“You know, our Springfield home was nice, but it wasn’t comfortable. No matter what we had, I always wanted more. It was never enough. Now, I feel like we’ve been born again.” Julia brought the coffee into the living area in over-sized mugs. “And everyone has been so nice to us. I think we’ve been treated better than we deserve.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“I never thought I would say this, but money doesn’t make you happy. I worshiped every dollar we made, but our wealth left me empty inside.”
Travis laughed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”
“It’s true. Oscar and Sylvia are real friends, and not just because we have money like our friends back home. I like this better. It’s love and friendship that makes you happy, not money and things.”
Travis lifted his steaming mug. “Hear, hear.”
Chapter Twelve
Dillon walked through the store near the end of his shift. He had stopped a couple of thefts already and called the police on one of the thieves – she had stolen several times before and he had warned her he would. She had always batted her eyes at him and sworn she never would again if he would just let her off this one time, but he knew at this point his own cred was at stake.
He was standing near the entrance late in the afternoon. The sun had already set and it was twilight outside. He glanced out into the parking lot near his own car when something caught his eye. Something that made his heart jump into his throat. A silver pickup was parked a couple of spaces from his car. It was the truck he had taken Matt Douglas to the night of the murder. And Matt was sitting in it smoking a cigarette. And he wasn't alone. As big as Matt was, the guy sitting in the passenger seat looked even bigger.
Dillon stepped back into the store, out of view. He didn't know if they had seen him, but it didn't matter. They were obviously waiting for him to climb into his car and were going to follow him out of the parking lot. He pulled out his cell phone and called home. Jenny answered and sounded fine. “Everything okay?” he said.
“Sure, supper's just about ready. Are you about to come home?”
“I'm not sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, Walter's up to his old tricks. I may have to stay a little late.”
“Well, can you call me when you are about to leave?”
“Sure.” He hung up. Then he called her right back. “Jenny?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to do me a favor.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I want you to pack a suitcase for you and Amy and head to your Moms. Right now.”
“Right now?” Her voice went up. “You want me to head to Cincinnati right now? You won't even let me drive there during the day.”
A shopper walked past him without looking at him. “I'm in the store and I can't talk about this. I would just feel better if you did. Stop at a well-lit motel on the interstate and call me when you are in the room. Will you do this for me?”
“Dillon, you're scaring me.” Her voice was cracking like she was trying not to cry. “What's going on?”
“I'm sorry. I can't tell you. Please.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “Please, just do this for me. I promise I'll be okay, but I, I just want to make sure you're safe tonight. That's all.”
“Okay, I'll call you when I stop.”
“Thank you.”
“You promise you're okay?”
“Yes. I promise.”
He eased back to the entrance and looked out into the darkness. The silver truck was still there and the two men were sitting in it looking right at him. He jerked back behind the wall. But he knew they had seen him see them. He backed away from the door and headed across the front of the store to the cafeteria. There were several people there, eating at the tables. He sat at an empty table, his heart racing. He tried to make himself calm down. He felt of his .38. He wanted to pull it from its holster, but he refrained. He sat so that he could see Matt or his partner if they came toward him. Maybe this wasn't even about him. Maybe they were here for someone else. No, he knew better.
A large black man walked into the cafeteria and stood at the coke machine. Was that the other guy? Dillon didn't think the man in the truck was black, but he wasn't sure. He kept him in his peripheral vision. The man never looked his direction. Dillon continued to sit. Maybe he could wait them out. Maybe his old marine unit would come in to shop. He wished he had them with him. Should he sneak out the back?
After thirty minutes, the cafeteria began to clear. It was only him and one couple. He could sit no longer. He slowly walked back toward the entrance. He wanted to see if the truck was still there. It was, but it was empty. Where did they go? Should he make a run for it? He hesitated a moment, then made his decision. He would make a run for it. If he could get out of the parking lot without them following him, maybe he could get away.
He bolted out of the door, but Matt's partner grabbed him from behind as he cleared the double doors. The man was huge and strong, but Dillon was trained. He spun around and freed himself, knocking the man to the ground with a strong blow to his chin with the palm of his hand. Matt appeared from around the corner at the other side of the door. He pulled out a revolver and aimed it at Dillon, but Dillon darted back into the building before Matt could take aim. Matt fired and the bullet struck and shattered one of the doors. The other assailant jumped back to his feet and the men ran into the store after Dillon.
Dillon knocked a display of potato chips to the floor and ran toward the cosmetics area of the store, looking for a place to hide. The men were right behind him. One of them knocked a woman to the floor and jumped over her. Dillon crashed into the shelves of perfume bottles and shampoos, knocking several bottles to the floor. The glass of one shattered, filling the air with a sweet fragrance. Matt fired again, barely missing Dillon's head, but grazing his ear. Blood splattered on the toothpaste and mouthwash that was next to him. He knew running away was never going to work. He had to figure out a way to outsmart them or they were going to shoot him in the back. He looked to his left and saw the pharmacy counter. He dove over the counter just as Matt's partner grabbed his foot. The man pulled him to the floor and struck him hard against the side of his head with the side of his fist. Dillon hit back, knocking him backward. Dillon dove again over the counter, but the man was right behind him. He fell on top of Dillon, scattering medicine bottles. Dillon couldn't free his hands to reach for his gun.
