Cucumber Coolie (Blake Dent Mysteries Book 2)

by Ryan Casey

  “Blake Dent’s going to kill you,” he said, as he hit record. “At least, he is going to kill you if he wants Danielle to survive.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Martha was usually pretty adept at dealing with shitty, stressful situations. A whole life growing up in the wrong gendered body trained her well for that.

  But dealing with a kidnapped best friend whose kidnapper insisted on murdering his girlfriend if the police were alerted… well. That was a situation she wasn’t so trained at.

  She sat still in the comfy leather seat of her Audi TT. The rain came down heavier than ever now, smacking the windscreen and getting on her nerves. How could anyone say that sound was relaxing? It was noise. Noise, getting in the way of her thoughts.

  In the way of her decision making.

  She chewed down on a piece of strawberry gum. It tasted stale, which was no surprise—she’d had it lying around in the pocket of her expensive leather jacket for longer than she could remember.

  To call the police or not to call the police. To call them or not to call them…

  She weighed up one side of the argument, the smell of the blackberry air freshener adding to the ridiculous sensory fruit smoothie. By calling the police, she could save Blake. Save Danielle. And technically, Blake wasn’t breaking the rules by her calling. Sure, there’d been threats from James Scotts, but how much weight did they even have?

  She scratched at her tight blue jeans. Felt all shitty inside, like she had when she was waiting for the start of her sex change—the start of the rest of her life. On the other hand, she could play James Scotts’ game more by the rules. Keep the police out of it. Leave Blake to sort it out for himself.

  But hell no. She wasn’t the kind of person to sit around.

  Even if she was doing exactly that right now.

  She leaned against the steering wheel. Looked in her mirror at the tramps staring at her car, the side road exit seeming very far away.

  She had to do something. She couldn’t just leave Blake in there.

  Martha hit the opening to her glove compartment. Looked around for something sharp. Something she could… hell, something she could what? What could she do? Stab James Scotts? Sneak in, go all secret agent on his and his brother’s ass?

  No. Those days were behind her.

  Yes, she had gone “secret agent” in the past, believe it or not.

  Failing to find anything sharp or effective as a weapon, unless CDs counted, she closed the glove compartment. Clicked it shut, and leaned back against her headrest.

  She looked at the time above the dashboard.

  7.49.

  Just over two hours for Blake to save Danielle.

  She placed her head in her hands. Listened to the annoying as shit sounds of the rain blasting down on the metal car roof.

  She had to do the best thing for her friend. The best thing for her best friend.

  And sitting here in a pissing Audi TT with her head against the steering wheel was hardly helping out.

  She gulped. Lifted herself away from the steering wheel. Stared at the garage-like building that Blake had been dragged inside.

  She couldn’t go gung-ho.

  She couldn’t risk that. Because if something happened to her, there’d be no chance. No chance of escape.

  So with her shaking hand, she lifted her phone out of her pocket. Entered her contacts list.

  She scrolled down to Lenny. When she reached his name, she exited the contacts list. No. She couldn’t call Lenny. The police were off-radar. Out of bounds.

  But they were the only ones who could help.

  She entered her contacts again, her stomach tense. She scrolled back down to Lenny. Hovered her thumb over it, her heart pounding, the vein in her neck throbbing.

  “Please let this be the right thing to do,” she said. “Please, God, be the right thing to do.”

  And then she hit Lenny’s name and listened to the dialling tone.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “P—please, Blake. You don’t have to do this. You—James, please. Tell him he doesn’t have to do this.”

  I stood opposite Andy Scotts, who was chained up to the wall. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his lips quivered. He just kept on begging for help, for forgiveness, for something.

  James Scotts stood behind me. Kept something pointed at my back. Something sharp. I could feel his warm breaths on the back of my neck, smell his sour breath mixing with the growing smell of piss coming from Andy.

  And in my shaking hand was a knife.

