Cooler Than Blood

by Robert Lane

  “Raise your hands, Alice,” Chuck Duke said, “and do it slowly.”

  God in heaven, I did not like that man.

  How the hell did he get the drop on me? Where was Morgan? He couldn’t have been more than fifty yards behind me unless he’d taken off in the direction of the gunfire. I got up. My ankle throbbed. I wanted to work out the kinks but didn’t take the chance. I pivoted and stared into the barrels of a double-barrel shotgun.

  “Dodgson, good to see you.”

  “It’s unfortunate that you’re here,” he said, keeping his four eyes on my two.

  “Certainly is for you. What do you say? Drop the hardware and settle this like honorable gentlemen?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Move.” He flipped his gun toward the barn. I glanced at the building and noticed that the two wide, sagging doors met in an uneven line. The car, a two-door, was parked lengthwise in front of the doors. If the doors swung out, they weren’t going anywhere. The car was positioned to block direct access in or out of the barn. Was Jenny in there?

  “You first,” I instructed.

  He replied with another jerk of his gun. I took a few steps.

  I’ve had guns at my back before—this wasn’t totally unfamiliar territory for me—and I’ve always vowed never to let it happen again. It does, and the only thing I can figure is that it must be a consequence of my lifestyle choice. Would he shoot? Doubtful. He certainly had heard the gunfire and knew I wasn’t alone. But then again, I originally thought he possessed a brain the size of my left nut, so what did I know? Who’d ever have thought my left nut was that smart?

  Besides, we were on the same side, and I think he knew that.

  I stopped and turned. “Joe didn’t make the trip with you, did he?”

  He waved his gun as if it were a magic wand and would control my movements.

  Dangelo’s words came back to me. “Your résumé is, as I’ve already stated, remarkably stark. Yet you hardly seem a man of inaction.” Had he foreseen this? I went with it.

  “You have a dilemma here,” I said. “Rutledge owes you money, and you used him in the past to silence a competitor. If you go after him—a man with a badge—the feds will swarm you. If you let him live, he’ll cut a deal and expose you to save his ass. You need to silence him, but you can’t be in the same hemisphere when it happens. You need me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Maybe you don’t want that gun pointed at me.”

  From behind me, a blast of fire illuminated the dark and reflected in Chuck Duke’s glasses. Just as the pelican had dove off Susan’s dock and made an unexpected splash that she’d instinctively reacted to, Chuck Duke’s eyes left mine and darted to the leaping flames that caught the periphery of my vision. I didn’t care if Fat Boy had gone off—my eyes were glued to the double-barrel shotgun.

  I know I should have done what was in the best interest of Jenny, especially considering that Chuck Duke had just indicated willingness to negotiate, but my instincts shuttered my brain and possessed my body like that baitfish jumping for its life. That’s what I tell myself. Truth is, I’d wanted to slap the arrogant prick ever since he’d gotten the jump on me when I was in Kathleen’s car.

  I lunged my body at his midsection and grabbed the gun. He fell backward, and we both held a firm grip on the shotgun. He had both hands on it and eventually would have won that battle, as I had only my left hand on the barrels. That, however, wasn’t the battle I was fighting. I fiddled with my right hand for my Boker knife. I extended the blade and pressed it against the edge of his neck. Chuck Duke dropped his shotgun.

  “Easy, pal,” he said. “We were on the verge of a merger here. We both know that.” I shot a glance at the garage. The flames leapt from the rear of the structure.

  Jenny.

  What a perfect way to get rid of her. Morgan’s words came back to me. “Regroup his thoughts, and then he’ll act quickly.” I didn’t have time for Chuck Duke and was debating my options when Morgan emerged from the dark. He said, far too quietly, “Jenny’s in there.”

  I looked at Chuck Duke. “Is she?”

  “Just pulled in a little before you.”

  “Can you watch him?” I stood and kept my eyes on Chuck Duke. He hadn’t answered my question, but I didn’t think he was playing games.

  “Go.” Morgan drew a gun. I wasn’t aware that he was packing. Chuck Duke rose to his feet. He brushed the dirt off his clothing and dutifully straightened his eyeglasses. I took off.

