Echoes in the Wind

by Debra Jupe

  He stopped on the port side of the boat to stare into the darkened gulf. What should he do? Water lapped quietly against the vessel’s hull as a light breeze shifted the watercraft easily back and forth, niffing the salty air with a fishy scent.

  For a moment, Eric sensed complete peace. He started to turn and go down below, but an odd creak made him freeze. Out of the blue, spikes prickled across the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.

  Flashes of his nightmares raced through his mind. “Darla?”

  “She’s here. With me.”

  Chapter 20

  Eric gradually inhaled as he slowly rotated. Dread seeped through his veins until he’d completely turned. In that moment his fears vanished. What he witnessed sent him into an uncontrollable rage, a fury that made him want to attack. Instead he swallowed his anger and forced his mind to stay cool.

  Now wouldn’t be the time to get stupid.

  Darla’s captor had her braced against him, facing her outward. An arm draped across her chest, a hand clutched her opposite shoulder. The other hand held a gun, aimed at her head. Eric ignored him and stared at her.

  Horror swelled within him. A knot tightened in his chest and constricted, choking him, taking away every bit of his air. He may be suffering a heart attack. Her dark gaze speared back into him. The expression on her face said everything. This was his fault. Guilt stunned him as he eyed the weapon’s short, stainless shaft rammed against his woman’s temple. Odd reflections flashed through his mind. He’d done nothing but let her down since they’d met. Now he needed to be her hero. And he would. He’d save her. Or die trying.

  Eric did his best to appear calm. He probed into his pocket. “So it’s you.”

  “It’s me.”

  “I remember everything now.” Eric removed his package of smokes and used his thumb to flip the top open. “The night at Finn’s was fuzzy for the longest. Seeing you with the gun paints a clear picture.”

  “I wondered why you didn’t turn me in.”

  With his lips, Eric tugged a cigarette from the pack, flicked his lighter, and moved the flame to the tip. He leaned against the boat’s rail and inhaled before he twisted away to blow out a slow stream of smoke. “I wasn’t sure of anything. I’ve dreamed about the night over and over. Your face was never clear. I believe things would’ve stayed the same if you hadn’t shown up here.” He sucked in another drag and let go a puff of smoke.

  “Couldn’t take a chance.”

  Eric stared out into the darkness. “Why didn’t you finish me off at Finn’s? You had the gun pointed right at my head. All you had to do was pull the trigger.”

  “Because you weren’t the target.”

  He contemplated his would-be killer. “How’s that?”

  “I never intended on killing you. Or Blaine. Not in the beginning, anyway.”

  “I don’t understand. Raging Impulse members were dropping like f-bombs at a rock ’n’ roll awards show. How could you not go after Blaine and me?”

  He held the pistol up, away from Darla’s head for one second before he placed the cylinder back onto her temple. “At the time, it wasn’t financially beneficial to get rid of the two of you.”

  Eric gave Darla a quick glance. She hadn’t moved. His stomach flip-flopped. Her eyes remained firmly planted on him, waiting for him to save her. He twisted to toss the cigarette butt over the side into the water.

  “You could’ve walked away free, you know. The police have someone in custody they believe is the killer.”

  Darla stared at Eric. “If they truly think things through they’ll figure out the guy they’re holding isn’t the murderer. I was already questioning how a professional hit man could miss so many times. Surely a good detective will come to think the same way.”

  “So what’s the story, Shane?” Eric interrupted. “Why do you need to kill us?”

  Shane scanned the darkness before he settled his eyes on Eric. His old friend’s pupils had dilated. Dead. Like the man no longer possessed a soul. He licked his lips as his grip tightened over the handle of the gun.

  “I only planned to kill Finn, and I’d decided to do it at the party for maximum exposure,” he said though gritted teeth. “So I went and played guest. When Finn headed toward the bathroom, I slipped off and changed, then waited. I believed I’d shot him when he came from the lavvy.” He stopped to take a rough breath. His voice trembled. “I liked Drake. He was always good to me.”

  “We all treated you well.”

