Perdition

by R. Jean Reid

  When the chief struggled to get up, she landed a kick to his face. Then shoved his head into the floor again.

  Josh had found a roll of duct tape and was attempting to bind Doug Shaun’s feet.

  “Careful!” Nell gasped. “Don’t let him kick you.” But Thom had taught Josh some of the self-defense moves he’d insisted Nell learn. Flopped across the man, Josh rolled down his legs, using his weight to pin them down.

  Nell drove the wrench again into Doug’s hand, finally causing him to release his grip on the gun.

  Kate crawled across the floor to help Josh. Her face was white. She was in pain. The two of them managed to get his feet taped together.

  Doug tried to heave himself up, as if realizing he really might lose to two women and a boy. He managed to throw Josh off and pull away from Kate.

  Nell again grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the floor. Then again. She felt no remorse at the blood that welled up out of his nose. Then Josh was back with the duct tape, and he and Nell were able to pull the chief’s arms behind his back and lash them together.

  Kate was no longer moving.

  Nell could finally loosen her grip on him. She grabbed her cell phone and this time dialed 911.

  “The bike shop on Grove Street. Get an ambulance here. Someone’s been shot,” she said immediately, not even waiting for someone to answer. “And get … the sheriff’s department here.”

  Nell took the gun and kept it with her. She would shoot the man if she had to. But she wanted Police Chief Doug Shaun to go to jail.

  Josh found a first aid kit, and he and Nell used it to try to stop Kate’s bleeding.

  An eerie silence fell over the shop, broken only by the raspy breathing from Doug’s broken nose and Kate’s faint, shallow panting.

  Nell and Josh talked only briefly, and then only about what to do for Kate. By some unspoken agreement, they knew they needed to listen—to hear Kate still breathing, and for any sounds that Doug was escaping his bonds.

  In the distance, a siren wailed. It came closer and Nell realized it was coming for them. For the first time, she felt a faint trickle of relief.

  thirty-four

  It was just before midnight when Josh and Nell finally arrived home. Harold Reed had dragged the FBI to the scene to hear what was going on. For once the sheriff didn’t argue about jurisdiction. He hadn’t even seemed to get a little joy from arresting his rival, instead just looked shocked and upset at what he saw on arrival at the bike shop: a bloody and unconscious Kate Ryan being worked over by paramedics, and Nell and Josh huddled together, her blood on them.

  They’d spent hours talking to both Harold Reed and the FBI, and then several more hours at the hospital waiting for word on Kate. All Nell learned was that she’d made it out of surgery but was still in critical condition.

  As they pulled up to the house, Nell saw that all the lights were on.

  It seemed strange, until the door slammed open and she saw Lizzie there.

  “Where were you?” her daughter demanded as Nell and Josh came up to her.

  “It’s a long story,” Nell said. Then she remembered. “I thought that you were at a slumber party.”

  Josh, exhausted, silently pushed past his sister into the house.

  “Susie got sick, so it was canceled. Janet’s mom dropped me off hours ago.”

  Nell and Lizzie followed Josh inside. In the light of the kitchen, Lizzie saw the state that they were in, with Kate’s dried blood still on their clothes.

  “Mom! What happened? I’ve been here for hours not knowing …”

  Nell realized her daughter was terrified. It was not long ago that her children had waited for her and Thom to come home on another long night. I’m the same fragile flesh and blood that he was and he didn’t return, Nell thought.

  “It’s okay, honey. Josh and I are okay,” Nell reassured her.

  Lizzie burst into tears. “But I’ve been worried for hours.”

  Nell simply wrapped her arms around her daughter. Lizzie hugged her tightly in return and even grabbed Josh tightly when he joined them.

  As Nell held her children, she felt both the relief and the horror. They’d come so close to not coming home, to leaving Lizzie alone with a fear that would inexorably change into a reality.

  Nell kept murmuring “It’s okay,” just to say something and try to make it okay.