  “Hey, Alice.”

  I spun around. Chuck Duke probably could take Morgan, gun or no gun, and I felt conflicted leaving my friend in such a predicament.

  “What?”

  “Do the job for both of us.”

  I sprinted toward the flames. The house was off to my left, no more than a hundred feet. Where was Garrett? Were his shots I heard aimed at Rutledge or Chuck Duke’s counterpart? I hoped Chuck Duke had a method to communicate our agreement to his partner. I should have cleared that with him.

  If Jenny were in the barn, the smoke would get her before the flames. The car blocking the barn door came into focus. Ford Fairlane. Decent shape. Named after Henry Ford’s estate, Fair Lane, in Michigan. Stopped production in 1970. Focus, man. Focus.

  He stepped out from the far corner of the barn when I was less than twenty feet away. The fire’s light illuminated the barrel of his revolver. I slowed, but I didn’t stop.

  “That’s far enough,” Wallace Eric Rutledge said. Blood stained his shirt from what appeared to be a stomach wound. His hair was perfectly groomed. It seemed so odd, and I wondered why I even noticed.

  “What now, Rutledge?” I kept walking. “You going to shoot me, four others, burn the girl, and walk away?”

  “Not a bad idea.” His voice was resigned. It was over, and he knew it. The only question was how he went out. I threw away the bargain playbook. I kept walking.

  Rutledge brought his gun up higher. “I said, ‘That’s far enough.’”

  I stopped. Where was Garrett? “What did you do? Grab the money then cut the tape? But when the Colemans took her and the search started, it led us to her claim that there was money in Billy Ray’s car. Led us to the job you did for Dangelo, the man you owed money to. You thought this would work out for you?”

  “Never planned much beyond taking the money, but it evolved into something like that. Your buddy McGlashan was asking too many questions, wanted to talk to the apartment residents, take a look at her phone. I couldn’t take that chance.”

  “And Dangelo? You did a job for him once?”

  “Damn straight. But who the hell would’ve thought he’d have any interest in some runaway slut, let alone the fact that the money would be his? Unfuckinbelieveable. Even then, I had a chance. But when you told me you were talking to him and knew where the girl was, and you’d discovered the connection between Dangelo and the Colemans, then I knew it was all busted.”

  “Why not come clean? Tell Dangelo you didn’t know it was his and keep the Colemans’ half for being honest?”

  “Yeah.” He waved his gun up and down. “That would have been nice. Unfortunately, I’m behind far more than I stole. Greed doesn’t generate the best decisions.”

  I had more questions, but only one that mattered. “Where is she?” Rutledge smirked and gave a slight shake of his head. I marched straight into him. “Is she in there?”

  “Tits up, baby.” He took a step even closer, a mistake on his part. “Burning in hell, just like you.”

  I doubled over and threw myself at his knees, but I was no match for the reflex of his finger. His gun went off simultaneously with another blast before I made contact with him. My lower-right abdomen felt the graze of a bullet. I hit the ground. I jumped up just in time to see Rutledge go down, his shirt a lava flow of blood. Garrett stood thirty paces to my left, his SASS still aimed at the last vertical space Wallace Eric Rutledge ever would occupy. The flames now con
sumed half the barn. My body recoiled instinctively from the heat.

  Burning in hell. And I was burning time with Rutledge.

  I raced toward the vertical line where the two doors met. The weakest link. An arrow pierced my right side every time my right foot found the ground, and my left ankle threatened to buckle with every step. I was still a good distance out when the flames roared at me in defiance, and the left side of the building vanished into an inferno. My mind flashed to my flying leap in the swimming pool to retrieve the girl’s bone and my effort to clear the tidal pool while running. I had failed in each attempt. We’re so big in our dreams, so small in our lives. Yet I was all Jenny had. Her wrecking ball.

  Are you watching me now?

  I don’t know how far away I was when I launched. All I know is that I had the sense to launch with my good ankle. I flew feet-first over the car with my body parallel to the ground. I struck the doors above the lock. They shattered. I landed on my left shoulder on the concrete. A piercing bolt of pain electrified my neck and back.

