Justifiable Means

by Terri Blackstock

  She dropped her keys, reached down to pick them up, then seemed to have trouble getting the car key into the keyhole in the door.

  “She’s shaking like a leaf,” Tony muttered, watching through the binoculars.

  She got the door open, then quickly slid in and locked it again. It took a moment for her to start the engine, turn on the lights, and pull out of her space.

  “Is it flat?” Larry asked.

  “It looks low,” Tony said. “Won’t last much longer, but it’ll at least get her out of the parking lot.”

  “Here he comes.” Pendergrast had cranked his car and turned on his lights like any of the other employees who’d just come out. Pulling out of his space, he took another parking lot exit, as if trying to be far enough away from Karen that she wouldn’t know she was being followed. He waited until she’d pulled out, then slowly began to follow her to the barren road where he would carry out his plan.

  The van pulled out as soon as he was far enough away not to see them.

  “All right. She’s having trouble,” Tony said. “Looks like the tire’s completely flat now.”

  “She’s not stopping,” Larry said as he slowed to stay far enough back to be invisible in the darkness. “When’s she gonna stop?”

  “She’s riding on the rim,” John Hampton said from behind them. “She’s scared to stop.”

  “Well, she’ll have to sooner or later. Pendergrast is getting closer.”

  They watched as her brake lights came on, and she pulled to the side of the road. “You guys had better be back there,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  “We are, baby, we are,” Tony answered, though she couldn’t hear him. “All right, he’s pulling in behind her. Stop the van.”

  They stopped, and Tony watched with the binoculars as John monitored the tape. Larry began to sweat.

  They heard the car door open, and saw Karen get out as Pendergrast approached.

  “Hi.” It was Pendergrast’s voice. “You having some trouble?”

  “Yeah,” she said, so quietly they had to turn up the monitor to hear. “My tire’s flat. Do you happen to have a jack?”

  He took a look at the tire and whistled. “No, I sure don’t. But I’d be happy to give you a ride somewhere.”

  She hesitated. “Do you have a car phone? Maybe you could just call someone for me, and I could wait.”

  He chuckled like anybody’s big brother. “Sorry. Look, I don’t want to leave a woman out on this road by herself. I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. You never know who might come along. Let me just take you up to the nearest gas station, and you can call.”

  Again, hesitation.

  “Come on, Karen,” Larry whispered.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Let me just lock it up.”

  She was stalling, and Larry looked over at Tony. He was sweating, too.

  She locked the doors, then walked slowly back to Pendergrast’s car and got in the passenger side.

  Larry began to inch the van forward as he pulled the mike off its hook. “All right, boys,” he told the cops who’d been planted at various spots in the woods where Pendergrast had dug the hole. “He’s got her. Everybody in place. Let’s not drop the ball now.”

  Pendergrast’s car pulled slowly back onto the road.

  “I can’t believe it’s flat,” Karen said. “That tire was new.”

  “You probably ran over something.” His voice had changed.

  “I’m glad you were coming by. It sure would have been scary to stand out there alone. I’ve been meaning to get a car phone, but—”

  From the van, they saw Pendergrast turn onto the dirt road.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Shortcut,” he said.

  Larry punched the accelerator, and the van flew toward the dirt road, its lights still off.

  “On a dirt road?” she asked. “I don’t think so. Look, stop the car. I’m getting out.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said calmly.

  The van reached the dirt road, and Larry pulled over to the curb.

  “You can’t go up in here with your lights off,” Tony said. “Road’s too rough. You’ll get stuck.”

  Larry drew his gun and opened the van door. “I’ll go the rest of the way on foot. Radio the others. Tell them not to make a move until I give them the word. As soon as you hear them get out of the car, pull in, and hurry.”

  Bolting out of the van, Larry took off on foot, following the dirt road. His heart pounded faster with every step, and he uttered a prayer under his breath that nothing would go wrong. He ran for what seemed an eternity, following the dirt road. He heard the water and knew he was getting close to the clearing.

