Pump Fake

by Michael Beck

  I gripped it tightly in my hand. Wasn't he in for a surprise?

  Something cold pressed against the back of my neck.

  CHAPTER 85

  "You really think you're going to get away with this, Kyle?" I said.

  "Without a doubt."

  "Too many people know I'm here."

  "I'm counting on it. I want them to come looking for you. And when they find you in the bottom of a frozen lake, they'll just shake their heads. The ranger will say he warned you about driving across the lake, but you wouldn't listen. Your friends will nod their heads and say that was just like Tanner. He never listened to anyone.

  "And you know what? That's pretty apt, because if you listened to warnings you wouldn't be in this predicament. Now slowly stand and hand me the phone."

  Kyle King was dressed in a white ski suit, white boots and a white ski cap. The only thing that wasn't white was the pistol.

  "I bet you've got a pom-pom on that cap," I said.

  "Give me the phone."

  "Who are you supposed to be? The winter Easter Bunny?"

  "I said give me the phone, goddammit!"

  "Okay, don't get your fluffy, white tail in a knot. Here."

  He grabbed the phone out of my hand and grasped it tightly.

  "I've been looking for this for nine years. Nine years! Every spring and summer I would come up here searching and you come up here once and find the damn thing! How did you know it was in there?"

  "She carved LOG in to the palm of her hand."

  He shook his head in admiration.

  "Really? How did she ever think of that? You have no idea how bad the storm was that night. And she, dressed only in a skirt and jumper, has time to come up with that idea! She really was a piece of work, wasn't she?"

  "You should know, she was your sister."

  "Half-sister!" He spat the words.

  "Whichever way you cut it, you were related. What did you do to her?"

  He held the phone up. "Without this no one will ever know."

  "Is it really worth killing over? I know you didn't actually kill her but now you're just digging a deeper hole for yourself."

  "Are you kidding?" King gave me a look of total disdain. "Of course, it's worth it. If this phone got out my life would be over anyway, so I have nothing to lose."

  "Killing me won't do you any good, King. Other people know of your involvement."

  "Without this, it's all conjecture. And if there's one thing I'm good at, it's talking my way out of trouble. Once you're gone, this will all blow over. Start walking." With the gun, he gestured toward my Ski-Doo.

  "King, you realize that what was ever on that phone is probably long gone? It's been sitting in that goddam log for nine years. Anything that was on it would have degraded over the years. You're doing this for nothing."

  "You might be right but I can't take that risk." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "If the phone is useless, please except my apologies for killing you."

  "King, you might be a murderous, incestuous bastard but the worst thing I can say about you is you are a complete asshole. And you are completely kidding yourself. You committed incest and were responsible for the death of your sister. Do you really think that's going to blow over? Even if you're never charged, the rumor mill is going to kill you. Who is going to want to back a murdering rapist's campaign for senator? Face it, King, your career is over."

  "You're wrong," he said through gritted teeth. His cheeks were white with anger. "You think anyone will dare say anything without any evidence? I'll sue them until they're bankrupt. No one will want to risk that."

  "You've forgotten about Ashley's panties. Your DNA could be on them."

  "I haven't forgotten. Why do you think I'm here on my own? Donovan's taking care of that right now. And don't think he won't find them. How many places are there that you might have used for DNA analysis? You think it's going to take Donovan long to find them? And you think they won't be willing to hand them over to Donovan, your trusted assistant? Especially, when he has a consent form with your signature on it.

  "Oh, yes, Tanner, money can buy anything. And Donovan will have all the time in the world to find the panties, because you haven't told anyone else where they are, have you?" He laughed. "See? I knew it. You have trust issues, Tanner, and it's come back to bite you big time. After Donovan's found the panties, he'll take care of the only other loose thread and then I'll be in the clear."

  "You've sent Donovan after Decker? I remember you saying he was such a loyal friend? You've really looked after your friends, haven't you, King? Just like you did Dr. Thomas?"

