Pitfall

by Cameron Bane

  Hardesty’s studied calm folded, his face turning grim. “That’s when you should have called me.”

  Shelly turned to him. “There wasn’t time, Elgin.” Looking back at me, her voice broke. “Mr. Brenner, I knew those men. They knew I had a four year old little boy. I’d shown them his picture. We’d even talked about what our kids were interested in. Sports, school plays … you know, normal things.”

  Like those men knew anything about normal.

  “And now they’d come to kill us.” The words seemed to rip from her soul. “How? How could they do that? We worked together. I don’t understand …” Her words trailed off.

  I wanted to comfort her and tell her it was all right. But we just waited as she collected herself. She swallowed hard, and looked up, her eyes flashing.

  “So I killed them first.”

  “You killed who?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. Realization dawned. “You mean the guards? You killed both of them?”

  “Both,” she repeated, looking very serious indeed. “I told you that night I’m a good shot. I keep a Ruger nine millimeter for home defense. I’d already put it in my purse because we were leaving. When Bob Tanner and Phil Dietz opened the car doors and started toward the house, I got my gun out and slammed in a full magazine. As they came up on the front porch I jerked open the front door, and saw they weren’t even going to give us a chance. They obviously underestimated me because they stood together. They’d already started to lift their guns up toward me to take aim, so I pulled up the Ruger from beside my leg and emptied it into them right to left.”

  I just gaped.

  “Somehow they didn’t get off a single shot.” Her tone was filled with wonder. “I took them by surprise, I guess. Ronnie didn’t see it, thank God, but he surely heard it.”

  Two hostiles dead with no return fire. That was some fine shooting. “Atta girl,” I said, even as Hardesty scowled at me. “Annie get your gun.”

  Grinning, Seth gave her a thumbs up. “Wow, lady.”

  She managed a small tired smile in return but looked spent with the telling. Seth motioned to a padded visitor’s chair against the wall, which she wearily accepted.

  I turned to Hardesty, who looked like he’d bitten into a sour persimmon. “So where exactly did you come in to all of this?”

  “As I said, Captain Bovard contacted me, right after Mr. Delacroix’s phone call. I was just getting my deputies mobilized when not even ten minutes later I got a call from young Shelly here, telling me she’d just killed two gunmen on her front porch.” He looked at her. “Those are jarring words, even coming from someone you don’t know.”

  His gaze returned to me. “I raced out to her place, the county squad not far behind. When I arrived, she proceeded to tell me the wildest yarn I’d ever heard: kidnapping, torture, murders, black market organ harvesting, who knows what else. All topped off by who it is you really are, Brenner. She told me you were in big trouble, outnumbered and outgunned. That you were alone and needed help, like now.”

  Seth nervously shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, swearing softly under his breath. I knew he was ticked at having been almost too late to help me.

  “Forget it,” I said to him. “You made it, and that’s what counts.”

  Hardesty ignored that. “I gotta tell you, I almost took her away right on the spot. I thought she was crazy. But with Captain Bovard’s call, and then two dead guys carrying GeneSys identification sprawled on the ground next to the staff car with their weapons right beside them, I guess you could say I gave her the benefit of the doubt.”

  That was only right, but I kept my own counsel.

  “Against my better judgment I woke up Judge Sanders—which he hates, by the way—and had him cut a warrant on GeneSys. On the way there I called the Captain back, and told him to come fast, and to bring company. Which he did. The Feds have been there since that day, going through everything with a fine toothed comb.”

  Now regarding her, the sheriff gave the woman a tough look. “And it’s a good thing your nosy neighbors are night owls, Shelly. They corroborated your story. Self defense, cut and dried. Bottom line is, you skated on this. Barely.”

  In my book a miss is as good as a mile, but I kept quiet.

  “Just don’t make a habit of killing people,” he went on. “Especially in my town.”

  Her answer was faint. “Don’t worry, Elgin, I won’t.”

