by Chris Stout
Damon blinked, and Miranda saw his hand brush the grip of his revolver. “Uh, depends what you’re looking for.”
“How about Hydra-Shoks?”
“Yeah, we got some in stock. Nothin’ on sale though.”
“I’ll take two boxes, then.”
“Uh, okay.”
Miranda saw the wariness in Damon’s eyes as he turned to grab the ammunition. Did you kill my brother, you son of a bitch? He certainly acted shady, like he was scared of her. Miranda forced herself to keep a straight face. If you were involved, a bullet would be way too quick for you.
Damon turned back to her and placed the ammunition on the counter. “You got ID on you?”
Cute, Miranda thought. He must know my face, from Justin’s pictures. Now he wants to make sure of my name.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her department ID. The badge might shake him up a little, and it wouldn’t give away her address quite so easily. She watched Damon’s throat move up and down as he swallowed.
“You, uh, you got your driver’s license on you?”
“Why, you got a problem with my department ID?”
“Well, know, I just need to verify…” his voice trailed off.
Miranda shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just wait for Henry to finish his call.”
Damon looked like he wanted to say something further, but changed his mind and rang out the sale. Miranda kept her eyes on his revolver the whole time. She wondered what to do when the transaction was complete. Turning her back on this man, this suspect rather, held no appeal. Best to browse until Beaumont came back.
But what if Beaumont was involved too? He owned her brother’s house, and employed Damon, who had hung out with her brother. Miranda’s pulse quickened. Maybe coming in here hadn’t been such a good idea.
Damon closed the cash drawer and handed her change. Miranda accepted it and grabbed the bag of ammunition. She made a show of browsing the guns in the display case, then of looking over the wares that lined the shelves behind her. Each time Damon moved out of her line of sight, Miranda’s spine tingled, waiting for a bullet or something to shatter it. She put a shelf between her and the counter, and zigzagged her way to the front door.
“Have a nice day,” Damon called to her with a wave.
Miranda managed to smile and shouldered the door open. “You too.” I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.
Chapter 5
Miranda parked a block away from Sparta Guns ‘N Gear and settled into her car to wait for Henry Beaumont and Damon to leave. The road she was on was just outside of the city limits, but it was one of the main routes leading into town, so there were enough other vehicles to cover her. She debated with herself which one of the men to follow. She knew where Beaumont lived, at least according to the county auditor’s office, but she knew nothing of Damon. So when they finally exited the store, she let Beaumont go and followed the younger man.
He led her to the opposite side of town from where her brother had lived, and pulled into the driveway of a small single-story house. The place was in a neighborhood popular with students from the college, and Miranda made a note to check the school to see if he was still listed there.
With all the people coming and going, either from class or work, Miranda figured she had an hour or so before she’d be noticed by someone. Patience wasn’t her strong suit, and within ten minutes her fingers were drumming madly on the steering wheel of her car. She was about to move to a different location when she saw Damon leave the house and get back into his car. Miranda tensed, ready to continue the chase. She let Damon’s car pull out of the driveway before she turned over her engine and pulled away from the curb.
“Where are you going now?” she muttered as they left Sparta and pulled onto the highway.
Traffic was heavy, so she was able to keep several cars between her and her prey. When Damon pulled off onto a county road, Miranda slapped her steering wheel in frustration. This road led out into the country and was sparsely trafficked. Following him would be difficult. She made the exit nonetheless, checked to see which way he went, and then pulled into the first side street she came to. Miranda pulled a hasty U-turn and swerved back onto the main road. Damon’s car was out of sight. The trick now would be to make sure she caught up to him again before he turned off somewhere.
She drove with only her running lights on in the gathering dusk. It made for poor visibility, but at least her car would be harder to spot and recognize. She caught a glimpse of taillights just before they rounded a bend and stomped on the accelerator.
I’ve been here before, she thought as she wound her way deeper into the county. What the hell is this?
Miranda turned off her lights completely before clearing the next bend in the road. She watched brake lights come on and her stomach twisted. Damon was pulling off the road and into a driveway. Miranda slowed to a crawl, then turned on her headlights and pulled forward. She drove past the driveway at speed, turning her head briefly. Someone had already pulled a gate across the gravel road. Miranda clenched her teeth and continued up the road. She knew this place. There had been an office Christmas party there just a few months ago. Damon had pulled into the driveway of Chief Wainwright’s hunting lodge.
#
“We’ve got problems,” Damon said by way of greeting.
Wainwright moved back a pace to allow the younger man through the front door. “Nice to see you too.”
Damon looked around and stepped inside.
“So,” Wainwright said, locking the door, “what’s the problem?”
“Justin’s sister was in the store today.”
“So?”
“She was buying ammo.”
“Well, she works for me. Cops need bullets.”
“I think she knows something’s up with her brother.”
Wainwright gestured for Damon to sit down. “You want a beer or anything?”
