by Renee Miller
CHAPTER 29
The sky darkened as dusk approached, casting a grey pall over the town. Amy pulled out of the parking lot of the bar, pleased with herself for orchestrating Wade’s arrest. Wade probably figured he’d get a slap on the wrist from law enforcement, get away with a two-year-sentence and be out in half the time for good behavior. Not when they had the box. He’d go away forever once the police pulled that little bomb out. Amy snorted, reaching down to turn up the air. Christ it was humid.
The questions they’d peppered her with after Wade’s arrest left her a little disappointed. They hadn’t once mentioned the box and she didn’t want to bring it up in case he’d managed to turn it around. She didn’t trust him. But really, how could he turn this around? Amy had peeked inside the box and its contents would put him away for a long time. That it implicated Thomas only made it sweeter. Thomas couldn’t let Wade hang around for too long, not when he might slip and mention the Brotherhood. The cops could be very convincing and although Amy doubted Wade would rat, they couldn’t be sure the pressure wouldn’t get to him. Amy smiled as she stared out at the empty highway. Wade might last a week, perhaps even a month before the Brotherhood took care of him.
She’d already cleaned out the safe at the bar and their bank accounts, and wouldn’t stick around much longer. Amy wasn’t stupid. The Brotherhood would be after her once they put the puzzle together. When she arrived home, she’d grab her jewelry, all the pretty little trinkets Wade had given her over the years to shut her up. God, he was stupid. She’d watched him set a few items in his safe in the den as well. She’d been careful not to tell the cops about those. She’d be able to disappear with her small fortune.
Pressing down on the accelerator as she left town, Amy sped past the few cars meandering down the main street. She drove past Tim Horton’s and onto the highway, her heart racing in anticipation. The prosecutor would definitely want to speak to her. When he did, she would tell him a whole ream of stories. She’d bury Wade and his spineless little bitch. A real woman would have known how to protect her man. If it were Amy, and if she gave a shit about Wade, she’d have taken the box and tossed it into the deepest darkest hole she could find. But Miss Pathetic couldn’t handle the pressure. As soon as Wade put the damn thing in her hands, she’d sung like a fucking canary. Amy almost felt sorry for Kristina—almost, but not quite. She deserved everything she had coming to her.
Approaching the junction where the main highway ended and the road leading to her home began Amy stepped on the brake and frowned. It felt stiff. She slammed her foot down to get the car to slow. “Fucking idiots,” she muttered.
She’d taken the car in to the mechanic’s the day before to make sure everything was in working order; not dumb enough to trust Wade’s friends before leaving town. It would be just like them to mess with her car or something. Everything was fine, “in perfect condition,” the guy said. He even filled the tank for her. Fuck, he probably hoped she’d be so pleased not to have to pump gas that she wouldn’t notice he didn’t know how to replace brake pads.
The highway was empty, not a car in either direction. Amy turned left, the address of the safe house the cops had arranged clear in her mind. She could hardly wait. Once Wade was convicted, Carl had arranged a condo in Key West and would join her there within the month to celebrate her freedom. He made excuses about why he couldn’t leave his douchebag wife, but Amy no longer cared. Once she got out of this shit hole, she’d be getting rid of Carl too. She had enough of Wade’s money, besides her private stash, to keep her until she found someone else. Carl was small potatoes; a pain in the ass really, with his over inflated ego and his loser wife. She could do better than Carl.
The sky had darkened to a deep inky blue. Amy couldn’t see the moon if there was one, but stars dotted the dark expanse. Her mind filled with the fireflies she used to chase while camping as a child. A sense of triumph filled Amy’s chest. She’d beaten him. Finally, after all the time she’d spent building up to this moment, she had ruined Wade. All he had, all he’d lied, cheated and killed for, was hers. Men were idiots.
Ahead, the road traced a slight bend, a section she hated because of the high jagged rock cuts along either side of it. She pressed the brake, her foot meeting some resistance before recalling the damn thing was stiff. Not that she had much to worry about; there was no one else on the road. She shifted her foot back to the gas pedal and absently tapped her finger on the steering wheel.