  “At any rate, I hope you two are done wreaking havoc in my jurisdiction. You know how that aggravates my ulcer.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a straight face. “I hear it’s like a bing cherry.”

  “Are you ever serious, Brenner?”

  “Only when absolutely necessary.”

  Before he could reply, Shelly slowly pushed herself up from the chair and crossed the room. I watched her until she was standing next to my bed, opposite Seth. Ever so gently she put her silky feminine hand on my right arm, the same one Ronnie had hugged. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Seth. “He’s so hot.”

  That’s what all the ladies say, I almost joked, but again kept my yap shut.

  “Touch of fever,” the big man rumbled.

  “It’s nothing. Really,” I said. Her soothing touch had coursed like healing waters through me. Screw the docs, I felt better already.

  Leaning closer, she began, “Mr. Brenner, I, um …” Her finely sculpted features were lined with apprehension. There was something else there too, deeper. She nervously licked her lips as she remained close to my bruised and battered face. Her eyes seemed huge and filled with tender care and affection as they swept over my torn and broken body.

  “I called the hospital and asked about you, several times a day. They said you were in critical condition, and couldn’t have visitors. But yesterday they downgraded you to serious.” She stumbled a beat. “So, are you serious? I mean … are you feeling better?” Her tone strongly suggested a double meaning.

  “Some,” I said.

  “I’ve been so worried about you. I couldn’t eat or sleep.” Her words tumbled out in a rush. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. The things you did for strangers—and all alone. Do you even realize …?” She paused, looking at me in wonder. I was taken aback and disconcerted at her remarks, and she smiled slightly. “May I call you John?”

  It was all I could do to nod.

  “I was wondering, after you’ve recuperated that is, if you’d like to come to my house for dinner. I make a great pot of chili.”

  “I like chili,” I managed to say. “With cornbread.”

  “Cornbread it is, then,” she said. “That’s still not enough thanks for your keeping Boneless from coming after us. I was no match for him, but you knew that, didn’t you? You saved us all.” She paused again. I could see the wheels turning as she added, “Of course, your wife is welcome to come too …”

  “I’m not married,” I said, adding, “Not anymore.”

  She lowered her eyes, hiding the glimmer of a smile. Then looking up and quietly clearing her throat, she forged ahead. “So anyway, about dinner? Are you sure?”

  Clearly she wasn’t used to doing the asking; that seemed natural. She had the appearance of someone who’d just gambled their last dollar on a very long shot as she searched my face in guarded anticipation, waiting for my reaction.

  Wanting to lay her fears to rest, I answered, “I’d like that. A lot.”

  She looked surprised and pleased at my words, and again awarded me a small smile. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Her smile widened. “Well … good. My number’s in the book.” Once more she cleared her throat in embarrassment as she withdrew and turned to leave. “I need to get Ronnie home. Thanks again.”

  “No problem. I’ll give you a ring.”

  She stopped at the door, looked back over her shoulder, and grinned.

  As it closed behind her, Seth shot me a bemused look, shaking his head in wonder. His face was gray
and drawn, but his tired eyes twinkled in barely concealed merriment at my apparent turn of good fortune, speaking volumes without uttering a word.

  “Step closer to the light,” I told him. He obliged me. Squinting, I took a good look at my best friend. “You said I look rough, but you’re no prize yourself.”

  “Says you,” he gruffed. “I’m the prettiest man in this room.”

  “Sure you are. Why don’t you go on home to Kenny and Janine and get some sleep? When’s the last time you ate? How long have you been here, anyway?”

  He just rocked his head, and I knew it was useless. The two of us have traveled a very long road together, over thirty years, and my concern was real. But I knew he wouldn’t leave me until I was in much better shape, just as when the roles had been reversed, I hadn’t left him either.

  “Negative, Cap.” Emphatically he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m staying here. Like Sergeant Gaddick used to say, in for a penny, soldier, in for a pound.”