  “You know that isn’t going to happen, Andy,” James said. His voice was so close that it made me jump. I could hear the electronics of the camera working away right beside my head, a first-person viewpoint of Andy Scotts’ pain. “Blake Dent is going to kill you if he wants to save Subject C, or ‘Danielle.’”

  Every time he said the words, I died a little inside. So too did Andy, by the looks of things, who just kept on turning his head down, shaking all over.

  Frigging hell. I couldn’t kill this bloke. I couldn’t just murder him.

  But by not killing him, I was killing Danielle.

  “Blake Dent, you won the ip dip doo. You won the coin flip. You’re in a very privileged position right now. It could so easily be my brother pointing the blade at you right now trying to save his own family. And knowing my brother the way I know him—”

  “You don’t know me,” Andy shouted. Saliva spilled down his chin. His cheeks went red. “Don’t you pretend to fucking know me.”

  James Scotts tilted his head. “Anger. Second stage of grief, isn’t it? Or is it third? I can never remember. Anyway, the point stands. Faced with the survival or the certain death of one’s family, I think I know you pretty well, brother. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d willingly kill someone we don’t know to save the ones we live for.”

  Andy stared at me. Stared at me with his bloodshot, tearful, begging eyes. I didn’t know what to say. What to do. How to react.

  I was stuck in a fugue state.

  And not a Walter White one.

  “This ends for you, Blake. Right here, it ends for you. You get Danielle back. Live a normal, happy life. We go our separate ways.”

  “A normal—normal life?” I said, the words spilling off my tongue. “I’m a… a murderer. If I do this I’m a murderer. On camera, too. I… A normal life?”

  James Scotts licked his dry, pale lips. Narrowed his eyes. “Well, perhaps not ‘normal.’ Maybe ‘normal’ is too strong a word. But you’ll live a normal enough life once you serve your murder sentence anyway. Might get manslaughter, if you’re lucky. And Danielle will be alive and waiting for you, at least I hope. It’s the least you deserve after all the loyalty you’ve shown to her. Heartwarming.”

  “Please, Blake,” Andy shouted. “P—please.”

  “But if you don’t, then Danielle will certainly die. I can absolutely guarantee you that. So it’s your call, Blake. Spend some years imprisoned by institutions for your crime, or spend the rest of your life imprisoned by guilt over the woman you could have saved.”

  I saw Andy getting blurry, and I realised from the taste of salt on my lips that I was welling up. Grace Wallens. I’d let Grace down, all those years ago. I’d been hired to capture her by the police for a bounty. I’d fallen in love with her, against all the rules.

  And she’d been murdered on the night I was supposed to be taking her in, all because I chose my heart over my head.

  But now my heart and my head were in overdrive.

  Kill an innocent man and save Danielle.

  Don’t kill an innocent man and Danielle dies.

  I wasn’t sure where my heart or my head were. I needed a pissing second opinion.

  James tapped his foot on the concrete. Whistled away as he waited. “Come on, Blake. I don’t have all the tape in the world. Make your mind up.”

  I took in a deep breath of the sweaty, putrid air. Tried to block out all thoughts, all ideas of morals,
all the imagined tastes of Soothers and Lockets and all things menthol.

  And I crouched down opposite Andy Scotts and pushed the knife towards him.

  His eyes widened as I did. Face went even paler. He shook his head. Backed up against the wall. Kicked out his feet. “No no, please. I—my family, Blake. Please. My—my family. My family…”

  I switched off the “care” switch inside of me. Tried to train my mind to be that numb, uncaring beast it had been so many times before this moment.

  You don’t know this guy. He could be a wanker, really. Probably is a wanker.

  I pushed the knife closer to his neck.

  “Please, Blake! Please! Please!”

  I looked at the concrete floor. Looked at the piss stain spreading across Andy Scotts’ trousers. Listened to his shouts, his screams, his cries.

  “Please! Please! Please!”

  My hand shook as the knife touched his neck. My stomach sank.

