by Dan Glover
Danners Forthright was the wild card. That man worried him. Roy would've had McNairy weeks ago if not for him. But then again the girls in the hood fucked things up all the time. He should know better by now than to trust their black asses with anything. He decided if he got the chance he'd take out Forthright first. Do it quick. That would take some starch out of Lupo's sails. McNairy's too. He ought to finish her now. No telling what might happen if Lupo and Forthright caught up to him. It'd be one against three. By eliminating McNairy, he'd cut the odds.
"Get over here, girl. I'm setting you loose."
He hadn’t anticipated that she'd worked out of her bonds. Another mistake. One he was ready to remedy until the bullet caught him. Christ. Now here he was, gut shot, and with a busted leg to boot. When she went to hit him with that fist-sized hunk of stone he'd whirled around to shoot her. Hadn't even heard a gunshot, just a burning sensation in his belly. He'd fallen backwards catching his ankle in between two rocks. The pain was exquisite. Had he cracked his skull? Probably. Christ... broke his jaw too. He could feel it shift each time he gasped for one more breath. What was that in the sky? Vultures. Circling. They must sense something dead somewhere close. Or was it him they were watching?
He'd been in tight spots before. Hell, when they first set up the farm, they'd taken unnecessary risks. That was Baker's doings. The man was a psychopath. But they needed men like that. No one else could stand the torments their conscience would subject them to over the work that needed doing. Baker might have been a genius but he was also a fucking idiot. He seemed to love flaunting his accomplishments to the point of writing letters to newspapers proclaiming their activities.
That was the sole reason
2
He went into law enforcement. Roy Presti was no genius like Johm but neither was he a fool. He figured someone in the position of authority would not only know which way the wind blew, but they could manipulate the storms. Thinking back, he should've simply disposed of Baker early on. The man was a loose cannon. The only way he managed to survive as long as he did was through beneficent benefactors looking out for him and of whom he was totally unaware.
Roy prided himself upon taking care of his partners. That's what made this fiasco so hard to stomach. He'd been good to Hank Lupo. Brought the man into something that others could only dream of... made him a multimillionaire. Hell, if this shit wasn’t going down, they'd both be billionaires in five years. Why had Lupo turned on him so suddenly? Just because he snatched McNairy? Lupo knew the consequences. If those psychics figured out who was behind everything, they were both going down. He was doing Lupo a favor. Didn’t the man realize that?
They should have finished the twins off. He knew it. Instead, he'd let emotion get in the way of hard reality. Lupo had been upset when Baker kidnapped the twins and even more irate upon discovering their organs had been harvested, at least the ones they could do without. He insisted they be remanded into his custody but by that time the girls had been lobotomized. The only thing Lupo could do was to take them and dump them off in another state... somewhere they couldn’t be traced.
It'd been easy enough to set Baker up with another identity too. Hell, in those days people disappeared all the time. Thomas Johm was just another lost child caught in the wrong place and time. A little cash payment to the father and presto! Thomas Johm lived again and Jonathan Baker vanished off the face of the earth. None of it would have been possible without his contacts within the Sheriff's Department.
Hell, he'd even helped Hank Lupo out of more than one jam. That whole McNairy thing could've buried the man. Who did he think paved that over? Did the man honestly believe that little sleight of hand with the shotgun would pass muster with the powers that be? Nope. It wasn’t until Roy stepped in and punched the right buttons that it all went away. That was the way of the world, though. No one appreciated a goddamned thing.
Did Lupo even care where his wife had ended up? The woman took off with a lot of his money. On top of that, she knew things that only a wife could know. Hank must realize that she had to be silenced. Was that another reason why he was here? Didn’t he understand the wheels were already in motion? Even if he managed to kill Presti out here, Sally was still dead. If the man would only look at things objectively, he'd know that Roy only had his best interests in mind.
