by Randy Rawls
If he grabbed any shells he ejected, he’d be in the clear. A look of satisfaction settled onto his face. While it wasn’t the purpose of the design, Charlie’s modifications would benefit his wounded wing. He could use his left hand on the pistol grip and trigger and support with his good arm. He smiled, thinking there were times when being ambidextrous was a godsend.
He recalled asking Charlie to convert a standard military Mossberg to a Compact Cruiser configuration. Charlie had given him a strange look, then nodded in acceptance. And of course, his modifications were better than Tom imagined they could be. He even added a bayonet mount. When Tom asked about it, he chuckled and said, “Aren’t you a knife fighter? Thought you might like a little extra reach.”
The loose thread that nagged at Tom was disposal of Laury’s body. If the cops stumbled onto it before he eliminated Raul, and they put two and two together, they might stage a raid on Raul’s. In fact, he could run into a stacked deck, but that could happen anyway if the police had warrants to arrest Laury and Raul tonight.
He rested his head and forced thought from his mind, but no better plan surfaced. Neutralize Laury in the quickest and most brutal way he knew, then move on to Raul. Knock on the door and blow them away when they answered. He didn’t have a marked deck so he’d have to accept the odds straight up. He’d done it before and always landed on his feet. He’d do it again. And, if he didn’t survive the night, there’d be few to mourn him other than Charlie and Lonnie. And maybe Abby. His dream of wedded bliss and a home filled with his and Abby’s children had crashed when she ducked his proposal.
His cell phone rang for the second time since he’d left Abby’s house.
THIRTY
“Damn. How’d I get so popular?” He checked the caller ID on his phone and looked puzzled. Abby again.
“Love to hear your voice,” he said, a smile in his tone.
“Yes, I want to marry you…with conditions. Finish what you have to do and come home in one piece. But this is your last such exercise. And if you get yourself killed, I’ll cut your balls off with a nail file.”
“Abby—”
She hung up.
Tom’s smile grew into a face-wide grin. “Hot damn, Sis, we’re going to have one hell of a wedding. Wish you could be here. I’d let you give me away—or whatever’s appropriate for a best sister.” He stared at the phone. Suddenly, and for really the first time in his life, he had something to live for. The thought did not bring assurance. Quite the opposite. He was nervous because of his night’s mission.
Damn. This is stupid, he thought. I can’t go itchy-feet now. This is just one more assassination—nothing special about it. Keep a clear head and everything will be all right.
A car slowed to a stop in front of him, blocking him in. Tom squinted through the windshield then shrugged in a I should have known gesture.
Charlie climbed out of the vehicle, glanced around, then walked to the passenger side of Tom’s car, twirling his hand in the universal sign for lower the window.
“How’d you find me?” Tom asked. “Especially when I told you to stay out of it.”
“What? You think I take orders from a hayseed I wet-nursed all those years? I think not.”
“I should have known. You’re too hardheaded to know what’s best for you. But, I didn’t get an answer to my question.”
“I had the same training as you—and probably listened better. I may not have run as many ops, but I learned from the lectures.”
“And, you learned— Ah, you bugged my car.”
“Simple little transmitter.” He held up a handheld receiver. “See that red dot? Nice and bright, isn’t it? Led me right to you.”
Tom shook his head. “You got me. Some days, I forget you didn’t spend your life as a civilian. But nothing is changed. You’re still dealt out.”
Charlie looked toward his car. “Stay right where you are while I park. I’ve got some news for you.” He started away, then turned back. “And if you run, I’ll just track you down again.” He climbed in and started the engine before leaning out the window. “No need looking for the bug. When I hide them, they stay hidden.” He pulled away and parked a few spaces down.
A moment later, Charlie sat in Tom’s car. “Did Abby tell you the cops are hot on your heels?”
“Not mine, the gang’s.”
“Okay, have it your way. But if they find one, don’t they find the other? How clean is your back trail?”
“Spotless.”