  I got to my feet, but collapsed with my hands on my knees. Hell roared at me as if it were defending its homeland. I coughed. Too much smoke. Fresh blood on the floor. Mine? Another wave of heat as the Devil brought up the reserves. I couldn’t focus. Coughing, but not me. I straightened. Raised my head. She came at me from out of the smoke. An apparition of death, an angel of hell. Not the girl in the picture. Matted hair. Angry eyes. Tears? A hatchet. She held it high. She screamed. She swung. I jerked my head to the right.

  I was three shots of bourbon too slow.

  CHAPTER 42

  Every baby is born to do something great.

  “Hand me the tube of TAO,” Morgan said.

  Run until I nearly die. Did I do it? I never knew if I was running from death or toward death. You know it’s out there waiting for you, so you run as fast as you can, using death as fuel. It enhances life and sweetens the days. It’s with you every step, every breath, coaching you into its arms. Maybe they’re the same, this life and death. Maybe it’s our language that has deceived us. Misled is the better word. Who else picked a better word? She’s not that bad. Death. Rather pleasant really. Must be my day out. That’s what I get for fooling around on the razor’s edge.

  “Now the gauze pad.”

  Don’t put me on a gurney, whatever you do. If I touch Kathleen’s hand, I’ll die. Morgan knows. He knows that. Why was that girl barking when I flew?

  “How bad?” Garrett asked.

  I need a map back to Kentucky. Then my head will stop killing me. That’s the deal—get me a map. No, wait, there was more—three components: life, home, family…no, no, no.

  “Flesh and a lot of it,” Morgan replied, “but I should be able to stem the bleeding. Pulse is fine. Breathing normal.”

  Garrett asked, “You see him fly?”

  Do they know I hear them?

  “I didn’t have much of an angle,” Morgan said. “Plus, I was keeping tabs on the big man. You sure it was okay letting them go?”

  “Tuesday…Grouper married Tuesday. He was surprised she let me meet her employees at his place, thinks about her one day a week. Sheeeiit, I’d think about that girl every day if she was mine. Her freckled chest. Little drops of chocolate I could taste. Bruising days. Rough lips. Bourbon times. Someone took my bourbon.

  “More than okay,” Garrett said. “We’ll get a lot of goodwill letting those two drive off with the cash and our blessings.”

  Who buys a certified used car? I just don’t get it. Am I the only smart one in the world? Can’t they hear me? God almighty, my whole left side is burning…burning in hell. Who said that?

  “You okay?” Morgan asked Garrett. “I ran as fast as I could, but you were already out with both bodies. I could barely stand the heat when I helped you. You’ve got to have some burns.”

  Told Barbara I’d put a new closer on her door, but I haven’t done it. What a shit neighbor I am. Just total shit.

  “Give him some of that ammonium carbonate,” Garrett said.

  A cat. A Laundromat. Hadley? Pauline—no, Pamela? Why do I care? Sidney! Great, a cat named Sidney.

  “Wait just a sec,” Morgan said.

  No, no, not Sidney…Disney. Like I give a crap about Disney. That’s not right. Walt? It’s his brother…Garp! We’re making progress here. Hey, anyone paying attention?

  “That’s it,” Garrett said. “We’ll make sure to clean it and change the bandage within a couple of hours. We don’t want an infection.”

  Since when did he ever sound so concerned? Mr. Perfect. No alcohol ever touches this temple, baby. Hey, Garrett, want a cigar?

  Garrett said, “Go on. Give him that whiff. He’s been out long enough.”

  Garp’s mother…Jenny. Yeah, I get it now. There’s some serious Jenny shit going down here. I want her. Not just for her, but for Larry. Brother Larry—he served. Father Larry. I promised him at his grave. I stood on Iroquois land and promised him. The hell…I don’t even know this girl. Jenny…on some beach. Who else was there, Jenny? Who else was on that beach with you?

  “Jenny,” I said. “Jenny. Kathleen.”

  Morgan and Garrett hovered over me as I lay flat on my back. My head hurt as if…No, wait, someone had taken a hatchet to it.