  A car door slammed, and he heard a blood-curdling scream, propelling him faster.

  The road curved, and he saw the clearing. The Toyota was parked there.

  Karen screamed again, but he didn’t see her or Pendergrast. Holding his pistol out in front of him, he scanned the trees, but couldn’t see where they had gone. Frantic, he followed the sound as fast as he could, into the thick brush. It was too dark to see where he was going, so he pulled his flashlight out of his pocket and almost turned it on. But he knew Pendergrast would see him.

  He heard Karen pleading and crying, and he ran faster, pushing through bushes and around trees, feeling his way as he gripped the pistol in one hand and the flashlight in the other, while he groped for his radio to tell someone to intervene.

  His foot sank into a hole, and he tripped and dropped both the radio and the flashlight. He reached for them frantically, feeling through leaves and dirt, but couldn’t find them. She screamed again, so he left them and went on as fast as he could. He was getting closer—he could hear Pendergrast’s voice, and Karen’s screams were louder . . .

  Karen struggled to free herself from Pendergrast’s arms as he dragged her through the brush, branches and twigs tearing her clothes and scraping her skin as they went. With all her might she screamed, but he wasn’t afraid. They were too isolated out here, and he knew they couldn’t be heard.

  It wasn’t supposed to go this far! They were supposed to stop things before Pendergrast got her out of the car, she thought on a wave of terror. But here he was, dragging her off where no one could get to her, and she was going to be dead before anyone stopped him. Was catching him all they cared about? Did they need a dead body to get the conviction they wanted?

  They reached another clearing where the moonlight shone through, and she could see more clearly now. If she could just break away—maybe she could run—

  He grabbed her hair and flung her to the ground, and she screamed out again. They weren’t going to come, she thought desperately. She looked up at him, saw the crazy look in his eye as he pulled a scarf out of his pocket and wrapped the ends around his hands. Was he going to strangle her?

  Deciding her allegiance to the case wasn’t as important as her life, she used the only weapon she had. “The police know you’re doing this! They’re all over this place! They followed us here!”

  Pendergrast seemed amused by that. He grabbed her hair again, pulling her up, his fist in her hair almost drawing blood at her scalp. He crammed the scarf into her mouth, then wound it around her head until it cut into the sides of her lips, choking and cutting her at the same time. She tried to scream, but couldn’t, as he knocked her to the ground again.

  As the van made its way down the dark road, silence screamed through the headphones. Tony cursed. “Something happened. He must have found the wire.”

  “I don’t know,” John said, listening carefully on the headphones. “I still hear the struggle. Maybe he gagged her.”

  “Where’s Larry? He should be there by now. He should have sent the others in.”

  John shook his head and clutched the headphones, as if it would help him to hear better. “Stop the van, Tony. We’re getting too close. He’ll hear us and we’ll have a hostage situation. Maybe that’s why Larry hasn’t signaled us yet.�
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  “We already have a hostage situation!” Tony said, continuing to drive. But as he reached the clearing, he saw the Toyota and realized he was going to have to go the rest of the way on foot anyway. “All right,” he told John. “I’m going in. Get up here so you can drive if you need to.”

  “Negative,” John said. “I can’t monitor the tapes and drive the van at the same time. We need the tapes for evidence!”

  “Well, we don’t need a dead girl!” Tony hissed. “Or a dead cop. I’m going!”

  Before John could stop him, he took off down the dirt road, desperately hoping that it wasn’t too late.

  Larry tried not to make a sound as he pushed through the brush toward the scuffling sounds he could still hear. He came to the end of the brush, at the clearing where they’d found the hole yesterday.

  He saw the opening in the trees overhead, and moonlight shone down on a circle of ground.

  Karen was on the ground in that circle, kicking and fighting with all her might, though she was gagged and couldn’t scream.

  Pendergrast’s back was to Larry, and Larry inched closer as Pendergrast fought, struggling to grab Karen’s hands to restrain her.

