Dire Straits

by Melissa Pearl

  She tore into her closet, flinging clothes and shoes out into her room until she finally located the small metal box she was looking for. She fumbled with the clasp, drawing in a sharp breath when she laid eyes on what she was looking for.

  Jess picked up the cloth-wrapped item and slowly unwrapped it, revealing her father’s gun. A black Glock 17. Not police-issued, but his own private weapon. Her mother had gifted it to her when she’d accepted the position with AFPD, told her that even if she couldn’t use it on the force, her father would have wanted her to have it.

  She swallowed as she picked up the gun, staring at it almost reverently. It was the first time she’d held it since her mother had given it to her. It stirred up too many memories, too many emotions.

  But now wasn’t the time for reminiscing or thinking about what that gun symbolized to her.

  She needed to focus on something else, something much more important.

  Saving Jarrett.

  42

  Thursday, July 5

  10:20 pm

  Jarrett stared at the silver-haired man who had materialized by Gary Desmond’s side.

  He was holding a gun of his own, this one aimed at Jarrett’s temple.

  Despite the situation, Jarrett felt remarkably calm. Maybe because he knew this was it. There was no escaping his destiny. His only hope was that the phone had survived the fall and that Jessica had at least been able to listen in on what was being said. She’d hear what Gary had told Jarrett, and with any luck, he could get Donovan Smith to share information, too. It wouldn’t be recorded, of course, but it would give her enough to go on, to pursue the story and find justice. For him, and for those who had been affected by what these men had done.

  “Tell me why.”

  Donovan sneered. “Why what?”

  “Why you did it. Why you poisoned this town.”

  “Oh, please.” Donovan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m not some evil madman, out to destroy the world. It was a business decision, plain and simple.”

  “A business decision that cost people their lives.” Jarrett glared.

  “There’s no proof of that.” Donovan moved a step closer, his gun still pointed at Jarrett’s head. “So many things make people sick. It’s hard to pinpoint just one thing, don’t you think?”

  Jarrett’s stomach roiled. It was the same thing Gary had said earlier. It was a way for them to deflect blame, to try to convince themselves that they somehow weren’t responsible.

  “How many people were in on it?”

  Donovan smirked. “Always the reporter, aren’t you? I’m afraid to tell you this is one story you won’t be finishing.”

  “Humor me,” Jarrett gritted out. “Since this is costing me my life, the least you can do is tell me the whole story.”

  “I don’t owe you anything.” Donovan gave him a thin smile. “Actually, I do. I owe you for letting me know which lovely police officer might have information about all of this. That pretty brunette you brought to the golf tournament. Jessica Claret. A shame she’ll be meeting a similar fate.”

  Anger and fear surged through Jarrett, mingling with the adrenaline that was suddenly coursing through his body. He couldn’t let anything happen to Jess.

  But he was powerless to stop it.

  “Don’t hurt her,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know anything.”

  “Bullshit.” Donovan’s eyes were like ice.

  “She doesn’t believe me.” Jarrett’s voice was a little wild, a little desperate. “I tried to convince her but she wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Oh, really?” Donovan arched an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that’s a chance I’m not willing to take.”

  Jarrett squeezed his eyes shut. This was going all wrong. Everything was completely fucked up.

  And it was all his fault.

  “We’ll go easy on her,” Donovan told him. “Maybe she can meet the same fate as poor Miss Simmons.”

  Jarrett’s eyes shot fire at him. “What? You’re gonna pawn off your dirty work to Bill?”

  Donovan looked surprised. “Bill?”

  Jarrett remembered the conversations he’d had with the man, how he’d insisted he had nothing to do with Katie’s death. But Donovan had just admitted that her death hadn’t been accidental.

  “He killed Katie.”

  Donovan laughed. “Bill? He couldn’t hurt a fly. Spineless little shit. He’s a disgrace to his father.”

  An icy lump formed in Jarrett’s gut. “If he didn’t kill her,” he said slowly, “then who did?”

  “I did, you idiot.”

  Jarrett blinked.

  “For a reporter, you’re remarkably obtuse,” Donovan remarked.

  “You?”

  “Of course.” Donovan’s voice was smooth, his tone almost conversational. “I have a business to look out for, and she was threatening it with all of her talk about inaccurate reports. I knew Bill would modify the reports for me, but that wouldn’t keep that woman from going out and getting more samples. I knew the best way to take care of it was to remove her from the equation.”

  “By killing her?” Jarrett felt physically sick.

  “She didn’t feel a thing,” Donovan promised. “A little bit of Valium in her drink was all it took.”

  “You drugged her?”

  “I prefer to think of it as sedating her,” he replied.

  Jarrett darted a glance at Gary. He still had his gun pointed at Jarrett, but his arms had slackened and he was staring at Donovan with a look of horror.

  “Tell me what happened to her.”

  “You can’t figure it out?” Donovan shook his head. “I seriously miscalculated your investigative skills.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. She drank her soda. I kept an eye on her. I could tell she wasn’t feeling well, was getting a little sleepy. She left the party and I followed her out. Dragged her to the river. She didn’t put up a fight—there was too much Valium in her to do much of anything. I held her for a minute, waited for her to pass out completely. And then I kissed her cheek and let her go.”