“Oh? And what was that I sewed up last night? Didn’t feel like a teddy bear. Where there’s a cut, there’s blood. And where there’s blood, there’s DNA. And where there’s DNA, there’s a forensics guy with traces he can use to bring someone down.”
Tom thought about Charlie’s words. He was right. If there was residue on Izzy’s knife, they’d be able to ID him. He didn’t remember what happened to the blade after his sweep across Izzy’s throat. Damn stupid of him to leave a physical object that could lead straight to him. He hoped his blood had mingled enough with Izzy’s that his DNA could not be recovered. But that was only a hope—not a fact. No matter. They’d have to get a DNA sample from him to match up with whatever they found at the scene, and he didn’t plan to volunteer one. In fact, he didn’t plan to be anywhere near the cops when this was over.
“So, what’s our plan?” Charlie asked. “You wouldn’t be hiding here if it hadn’t dawned on you that you can’t go it alone. I’m guessing you know your hourglass is about to run out. You need to finish the gang tonight, or the police might beat you to one or more of them. Right?”
Tom looked at him. “What? You playing gypsy fortuneteller now? If so, tell me how it’s going to end. Do you know I’m getting married? Abby said yes.”
“Congratulations.” Charlie leaned his head back and stared at the cloth roof of the car. In a soft voice, he said, “You have a chance here, Tom. Based on my experience, you’re about to enter a world you never dreamed of—a world that will finally make your life complete. Abby is a wonderful woman.” He sat forward and laid his hand on Tom’s arm. “Give it up. You’re risking everything for two punks the cops are about to bring down. They don’t need you.”
“Can’t. I promised Sis. When it’s over, I’ll promise Abby to spend the rest of my life as a spectator. No more vengeance. I’ll make her the best husband any wife ever had.” He grinned. “Hell, I’ll even out-husband you.”
Charlie took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth. “In that case, let’s get started. You know you can’t do it without me. Which one of your arsenal do I get to use? I always liked that .45 I modified.”
“You won’t leave?”
“Nope,” he said, grinning. “And with a wounded arm, you can’t whip my ass and throw me out.” In a softer voice, he added, “Just like you can’t bring them down without me.”
Tom looked thoughtful. “If anything happens to you, Lonnie will never forgive me. You know that, don’t you?”
“Hell, no more than the reverse. Sometimes I wonder who she cares for the most—you or me.”
“Look, Charlie. I admit I can use help. Mind you, I can go it alone, but a reserve force is always nice to have. There are two of the gang left, and I want them dead before the cops close in. If you help me grab them, I’ll take it from there.”
“Sure. And they’ll have you for a snack. Now, what’s your plan for taking them down?”
“I have a rental van pre-positioned at a twenty-four-hour Walmart down the street. We’ll leave our cars there. No one will pay attention to them in the hustle and bustle of the parking lot. Then we take the van and head for Laury’s.”
* * * *
Abby sat on the sofa, cell phone in hand. Tears dripped into her lap. Had she made a deal with the devil? Had she sold her soul for a man she’d only known for a few weeks? She was an officer of the court, yet she had betrothed herself to someone who admitted murdering three people. She was depressed and exhilarated at the same time. T
he tears were tears of sadness and tears of joy, tears for life forfeited and tears for a new life. And the only part of her being not in doubt was her love for him. This man with his rough edges and his no-nonsense approach to life had won her and now owned her.
A quote from the Bible came to mind—whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge… She remembered it was Ruth talking to her mother-in-law, but the rest of the passage was lost to her. It had been many years since she attended church services. Maybe she should return. She might need all the help she could get. Whatever, that would become her vow to Tom. If he needed to leave South Florida to bury his past, she’d go with him.
Then another thought struck her, and she gasped. Suppose he wasn’t successful. Suppose the gang got the upper hand. No. Not possible. He was too skilled for street punks. But anything could happen. And, there was the real possibility he’d be arrested. If that occurred, she’d defend him and expected Bert and the full power of BGE&B would be at her disposal. Somehow, they’d keep him out of jail.