The man struck Dillon in the cheek then grabbed Dillon by the throat with his other hand. Dillon could see stars. The assailant drew his arm back to hit him again. Dillon had to get away. He knew Matt was closing in on them and would finish him off in a matter of seconds. He managed to thrust his knee into the attacker's crotch and the man faltered for a second. Just long enough for Dillon to hit him again with the side of his hand into the front of his neck, crushing his larynx. Dillon knew this wasn't some street fight. He knew his life was at stake and he had to use his training. He drove his palm upward into the man's nose.
Dillon quickly jumped to his feet and ran behind a shelf full of medicine, pulling his gun from its holster as he stood. Matt suddenly appeared above the counter of the pharmacy. He fired a shot but Dillon saw him first and jumped out of the way. Dillon hid behind a shelf, but he could see Matt through the holes in it. He aimed and fired a shot through the medicine bottles. The bullet hit Matt in the shoulder, knocking him to the floor.
Dillon jumped back over counter and drove his knee into Matt's torso. Matt's gun flew several feet away. He pulled away and got to his feet. The men squared off in front of each other. Matt lunged at Dillon, knocked the gun out of his hand and struck him in the chest in one motion. Dillon grabbed his arm and twisted it, then kicked Matt in the side of the knee, making his legs give way and causing him to fall to the floor. Dillon jumped on top of him. He reached down and picked up his gun and put its barrel into Matt's temple. “Stop right there,” he said.
A pharmacist stood at the coun
ter with his eyes wide and his mouth open. Dillon looked up at him. “Don't just stand there. Call 911.”
Dillon kept Matt at bay until the police arrived. He watched as they handcuffed him and led him out to a waiting car. The officers talked to Dillon for nearly an hour, sorting out what happened. They taped off the entire store, counted the bullet holes, and interviewed witnesses. Dillon told them that the men had attacked him, but he didn't offer any reasons. The officers pressed him to try to think why they would do such a thing, but Dillon continued to tell them he didn't know. An EMT crew came in and tended to Dillon's ear and checked the body of the dead assailant. It was a couple of hour's wait before a justice of the peace came and pronounced the man dead. The coroner took away the body a little after eleven. The officers looked frustrated when they left.
Dillon was happy to be alive as he walked to his car, but he knew his troubles were just beginning and not over. He knew Morgan wouldn't give up that easily. How could he ever go back to work for the company again? How could he ever face Walter again now that he had ordered Matt to come kill him in cold blood? He was glad Matt was in jail, but how long could they keep him? And maybe the next guy they sent wouldn't be so clumsy.
He pulled into his driveway and unlocked the house. It was dark inside, but he could tell that Jenny had left in a hurry, just as he had asked her to. He called her and she assured him she was okay and just about to stop for the night.
He was tired and his ear ached, but he couldn't sleep. What if Morgan was sending another hit man? Would they wait for a better day or send someone right away? Dillon sat in the darkness on the couch and listened for sounds. Jenny called after midnight to say she was in for the night. He told her he was also home safe. A dog barked across the street and he peeked through the curtains to see why. A cat ran across and into the bushes. Dillon walked through the house to check the closets and make sure the doors were still locked.
The last time he checked his watch it was just before three. When he awoke, the sun was shining over his shoulder. It was nearly eight and his cell phone was ringing. He jerked awake, sat upright, and clutched his .38.
Jenny was calling to check on him. “Can I come home now?” She said. “This is all scaring me.”
“Not yet, Babe. I need you to go ahead to your mom's. I promise I'll get you back home as soon as I can.” He paused. “I ran into a little trouble with someone down at work. You know that goes with the job. I just want to make sure everything is settled and clear before you come home. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Jenny, listen to me. Nothing's going to happen to any of us, but you know I don't want to take any chances at all.”
Dillon took a quick shower after he hung up. He got dressed and left the house. He didn't feel safe there and wondered if he ever would again. He pulled his car out onto the thoroughfare in front of his neighborhood and started driving. He didn't know which way to go. After circling through town, he found himself heading toward Christopher's church.
Chapter Thirteen
Christopher sat in his church office Friday morning. Another week had come and gone and he had never felt so alone. He now knew that the job he had lost her over was a very real threat to her life and he didn't know what to do about it. How could he keep this information to himself? He called Rachel at work. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yes, how are you doing?” She sounded really glad to hear from him and that made him feel better.
“Tell me again where your first boss went. Mr. Reed. Do you mind?”
“No, that's fine. His secretary said he moved to Telluride, Colorado. She said he was going to work at a hardware store there.”
Dillon opened a map program on his computer and looked up Telluride as he was talking to her. “You don't know the name of the hardware store do you?”
“No, she didn't say. What's this all about, Chris?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Well, you remember I called you last week and said Phyllis wanted to talk to him? I think I may go talk to him myself. I have some questions to ask. It has to do with Ron.”
