by David Archer
Forty minutes later, she still had seen no sign of her quarry or of any lesser-used offshoot of the trail, but there were still two more trails to take. She started down the next one, continuing to keep up her tourist act.
She encountered several people as she walked, and most of them would look up with a smile that vanished instantly when they saw her face. It amazed her how quickly people could look away once they saw her scars, but she understood. As she had told Alicia, she personally felt she bore a strong resemblance to some kind of monster, and nobody wanted to look closely at monsters.
Her phone rang suddenly, and she saw that it was Alicia calling, so she answered instantly. “You find them?”
“No,” Alicia said. “I just hadn’t heard from you in long enough that I wanted to check in. Any sign out there?”
“No, not yet. I’m walking the trails, trying to find the track that would lead to the hideout, but that takes some time.”
“Great. I was really hoping you’d have something good to report. Listen, if you do see them, don’t try to be any kind of hero. Just call me and I’ll get deputies there in a hurry.”
“Yeah, well,” Cassie said, “I keep thinking about what we talked about earlier. If he sees a cop, he could decide he’d rather die than give her up, and he might just take her with him.”
“That’s always a risk in cases like these,” Alicia said. “Still, we don’t know just how dangerous this man might be. You can’t take any unnecessary risks, Cassie, especially if he has a gun.”
“I know,” Cassie said. Once more, her fingers were mentally crossed behind her back. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
She disconnected and continued walking the trail, using the camera on her phone as cover as she looked closely at everyone she encountered. She finally reached the end of the second trail and then started down the third.
The sound of crunching gravel caught her ear, and she turned toward the parking lot automatically. There, pulling in and stopping, was a deputy sheriff. He climbed out of the car and put on his hat, spoke politely to a couple of people walking past him, and then sort of just meandered around. Cassie watched him for a couple of minutes and concluded that he was just making a courtesy stop. Since he wasn’t bothering with the trails, she turned and continued on her way. The last thing she would need would be for Roger to see the deputy; no matter how innocuous the man’s presence might be, Roger could be unstable enough to regard it as a danger situation.
This last trail wasn’t very long, and it was only about fifteen minutes later that she could see the end in the distance, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was the sight of a man and a young girl who suddenly appeared up ahead, stepping out of the wild growth. The man’s hand was loosely, but obviously, holding on to the girl’s neck. The girl had short reddish hair, just like Melanie, and Cassie was certain she had found them.
She called Alicia instantly. “I think I’ve got them,” she said softly when the detective answered. “They’re approaching the end of the third trail. He seems to be holding on to her by her neck, keeping her under control.”
“Just watch them,” Alicia said. “I’m sending deputies out now.”
“Listen, there was a deputy here a few minutes ago. He looked like he was just stopping to stretch his legs, up in the front. He might still be there, and it looks like Roger’s about to be stepping out into a clear view of the parking lot.”
“Got it,” Alicia said and the line went dead.
Cassie started walking quickly, trying to shorten the distance between herself and the man and the girl. She was about twenty feet behind them as they stepped out of the trellis-covered exit from the trail, and she saw the man suddenly stop, his grip on the girl tightening. She actually reached up and tugged at his hand, as if he was hurting her, but then he spun her around and started back into the trail.
Melanie spotted Cassie and started to say something but then caught herself. Cassie kept her own eyes down toward the ground as she walked, but as Roger and Melanie passed her, she saw him holding on to something under the flapping tail of his shirt.
Geez, he’s got the gun, she thought. She turned partway so that she could watch him, but then rapid footsteps behind her got her attention. She turned back to see the deputy from the parking lot moving quickly toward her and held up a hand to get his attention.
“That man has a gun,” she said softly as he slowed beside her. “I work with Detective Perkins, and this could go very bad for that little girl.”