  Jarrett’s eyes smarted with tears and he fought the rage building inside of him, the rage that threatened to erupt.

  “She died a peaceful death,” Donovan promised. “She didn’t feel a thing.”

  “You killed her. Murdered her.”

  Donovan’s expression turned stony. “I did what I had to do.” He smiled. “Which is what I’m going to do now, too.” He looked at Gary. “Get in the crane.”

  Gary stared at him blankly. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he barked. “Get in the crane.”

  Jarrett scanned the lot, his eyes widening as he saw the piece of equipment Donovan was talking about.

  The crane was used to pick up cars. And put them in the shredder.

  This must have registered with Gary, too. “But—”

  “He knows too much,” Donovan said. “He won’t be taking down just me. He’ll be taking you down, too.”

  Gary looked at Jarrett.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Jarrett said.

  Donovan lashed out, striking Jarrett’s temple with the barrel of his gun. Jarrett grunted as the metal smashed into him.

  “Shut up,” Donovan growled. “And move, dammit, or I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

  He shoved the gun into Jarrett’s temple. He had no choice but to take a step backward. Donovan roughly spun him around, pressing the gun to the base of his neck.

  “Walk,” he ordered.

  Jarrett forced his feet to move.

  His death march.

  Donovan guided him to a smashed-in Oldsmobile. It was missing the driver’s side door and the windshield was cracked.

  “Get in.”

  Jarrett stood still.

  Donovan cocked the gun. “Get in,” he repeated.

  Jarrett’s legs wobbled as he lowered himself toward the car.

  “Back seat,” Donovan said. “And close the door.”

&n
bsp; Jarrett’s hand shook as he reached for the door handle. An overhead light suddenly turned on and he looked skyward. It was the light on the crane, and Gary was in the cab.

  Waiting.

  “Such an unfortunate accident,” Donovan said, clucking his tongue. “A shame, really, that you were trespassing tonight. Our night operator had no idea you’d passed out in one of the cars. He was just doing his job, shredding the metal so it could be used for future projects. You know, since we’re such good stewards of the Earth.” He chuckled.

  “You’re sick,” Jarrett spat from the back seat. “And evil. And I hope you rot in Hell for this.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to Hell anytime soon,” Donovan told him. “But you might be. Best make your peace with God now, my friend. Because you’re out of time.” He glanced up at Gary. “Let’s do this.”

  The crane didn’t move.

  “Turn it on,” Donovan ordered. “I don’t have all damn night.”

  Gary sat there, frozen in place.

  Donovan swiveled so the gun was facing Gary. “Do it now or you’ll be sitting in a shallow grave, too!”

  Jarrett saw his opportunity.

  And he took it.

  He leaped out of the car just as a voice screamed, “Freeze!”

  43

  Thursday, July 5

  10:30 pm

  Jessica’s voice sounded foreign, even to her own ears.

  But it was her voice that screamed out, that quickly assessed what was happening the moment she stepped on to the grounds of Superior Metals.

  She saw the crane, illuminated by the sickly glow of fluorescent light. She saw Donovan Smith, his gun trained on a wrecked car, barking orders at the man sitting in the crane.

  And she saw Jarrett—her Jarrett—leap out of the car in a desperate attempt to save his life.

  She hadn’t thought. She’d reacted.

  Donovan Smith grabbed Jarrett and yanked him in front of him, creating a shield.

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he called to her. “Otherwise, he dies. And I don’t think you want that, now do you?”

  “Take him out, Jess,” Jarrett yelled. “Just do it. Don’t worry about me.”

  Donovan’s arm was looped around Jarrett’s neck, his gun pressed tightly to his temple. “One wrong move and he dies.”

  Jessica held her father’s gun with both hands, the barrel aimed at Donovan Smith.

  She was a good shot. She was a damned good shot.

  But she couldn’t risk shooting and missing.

  Or worse, shooting and making Donovan Smith fire his weapon.

  Into Jarrett’s skull.

  Even from the distance she was at, she could see Donovan Smith’s sinister smile.

  “So easy,” he said. “You all are so very predictable.”

  He cocked the gun and Jessica screamed. He was going to shoot Jarrett, anyway.

  Her pointer finger rested on the trigger, a second away from pulling, when a deafening shot pierced the silence.

  Donovan jerked back, but not before swinging his gun in front of him and shooting into the dark. Jess heard a sharp intake of breath off to her right, a voiceless person in the darkness.

  She didn’t take a second to think; she just reacted.

  She leveled her gun and fired off three quick shots, all aimed directly at Donovan Smith.

  All three hit their mark and he fell to the ground, his gun clattering to the pavement.

  She rushed forward, her gun aimed at Gary. “Get out, now!” she ordered. “Hands up!”

  Gary clambered down from the crane, his legs slipping on the metal stairs as he tried to keep his hands in view.

  Jess looked around wildly, trying to take in the scene. She didn’t know if there were more assailants hiding in the darkness.

  “Jess,” a voice called weakly.

  Cam.

  Shit. When had she gotten there?