Lupo and Forthright were close now. From his hiding spot Roy could hear the labored breathing of the men. Harsh terrain out here. The pinnacles weren’t for out of shape cops. Not that he was a marathon man. He had to be patient. Bide his time. Wait until there was no chance of missing his shot. Forthright first, then Lupo. Bing bang boom. He'd close his eyes... just for a moment... just rest a bit... and then...
3
"Stop right there, Lupo. I don’t want to kill you but I will."
He whispered the words rather than spoke them. But he was surrounded by shadows, nothing more. It was over. All of it. Hell, he should have ended things years ago... decades. There'd been too much suffering, and for what? Money. All for money. An endless stream of green flowing in ever more copious amounts even as the farms were filled to brimming and the client base began expanding in ways no one envisioned.
His jaw ached. Had someone sucker punched him? And what was he doing on the ground? At least he was in the shade, otherwise he'd probably be cooked by now. Jesus, his head hurt. Lifting a hand to his left ear took more energy than he ever imagined. It came away bloody but not before he felt the crater in his skull.
They were all kids. Most of them no one wanted... once they vanished they weren’t missed. Perhaps that was the saddest part of all... where did they come from that their own parents didn’t care enough to look for them? Easy to snatch off the streets... most times they went willingly. The offer of a quick meal or a place to sleep must have seemed magical to them and it was only in the end they finally realized the life they knew was over.
Some of them lived on for months, even years. Living corpses, if you could call that life. He liked to think they dreamed. Maybe they did. Who could say? Every so often an order'd come in and another part would be sucked out of them until finally only the heart remained and then it too would go.
Were they in pain? Once he thought he saw a tear running down one of the flaccid waxen cheeks and it so unnerved him that he hurried away lest another glance might confirm that stolen moment. He was supposed to be hardened to it all but the truth was, he hated the suffering. It'd be better simply to harvest what they needed and then end it, but no. That wasn’t where the money was at. It paid to keep the organs fresh... viable... alive. Keep the bodies going as long as possible... the brain? It didn’t matter so much. No such thing as brain transplants. Not yet.
Lupo was still out there. Forthright and McNairy too. Might even be making their way back up the slope at that moment. Looking up at the sun Roy judged there was three hours of daylight left. If Lupo held off, there might be a chance to circle around behind him in the dark... catch the man by surprise. There'd be no warning this time. Once he had Lupo in his sights, the man was going down. After that, McNairy and Forthright would be easy pickings. Bing bang boom.
It might pay dividends to finish off the last man standing too. Último hombre. Once Lupo, McNairy, and Forthright were accounted for, Allen Picany was the only man left who knew about the farms. The odds were he'd keep quiet but there was no sense in taking that chance. It was best to make a clean break of things. It'd only cost fifty grand or so... the same he'd paid for the hits on Paula Picany and on Sally Lupo. Once that was done, it probably wouldn’t hurt to eliminate the cleaner too. The man might get ideas down the road.
All he had to do was to get up, get started. But his leg... why was it so crooked? And that ringing in his ears and the taste of blood upon his lips... what did all that mean? Why was he lying in the ground with the sting of fire ants beginning to blossom all over his body?
Chapter 99—Climbing Fences
(And Wayward Golf Balls)
Brewin
g a cup of coffee—Kona, of course—and going to the patio to enjoy the sunrise over the ocean Sally found herself caught up in a whirlwind of worry. So she was broke. Hell, the bastard even took what folding money she had stashed inside her purse. But he left her alive. Right now she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not but she hoped so.
On the plus side, Sally had paid cash for the bungalow situated on the beach. It was roomy enough she could let out rooms to vacationers and make a little scratch that way and she could always get a job. She hadn’t worked outside the home since marrying Hank—he was old school... didn’t want his woman out on the streets, as if she was no more than a common whore—but she was reasonably articulate and had some nice clothes. Surely someone on the island might need a hand doing something.