“Don’t worry,” the deputy said. “I’ve got this.” He broke into a light jog and then called out, “Roger McCoy? Sir, I need you to…”
It happened so fast that Cassie could barely keep track, but Roger suddenly spun, a large revolver in his hand. He fired two shots and the deputy fell, and a number of people, including Melanie, began screaming.
Instinctively, Cassie rushed to the deputy and knelt down beside him, but she knew instantly that he was dead. One of the bullets had penetrated his left eye, and she was struck with the ridiculous thought that they almost made a pair, now. She looked up toward Roger and saw him walking back toward her, his gun aimed directly at her.
“Pull out his gun and give it to me,” Roger ordered, and Cassie saw that Melanie was on the verge of panic. She thought quickly about what to do to stall and then looked down and fumbled at the safety strap that held the automatic pistol in its holster.
“It’s stuck,” she said. “I don’t know how to get it out.”
“Just get it!” Roger yelled. He was waving his gun around then, trying to cover every angle. “Is there other cops?”
“No, no,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “No, he was the only one. I didn’t see any more.”
As hard as she tried to avoid it, the snap on the safety strap finally came loose. She carefully pulled the gun out of its holster and extended it toward Roger, holding it backward so that the grip was facing his hand.
He was stymied. He had one hand on Melanie, and the gun in the other. He leaned toward the girl and hissed in her ear, “Don’t you move!” She nodded in terror, and he let go of her neck and transferred his own gun to that hand while he reached out with the other one.
There was a split second when his gun was aimed only at the ground beside Cassie, and that’s when she made her move. It was a trick her father had taught her many years earlier, something he called “the road agent spin.” When someone was taking a gun from you, he told her, always hold it out butt-first while tucking a finger into the trigger guard. As the opponent reached for the gun, he said, all you had to do was flip your hand and suddenly you were holding it aimed right into your enemy’s face.
Since she had gotten her own gun, Cassie had practiced the move a hundred times, just in case anyone ever tried to take it from her. The deputy’s gun was heavier than hers, but that didn’t matter. She snapped her hand the way her father had taught her and was suddenly holding the gun properly.
“Drop your weapon,” she said with all the steel she could muster. “Drop it now. I won’t hesitate.”
The shock on Roger’s face was palpable and started to turn to rage as Melanie suddenly bolted away from him. She ran past Cassie, but Cassie couldn’t look to see where she was going. She was too busy watching Roger, whose eyes had left her and were focused on his stepdaughter.
“Nooo!” he screamed, and then he raised his gun to aim it at the fleeing girl, and Cassie squeezed the trigger. A hole erupted near the center of Roger’s chest, and blood sprayed both ways as the heavy bullet passed all the way through him. He blinked as the impact staggered him, then looked down at his chest before looking up at Cassie again. The hand that was holding his gun started to swing toward her, and she squeezed the trigger once more.
This time, the impact put him down on his back, and Cassie heard a gurgling noise come from his throat. She slowly got to her feet and walked toward him, keeping the gun carefully aimed at him the whole time. His own gun was still in his
hand, but she kicked it away.
She watched him for a moment, then slowly knelt down and put the two good fingers of her left hand on his throat. There was no sign of life, so she stood up again and reached for her phone.
Before she could dial, however, the sound of sirens burst into the air. Within a matter of seconds, she knew, there would be several squad cars coming into the area, and she didn’t think they would necessarily wait for explanations before firing at anyone who was holding a gun. She glanced around and saw that there was no one nearby, then carefully laid the deputy’s gun down on his chest. She stepped back away from his body and stood still, and then she heard the squad cars sliding in the gravel of the parking lot.
People were screaming at the deputies and pointing, and it took them only seconds to come rushing up the trail. They saw Cassie standing off to one side with her hands raised, one of their own down with an obviously fatal wound, and another man with two gaping holes in his chest a few feet away.
The first deputy looked at Cassie. “Did you see what happened?”