  “Jess, I’m hit.”

  She froze and for the first time, she locked eyes with Jarrett. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and sob into his shoulder, grateful that he was okay. But Cam’s voice called to her.

  Jarrett leaned down and grabbed Donovan’s gun. “Go,” he told her as he aimed the weapon at Gary. “Go make sure she’s okay.”

  Jess hesitated for just one second and then veered off toward the sound of Cam’s voice.

  She found her, slumped against a pile of twisted metal. She was holding her shoulder, her hand covered in blood.

  “You’re hit,” Jess whispered in horror.

  Cam nodded. “Bullet grazed me. I think it’s superficial.”

  “You need an ambulance. We need backup.”

  Cam smiled weakly and held up her hand. Jess saw the phone she was holding.

  “They’re on their way.” Her eyes closed. “Because we’re a team, Jess. All of us. Don’t you forget it.”

  44

  Saturday, July 7

  10:00 am

  “Well?” Jess said. “Are you happy with it?”

  She was sitting with Jarrett at his mother’s house, the morning issue of the Aspen Falls Daily spread out in front of him.

  His story was on the front page.

  No, he corrected. Their story.

  He re-read the lead, and then the second paragraph. The words had almost been committed to memory, but still he read them.

  It was all there.

  The climactic moments at the recycling center, of course. But the rest of the story, too. The contamination. The cover-up.

  And the potential that so many illnesses in Aspen Falls’ residents could potentially be related.

  “It’s a good story,” Jess told him. She reached out her hand and squeezed his gently.

  It was. He knew it was.

  The words were important. The story mattered.

  But it didn’t bring back his dad.

  It didn’t heal his mom.

  And it didn’t bring back Katie.

  Still, he knew this story would make a difference.

  Hell, it already had.

  He thought back to everything that had happened the day before. It had been a whirlwind of police investigations and interviews, of hauling Bill Lewis in for questioning along with Chance Cooper and every other employee at PCA. The only one they’d found even remotely connected was Bill, so Jarrett could at least rest easy that the entire organization hadn’t been corrupted by Donovan Smith.

  Similar discussions with local politicians had yielded similar results. No one appeared to be in the know in regards to what had been happening at Superior Metals, but Jarrett wasn’t ready to let everyone off the hook just yet.

  There were more leads to follow, more questions to ask.

  And he intended to exhaust every one of them.

  “What did your mom think?” Jess asked, glancing at the closed bedroom door.

  “Relief,” Jarrett said.

  Jess’s brow wrinkled.

  “Because she might finally get answers,” Jarrett clarified. “About my dad and about her own health. Maybe the doctors will have a better idea how to treat her. At the very worst, she should see some financial compensation, which can help offset the cost of her medical bills.”

  Jess nodded. “It just sucks that it had to come to this. To any of this.”

  Jarrett nodded in agreement.

  It did suck. It sucked for everyone involved, for all the individuals who had been impacted by the selfish, greedy decisions of Donovan Smith. He’d been so caught up in making money that he’d bypassed safety regulations in order to maximize his profits. And when those infractions were brought to light, he’d tried to cover them up. First, by coercing Bill into altering the report—Bill, whose father wasn’t exactly an old friend of Donovan’s but someone who owed him money, someone who Donovan promised would be let off the hook for the loan if Bill changed the report.

  And second, by silencing Katie, the person with PCA who knew the report had been altered an
d who had decided to take matters into her own hands to correct that wrong.

  Jarrett’s throat tightened. He hated that she’d paid for the truth with her life. He reached for his cup of coffee, half-wishing there was a little brandy splashed into the mug. He was still rattled by what had happened Thursday night, and thinking about everyone who had suffered, who had been affected, continued to eat at him.

  Including the woman sitting next to him.

  He stole a glance at Jessica.

  She was wearing a white T-shirt, a perfect contrast to her dark hair, brown eyes and her sun-kissed skin. Her hair was down, almost touching her shoulders, and the humidity in the air had created loose waves and curls.

  She’d never looked more beautiful.

  His thought drifted back to late Thursday night, those agonizing moments when not only his life had been in danger, but hers had as well. He remembered with aching clarity how he’d felt when he heard her voice ring out in the night. The small thrill of knowing that the call he’d answered as he flung his phone across the pavement had stayed connected—and that she’d responded—was quickly replaced by an overwhelming fear that her life had been in danger, too.

  It was all he could think about, even as Donovan grabbed him and slammed the barrel of the gun against his temple.

  He could be at peace with whatever happened to him.

  But if something happened to Jessica?

  That was something he couldn’t forgive.

  He’d dragged her into this mess.

  And he would be damned if she didn’t make it out alive.

  He’d been prepared to sacrifice himself, to do whatever it took to save her, but Camila had beaten him to it. She’d been the one to catch Donovan off-guard, to get off a shot that temporarily distracted him.

  It had been enough.

  Because Jess had stepped up, firing three perfect shots, eliminating the threat.

  And saving their lives.

  But she hadn’t walked away with everything intact.

  He bit his lip, watching her as she read the article spread out in front of her.

  “How did the conversation with Kellan go?” he asked quietly.