  Jenny.

  That mad little wacko.

  “Welcome back to the zoo,” Morgan said.

  “I take it I’m the animal that just got mauled?” The Big Dipper was to the left of Morgan’s head. It was pretty. I like the Big Dipper. Do you like the Dig Dipper? I wondered if the little dude was up there as well.

  “We all get our turn,” he said.

  I turned my head to Garrett and tried to get in the game. “We secure here?” Like I was in any shape to contribute if he said we still had problems.

  “Dangelo’s men left with a suitcase of money and smiles on their faces. I gave one a leg wound, but they shrugged it off. Ms. Spencer, somewhat distraught over nearly killing her rescuer, is remarkably calm and relaxing in the back of your air-conditioned truck, and—”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She kneeled beside me. I tilted my head and gazed into her eyes. She smelled like smoke. Her hair looked like molded sea oats. A Telfa dressing pad was on her forehead. Her face was covered with dirt, as if she’d applied makeup for a B horror movie. I risked my life for that?

  “Not what?” I asked. “Distraught over nearly cutting my head off or not being in the truck?” I was impressed at my verbal agility considering my delicate mental state.

  “In the truck, silly.”

  “Not over slicing my head?”

  “I feel—”

  “Sixty-five Trojan, right?” I asked, and I don’t know why I said it other than I was still drifting out of the fog. Susan had told me about the boat when we’d stood in Jenny’s bedroom. She’d said Jenny felt she had let her father down because she couldn’t work the hand pump very well with teak oil on her hands. My mind clung to that, and I don’t know why.

  “You know about that?”

  “I do.” I nodded. Sweet Lord, that hurt. Not doing that again.

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “He named the boat after me. Can you believe that? I didn’t even know that till Boone got it out of storage last summer. The transom was covered with a tarp, and when he took it off, there it was. The Jenny S.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I thought she was going to say something more, but instead she just cracked a dismissive smile. Half my pain went away, and I don’t give a crap what anyone thinks—her smile did that.

  “I am so sorry I swung at you,” she said.

  “You look bad.” Great Zeus, did I say that?

  “Really?” She smiled again, and my left ankle stopped aching. I could make a lot of money bottling this girl’s smile. “Your friends told me you’re a bit of a hotshot…said you nearly flew into that barn. Well, I’ve got news for you, hotshot.” She brushed my hair off my forehead with her right hand. As my hai
r separated from dried blood, I felt it offer resistance then break away like a Band-Aid being peeled off my head.

  “What’s that?”

  “You should get a picture of yourself.”

  “Good thing you don’t have your phone.”

  “Yeah, that’s been a major inconvenience.”

  I shifted my gaze to Garrett and asked, “Dangelo’s men?”

  “Like I said, left whistling. The guy you pulled a knife on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Said, ‘Tell Alice we’re friends and to have a good life.’ Any idea why, ‘Alice?’”

  I didn’t have the energy. “No.”

  Morgan interjected, “Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Call PC.” I wanted to say more, but I was fading.

  Morgan said, “It can wait.”

  “No. Make sure the picture’s down.”

  Garrett asked, “Picture?”

  “I told him. Take the picture down.”

  “Sure. I’ll give him a—”

  “I’m serious. Tell him to—”

  “We got it.”

  “That’s enough,” Morgan cut in.

  Jenny helped me to my feet. I looked over my shoulder and saw what was left of the barn glowing in a pile of red coals. “How long was I gone?” I asked no one in particular.

  “Long enough,” Morgan replied. “Garrett leapt into the fire like water coming out of a hose and brought you both out. By the time I got there, he and Jenny were on either side of you.”

  I took a second to confirm my balance before I ventured a step. I blew my breath out and looked down. There was less pain that way, with my head down. I kept that position and said, “Little big, aren’t they?”

  “They feel so good,” Jenny gushed. “I hope you don’t mind. Morgan said you carried extras in your truck. Why do you do that? Carry extra shoes?”

  I managed to raise my head and found Jenny’s eyes. “You never know when you’re going to meet a woman who really appreciates a man’s shoes.”