  Despite the late hour, the three of them stayed up talking for another hour. Nell was honest with her daughter about what happened that night; she knew Lizzie would hear about it from numerous sources and she didn’t want her to learn anything from other people first. But she didn’t tell either of her children how much she’d worried about them. Nor did she share the whispered horrors Doug Shaun had told her.

  Finally, they were all beyond exhaustion and went off to bed. Yet Nell still had to check all the locks. Even with the real killer finally caught, the fear was still too close to allow her to let her vigilance down.

  No one got out of bed much before noon the next day, but despite that, they tried to maintain as normal a Sunday as possible. At least, as normal as could be with Lizzie being kind and considerate to both Josh and Nell.

  The phone rang and kept ringing, but Nell let most of the calls go to the answering machine. She may have been a reporter, but that didn’t mean she wanted to talk to other reporters.

  Improbably enough, Sheriff Hickson came by to see how she and Josh were doing. He didn’t stay long, and Nell doubted that they would ever be close friends, but the man could be kind and he was certainly honest; she would give him that.

  The good news of the day was that Kate was doing better. She was still considered to be in serious condition. But, as the doctor said, she was also young and strong.

  thirty-five

  Today I’m going to be a reporter, Nell told herself. She would be a witness soon enough, but now she was here only to be a journalist, to do what she knew how to do.

  It was time for the perp walk—for Doug Shaun to be walked out of jail and into the waiting sheriff van to be taken to court. She did note that Sheriff Hickson had made sure the van was parked as far away from the building as was possible without being ridiculous. He clearly intended for the cameras to get as many shots as they wanted of Doug Shaun in prison orange. It was a gray day, with a hint of chill from the damp in the air.

  There were cameras from all over. This story would go national—a rogue killer police chief who both murdered and framed people for the murders.

  “Nell, good morning.” Harold Reed approached her.

  “It’s a morning, Harold, and we’re alive. I can’t call it good,” Nell replied.

  He gave her a nod, bringing her away from the pack. “Buddy will do the official press conference, but I thought you deserved an update.”

  She nodded for him to continue.

  “Doug Shaun was a clever man, but even he couldn’t resist taking trophies from his crimes. We only found things from what he did here, but we have some leads from the other places and will probably find more things in storage. Every other town where he murdered wants a piece of him.”

  “I’ll bet they do. Will Buddy let him go?”

  “Not until he’s tried here and put on death row. I’m sorry to say you were right about Tasha Jackson, the girl we found on the beach. Seems she was his first victim here.”

  “How good is the case against him?”

  “Pretty tight. We’ll see how strong the forensic evidence is. We do have his DNA from Rayburn, Joey, and Marion. We can test that.”

  “Pretty arrogant of him to leave his DNA at the scene.”

  “Yes, but he thought his would never be tested.”

  “Has he confessed?”

  “No, and I doubt he ever will. I guess you should know he’s claiming that Ronald Hebert was the killer of the kids, and th
at Kate Ryan killed Marion in a lovers’ quarrel over her having an affair with you.”

  “Kate having an affair with me, or Marion?” Nell asked ironically.

  “You and Marion, I think.”

  “I have my children as witnesses that I haven’t been doing anything other than nagging them to do their homework and get to bed on time in the evenings,” Nell answered with a wry smile.

  “No one, not even the sheriff who opposes all things feminist, believes that one.”

  They were pulled from their conversation by a commotion at the jail entrance. It was time for Doug Shaun to have his moment of infamy.

  “Thanks for the update, Harold,” Nell said.

  “Just don’t quote me until I check with Buddy.” He slipped back through the crowd in search of his boss.

  Nell turned her attention to the jail. A path was cleared, with deputies stationed every ten or fifteen feet. There was a large crowd, although the length of the walk thinned out the people. The media was out in droves, but also a number of the curious were there. Nell was startled to see Velma Gautier.