  Just one push, Blake. Put his life to an end. Get Danielle back. Serve your time.

  “Please,” Andy begged. His voice was little more than a whimper, now. “My… my Jasmine. I love my Jasmine. Please I—Don’t leave her without her daddy. I…”

  I closed my eyes. Listened as James Scotts chuckled and shuffled his feet behind me.

  Andy sniffed. Sobbed. “Tell her I love her. Please. Just… just let her know I love her and I’ll always love her.”

  I looked Andy in the eyes again. Didn’t intend to, but I couldn’t help myself. There was something there that made me feel utterly more shitty inside than I already had. The way he was looking at me, the light gone from his eyes.

  He’d given up.

  He’d accepted defeat.

  He looked at me like I was the monster.

  I tensed my jaw. Squeezed tight hold of the knife.

  And then I stood up and looked at James Scotts.

  “I can’t do this,” I said.

  James Scotts pointed the camera at me in one hand, and a very hefty looking pistol in the other. His eyes narrowed as I stood, a frown spreading across his forehead. “I’m sorry, you… you can’t do this?”

  “I can’t. And I won’t. I won’t just kill an innocent man.”

  A shaky smile crept up the edges of James’ mouth. “I’m not sure you remember the rules, Blake. You fail to do this, and the woman you love dies—”

  “I can’t kill a man and I won’t kill a man,” I said. I looked directly into the lens of the camcorder, feeling like a star on reality television, even though they probably had an even more raw deal than me. “I can’t leave a family without—without a dad. I’m sorry but I just…”

  My voice froze. I suddenly became very aware of what I was saying, the choice I was making. “I love you, Danielle. You… you might never hear this but… I just want you to know I’m so so sorry.”

  There was silence, I’m not sure how long for. Silence, but for Andy Scotts’ whimpers turning into relieved gasps. Silence, but for the water dripping from the roof, echoing against the concrete.

  Silence, as James Scotts stared.

  James Scotts lowered his camcorder. Switched it off, and shook his head. “I credit you, Blake. Admire you for making such a moral choice. I had to say, I thought even you would fall trap to this challenge. Would you like to see Danielle now?”

  I hardly had time to process what James had asked me before he was yanking the knife from my hand and pushing me to the door he’d come in through.

  Danielle. I was seeing Danielle. One last time, probably.

  Oh God. I couldn’t do this.

  When had I become so frigging sappy?

  He pushed me through the door, the pistol pressed into my back. It was even darker in here than it was in the last room. But I could smell sweat. I could smell human.

  I could smell Danielle’s perfume.

  James Scotts fumbled around the wall. “Switch should be somewhere around… here.”

  The lights flickered on.

  My inner light flickered on, too. As cheesy as frig as that sounded.

  Danielle was at the other side of the room. She wasn’t in the black container—that was empty.

  She was bald. She had cuts and bruises all over her naked, pale flesh.

  But I couldn’t help but cry, smile. “Dan—Danielle.”

  Her eyes widened when she saw me. Her smile grew to lengths I didn’t know were possible.

  She was hurt. She was hurt, she’d been kidnapped, but she was here.

  I’d seen her again.

  Whatever happened now, I’d seen her.

  “Take a good look at her,” James Scotts whispered in my ear with his hot breath.

  I wanted to go over there and hold her. To ask her all the questions in the world, tell her everything was going to be okay.

  I wanted to ask her to frigging marry me.

  I wanted to tell her how much I loved her.

  “It’s the last look you’re going to get.”

  The lights flickered out.

  James Scotts dragged me from the door, slammed it shut.

  “Wait, what—Danielle! Dani—”

  I felt a sharp jolt against my cheek, tasted hot fluid as I tumbled to the ground. My eyes blurred, and my head ached all over.

  “Well done, Mr. Blake,” James said. He raised his foot and booted me in my ribs, knocking the wind out of me.

  “You’ve passed the challenge very successfully,” he said.

  Another boot in the chest.