  Larry lunged forward and shoved the barrel of his 9 mm to the back of Pendergrast’s head. “Freeze!” he shouted. “Let go of the girl, step back, and put your hands behind your head!”

  Stunned, Pendergrast froze, and as he let Karen go, she slid across the dirt out of his reach.

  Pendergrast spun around, trying to knock the gun out of Larry’s hand. He kept his grip, but Pendergrast lunged at him, trying to wrestle it from his hands.

  The gun fired.

  With a yelp, Pendergrast dropped, clutching his shoulder with one hand. With the other, he reached into his boot and drew his own small pistol.

  “Don’t even try it,” Larry said through his teeth, pointing his gun between Pendergrast’s eyes. “Drop the gun. Drop it! Now!”

  Pendergrast looked up at him, evaluating him, testing him. Slowly, he raised the gun, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as if he were about to toss it toward Larry. But he didn’t.

  Instead, he flipped it up until his finger was over the trigger, and aiming it at Larry’s forehead, he cocked the hammer.

  “Drop—the—gun,” Larry uttered through his teeth. “I’m giving you to the count of three.”

  Pendergrast smiled.

  “One . . .”

  He wasn’t moving.

  “Two . . .”

  A whack split the night, and Pendergrast fell over. Behind him stood Karen, still gagged, but holding a fat branch. Pendergrast twisted on the ground, grabbed her legs, and pulled her down, shoving the barrel of his gun against her ear. “You put the gun down, Millsaps,” he choked out. “Drop the gun, or she’s dead.”

  “Killing her won’t keep me from killing you, Pendergrast,” Larry said. “I’ll bury you in that grave you dug.”

  Karen bucked and twisted with all her might, making it hard for Pendergrast to keep the gun against her head. Grabbing a fistful of hair, Pendergrast slammed her head down.

  He tried again. “The gun, Millsaps. Drop it, and nobody has to get hurt.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Larry saw Tony stealing through the brush, the same way he had come. He knew that, by now, at least five other cops were hiding in the shadows. Slowly, he lowered his gun and dropped it on the dirt.

  Pendergrast laughed out loud, letting Karen go long enough to turn the pistol on Larry.

  The gunshot shrieked through the air, but it wasn’t Larry who was hit. The bullet from Tony’s gun hit Pendergrast in the hand that clutched the pistol.

  He let out a high-pitched yell, and the gun went flying.

  Larry dove for his own gun, but Pendergrast went for it, too, fighting for his life with his one good hand. His fist flew across Larry’s jaw, splitting the skin, but Larry struggled to grab the pistol. Pendergrast reached it first, and Larry clamped his hand over Pendergrast’s. On their knees now, each of them reached for the hammer, and both fingers grabbed for the trigger.

  When the gunshot rang out this time, they both dropped to the ground, still entangled.

  “Larry!” Tony shouted, and burst forward.

  Sirens blared as a convoy of squad cars reached the clearing, shining their headlights into the trees.

  Only then could Tony tell which one of them had survived.

  Larry pushed Pendergrast off him and slowly stood up.

  Tony rushed forward to the limp body lying on the ground. Turning him over, he felt his neck for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

  Larry looked down at the gun as if it were a foreign thing. Opening his fingers, he let it fall to the ground. Then he went to Karen and untied her gag.

  She was sobbing as he got it off, and she fell against him, weak and hysterical. As he held her, he looked back at the body.

  Cops swarmed out of the trees, lighting the area with flashlights and headlights.

  But the victory was hollow. Larry had wanted the man in jail. He had wanted him exposed, tried, locked away in a prison where he would endure the torment he deserved. He hadn’t wanted him dead. That was too easy. That was too quick.

  Shaking, Larry helped Karen up and walked her to one of the squad cars. Helping her in, he told one of the cops, “Get her to a hospital. Make sure she’s all right.”

  He stood back, watching, as the car pulled away.