  If it were my son, I’d probably be here, Nell realized. I’d want to see the evil that had shattered my life. Velma was in a shapeless coat, one that showed how much weight she’d lost over the last few weeks. She was across from Nell. I’ll talk to her afterward, after he’s walked past, Nell decided.

  Several sheriff’s deputies came out, followed by men in suits who Nell thought might be FBI. Next was Sheriff Hickson, and following him were two burly deputies escorting Doug Shaun.

  Nell felt a tinge of triumph as she noted the bruises on his face and his smashed-up nose. He looked straight ahead, as if this had nothing to do with him.

  They brought him down the steps, the cameramen and women whirring to attention. Nell listened to the familiar click of shutters. She lifted the camera she’d brought, again reminding herself that she was a reporter today.

  As Doug Shaun came closer, she willed herself not to step back. The fear was still there, and she had to tell herself that he was handcuffed between two deputies and there was nothing he could do to her. She brought the camera up to her face as he came near. She wanted some protection if he looked her way.

  It was through the lens of the camera that she saw what happened next.

  Velma Gautier stepped in front of him. From under her shapeless coat, she pulled out a shotgun and placed the barrel at his chest.

  Nell didn’t hear what Velma said, but she caught that one moment with her camera, that second when Doug Shaun finally felt the fear he had given to so many others.

  Velma pulled the trigger.

  Nell stopped taking pictures.

  She later learned that Velma had aimed just below his heart, whether by design or by fate. The blast hadn’t killed him instantly, but did cause too much damage for him to survive. It took several minutes for him to bleed to death.

  Nell left the scene knowing she was no longer a reporter but once again a witness. She would write this story in first person.

  From the jail, she went to the Crier office. Jacko’s empty desk was the first thing she saw. Dolan wasn’t there, but he had left a note saying he’d be back in an hour. She would talk to him then. As a friend.

  She left the Crier and headed into town. Ron’s Flower Shoppe had reopened, run by a cousin.

  “What do you have that would cheer up a friend who … is in the hospital?” Nell asked the woman behind the counter.

  “Some irises and sunflowers?” she suggested. “Nice color combination.” Nell could see a resemblance in her to Ronald.

  “That’d be great.”

  The woman added softly, “You’re the first customer in here all day. Like the flowers are guilty.”

  “No, the flowers aren’t guilty,” Nell said. She started to say neither was Ronald, but his cousin would know that soon enough. Right now Nell needed the common, simple things that could get her through the day. Like flowers for a friend.

  epilogue

  “Of course, Buddy isn’t going to prosecute Velma,” Harold Reed told Nell. He’d taken to dropping by the paper about once a week, usually on the day they went to press. That was also usually the day that Ina Claire brought in samples of her recipes for the staff to try. Sometimes Harold’s wife and Dolan’s wife would join them and they’d all go out to dinner.

  But today wasn’t press day, which meant that Harold had something to pass on to Nell. Sometimes it was a story, other times something she couldn’t run, like political in-fighting at the courthouse, but it was always something Harold understood Nell would be interested in.

  Velma Gautier had not spent much time in jail, instead going through a number of psychiatric interviews. It seemed that Buddy’s strategy was to delay and defer until the people of Pelican Bay only remembered what an evil man Doug Shaun was, not how his life had ended. They’d also reopened the investigation into the death of Tasha Jackson. She had not, as Ella Jackson so fiercely asserted, just wandered off. Nell suspected that Buddy saw this mostly as a way to heap more damnation onto Doug Shaun, but it would also win him points in a community where he hadn’t polled very well in the last election. Tasha Jackson’s family was, after all, still alive and voting. But no matter the reason, it had removed the taint of responsibility from her family, and now they were left with only the heavy burden of grief.

  “Buddy wouldn’t get any votes if he prosecuted her,” Nell answered. “So is that decision official enough for me to report it? Oh, was it a poll or a focus group?” Then she added, “Am I really so cynical?”

