard the noise, but it took her a while before she could wrangle her brain into understanding the words. “…don’t have much time, and you’ll have to make the statement, too, so let’s get the packing done and load up the car right away, okay?”

  Demi stared at her mother for moment, and then she felt herself nod. Robotically.

  She was going to feel like shit in any case. The where didn’t matter. And a cottage on the beach in Bridgehampton was as far away as she could physically get from Eric Trask without crossing an ocean.

  There was something to be said for that.

  Eric kept struggling to rise to the surface, but any time he started to get close, another sting of the needle pulled him back down, screaming inside. Things were happening around him, things outside his control. Bad things.

  At some point, he finally forced his eyes to open. For a moment, he saw Otis staring down at him, his face seamed and gray. Reddened eyes full of pain and worry.

  Other times, he saw flashes of doctors, nurses. They did things to him. They hurt.

  Finally his eyes opened and stayed open. He looked around, at the machines, the IV rack. Hospital bed. One of his arms had a cast. He followed the line that led from the IV bag down to the needle taped to his other arm. Tried to get that arm beneath him so he could sit up.

  “Don’t try that, son.” A voice from behind him. “Stay still. You need to heal.”

  He turned, and saw Chief Bristol lounging on a chair behind the IV rack.

  “Hey, Chief,” he said hoarsely. His tongue felt swollen and dry in his mouth.

  “Finally awake,” Chief Bristol said. “I’ve been coming in here to check on you for days, and damned if you didn’t wake up right while I was here. That’s handy.”

  “Guess so,” Eric said. The attempt to speak sparked off a racking cough that hurt his ribs as if he were being beaten with a length of pipe.

  When he finally managed to calm down the coughing fit, he whispered. “Otis?”

  “Been and gone,” Chief Bristol said. “Says he won’t be back. He came to make sure you were actually alive, but he’s pissed as hell at you. Says you’re on your own.”

  Eric winced, and nodded. “I know.”

  “That Otis,” Chief Bristol said. “Always the hard-ass. Mace and Anton were here nonstop while they were in town, but Mace got called out on a mission, and Anton had to go back to do some DJ tour or other. He’ll be back. Hey there.” Chief Bristol rose up and pushed him down into the bed as he struggled to rise. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I gotta get out of here,” Eric said, his voice hollow. “I gotta talk to Demi.”

  “Wrong,” Chief Bristol said. “You’re staying right here. You are under arrest.”

  Eric stared at him, squinting. “Huh?”

  “You have the right to remain silent,” Chief Bristol began, and then proceeded to Mirandize him. Eric listened to the spiel, trying to breathe but it felt like the walls of the small hospital room were closing in around him. “What was I charged with?”

  “Auto theft and driving under the influence. Jesus, Eric. I thought you were smart. You snowed me with those good grades and good SAT scores in high school.” He shook his head, his mouth grim and tight. “Don’t try to leave this room. You’re weak as a kitten so I figured there’s no need to cuff you. But if you make so much as a single move to leave this bed, I’ll chain you to it
until you’re arraigned.”

  “I was set up,” Eric said.

  Chief Bristol shook his head sadly. “Here we go.”

  “I swear it,” Eric said. “I was at Demi’s house that night before it happened, yes, but I never took Ben Vaughan’s car.”

  “You were fished out from underneath the wreckage,” Bristol said. “Your blood is smeared all over the upholstery. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “I am telling the truth,” Eric said. “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

  Bristol folded his beefy arms over his large belly. “Maybe you should talk to a lawyer before you start shooting off your mouth. You’re still under the influence of sedatives. You have the right to a lawyer. It might be smarter to shut up and wait.”

  “My story isn’t going to change,” Eric said. “I remember everything. I can make a statement right now.”

  Chief Bristol recorded his account, and sat afterwards for several long minutes frowning at the wall.

  “That’s what you’re going with?” he said. “Really? Boyd Nevins, who’s never been in any trouble in his life, lures you into the car at four-thirty AM, throws your phone into the river, drives you to Peyton State Park and pours tequila all over you and Benedict Vaughan’s Porsche. Evidently getting some of it into your mouth in the process, since the blood tests showed alcohol in your system—”

  “I told you, Chief, I’d drunk some of it with Demi when I was at her house.”

  “And the less said about that, the better. Where were we? Oh yes, getting run off the road by mystery thugs who were trying to kill you. For no reason you can guess at.”

  “It sounds crazy,” Eric said. “But it happened. Just like that. My fingerprints will be on the passenger side door, and Boyd Nevin’s DNA will be on the neck of the tequila bottle at the trailhead at Peyton State Park, in the parking lot, right in front of the trailhead sign. If you look at the back end of the Porsche, maybe you can tell that another big car was ramming it. The paint on the Humvee was Army green. And there might be marks on the road where I went through the guard rail. Check it out. Please.”