As she turned into the bend Amy eased off the gas just a little, but the car didn’t slow. “Fucking pricks. What the hell?”
Amy muttered curses against inept mechanics and shifted her foot onto the brake pedal one more time. It resisted. Panic bubbled in her chest. She pumped the brake pedal, relief washing over her as the car finally slowed a fraction. To her right, the wall of rock loomed close. Amy jerked the wheel and drew in a deep breath when the car eased away from it. That was better.
Her gaze back to the road, she blinked to blinding lights directly in her path. She was on the right side, wasn’t she? Suddenly disoriented, Amy did nothing to move from the incoming car’s path. He had to see her, obviously. If she saw him, he’d see her and move over. She couldn’t go anywhere, not with the rocks.
She contemplated waiting him out but her gut took over. As the last section of rock disappeared, her hands tightened on the wheel, swerving to the right and away from the lights.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Amy breathed a sigh of relief. She opened her eyes to peer in the rearview and frowned. Behind her, the car had pulled off the road. Why did he stop? Did he think she was going to pull over for a chat? He was fucking crazy, obviously. No woman in her right mind would pull over to talk to a strange man, a jackass who couldn’t keep to his side of the road, although she’d have loved to give him a piece of her mind.
A bump sent her against the wheel. Amy grimaced, lowering her gaze to the road. A large tree loomed ahead.
“Shit,” she breathed.
Amy braked, or she thought she did, but the tree kept coming. The car careened into the ditch toward the giant oak tree and Amy braced herself for the impact. The rocks and the fucking car lights had caused her to panic and lose control. All along, she should have worried about staying on the road. Everything moved as if in slow motion, even her thoughts. The car kissed the tree, glass shattered, and then everything went dark.
***
Thomas watched the impact and got out to lean against the hood of his car. The plan had been to run her off the road, but as he passed her and turned his car around, he realized she’d do the job for him.
When Amy’s car bumped over the edge of the ditch, his pulse skyrocketed and his hands clenched. The screeching sound of metal folding against wood echoed in the still night, and a flash lit up the embankment.
Billy worried that if the plan didn’t work, they’d have to pay Wade’s wife a visit, but Thomas knew he could pull it off. Normally he’d give a job like this to a subordinate, but with so much riding on it being done right, he chose to do it himself. God, he missed this feeling. Blood pounded in his veins and his legs trembled just a little as adrenaline rushed through his body. From the moment Wade introduced her, he’d wanted to wring the skinny bitch’s neck. Thomas knew a piece of shit when he saw one and could smell a liar a mile away. Amy was both.
He waited, his eyes on the road as he lit a cigarette and inhaled before blowing small rings into the air. Nothing moved at the site of the crash, but then he didn’t expect anything to.
He hoped the front end hadn’t crumpled too badly else it would be rather difficult to remove the strip of rubber his man had placed under her brake pedal. Wade said she’d keep driving. She did. The rubber caused just enough of a malfunction to make her panic. Again, as Wade said she would. Even if they couldn’t remove it, Thomas wouldn’t worry. His guy was long gone. If the cops discovered a piece of charred rubber they might question the shop, to find they got nowhere fast. Wade sat in jail, so his alibi would be solid.
The road remained silent, empty. Thomas tossed his cigarette away and pushed off the hood of his car. Time to fix the scene. He fished his keys from his pocket and pushed the button on the black remote. The trunk opened with a soft click. Thomas rounded the back of the vehicle and peered inside. After removing his gloves and cell phone from a black duffel bag, he paused to scan the road once more. It was as though Lady Justice were looking out for them, giving him ample time to ensure Amy kept her meeting with Maat. Smiling at the thought, Thomas walked to the crash site. Unhurried, he whistled as he approached. The car smoked, but only a small flame flickered beneath, near the driver’s seat.
Mrs. Bowen never remembered to fill her tank but tonight the mechanic had gone to the station and filled it to the brim before she picked it up. Shame. Had she done her usual shit and left it for others to fill, she might have lived long enough for the ambulance to arrive. Her husband was in jail, thanks to her big mouth, but Karma was a funny thing.