  “Some were more decent than others, though decent didn’t matter since I only dealt with you and Blaine.”

  “But that doesn’t explain the reason you’re killing us. Blaine and I always thought a lot of you. That’s why we hired you to be our manager. Even without any experience we knew if anyone could help us take our music to the next level, you were the guy.”

  “That was the plan.”

  “I’m confused. What was the plan?”

  “To get Raging Impulse back into the limelight. Then introduce Spiraling UP. The strategy was working too. God, the idea was so simple, so ingenious.”

  “Wait a minute.” Eric gave his head a shake to clear it. “You mean to say you killed Drake and Finn, and tried to murder Mitchell as publicity for the band?”

  Shane smiled. “Raging Impulse was deader than your friends. Now the band is all the rage again, pardon the pun. Sales are spanking. Perfect time to bring you and Blaine forward.” He gazed at Eric and frowned. “Which I did. And look what’s happened. Your song is on top.”

  “Oh my God. You’ve gone completely mad.”

  “You gotta be a little nuts to manage a rock band.”

  “Insane, yeah,” Eric agreed. “But killin’ people, friends to make money? That’s nuthouse time.”

  “No argument from me, mate. But I need the cash. My ex and her lawyers are draining me in back child support. The more of you who die the bigger both groups become. I figure you and Blaine have enough recorded to keep me flush for a long time. That is if you’re gone.”

  Eric clamped his mouth shut. Repugnance raged inside as disgust rolled through him from head to toe. He bit his repulsion back, taking a minute to digest these revelations and shove the idea that he was indirectly responsible for people’s deaths aside. He had to move forward. He needed to think. To find a way to keep Shane talking, buy them some time. “So why did you shoot me if I wasn’t the target?”

  Shane’s lips curved upward into a cutting smile. “I’m done playing twenty questions. It’s time—you know. He put the gun to his temple to motion the release of the trigger then returned the barrel to Darla’s head and shoved her toward the rail.

  Eric visibly shuddered as his mind became completely blank. He had to think, to keep this conversation going until they might form a plan and get away. “Dugan? Are you responsible for his disappearance?”

  Shane stopped and shook his head. “Nope. I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t. No clue to where that piece of human slime is.”

  “How were you able to leave the party on a motorcycle and return so quick?” Darla blurted.

  “I can answer that,” Eric interjected. “Shane is a runner. A gifted one. He even qualified for the Olympics a few years ago. He continues to train and runs marathons on a regular basis. He can get from one place to another in no time.”

  Darla slightly tilted her head. “Wouldn’t it make sense to allow Eric and Blaine to help you by continuing to record?”

  “No guarantee that’ll happen if this frenzy fizzles over everybody’s death. And this whole money situation with my ex is dragging me down. The best way to resolve that is if none of you were here anymore.” After a hesitation Shane’s gaze shifted to Eric. “You know how this is gonna go.” His grip tightened around Darla as he forced her to the edge of the boat.

  Eric’s blood turned to ice and froze in his veins. Time ran out. Did he have any more stalling in him?

  “Your problem is with me.” He nodded at Darla. “You d
on’t have a reason to hurt her.”

  “Well, well. You really like this one, don’t you? Sorry, but she’s heard everything.” Shane’s voice turned gritty, mean. He pressed the gun barrel into her cheek, forcing the upper half of her body to hang over the vessel’s rim. “Now quit stalling. It’s time to die.”

  “Easy, Shane, easy.” Eric patted the air as he took a step toward them. “Think about this. Darla’s right. The police will figure out the person they’ve got is the wrong guy. They’ll know it’s you and they’ll find you. You’ll sit in a cell for the rest of your life.”

  Shane spoke in almost a whisper. “Doesn’t matter, Eric.” His lips lifted into a malicious grin. “You’ll be dead and I’ll still get residuals. Criminals become wealthy from inside all the time. And you’ve already diagnosed me crazy. I can always be cured. Then I’ll be rich and healed.”

  Darla released a soft chuckle. “Lot of good money will do you if you kill us in Texas. You can forget about rotting away in prison. The state is pro-death penalty, and we use it quite liberally.”