  He disappeared out of view, but I was too hurt, too in pain, to do anything but roll on the floor.

  “You’ve succeeded,” he said. “Well done. You’ve completed the challenge. You’ve saved Danielle.”

  I blinked. Tried to get my blurry vision back. Somewhere ahead of me, I could hear chains clinking.

  “You’ve shown a willingness to sacrifice. That’s the key to success.”

  I arched my neck up.

  Saw Andy Scotts standing up, with the blade in his hand now, James Scotts behind him with the gun to his back.

  “So now the tables reverse,” James Scotts said. “Andy, kill Blake Dent if you want your family to live.”

  I stared Andy in his puffy eyes. Watched his lips quiver.

  And then watched as he walked towards me with the knife, without any hesitation.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  It was only when Andy Scotts crouched down and pressed the sharp side of the blade against my neck that I realised what an idiotic fool I’d been.

  I thought about begging. Thought about spluttering, crying, just like Andy had. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I was so fucking fuming with myself.

  Fuming for letting Andy Scotts go when he was so easily willing to kill me.

  James Scotts stood behind him. Pointed the pistol at him, and aimed the camcorder in our direction. I stared at it. Stared into the lens, like there was somebody on the other side who could just come in here and save me if I stared long enough.

  Jesus. It was a shitty camcorder, too. Go to the extents James Scotts was going to, at least get something nifty to do the job.

  “I’m sorry for this, Blake,” Andy said. He pressed the blade even further into my neck. My mouth tasted of blood after being booted in my side by James, and my vision was still a little blurred.

  “You aren’t,” I said. “You’re doing what I should’ve done. Saving the person I love. Now I’m… Danielle’s gonna be on her own.”

  Andy sighed. He gulped, sniffed up. “I’ll—I’ll look out for her. I promise I’ll look out for her.”

  “While you’re in prison?”

  Andy’s eyes were glazed over, like he was in some kind of trance. “I’ll… I’ll think of something. I’ll think of something.”

  He pressed the blade even further into my neck.

  James Scotts let out a laugh. Nodded his head. “This is good, fellas. Very good. Very emotional. Keep that face, Blake. You look grief-struck. The emotional resonance with the audien
ce at this point, it’s going to be off the charts.”

  I gulped, resisting the urge to bite back at James Scotts. Turned out gulping wasn’t so easy anymore, not with how hard Andy Scotts had the blade to my neck. Shit. Well I never. About to die with not even a whimper. And dammit, before season two of True Detective even launched, too.

  And fuck.

  About to die thinking of the second bloody season of True Detective.

  What kind of a person was I?

  “I’m not gonna beg,” I said to Andy, as he started to move the blade against my skin. “I… Just think about it. Think about what you’re doing here.”

  Sweat dripped from Andy’s forehead. His wide, bloodshot eyes focused on the blade, on my neck. “I… best thing for my family. And—and Danielle lives, too. I’m doing the good thing. The right thing.”

  James Scotts laughed some more. “Better listen to him, hero.”

  My stomach turned. There was no way I was getting out of this one.

  Shit. I was about to die. The light of life was about to flicker away. My heart pounded. I’d never stared death in the face so closely. Never been in its clutches, not this tightly.

  Shitting hell, it was terrifying. So terrifying that I was shaking and turtleheading and on the verge of following through.

  Come on, Blake. At least die with some dignity. Don’t let the pathologist find you with a shitty arse.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, as Andy pressed the blade harder. I could feel warm blood trickling down my neck now. I could feel a pinching pain, a pain that I knew would be nothing compared to the slicing of my throat. Bastard. Couldn’t he just stab me in the temple or something? Get it done with?

  “Promise you leave Danielle alone,” I said. “Please. She’s—she’s been through enough.”

  I heard James Scotts tut. “I’m a man of my word, hero. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Now come on. You two are like a bloody married couple. The audience is waiting.”

  I took one final peep at Andy Scotts. One final peep at the concrete, windowless room.