“Yes,” Cassie said. “That man”—she pointed at Roger—“pulled out a gun and shot the deputy; then he ordered me to take the deputy’s gun and give it to him. He was holding a little girl hostage, so I did what I was told, but he had to let go of her to take the gun, and I managed to turn it on him. The little girl ran; he started to aim his gun at her, and I fired once. A second later, he started to point his gun at me, and I fired again. When I heard you coming, I laid the gun down on the deputy’s body. I must also tell you that I have a concealed carry permit, and I have a pistol in a holster under the back of my shirt, but I have not drawn it or fired it.”
One of the deputies stepped behind her and lifted her shirt, then removed her pistol from its holster. He sniffed at it, then shook his head at the deputy who had first spoken.
“I need to see some ID and your concealed carry permit,” the deputy said. Cassie reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, which had a wallet case attached to it. The deputy watched as she pulled out her driver’s license and carry permit and handed them over.
He examined them as other deputies began securing the scene, making note of where the two cartridge cases had landed, where the bodies lay, and other such details. After a moment, he handed them back and nodded at the deputy who had taken her gun. “She’s good,” he said. “You can give it back.” To Cassie, he said, “I’m Chief Deputy Mills, Rogers County Sheriff’s Office. We’ll have to get your official statement later, so don’t disappear on me.”
“Where’s the girl?” Cassie asked as she accepted her gun from the deputy and tucked it back into its holster. “I’m a social worker. I was working with Detective Perkins on this case.”
“She’s okay,” Mills said. “One of our people is with her, back up at the parking lot.” He picked up a microphone on his belt and began calling in the situation, reporting that Deputy Mark Smith had been killed by a single shooter, who was also now dead.
Cassie handed him her business card and started walking toward the parking lot. Melanie, clinging to a female deputy, saw her and ran in her direction. Cassie dropped to her knees as the girl reached her, and wrapped her in her arms.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay now.” She let the girl hold her and weep for a minute, then took out her phone and dialed Kendra.
“Cassie? Do you know…”
“She’s safe,” Cassie said. “She’s pretty shook up, but she’s safe. I’m afraid Roger is dead.”
EIGHTEEN
It took three hours at the sheriff’s office for Cassie’s statement to be properly recorded, and then she was free to go home. Kendra had come and picked Melanie up, and Deputy Mills had allowed her to speak to Cassie for a few minutes. With Roger dead, there would be no need for Kendra and Melanie to go into hiding, and Cassie expressed the opinion that the best outcome is often the one you most dread.
It was determined that Roger had been attempting to groom Melanie for abuse but had never progressed beyond the point of asking her to sit in his lap or hold his hand. Still, the child had suffered considerable trauma through these events, and Cassie firmly expressed her opinion that Melanie should be placed into counseling as soon as possible. The Outreach could assist, since Kendra would be starting all over. She didn’t even have a job.
Cassie’s gun and phone had been taken from her while she was being interviewed, and she had to sign for them as she left the sheriff’s office. The clerk who passed them over to her gave her a grin. “Your phone has been ringing,” she said. “Sounds like somebody might’ve been a little worried about you.”
Cassie shrugged. “Probably my boss,” she said. “I didn’t exactly stick around for work today, not like I usually do.” She took her gun and slipped it back into its holster, then accepted the phone as she walked out the door. She took a look at the missed calls and saw one from Alicia, then three more from a number she didn’t recognize.
There were voicemails, however, and she hit the button to listen to them. Surprisingly, all three of those calls had come from Dexter Tate.
“Hey, it’s Dex Tate. It just came over the radio that Roger is dead and the little girl is safe,” he said on the first message. “Just wanted to be sure you’re okay. Give me a call when you get a minute, please.”
An hour later, he had called again. “This is Dexter Tate,” he said. “Radio just said you killed Roger and saved the little girl. You’re quite a woman, aren’t you?”