He stopped next to the car and peered inside. The front had crumpled into nothing against the tree and the dash looked at least a good six inches too far back. Amy’s head lay against the seat, a mess of blood and shards of glass.
He let out a low whistle. That wouldn’t heal well. No, not at all. Far better to end it than to continue her life as a disfigured freak. Amy wouldn’t like that. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as though she had trouble getting air. The air bag had deployed, probably broken some ribs, and definitely her nose.
Thomas slipped his hands into the supple leather, his favorite pair of gloves worn smooth from years of use, then he knelt down to inspect the damage. Clear fluid trickled to the ground below, he wouldn’t have to puncture the tank.
Eying the small flame at the front of the car, he frowned. He couldn’t be sure the damn thing wouldn’t blow before he finished. He didn’t know where the small fire came from. Thomas moved to the front to check his friend’s wife. Her eyelids flickered and his groin tightened. He hadn’t counted on being able to speak to her.
This just gets better and better.
Thomas pulled at the door. It creaked on its bent hinges, opening just enough for him to lean over Amy’s inert body and reach for the gas pedal. It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to shift her foot and slip his hand under the brake pedal. When his fingers touched the edge of the rubber—a dangling strip left by his guy so it would be easy to pull off—he yanked. Thomas grunted in satisfaction as it pulled away. Straightening, he stepped back and closed the door. Amy stirred. Tucking the rubber into his pocket, he grinned down at her.
“Shit,” she slurred.
He could tell by the sibilance in her voice that the poor girl no longer had most of her teeth. Part of him was tempted to let her live, to face the horror that was her once beautiful face, but no, Maat shouldn’t be kept waiting.
“Can you move?” he asked, touching her shoulder.
“My legs…stuck.” She didn’t open her eyes.
He leaned closer so she could see him clearly when she did. “Look at me?”
Amy’s eyes fluttered and she gazed around her for a moment, unfocused. She turned her head toward him, wincing in pain. “Help, please. Can’t move my legs.”
“I’d like to help you, Amy, but I can’t.” he smiled as her eyes focused on his face, lowering to his neck.
Recognition froze her features. “Thomas,” she breathed.
“Yes, I hoped we’d get to say farewell, but I hadn’t counted on being so lucky. You remember the last time we spoke, don’t you?”
She gazed up at him, her mouth open but silent. Yes, she remembered, he could tell by the way her jaw clenched when she pressed her lips together. Thomas would never forget the last time he’d been so close to Amy Bowen. She’d just ruined his life, her big mouth taking apart all he’d built that was good and real.
“I remember,” he said running a gloved finger down her cheek. “Diane left me the same day. Took my daughter and everything that meant anything to me and left. I was devastated.”
“You lied.”
“For her own good, but you didn’t care about that, did you? No, you wanted to see me suffer because I wouldn’t play your games. Wade just didn’t see what you were. I did. When I told him he was pissed, wasn’t he? Oh, I remember the way he’d lost it, actually punched me in the mouth for my kind words of warning.”
“Fuck you.” Amy’s chin trembled.
For all her bravado she was scared. Thomas loved it.
“You wanted to, didn’t you? Too bad my wife meant more to me than that. So did my friendship with Wade.”
“A real man wouldn’t have let her go.”
“Really? I beg to differ. When you love something enough, you’re willing to let it spread its wings. Diane is a good person, the most beautiful soul anyone will ever meet, and you were jealous of that. She couldn’t live with what I was and I knew she couldn’t. Forcing her to stay would have broken her soul and I loved her too much to do that. You know nothing about such things, given the black hole you have inside.”
“This is stupid. Someone will see you.” Amy shifted in the seat and gasped. “Please, I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m supposed to believe that from you? I don’t think so.”
Thomas leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers, tasting her blood and smiling at the shiver that coursed through her and vibrated against his mouth.
“Farewell, Amy. I hope you rot in Hell.”