A frown appeared as she remembered her meeting with Bert that afternoon. For a moment, she’d forgotten about her verbal resignation. Guess that meant no support from that quarter. But, he had given her until Monday to re-think it. Should she stay—at least until she knew where things were going with Tom? They were trying to use her, she could do the same thing. No. That wouldn’t be honest. It would be too much like something the elder Bernstein would do. The time had arrived for her to move out on her own. She had established a solid reputation as a litigator. Clients would be easy to find. Or, perhaps she should talk to Lucy again. Tom justified his actions with the failure of the justice system in his sister’s case. She could take a part in assuring it did not happen to another victim’s relative.
She smiled, feeling better than she had since Tom walked out the door. Her future was no longer in doubt—Abigail Archer-Jeffries. What a lovely combination of names. She had to tell someone or her heart would burst. Lucy. She’d call Lucy now.
* * * *
Tom cruised past Laury’s house, fast enough to blend in, but slow enough to allow him to study it.
“No car in the driveway,” Tom said. “Was that a light in the back of the place?”
“Not sure,” Charlie said. “Hard to see from here. Might have been a reflection from the street lamp. Swing around and put the house on my side. Maybe I can get a better look.”
At the intersection, Tom pulled a U-turn and headed back toward Laury’s. A block later, he pulled over and parked. “See anything?”
“A glimmer through the front window.”
“You stay here. I’ll see if anyone’s home.”
“Let me go,” Charlie said. “Your arm—”
“No. I’m the star. You’re the sidekick, the horse-holder. Can’t mess up the script.” He opened the door. “I’ll run a recon. If it looks good, I’ll signal before I go in. I’ll be back with or without Laury. If I’m moving fast, have the car ready to roll.”
“Don’t take too long, Lone Ranger. Tonto might get anxious and come after you.”
Tom closed the door behind him, chuckling as he walked along the sidewalk. It was good to know Charlie covered his back.
The neighborhood was quiet with only a couple of teenagers standing on the far corner. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a man walking fast in his direction, a large dog pulling on his leash. The dog-walker passed him by, keeping his head down, South Florida style.
Tom grinned. He didn’t understand the reluctance to make eye contact, but tonight, it worked in his favor. With the way he barreled by, the guy couldn’t pick him out of a lineup if he were the only person there.
Tom slowed his pace as the man moved away. Satisfied he was unobserved, he studied Laury’s house. Nondescript was his first thought. Nothing to make it stand out. Just one more tract house in a tract home development. Zero lot-line, a few bedraggled flowers in the front yard that needed attention, and while it was hard to tell for sure, Tom believed a new coat of its pink paint would help its appearance. The houses on both sides were dark.
Continuing to walk as if out for an evening stroll, Tom reached the corner where the kids had stood. They were nowhere in sight, a fact that bothered Tom. He hoped they’d gone inside one of the buildings and weren’t in a position to watch. He preferred to know their exact whereabouts.
He stopped and looked behind. The front of Laury’s house presented no problems, but he wondered what the rear held. If Laury bolted, Tom wanted to know what he’d run into while pursuing. He headed down the side street, a short block, continuing his stroll, and turned left at the next corner. The width of the block indicated the backyards were shallow. That could be an advantage or disadvantage. Less space for Laury to hide, but easier for him to get to the next street and make a getaway.
When he came abreast of where he thought Laury lived, he slid between two darkened houses, across the backyard, and stopped under a large tree, hiding in its moon-shadow. There was a light in the back room of Laury’s house, and a silhouette crossed in front of a drawn shade. It appeared to be a woman, although experience told him shadows could be misleading. He waited five minutes and saw no other indications of habitation.
He sighed. Time to make a move. If there was a surprise waiting, so be it. He retraced his route and stopped at Laury’s driveway. Looking toward the rental, he saw a flash of light—Charlie hitting the dome light, he suspected.