  His mentioning Gaddick rattled my brain because suddenly the memory of Sarah Cahill came roaring to the forefront. “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think? Sarah.”

  I hadn’t remembered that I’d already asked him, and had been answered. The last time I’d seen the girl she’d gone into shock and was unconscious.

  “How is she?” I demanded.

  “Fine,” he answered, and he smiled. “Relax. She’s here. Down the hall.”

  “Down the—” I blinked, stopping abruptly.

  “They’re taking good care of her too, so go easy.” I was glad to hear that. “But you’re gonna hate this next part.”

  From his tone, I knew I would. “Say it.”

  “It has to do with the press.”

  “The press?”

  “Sad to say, but yeah.”

  I felt the Tabasco sauce coming up my legs. “You’re not kidding, are you?” It wasn’t a question.

  “Not hardly. They arrived not long after you and Sarah were airlifted out. The good news is the hospital’s been keeping them at bay while you and Sarah recuperate.”

  “They just couldn’t wait to exploit all of it, I’ll bet.”

  “Yep. Factor in GeneSys and its evil crap, Cross and his henchmen, the kidnapped victims, the Cahills and Sarah, and your face and dossier, and the whole thing has been splattered all over the media. Local, national, and worldwide.”

  “Oh man …”

  “Turns out you exposed an international cartel. Seems Cross and his partners across the globe had snared all kinds of people. Runaways, homeless, mentally impaired, you name it.”

  Hardesty chimed in. “It’s been a three-ring circus ever since the TV news choppers showed up there that day. CNN, Fox, and the rest, they all arrived in force on the grounds.” He pulled a face. “All of them disgorging their pretty, plastic reporters.”

  I snapped out the words. “Who tipped them off?”

  “Don’t know. So far we’ve kept them out of this hospital but fair warning, you’re gonna get pounced on the minute you get out of here.”

  Seth spoke up before I could respond. “Not an issue, Sheriff. I’ll sneak him out so he won’t have to contend with them. He hates all that.”

  “Like poison,” I agreed.

  Seth continued addressing Hardesty. “John doesn’t know it yet, but he’s coming home with me and my wife for the duration. Whether he likes it or not. He’s too ornery to leave by himself in his condition.” Addressing me, his tone grew sharp. “Not a word from you, hoss. No use arguing, ‘cause I’m bigger than you.”

  “Not by much,” I fired back.

  Seth ignored that. “I’ve already made arrangements for Smedley, returned your rental car, and your Mustang is parked in the hangar. Marsh has had all of the calls to the hanger and your office forwarded to him, and Ted’s taken over the football team for a while. Kenny’s going to visit my folks; they’ve been wanting to spend more time with him anyway. So it’s all taken care of.” He held up a hand. “You got nothing to say about any of it.”

  I pushed up with my right elbow and instantly regretted it. “That’s what you think.”

  But I was interrupted as the door opened, and a pleasant-looking younger nurse came in. Her pretty face was a welcome relief from the Battleaxe.

  He walked over and bent low while she whispered something to him. Straightening, he smiled. “Right in the nick of time, too.” Turning to me he scowled and held up a warning finger, clearly fed up with me and my antics. “No more farting around, John. I mean it. Be right back.” He addressed the other man. “Sheriff? Keep an eye on him?” Hardesty nodded and gave me a look of warning.

  Who elected him king? I must have missed the election. I had to admit, though, all of this was wearing. I was mentally, emotionally, and physically wiped out. I’d been trained to ignore pain, but with the shape I was in, I had no choice; stupid, I’m not. So I, against my better wishes, resigned myself to turn my battered, broken body over to the doctors’ care.

  The pain meds the nurse had given me were kicking in fast. It seemed I’d just closed my eyes when I heard footsteps. A whole flock of them, by the sound of it. Now what? Turning my head with effort, I was glad I did.

  Somebody had propped the door open. Standing there were Jacob and Ruth Cahill, along with their son Billy, and all of them were beaming at me.