He backed away from the car; the sound of her screams a sweet symphony to his ears. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long slim barbeque lighter and clicked it a couple of times until a small flame glowed at the end. Thomas turned the dial. The flame danced and grew to a long flickering tongue. He walked to the back of her car, pausing when she dissolved from murderous screams to a pathetic whimper. Shaking his head, Thomas knelt next to the rear tire and tipped the flame into the moist earth behind it. For a moment only a faint spark caught the gas-soaked grass but slowly it grew, eating the gas as it licked across the ground and up toward the tank.
He backed away. The flame below lit up the belly of the small car, the one Wade had bought for Amy’s thirtieth birthday, the one she had to have or else. As he edged toward his vehicle, he gazed at the blue-orange glow willing it to ignite the tank before he moved on to the final step. It danced along the underside of the vehicle, reaching around to caress the wheels and then the doors. A crack and then a hissing sound.
Amy’s screams sounded again and grew and grew.
Thomas waved. “That’s for me, and everyone else you’ve fucked.”
The car ignited. Flames burst beneath and up over the crushed hood. Amy’s voice drowned out by the sudden roar of fire that enveloped her. Thomas took the phone from his pocket and flipped it open, punching in the number he’d memorized. It rang three times and he hung up. The person on the other end, the one waiting outside the Mac’s Milk store in Laighton, would call 911, and inform them of a crash on Highway 7. Too bad the call would be anonymous, and too late. The informant panicked and ran upon seeing the crash. Then, feeling guilty, he had stopped at a payphone and done the right thing. Odd though, the payphone the police would trace the call to—if in fact they managed to do that—would be wiped clean, the cleanest payphone on the damn planet.
Thomas flipped the phone around in his hand before letting it fall on the ground. A booted foot on top, he twisted his heel to a satisfying crunching sound. Bending over he picked up the mess of plastic and wires, slipped it into his pocket and walked to his car.
Flames lit the night sky as he eased onto the road, black smoke billowed up, disappearing into the darkness above. Thomas glanced in the rearview. Headlights flashed in the distance. He pressed his foot down on the gas.
CHAPTER 30
Several cars inched along ahead of Daniel’s. He tapped the wheel as they moved forward and stopped again. Seething, he punched the button on the radio. The static in his favorite stati
on wore on his already frayed nerves.
What the hell was wrong with people? He didn’t understand how they managed to pack this particular section of the highway every single day. It didn’t matter what time he left work, an hour early or an hour late, he managed to catch the snarl of traffic at the same time, just as his exit came into view. He’d considered taking the main road out of Salach, past the hospital to the highway and then driving through the Indian reservation to get to Laighton. God knows he would have saved a lot of time. But the damn road was covered in gravel and littered with ruts big enough to lose a small child in. The rocks never failed to scratch his truck. No way.
He hated that he had to go to Laighton in the first place, but that’s where Carl kept the main office and he had to check in every goddamn day before going home. Their business was in Salach, even the showroom was there, and Daniel couldn’t figure out why the stupid prick insisted on keeping anything in the shitty little town. Probably so his wife would have something to do that kept her out of his hair.
Large grey clouds rolled in as evening approached. It looked like it might rain, which pissed him off even more. Daniel hated driving in the rain, especially with all the fuckups on the road panicking because the roads were a little slick and increasing the risk one of them might slam into him.
He’d been stuck on the same twenty or so feet of highway for almost one hour. At this rate he wouldn’t make it home until well after dark. Normally he didn’t give a shit, but he hadn’t been able to get Desiree on the phone all day. She’d had a doctor’s appointment in the morning, to confirm what they already knew. She was pregnant. It shouldn’t have taken all day. She didn’t have the damn thing turned on; it went straight to voicemail each time he tried to call.
Running one hand over his face, Daniel leaned his head back on the seat and counted to ten, as they’d taught in the class he’d been forced to take after divorcing Kristina. He told them he didn’t have an anger problem, he could deal with his emotions just as well as anyone. What was he doing right now? A man out of control would have jumped out of his car, walked up the road to figure out who was causing the delay and dealt with them. Not Daniel Riley. He patiently waited with the rest of the suckers, counting to ten and resisting the urge to break someone’s nose.