  King shrugged dismissively.

  "Dr. Thomas was going senile. I couldn't trust him to keep quiet. Everything has an expiration date, even friendship."

  "Forget friendship. I know that means nothing to you. But what about blood ties? Don't you have any regret? You were responsible for the death of your sister!"

  "Half-sister! And I didn't know, so it wasn't my fault. Do you think I would have touched her if I knew she was my half-sister? Of course not. But it happened, so what was I to do? Be sorry for the rest of my life? Ruin my whole career just because my dad had a fling with some slut seventeen years before? No, what happened was unfortunate but I made the best of it."

  "Made the best of it? King, you are a lying, untrustworthy piece of shit."

  He smiled at me. "Well, that's the best recommendation for senator I've ever had. Now, give me the file."

  He placed the police report on Ashley Hunter in a white backpack and, while still keeping his pistol trained on me, slipped it inside the door of the cabin.

  "I'll have a long walk back after your tragic accident, so the less I'm carrying the better," he said, when he saw me watching him. "Now, hop on the Ski-Doo."

  I glanced over my shoulder as King climbed on behind me.

  "I hope that's your gun I'm feeling there, King, but with that suit I'm kind of doubting it."

  "Drive!" He directed me down the narrow trail behind the cabin.

  "Was it Donovan who crashed me into the lake?" I shouted over my shoulder.

  "You bet. I don't know how you got out alive, but don't think it's going to happen here. Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice."

  "And it was Donovan who took a shot at me outside St. Mary's?"

  "You were lucky, Tanner, but now your luck has run out."

  After about a mile, I saw ahead where the path turned sharp right and ran alongside the frozen lake. No doubt where my supposed accident was going to occur.

  King pushed the pistol against my ribs. "Stop before you get to the turn."

  "Hey, King?"

  "What?"

  "You're wrong."

  "About what?"

  "Lightning can strike the same place. Haven't you ever heard of lightning rods?"

  I floored the accelerator and swung my head viciously backwards. There was a crunching sound and I felt wetness on my neck. As King brought his gun up, I struck it with my elbow. It went off and I felt a burn along my scalp as we soared over the edge.

  I had time for one thought as we went through the ice. Not again!

  Then I was in the bone-chilling water. I stroked hard and surfaced. King appeared next to me and snatched at me. I kicked him in the guts, and swam with the current towards the nearest ice. I grabbed the edge of it and turned around.

  King's arms were frantically beating against the water. "Help me!"

  Blood ran from his broken nose. Clumsily, he tried to swim towards me, fighting the weight of his sodden ski-gear and boots. I eased myself onto the surface of the ice and lay prone, spread-eagled, panting.

  King took a gasping breath and went under. His hands flailed around above the surface as the current pushed him towards me. His arms struck the ice and his hands desperately scrabbled at it.

  His fingers grasped the ice for one fleeting second, and then slipped off. He disappeared under the ice.

  I brushed the snow beneath my face
away. King was underneath me, his fists flailing against the ice. For one timeless moment, his face was directly beneath mine, his eyes bulging and his mouth pursed tight. Then the current took him away.

  CHAPTER 86

  I tipped the last of the bloody water on the elm tree in the back yard. It hadn't seemed right to pour the blood-dirtied water down the sink. The elm tree was a fitting spot. Dad would have liked it. He and Mom planted the elm when they first bought the house. They were only twenty-two, just married and had their whole lives ahead of them.

  Thirty years later their son was pouring their last physical remains onto the same elm tree.

  I went back inside and returned the bucket, as well as the other cleaning utensils Bear and I had used to the laundry. We had cleaned as best we could. But the house was reluctant to give up those that had cared and cherished it. I had scrubbed and scrubbed the kitchen hardwood floors but the brown bloodstain had soaked right into the wood. The only way to get rid of it would be to replace the floor boards. Mom was now part of the house. The carpet in my parent's bedroom where dad was killed was also ruined. I wasn't sure what to do with either. Wait and see. I went from room to room opening the curtains and windows. A light breeze wafted through, blowing away fourteen years of mustiness and death.