  “More likely it’s Buddy’s astute political instincts. And no, you’re just getting to know Buddy. It’s as official as it’s going to be. But is reporting this decision going to do anything other than drag poor Velma back into the spotlight?”

  Nell thought for a moment. “I report the news. A small story on a back page.” Then she asked, “How do you feel about no prosecution?”

  “I don’t like it, but I don’t lose sleep over it, either,” Harold answered. “With that man, I would have pulled the switch myself. Although only after he’d been ground through the wheels of justice. Still, how can we let any citizen, no matter how wronged, get away with vengeance?”

  “Sometimes I think I should have just killed him then,” Nell said. Harold knew what she meant by “then,” as he’d questioned her in minute detail about what had happened; if Doug Shaun had made it to trial, Nell would have been a major witness. “That way, Velma would have gotten her vengeance with no blood on her hands.”

  “So why didn’t you?” Harold asked. “Self-defense. It would have been easy. Even I wouldn’t have prosecuted you.”

  Nell struggled for a moment to find the words. What had happened was almost beyond language, veering into a land of primal emotion. She’d had dreams, almost nightmares, where she did kill him—a brutal physical death, pounding his head against the floor or sinking her fingers into his neck and feeling the breath slow and stop. Part of her was disturbed at how thin her veneer of civilization was; threaten her cubs and she became a mother lion. But another part of her reveled in the strength she’d found within herself. She had defeated the monster.

  “I thought the best justice for him was to be brought before the system he’d so used and abused. I wanted to see him in a courtroom in chains, being led to prison. He was addicted to power. I wanted to see him lose it. That would be as close … as we could get to justice.”

  Josh politely knocked on the open office door. “Mom, sorry to interrupt,” he said, and then his words rushed out. “Tomorrow is supposed to good weather and the bike club is going to go out, but I need you to sign my permission slip.”

  “Kate’s well enough to bike again?” Harold asked.

  “Yeah, she started last week,” Josh answered as he handed Nell the much-folded piece of paper.

  �
�Good for her,” Harold said. “Speaking of which, since summer is on the way, my wife and I are thinking of taking up biking. Think I might swing by the bike shop on the way home.” He stood to go.

  “Sounds like a good idea, Harold,” Nell said. “Maybe we should get Kate to start a biking group for those of us over forty but under death.” She signed Josh’s permission slip.

  “I’ll make mention of it to Ms. Ryan,” Harold said as he left. Josh was right behind him, clutching the precious paper.

  There had been enough forensic evidence to link Shaun to Marion Nash’s murder, and with no trial, her relationship with Kate Ryan was known to only a few people. Nell had called it a “close friendship” in the story in the Crier. She’d gone with Mrs. Thomas, Sr. to see Erma Nash and tell her what had really happened to her daughter. Nell thought that Mrs. Nash might find some comfort in knowing her daughter had experienced a strong and enduring love. But Mrs. Nash had cut Nell off, turning to Mrs. Thomas and saying, “It didn’t happen that way. Marion picked the wrong man to go out with, that’s all.” On the way out of the Nash house, Nell had stopped by Marion’s room to get the ring Kate had given to her and return it to Kate.

  Kate had said nothing when Nell handed it to her, not even to ask Nell how she’d gotten it. She simply slipped it on her finger so that it nestled against the matching one she still wore.

  Nell had wondered if Kate would stay in Pelican Bay, expecting any day to see the Closed sign hung permanently on the bike shop’s door. When Nell visited, Kate seemed noncommittal, as if the future wasn’t a place she could bear to look at yet. Maybe starting up the bike club again meant that Kate would remain, at least for a while.

  Nell glanced out the window at the gray sky. It had rained most of the morning, but now the clouds were changing from dark to fluffy white. She felt another stab of missing Thom, wanting him there so she could tell him about Velma, or maybe that Josh would be biking for a while. And she wanted Thom to hold her and say he was so glad they were all okay.