  Shane twitched. “You’re assuming they’ll catch me.”

  “This is Texas. We shoot now. Ask questions later. You may never make it to death row. Either way, you’ll be just as dead as we are.”

  Panicked, his eyes shifted back and forth. With the gun he motioned at Eric. “Start the boat. Take us out into the middle of the gulf. No one will capture me out there.”

  Eric gazed at his manager, helpless. “I can’t drive this thing.”

  “I can,” Darla volunteered. She stared hard at Eric.

  Shane stayed quiet, apparently to consider the situation. He tensed his hold on Darla, standing her upright, and pushed her to move. Together they stepped over the deck until they reach the second set of boat seats and stood behind them.

  He gestured at Eric. “Come sit.” Then he said to Darla, “When he’s in the chair, I’ll let you go. Your only job is to drive us out to the bay. Don’t try anything or I’ll shoot him now and worry about the cops later. Got it?”

  Darla nodded. Her gaze remained on Eric.

  Eric gulped. With difficulty, he forced his feet to walk over the damp floor and to the padded chair. He sat as directed. Shane guided the pistol away from Darla’s head and turned it to Eric’s as he released her. The metal against his temple felt exactly as he remembered. The same as he’d dreamt repeatedly. Darla advanced to the cockpit and reached across to open a deep compartment near the captain’s seat.

  “What are you doing, woman?” Shane drove the firearm further into Eric’s head.

  With a smile, she held something up between her thumb and forefinger though her other hand remained inside. “Key.” She let it dangle from the ring. “Hey, Eric. Remember last night? You asked me what I’d won trophies in while in school.”

  Eric gave a slight nod.

  She dropped the key and whipped a pistol from the slot. “Shooting competitions. Many.” She raised the revolver and with both hands pointed the barrel at Shane’s head. “And won.” She held the weapon steady, staring Shane down, poised to shoot.

  Eric’s mouth fell open. “Um, Darla?”

  “Not a smart move, lady.” Shane’s trill tone boomed as he drove his pistol closer into Eric’s temple. A cranking popped in Eric’s ear. His heartbeat raced. Shane had cocked back the gun’s hammer. The night breeze blew gusts of warm air. Sweat beaded his forehead, his hair stuck to his skin.

  Darla mimicked Shane by cocking the striker of her pistol, only very slowly. “Do it. I’ll splatter your brains a half second after you touch the trigger. Remember, I don’t need to sneak up behind to hit my target. I can shoot a fly off the top of your ear.” Her forefinger slightly stroked the trigger. She caught Eric’s eye and hooked her chin. “Drop the gun or I’ll drop you.”

  “Bitch.”

  A sudden blast of wind lifted from the water. The vessel swayed, throwing Shane off balance and the gun away from Eric. Eric clutched the seat with one hand and quickly pushed to his feet. He balled the other and threw a fist at a wobbly Shane, planting his knuckles into his nose. A sting traveled all the way up his arm, his hand soaked in moistness from splattering blood. Shane’s head jerked. He staggered backward, catching the boat’s edge. It took only seconds for him to regain his balance. Blood trickled spreading over his lips and chin.

  He grinned, revealing blood-lined teeth. He raised his .38 and pointed it directly between Eric’s eyes. Eric froze, flanked between the chair and the vessel’s side.

  A familiar hum whizzed past his ear. A thudded smack rang out. Shane collapsed.

  Instinctively, Eric dived to the floor. His body bounced against the surface, he rolled across the boat’s deck coming to a stop on his stomach. He opened his eyes, not grasping until then that he’d shut them, and lifted his head to look up at Darla. Her arms dropped to her sides.

  She walked calmly to him. “Some people have to learn things the hard way, don’t they?”

  “Darla.” Eric jumped up to bend over Shane. He looked at her, to Shane, and then back to her. “I didn’t think you were going to shoot him.”

  “I didn’t think you were going to punch him.”

  “Is he dead?”