  When it was out of his sight, he went to the hole Pendergrast had dug to hide Karen in. The shovel and bag were still there, as was the pile of dirt waiting to be pushed back in. He reached for his flashlight to better see the contents of the makeshift grave, but remembered he had dropped it, along with his radio.

  The lights from the headlights made it easier for him to find his way back through the brush, and he spotted the flashlight. He reached for it, and his foot sank again, just as it had when he’d been running through earlier.

  Turning the flashlight on, he shone it down on the circle of sinking dirt. It was loose and thinly covered with leaves. He stooped and brushed the leaves away.

  It looked as if the dirt had been put there to fill a hole, and he scooped a handful out, then another, and another.

  “Tony!” he shouted. “Over here!”

  In seconds, Tony was beside him. “Get a load of this,” he said. “Looks like we have another hole. Question is, what’s it burying?”

  They got a shovel and centered all their efforts around digging, until the beams of the flashlights revealed what was hidden there.

  “Oh, no,” Larry said. “It’s a woman.”

  They pulled the dirt-encrusted body out and shone the light in her face.

  “Ten to one this is Lisa,” Tony said. “Our other runaway.”

  Larry dropped wearily down to the dirt. “So Pendergrast killed her. That means he killed the girl on the beach, too.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said. “He must have dumped her in that canal.”

  “Her and who else? We might find others.”

  As the others photographed the hole and the body, and recorded all of the evidence they would need to close the case, Larry began to feel bone tired, sick with exhaustion. He got up and started to walk away. Tony followed him. “Look, man. I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?” Larry asked.

  “For not taking all this as seriously as I could have. I mean, I did at the end, but in the beginning—it never crossed my mind that he was a killer—or that he had anything to do with the girl on the beach.”

  “Didn’t cross mine, either,” Larry said. He stopped and looked off into the night. “I just keep thinking. That could have been Melissa in that hole. He might have killed her, too.”

  “He didn’t. And he didn’t kill Karen Anderson. She was roughed up and traumatized, but she’s in one piece. It could have been a lot worse. Karen and Melissa are both going to be fine.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right.”

  He walked back to
the van and leaned on the hood as the flurry of activity went on around the bodies. He wanted to hold Melissa, and listen to her breathe, and thank God that it hadn’t been her in one of those holes, covered with dirt . . .

  Tony walked up behind him and slid his hand across his back. “Why don’t you go home, buddy? It’s all over. We can take it from here.”

  “No,” Larry said. “The evidence. We have to make sure—”

  “He’s dead,” Tony reminded him. “The evidence won’t matter much now.”

  Larry realized wearily that Tony was right. There would be a rush of news reports, and friends and acquaintances of Edward Pendergrast would come out of the woodwork, providing glimpses of the dark side of the killer. Maybe even more bodies would be found.

  But there wouldn’t be a trial. Pendergrast had already been convicted. And he wasn’t going to find a way to squirm out of this one.

  “Come on, buddy,” Tony said. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

  Larry didn’t have the energy to argue as he got back in the van.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  The depression that Melissa had gone to bed with had kept her awake for most of the night. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter that Larry had skipped that visit, that she’d expected as much, that it was inevitable. But the bottom line was that she was already in love with him, and the worst part of her incarceration was that she was going to lose him.

  Had God really forsaken her?

  She forced herself out of bed early the next morning, dressed in the orange jumpsuit that she was beginning to hate with all her heart, and got her Bible. Chloe woke up as she opened the door that the CO had unlocked just moments before.

  “Where you goin’ so early?”

  “Bible study,” Melissa said. “We decided it would be a good way to start our day.”

  Chloe cursed and pulled out of bed. “Well, I guess I have to go, too, if you are.”

  “No, you don’t. You can sleep some more.”

  “And let you get pulverized walkin’ to the chapel?”

  “Chloe, everyone’s still asleep. Nobody’s going to hurt me.”

  Chloe ignored her as she stepped into her jumpsuit. “Your blood ain’t gon’ be on my head.”