  “I told you I had faith in you. That you were the man.” Jacob’s voice sounded husky. His wife nodded, tears filling her eyes. Just behind them stood Seth and a doctor. They all stepped aside.

  And there was Sarah, sitting in a wheelchair.

  What had happened to her? What was going on? I dreaded the worst. A young nurse pushed the chair over to the bedside.

  “Why the chair?” I asked the nurse, alarmed. “What’s the matter with her?”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Brenner,” the doctor spoke up. “It’s just hospital policy. She’s going to be fine.”

  She was? Leaning back I expelled out a long sigh of relief. It was as if a great and terrible pressure had been lifted from me. Mission accomplished. Now I could relax.

  “She came out of her mental fugue state just over two days ago,” Cahill was saying. “But she refused to calm down until she saw you with her own eyes. She wouldn’t believe us when we told her you were right here, alive and safe. She kept insisting you’d been pushed down a big, black hole, and you were dead. We know now she meant the Pit.”

  She gazed intently at me. “Are you okay, Mr. Brenner?” She sounded hesitant, her voice small. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  She sat quietly for a moment and then, tentatively, she reached over and very gently cradled my wrecked hand in both of hers. Her eyes filled. “You saved me.”

  My throat thickened. “I think we both were.”

  “Yes, I think we were …” She shook her head slightly. “I’m so sorry … please, what’s your first name again?”

  I swallowed. “John.”

  “Thank you, John.” Tears spilled down her face then, her voice breaking at last. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The mid-November Indian summer day was gorgeous, but it was probably the last mild weather we’d see before spring. The sky overhead was a ridiculously deep blue, graced with high, wispy white clouds that looked for all the world like pulled-apart cotton candy.

  Outside the airplane hanger housing our skydiving school, the huge concrete apron and surrounding fields were filled with people gathered for our annual end of Pop Warner football season picnic. Against my protests, the kids on the team had insisted on postponing the festivities until I was strong enough to attend.

  The happy crowd seemed relaxed as everyone laughed, played, or talked. They included the team, along with their parents and siblings, my friend Marsh Plumb, Shelly Thornhill and her little boy Ronnie, Seth Delacroix and his wife Janine, their son Kenny, and lastly Ted Miller, the other assistant coach, and his fam
ily.

  Off to the left I noticed Ted had organized a pickup football game, dads against lads. The lads seemed to be winning, but the dads also seemed to be throwing it. Ted, ever-present Pall Mall cigarette dangling from his mouth, looked content to referee the thing; with his incessant smoking I knew he didn’t have the wind to actually get in there and hustle.

  At the large manmade lake across the way, the late afternoon sun glinted in flashes of brilliance off its lazy chop. Several families were enjoying some late-season boating and fishing, and I sincerely hoped we’d laid in enough food and drinks for this massive crew. In short, it was as fine a bucolic day as Andrew Weyeth could have painted.

  So why was I so unaccountably melancholy?

  I knew one big part of it: Shelly and her boy Ronnie were leaving tomorrow, going into the witness protection program. The local GeneSys operation had been shut down, but like a hydra, it had many heads. Facilities in other cities located around the world had their own directors, and with Eli Cross’s trial due to begin soon, the U.S. Attorney General felt it best his star witness and her son be placed into protective custody as soon as possible.

  The only ones not looking like they were having any fun today were the two large, unsmiling U.S. marshals guarding them. They’d offered the same protection to me as well, but I just gave them a flat look. In my opinion Shelly and her son should have been placed in PC earlier, but that wasn’t my call. I was just glad they were going to be safe.

  Still, though, I was going to miss her.

  For the past few days another indefinable black thought not related to Shelly or Ronnie had been tugging at the far reaches of my mind; I’d yet to figure out what it was trying to say. In spite of the liveliness of the party I couldn’t shake the growing feeling that something major in my life had gone horribly, terribly wrong.