  "What's the score?" The Turbos had to win this game to keep their playoff chances alive.

  "Decker just threw a touchdown to level it at fourteen apiece." Bear sat in the living room watching the game between the Turbos and the Chargers. Several boxes of my parent's personal belongings were stacked next to the couch where he sat. "I can't believe this still works."

  My parents' twenty year old TV, sat in a walnut-colored wall unit that seemed big enough to hold a college library. Underneath it sat an equally outdated, but still working, VHS recorder. On the adjacent shelf was a complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica. The whole house was like that, frozen in time with relics from a distant past.

  "Decker seems to be playing freely."

  I knew Bear wasn't referring to Decker's physical capacity. The events of a week ago had gone a long way to dispel some of Decker's demons. Decker now knew that Kyle King was the real cause of Ashley Hunter's death. It was King who Ashley was running from when she fled into the blizzard. But would that get rid of the guilt Decker felt? Somehow, I doubted it. He still blamed himself for that millisecond of doubt that cost Ashley her life. Unfortunately, he was too good a man to forgive himself.

  The vibrating of my cell shook me out of my reverie.

  "You were right." Mole said. "Data stored in a phone in conditions such as Ashley Hunter's will deteriorate and eventually be lost. That's what happened to her phone. All of her pictures were too scrambled to recover."

  I tried to shrug off the wave of disappointment. "It was worth a try."

  "Yeah. Most of the data stored on the SD card was lost."

  "Most?"

  "I was able to rescue a total of 120 seconds of video files."

  "When were they recorded?"

  I stood still as a rock, waiting.

  "One twenty-second file was from May 2003. It looks like a clip Ashley took of her mom and dad. I recovered three other video files that comprised a total of one hundred seconds. All from the night of 27 November 2003."

  The night of Ashley Hunter's death. I began to breathe again.

  "What do they show?"

  "I'll send them to you?"

  "Can't you just tell me?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  Mole was silent for a long moment.

  "You'll see," he said quietly and hung up.

  I stared raptly down at the phone. Waiting.

  "What is it?" said Bear.

  I shook my head and willed the phone to ring.

  "Tan?"

  My cell buzzed. Mole. There was a date and one video file. 27 November 2003. Thanksgiving Day. I clicked on the video file.

  I was suddenly looking at a close up of Ashley Hunter. From the angle of her face she appeared to be lying down. Her hair was messy and her lips seemed slightly engorged. She wore a lazy, sweet smile.

  "Hi, there. It's me, Ashley."

  "Who else is it going to be, Stupid? It's your phone." A male voice.

  "Shut up. Or I won't let you make love to me again."

  "Not another word," he said.

  "Hi, again. It's still me. Ashley." Her eyes flicked mischievously. "And I've just had fantastic, unbelievable sex with the greatest stud of all time. But I think I've tuckered him out. He's looking sleepy. Looks like there may not be a replay tonight. Is that right, Stud?"

  The image swung crazily for a moment and then I was looking at a close-up of a sixteen-year-old Troy Decker, aka Toby Dyson. His head was on a pillow and he smiled at the camera. His eyes were red and slightly bloodshot. Ashley was right, he did look tired.

  "That is completely false," he said. "We are going to do it at least five more times tonight, and do you know why?"

  "Why?" said Ashley.

  "Because you are so goddam, fucking beautiful, that's why."

  He pulled Ashley towards him and she giggled as he kissed her. Suddenly I was looking at the ceiling and I could still hear Ashley laughing. The file ended.

  My cell beeped as Mole sent me the second file. My finger hesitated on the button. With dread in my heart, I clicked on it.

  Ashley Hunter was sitting in a chair in the living room. She was wearing the dress and sweater she was found in and she looked furious.

  "And tell me Ashley who did you screw, tonight?" It was a taunting male voice.

