XXX Shamus
Page 21
Villeponteaux sucked in air and said, “So now what? They’ll catch you.”
“They never caught you.”
“I’m……(wheeze)……better.”
“You don’t have as much to lose.”
The old man grinned. Teeth showed. He looked dead already. “Maybe so.”
Hopper took his time. He wrapped Violet in a blanket and set her on the couch, then went back to arrange the kitchen, first getting rid of the plastic wrap on the table, the homemade stirrups. Surveyed the rest: Bleached tools, blood, shotgun holes. Well…how could he make it look like an old man had simply fallen and broken his neck?
Hopper found cleaning supplies in the hall closet—more bleach, Pine Sol, sink cleanser, a bucket, a mop. That would do. He scrubbed down the counters, the sink, the stovetop, poured Pine Sol all over the floor, and splashed some bleach around.
He placed the mop in Villeponteaux’s hand. The old man couldn’t move, but he still had enough in him for a few more words. “One favor. One more.”
“I think we’re square.”
“No, I mean, end it before you do what I know you’re going to do. Please. Not that.”
“You mean kill you before I set this place on fire?”
“I’d do it for you.”
Hopper watched the old man’s eyes, fully red, still sparkling.
“C’mon, boy. Put that bat to good use. Make your bosses proud.”
Instead, Hopper stared at the old man a long time before saying, “You don’t deserve that sort of kindness.”
While Villeponteaux made sounds no other man should have to hear, Hopper took his chemical-soaked rags and set them on the eyes of the stove, spun all the dials on high. The rags caught immediately, flames spreading along the counters and down to the floor faster than Hopper expected. He backtracked out of the kitchen, choking on fumes.
Lifted Sister like she was a child, held her close, and started out the door. The kitchen was already crackling, waves of heat broiling Hopper’s back. He needed to get out of there before anyone noticed.
He carried her to the car with a smile on his face. Villeponteaux hadn’t given him specifics about Divinity’s location, but Hopper was a good detective. It was plenty enough to get started. All he had to do was nurse his sister back to health first, hope that she hadn’t registered any of this. She’d wake up in a few days thinking she’d been hit with the flu or something. Hopper would comfort her, feed her, help her bathe, whatever it took to keep the monster at bay.
After that, a flight to France, armed with his instincts and a map and some research on small towns along the country’s coastlines. A no-brainer—this was all part of the same test that he thought began with Emily. If he found Divinity, he passed, and everything would be fine.
After all, Hopper was great when it came to finding missing girls.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Red Hammond was a lifelong Pentecostal minister who, on his sixtieth birthday, quit preaching, left his wife, disowned his kids, and moved to L.A. so he could write porno scripts. Once there, however, he was told over and over that his scripts were too dark even for *that* sort of porn. So he wrote a novel, and once he was done, it left him in a coma from which he still hasn’t recovered. This is that novel…
Although rumor has it that he’s really just this boring guy who lives in Minnesota with a dog.
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