Cassie couldn’t help chuckling over that one, as she touched the icon to play the third message. “Hey, it’s Dex. Come on, lady, call me back.” There was silence for a few seconds, as he seemed to be hesitating before going on. “Look, you’re obviously a tough gal, and when you decide to do something you get it done. The reason I want you to call me back is because there’s something I want to talk to you about. There’s sort of a problem that needs someone like you to handle it. If you’re up for a challenge, then call me back.”
Cassie reached up to adjust the eye patch—a nervous habit, since it never really moved—and wondered what kind of problem a guy like Dex could have that would need her help. She started to call him back but then decided to call Alicia first.
“Detective Perkins,” Alicia said.
“It’s Cassie. Don’t pay the ransom—I finally escaped.”
“Very funny. They get all done with you out at Rogers County?”
“Yeah. They took my statement, and then Melanie’s statement corroborated it, so they let me go. The sheriff out there stopped in and told me I’m a hero. Isn’t that ducky?”
“Don’t laugh it off, girl,” Alicia said. “You really are a hero. We were right about Roger, and he was obviously not going to give her up without a fight. If you hadn’t handled it just the way you did, Melanie would probably be dead. Hell, you’d probably be dead, for that matter.”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m a tough gal.”
“Tough gals get killed, too,” Alicia shot back. “But I’ll admit you impressed me. There aren’t too many social workers who will stick their neck out that far, let alone know how to handle a gun. Good job, Cassie.”
“Okay, okay, enough about me and how wonderful I am. What can you tell me about Dexter Tate?”
“Who? Isn’t that the guy who gave you the lead on where to find Roger?”
“Yeah, and he’s been calling me ever since the radio put out the story about what happened. He says he’s got some kind of problem that he needs a tough gal like me to handle for him. You know the guy?”
“No, but I got a computer in front of me that can tell me just about everything I could want to know. Give me a minute.” She stopped talking, and Cassie could hear clicking. Computer keyboard, she thought. “Okay, Dexter Tate is one of those guys that got into minor trouble when he was young but then seemed to straighten out. He joined the Army at seventeen, got his GED while he was in basic training, and spent six years on active duty. He won a couple o
f medals for bravery, got an honorable discharge three years ago, and he’s been working at the Ford dealership downtown ever since.” There was a little bit more clicking, and then Alicia came back. “Cassie, the only shadow I can find on this guy is from a year and a half ago, when he was arrested for disorderly conduct at a bar. Charges were dropped, though, because it turned out the six guys he laid out on the floor were local gangbangers who were threatening some of the customers. He really doesn’t seem like that bad a guy, but this doesn’t really tell me everything, you know? He could have a temper.”
“Ever met a man who didn’t? Even the nicest guys can lose their cool, trust me on that. And if he was honestly defending somebody, maybe he deserves a pat on the back for that one.” She sighed heavily. “Well, fine, I’ll call him and see what he wants. And, hey, Alicia? Thanks for being there today.”
“I think that should go the other way,” Alicia said. “I think we should be the ones thanking you. Go take it easy for a few hours—you deserve it. And if that guy wants to talk business with you, make him buy you dinner.”
“I don’t date,” Cassie said. “Not that any guys ever ask me. Men don’t take pride in a girl who’s been fried.”
Cassie grinned when she heard the involuntary chuckle come out of Alicia. “Now, that’s a line I’ve never heard before. But really, who said anything about a date? He wants to talk business, make him do it over a business dinner. To be honest, it’s probably about as much reward as you’re going to get for this. Heroes are like laborers. You know what you get for shoveling more shit than anyone else?”
“Pushed into it?” Cassie asked.
“No,” Alicia said. “They just give you a bigger shovel.” The line went dead, and Cassie burst out laughing. If anything could describe her life any better, she hadn’t found it yet.
She looked at the recent call list and tapped on Dex’s number, then put the phone to her ear. It was answered on the third ring.
“Well, well,” Dex said. “There she is, the lady of the hour. You doing okay?”