The escape route through the back bothered him. Maybe he should shift Charlie onto the next street. He walked back to the van, briefed Charlie on what he’d seen, then waited while Charlie re-positioned. A few moments later, he stood in front of Laury’s house again, ready to make his move.
He moved up the driveway and crossed to the front door, holding the Mossberg by his leg, ready to swing it up and put Laury away in a flash. He knocked, then stepped back far enough to allow space for the gun. If there was a peephole, he couldn’t see it.
Footsteps shuffled toward the door from the inside. Sounded like a feminine tred, but Tom couldn’t be sure. Laury wasn’t a big man, and if he wore soft slippers, the shuffling could be him.
The doorknob rattled, and Tom tightened his finger on the trigger. The safety was off so all he had to do was swing the gun to a horizontal position and fire. The triple-ought-buck would do the rest, ripping through Laury’s gut. He’d die in agony. Fitting, after what he did to Mary Lou. The door opened a crack. Tom began to lift the shotgun.
“Who’s there?” a female voice asked. “You can’t come in. Laurelle isn’t here.”
Tom relaxed his grip on the trigger and let the gun swing behind his leg. “Excuse me, ma’am. My name is Andrew Druggins. I work with Laury. I can’t make it to work tomorrow and don’t know how to reach nobody in the front office. I was hopin’ Laury would tell the boss for me.”
“Well…I don’t know. He went off to see them friends of his. And I ain’t openin’ the door. If you want to write it down, I’ll leave it for him. But sometimes, he don’t get home ’til real late. I can’t be sure he’ll see it.”
“I understand. Do you mean his friends, Raul and Izzy?”
“Yeah. That bunch. I told him they ain’t no good, but he slapped me—hit me hard, he did. Someday, I’m gonna leave that sonavabitch.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll find somebody else to let the boss know. You been mighty nice talkin’ to me. I ’preciate it.”
“Good night,” she said as the door closed. The deadbolt clicked.
Tom grimaced as he turned away from the house. So, Laury beat up on women, too. A real boon to society, he was. A gangbanger and woman beater. Tom looked forward to killing him.
THIRTY-ONE
Twenty minutes later, Tom directed Charlie to park the van a block from Raul’s home. They had cruised the area, seeing lights on in his place. The neighborhood was a carbon copy of Laury’s except in worse condition. Tract houses again. Probably built several year
s before the one where Laury lived. From what they could see, Raul’s house was the showplace, if being the most decrepit was the criterion. The mailbox alongside the street threatened to tumble if anything heavier than a number ten envelope landed in it. A small porch fronted the house. In the dark, it looked like a trap for any deliveryman who didn’t have super-quick reflexes.
“Let’s cover as we did before,” Tom said. “Move around to the parallel street and set up close to where they might escape. I’ll go through the front. Be ready for them to come busting out the back. But look before you shoot. One of the runners might be me.”
“Hmm,” Charlie said, rubbing his chin. “You wouldn’t want me to let them get away, would you? Easiest would be to drop everyone and sort them out later.”
“Funny man.” Tom opened the door. “We should be out of here in ten to fifteen minutes. Then it’s home to Lonnie for you. Maybe she’ll appreciate your humor.”
“You just be careful with that Mossberg. That thing has a wide spray pattern, and I don’t want to be in its fan.”
“Best keep your head down then.” Tom climbed out of the van, closed the door, and walked toward Raul’s house. He held the shotgun tight to his leg, blending it into his movement.
The van started, and Charlie drove away.
Tom hesitated before turning into the yard. There was a walkway of sorts, at least he assumed it once was. Now, it was mostly weeds and displaced pavers. Concentrating on where he stepped, he headed toward the house. He couldn’t afford to roll an ankle.
At the porch, he placed each foot carefully, hoping not to crash through. He reckoned Raul entered through the back. First, no one knowing the conditions would risk the front, and second, there was a path worn in the grass running between the houses.