Would Cooper return the cash to Hank? Hell no. The man would run with it. So her husband might well turn up here looking for the money too. If Cooper found her, Hank would be close on his heels. It had to be that fucking bitch in Colorado who gave her away. Christ. Why did she always fall for all that new age crap. Lorraine Plummer was no better than a modern day Rasputin what with her drum circles and séances. If Sally ever found herself in the woman's vicinity again she promised herself to pay a visit... to introduce the cunt to the true meaning of karma.
Luckily she'd stocked up on food right after purchasing the place... dry goods, mostly, along with canned commodities and other non-perishables. She had enough to last at least a month. By then she could find some type of employment to help her over the rough edges of life. Actually, it was all turning into a sort of grand adventure. Just yesterday she was sitting on the patio bored out of her mind. Now, she had to scramble in order to survive. Maybe that asshole Cooper did her a favor without ever realizing it.
Perhaps she ought to throw herself on the mercy of Allen Picany. After all, she'd sent him two million dollars. Surely he hadn’t spent it all yet. He might even find it in his heart to share a bit of it with her... a hundred grand would go a long ways if she rationed it. On the other hand, the odds were that Allen Picany was gone. Once he received that money, he doubtlessly took off for parts unknown, just like she did. There'd be no way of contacting the man now. Besides, that wasn’t why she gave him the money, not to turn around and ask for it back. No... she'd get out of this mess on her own.
She wondered how Hank was doing. Christ, despite all the shit he'd put her through, she missed the man. The poor bastard couldn’t even dress himself in the morning without her help. She'd been laying out his clothes for thirty years. But knowing Hank he had already moved another bimbo in to take care of him. She supposed as time passed she'd get over the man... she might even meet someone new here on the island. But the idea didn’t engender any flutters inside her stomach... only a sort of vague dread at discovering just another asshole.
Draining the last of her coffee she decided to have just one more cup and then get dressed and go into town. Maybe put in a few applications for employment. Not that she'd have any success... here she was over fifty years old and no work history. Not exactly an ideal candidate for any sort of work.
Who the hell was climbing over her fence? For a moment she wondered if Cooper had returned but no, it wasn’t him. It had to be her neighbor to the west... the one who kept hitting his golf balls into her yard. Well... she'd put a stop to that right now. Rising, she watched the man shuffle across the back of her property as if searching for something lost. Coming closer with each step he seemed oblivious to her presence... at least right up until the last moment when he pulled a pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants, aimed it right at her head, and squeezed the trigger.
How odd she heard no sound, felt no pain... only a momentary sense of déjà vu, as if she was both inside her body and yet outside of it watching everything unfold, wondering at the mystery. So Cooper would have his revenge after all. Or perhaps it was the twins... who could say? Either way she was glad things were finally over. Maybe now she could get some sleep.
Chapter 100—House of Horror
(And Jumping Out Windows)
She was back in that house of horror once more. Fifteen years old all over again. Lissi was still alive and shaking her out of a sound sleep. Get up, Lizzi, she was saying. There's a fire downstairs. Climb out the window, go next door to grandpa's house and call 911. Hurry, Lizzi, hurry.
She was so used to being a twin that even death couldn’t stop that voice in her head. Her sister spoke to her every single day. Even as the family fell apart their conversations continued. Sometimes Liza thought how that voice was the only thing standing between sanity and madness.
Three months after that fire, mom and dad divorced. Liza was given the choice: live with me or live with him. Instead, she ran away. She had grown tired of the constant bickering. Sick of being used as a pawn between the two adults in her life who should know better. She wanted to still be a twin. Why didn’t Lissi follow her out that window? Maybe if she ran back inside she might be able to rescue the girl... but her feet... they were in quicksand. It was hot. Way too hot. God, she couldn’t even breathe.