  She shook her head. “Killing him would be too easy. I was careful to only nick his shoulder. I want him to pay for what he’s done.” She leaned over to inspect the sprawled unconscious body before she swung a leg to kick his gun out of reach. “I think he hit his head on the base of the chair when he fell. He’s knocked out. He’s going to have a huge knot on his forehead after he wakes up.” She straightened. “That’s what I call poetic justice.”

  “I thought we were goners.”

  She held up a palm for a high-five. “Nice right hook for a guitar player.”

  Eric put his hand into hers, clutched it, and heaved her to him into a hug. “Great shootin’ for a smart girl.” He sighed into her hair and squeezed her tighter. “Great shootin’, luv.”

  ****

  Darla stepped onto her parents’ dock. A comfortable breeze blew off the waterway, driving gentle rollers to lazily lap against the pier. The evening sky spouted a display of vibrant pinks, oranges, and purples as the sun dipped behind the lower Laguna Madre Bay.

  Eric, clean shaven, except he’d kept the mustache, sat relaxed in a lawn chair, an acoustic guitar balanced on his lap. He quietly strummed haunting notes that seemed to coincide with the slow moments of the setting sun. The wind blew his hair off his forehead, exposing the faint bruise serving a clear reminder that their far-off ordeal wasn’t so distant. For the first time since she’d met him, he appeared to be at total peace.

  Darla walked across the pier and stood behind him, gazing over his shoulder. He glanced up to give her a quick grin then looked away to concentrate on his music. She sat down in the lawn chair next to him. He stopped playing.

  “Sounds pretty.”

  He grinned at her. “Pretty inspiration.” He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. The whiskers above his lip tickled her skin, in a good way.

  “So what made you keep the ’stache?”

  “I thought I’d try it out for a while. Something different.” He outlined the rainbow of hair over his lips with both middle fingers. “What’d you think? Stay or go?”

  She studied him with a smile. “I like it.”

  “Then I’ll keep it.” A corner of his mouth slanted upward as he set the guitar aside and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “Are you tired? Last night was a long one.”

  “I’m okay. I’m just glad it’s over. For real, this time.”

  Once the police arrived, they arrested a groggy Shane for two murders and two murder attempts before he was taken away in an ambulance. She and Eric were escorted to the station and were questioned for hours by the Texas investigators and the detectives in California via phone. They learned after surgery that Shane had confessed to the killings and remained in custody. As soon as he was well enough, he’d
be returned to California for sentencing, and then to serve his time, which would probably be for the rest of his life.

  Eric leaned over and took her hand. His fingers tightened around hers. He spoke in a voice no louder than a whisper. “What an adventure, huh?”

  Darla was almost afraid to say anything else. She nodded with a sigh. “One I’ll never forget.”

  He squeezed her hand again. “Thankfully, this is over and you can rest and actually enjoy your visit with your family.”

  “When are you planning to leave?”

  He remained quiet for what seemed like forever.

  Somewhere inside she held on to a small hope he would change his plans about going now with everything resolved. Realistically she knew different and she dreaded hearing another good bye.

  He glanced at her, his expression flushed. He inhaled loudly. “I’ve already phoned for a car to come pick me up. A driver will be here in about an hour to take me to the airport. I’m scheduled to talk with the detectives in California first thing in the morning.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could stop her next question. “And then?”

  “Back to the UK and back to work.” He gazed toward the sunset and took another deep breath. “Blaine and I need to find us a new manager. I know it sounds callous, but we have to continue to move forward if we want to achieve our musical ambitions.”

  Darla nodded. One of her mother’s favorite sayings was a person’s actions showed where their hearts were.

  And there it was. He still planned on leaving her and he wasn’t coming back. Ever.

  She wanted to be angry, but only sadness swept through her. Deep, desolate sadness.

  Eric stood and picked up his guitar. “I should go inside and get my things. And I want to thank your parents for their hospitality.”

  Without another word, she rose from her chair and led him up the walkway.

  An hour later she was outside again. An unfamiliar car had parked in the drive. Her dad helped Eric put his things into the trunk. After they finished, he gave her father a final handshake and jogged to where she waited.