  "You're the only one who thinks you're funny, Kyle," she said.

  "I don't know about that. What do you think, Ryan? Don't you think it would be fun if Ashley gave us the full details of her sex life?"

  Ryan Franklin was sitting on the couch, holding a bong. On the coffee table in front of him were empty beer bottles. He shrugged uncomfortably.

  "Leave it, Kyle." He sounded stoned.

  "Leave it? Are you mad? The whole world will want to hear about this. Ashley Hunter, the ice maiden, has finally thawed out. Her cherry's been popped, her tire's been punctured, she's torn a hole in the Berlin Wall! What about you, Matt? Want to hear more?"

  The camera swung dizzily around, and I was looking at Matt Maxwell, who lowered the can of beer he was holding and smiled drunkenly. "Hell, yes! I want to hear everything. Hey, I bet there's someone who'd like to hear this more than us?"

  "Who? Toby?" said Kyle.

  "No. Ashley's dad! Imagine if he saw this? He'd hit the roof, he'd go fucking ballistic!"

  Kyle laughed.

  "That's enough, Kyle. Give me my cell," said Ashley.

  The camera swung back to Ashley, who was standing, holding her hand out.

  "Give it to me, Kyle."

  "Hey, I'll give it to you all right. Come here!"

  The picture swung madly around the room, past Franklin's worried face and a laughing Maxwell.

  "Let go of me you fucking pig!" came Ashley's voice, followed by a loud slap.

  "You, bitch! Is that the best you can do!" said Kyle.

  Another slap, and a loud thump.

  "That's how you hit," said Kyle.

  "You've knocked her out," said Franklin anxiously.

  Suddenly, I was looking at Ashley, lying on the floor. Her eyelids were fluttering and her arms moved weakly by her side. Her dress had hiked up, showing her panties.

  "Well, look at this will you! Ashley really does want to give it to me!" said Kyle. The picture swung down her body and then between her legs.

  "Wait a second. I'm sure your dad will want to see more than that." His hand reached under her dress and yanked. There was a ripping sound.

  Kyle set the cell down. For a brief moment I saw him kneeling, looking down at Ashley, and then I was looking at the ceiling.

  "Oh, man," said Maxwell in the background.

  "Kyle, you shouldn't," said Franklin said.

  "Don't be a puss
y, Ryan. You hold her arms. Matt, hold her legs."

  "Kyle, you can't," said Franklin.

  There was another loud slap.

  "Do it, or I'll chuck you out that door right now."

  "But, Kyle--"

  "Fucking do it, Ryan! I'm not kidding. I'll throw you out that door and leave you out there all fucking night. Matt, hold her legs tight in case she wakes up."

  "Man, oh, man. Kyle, you're fucking crazy. Are you really going to do this?" said Matt.

  "Sure. She's had a small piece of Toby. Now she's going to have an extra large slice of Kyle King."

  "Toby will go apeshit."

  "He'll never know. She'll be too embarrassed to tell him. And even if she did, it would be her word against ours."

  "Man, oh, man," muttered Maxwell.

  "If you shut up, Maxwell, you can go second."

  Then there was no sound except for some heavy breathing and a rhythmic slapping sound of flesh against flesh.

  "What?" Ashley's voice was groggy and slurred. "What are you doing! Get off me!"

  "Hold her!" shouted Kyle.

  "No! Let me go! Kyle, please don't!"

  "Shut up!"

  There was another slap. A hand with long, silver finger nails waved around above the phone, and then dropped, covering it completely. The video ended.

  Shakily, I lowered my phone. Jesus.

  Bear was looking intently at me and I shook my head.

  My cell buzzed again. The third video file from the same night. Slowly, reluctantly, I clicked on it.

  The picture was black and grainy with white flecks across it. A blurry face appeared, the mouth moved but I couldn't hear anything. The background noise was enormous, like the person was standing in a giant wind tunnel. The face moved closer until the mouth was virtually on the cell phone.