She woke in the back of Roy Presti's Jeep. Ankles and wrists wrapped in duct tape. The bastard lured her into a trap. He knew the sheriff's satellite office would be empty at that time of day. Wherever they were now, it damned sure wasn’t Los Angeles. More like the Mojave Desert. Death Valley dreams. The Jeep was moving fast and she could smell antifreeze.
He'd drugged her drink. Knocked her unconscious. Must have carried her to his vehicle. Why hadn’t Danners seen it? The parking garage beneath the police station... reserved for official personnel only. Yeah, that had to be it. Dammit. She should have known something was up when Presti called. But why on earth would the Captain risk kidnapping her?
"I don’t like it, Liza. Something is off. Don’t go in there alone."
"I have to, Danners. Presti specified I come alone. He said he's got information on the twins... stuff we'll need if we're ever going to find out who was behind their kidnapping and mutilation."
"This isn’t good, Liza."
Through the dust she caught a glimpse of a truck following close behind. They were being chased. Danners to the rescue once more! The man had gunned down those thugs back in Compton like it was nothing. One shot to the head. Two to the chests. Gathered her up in his arms and took her to the car, after retrieving a little smack, of course. That's what they came for, after all.
Presti was a more formidable adversary, though. He was all cop. He'd not only duct taped her arms and legs, but he handcuffed her wrists and ankles to the seat. Must have been an old police vehicle at one time. Still had metal rings attached to the floorboard made for holding any culprits the cops caught. Or had Presti installed them himself? Maybe she wasn’t his first victim. They were in the desert for a reason. That's where he dumped them... the unwanted bodies.
The engine didn’t sound good. Steam was rolling out from under the hood. Thank Christ... maybe Danners could catch up before... well... before Presti managed to do what he brought her out here to do. Would she feel it? She'd always heard how a person never heard the sound of the bullet that killed them. Then again, Presti seemed like more of a blood and guts kind of guy. He'd use a knife. Make it last as long as possible. Enjoy his handiwork. Otherwise he'd have finished her already.
"I'm cutting your ankles loose so you can walk... as in not run. Try anything, anything at all, and I'll shoot you on the spot. Understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
The man had to be out of his mind. Who would think a Captain with the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department would be capable of not only kidnapping but murder. As Presti unlocked the cuffs holding her in place she looked back over her shoulder. If Danners was behind them, he was holding back far enough she couldn’t see him. Or maybe it hadn’t been him at all. Simply someone else driving in the desert. No... she was pretty much on her own out here.
"Get out and start walking."
As she slid across the
seat her duct-taped wrists caught on one of the seat belt buckles ripping the tape ever so slightly. Enough that if she worked at it, she might succeed in freeing herself. But not now... not with Presti walking directly behind her. If he suspected anything he might well put a bullet in her brain. In fact she was quite certain that was how this would end.
Still, it was a chance she had to take. She was damned if she was going to let some mafia wannabe do her in and leave her out here to rot in the sun. She'd never liked Presti. The man was a confirmed misogynist. Talked down to every woman in the department. She had him pegged the first time they met and the interceding years did nothing to dissuade her from her original opinion.
That might well work to her advantage. His callous disregard for the female gender could cause him to overlook her strength, her physical prowess. Presti had moved ahead of her a few steps, as if searching out a location known only to him. Twisting her wrists behind her back she felt the tape give way a little more. One good yank and she'd be loose. But then what?
Chapter 101—Trona
(And Holes in the Desert)
Though he knew of Presti's and Liza's general location he hadn’t spotted the pair again since he caught movement right after coming across the Jeep. They were heading to an isolated conglomeration of rocks rising up out of the desert floor some one hundred feet high, like fingers pointing skyward. Unless Presti planned on outlasting them—in which case the man must have provisions stocked in those rocks—there was no easy way to emerge from that thicket of stone with any sort of secrecy. He was effectively trapped.
If Liza was walking that meant Presti had to not only watch for who was following him but her as well. The woman was smart. She'd wait until Presti was distracted and then make her move.