“With Ron?”
“You know, work related. I'll tell you more later, but I can't really talk about it right now.” He knew she was used to him, as a pastor, having to keep secrets to himself.
“Well, okay.” She paused. “Do you have any money?”
He laughed in a short burst. “No.”
“Let me come by tonight after work and I'll give you my credit card and some cash.”
“You have a credit card?”
“It's my bank card. I got my first paycheck this week you know.”
He had forgotten what it was like to have money in the bank and a credit card for expenses. “Okay, I like that. Bring the boys if you will. I want to see them.”
“Will do.” Her voice sounded even more friendly. “Why don't I bring some chicken and we'll all eat together. How does that sound?”
“Really good.” He tried to suppress a smile, knowing she could hear it in his voice, but he couldn't. “I'm looking forward to it.”
It was settled then. He would drive to Telluride in the morning and see if he could find and talk to Travis Reed. Maybe then he would know what to do. Maybe Mr. Reed would help him. He didn't know, but he had to do something. He called the chairman of the board of the church and told him he needed to be gone Sunday. He told him something had come up and he had to go out of town to take care of it. The elder was friendly and accommodating.
He looked back at the business on his desk. There were a couple of calls he needed to make, then he thought maybe he would close shop for the week. He studied the sermon again that he had been working on, looking up a cross-reference for a scripture passage.
He didn't notice at first that someone was knocking on the outside door. He went to check and was surprised to see Dillon standing there with a black eye, a cut on his cheek, and bandage on his ear. “Hey Dillon, come on in,” he said. “What happened?”
“Kind of a long story,” Dillon said, cracking his neck as he walked through the hall. “I wasn't sure where to go, so I thought I would come here.”
“Sure, of course. Come on in my office.” Christopher led the way into his office and the men sat across the desk from each other. “Do you want something to drink? I've got some coffee.”
“Maybe a cup would be good.”
“Okay, sure.” Christopher walked across to the counter where his coffee pot sat and poured both of them a cup. He walked back over and handed Dillon his. “So tell me. What happened?”
Dillon started slow and deliberate. “The guy I saw push the truck over the side of the cliff with the body in it – remember him?”
Christopher nodded.
“His name is Matt Douglas and he is some sort of hit man for Morgan. He came to the store last night to kill me.” He paused and rubbed his left bicep. “And he brought help.” He stopped and looked at Christopher. “They nearly got me, Chris.”
“I heard about a shootout at Morgan last night,” Christopher said. “And one man being killed. Was that you? I mean – ”
Dillon nodded. “Yeah, that was me. I managed to kill the other guy. I don't know his name. And I held Matt until the police came and arrested him. It was close. It could have gone either way.”
Christopher's eyes grew large. “Two against one. It must have been terrifying.”
Dillon nodded and looked down, then up at Christopher. “Now, I don't know what to do. I can't go home. I'm afraid they're going to hunt me down until they find me.” He paused. “I can't run forever.”
Christopher leaned forward. “I'm leaving for Colorado in the morning. I want you to stay with me tonight and go with me.”
“Colorado?”
“I'm going to try to find Travis Reed. I really don't want to go by myself. I think it would be great if you'd go with me.”
Dillon sat a moment. Christopher could tell he was thinking about it. He stared into Ch
ristopher's eyes for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I'll go.”
Christopher closed down the church a little after noon. He and Dillon decided to go in Christopher's car since Morgan's goons might be looking for Dillon's. They parked Dillon's car behind the church where it could not be seen from the street. Dillon put his .38 under his seat as he climbed into the passenger side. The sight of it made all of this too real to Christopher. He continued to look over his shoulder as they exited the parking lot and headed toward home. He couldn't help but wonder what trouble he was bringing on himself teaming up with Dillon. But he also felt safer with Dillon nearby. Dillon had taken on two assassins and won. He was sad that a man had died, but he couldn't help but be impressed.
That evening, Christopher introduced Rachel, Stephen and Jason to his bandaged friend. Rachel looked a little uncomfortable with him in the home, but he had brought in people in trouble before. It was all part of the job. Dillon smiled but didn't say much. He called and checked on his wife and daughter and went to bed early in Jason's room.
Christopher didn't want Rachel to leave, but he didn't want her to stay either. He was concerned about her safety – and the boys'. Shortly after supper, he hugged her and kissed his sons on the cheek then asked her to get on to her parents’ house. She left her credit card and five twenty-dollar bills on the table and begged him to be careful on his trip. She went through his closet and picked out a couple of shirts for him before she left.
He walked her to the car and she kissed him before she got in. She told him there was a couple thousand dollars in the bank and not to worry about spending it. He smiled and thanked her and told her he loved her. He watched her headlights fade into the night and prayed he would see her again.
Christopher and Dillon left early Saturday morning. It was a warm, cloudless, April morning as they headed west out of Missouri. Christopher drove first since it was his car. Dillon said he was pretty sore and rubbed the muscles in his arms as they traveled.
The Dead Peasants File Page 10