Damon shook his head.
“Obviously she knows his body was found. He was her brother. Of course she doesn’t want to believe he killed himself. So I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I just got a bad feeling from her. Looked like she was taking stock of me the whole time she was in the store. I thought she was gonna pull out and shoot me on the spot.”
Wainwright laughed. “I’d like to see that. From Miranda? Nonsense. Besides, all the reports show that her brother shot himself. Hell, we both know that’s actually true. She’ll come around and accept it eventually.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Look, just relax. Of course she’s gonna be on edge. You should have seen what that boy looked like in the morgue. If that was your brother, you’d be pretty pissed too. Just take it easy, don’t do anything stupid. Beaumont will have the weapons soon, and I need you there to make sure he doesn’t cross us on them. Okay?”
“Actually,” Damon said, “That’s another problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Beaumont’s been acting kinda flaky lately. He’s been taking a lot of calls in private and acting real skittish. He may be thinking about ratting us out.”
Wainwright considered that for a moment before replying. “Doesn’t sound too odd to me.” He held up a hand, stopping Damon before he could protest. “Seriously, he’s putting together a lot of heavy shit for us. He sure as shit won’t want to be advertising himself to anyone. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Keep me informed of how things are going.”
Damon shrugged. “Yeah, okay. But if that Miranda chick comes around again….”
"Then you do what you did this time. Let me know. I’ll keep tabs on her. Just do what you’re supposed to do. We have to prove ourselves come Unity Day. It’s going to be bigger than anything we’ve ever done. So we gotta keep our cool between now and then. Hear me?”
“Okay Chief. I hear you. Just keep an eye on her, okay? She still don’t seem right to me.”
#
Barry called again.
“I hate botherin’ you lik
e this Sam, but Loretta’s in another one of her moods. You think you can calm her down a bit?”
Sam winced at the sound of breaking glass and the flurry of curses he heard over the phone. “Jesus Barry. If it’s that bad, why don’t you call 9-1-1?”
Barry spoke in a whisper. “They take too long. An’ I don’t want them hurtin’ her none. At least you know us.”
“Okay Barry. I’ll be right over, see what I can do.”
Sam skipped the tie, but put his jacket back on. He lightly brushed the grip of his Glock and touched the collapsible baton on his belt, hoping neither would be necessary tonight.
Loretta Hamm’s shouts echoed from two houses away. “Goddamn you Barry! I know you’s in there! You talkin’ to that cop again? Well I’ll show him somethin’ when he gets here! Ain’t no one gonna make me look foolish again!”
Sam paused on the front porch and listened to the ranting. He heard more glass breaking; Loretta probably cleaning out the dish pantry again. The front door was unlocked, so Sam turned the handle and opened it slowly.
“Don’t make me break this door down! C’mon outta there Barry!”
Sam crept through the house and stopped before he reached the hallway leading to the bathroom. He peered around the corner. Loretta stood with her back to him, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. She took a long swig from it. Remnants of glasses and plates littered the floor in front of the bathroom door. Sam stepped into the hall and called out her name.
Loretta spun around, bloodshot eyes bulging. “Aw shit! Not you again!” She tossed the whiskey bottle at Sam and lurched down the hall.
Sam ducked instinctively, though the bottle crashed against the wall several feet in front of him. There was no avoiding the large woman’s drunken charge, however. Sam pulled his baton off of his belt and snapped it open. It extended fully and caught Loretta in the ribs. She jerked back, gagging, and crumpled to the floor. Sam used the baton to keep her pressed to the ground while he cinched her wrists with a pair of plastic restraints. Then he reached for his cell phone and punched in Miranda’s number.
#
Miranda pulled her car in front of the Hamm’s house. Sam’s call had caught her just as she was about to go out again. She hated having to put off keeping tabs on Damon, but she didn’t want to leave Sam in the lurch. She left her keys in the ignition and walked up the walkway to the porch and the open front door.
“Anybody home?”
Sam’s voice answered her. “Down the hall.”
She moved into the house and rounded the corner. “Your knight in shining armor is here,” she said. “Jesus, what happened?”
Sam stood over Loretta, who rested with her back against the wall. Barry still sat in the bathroom, but at least had the door opened. The floor was littered with glass and liquor, some fresh and some regurgitated.
“Been a hell of a party.”
“I guess,” Miranda replied. “Sorry I missed out.”
“You sure you don’t mind driving Mrs. Hamm here and me over to the station?”
Miranda shook her head. “My car’s a mess anyway.”
From the bathroom, Barry piped up. “You sure you gotta truss her up and haul her off like that? It was just a lovers’ quarrel, is all.”
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried counting to ten, managed to get to four. “Goddamn it Barry, you’re the one that called me here in the first place, remember?”
Miranda looked impassively from one man to the other. As Sam’s voice rose, she moved her hand closer to her pistol.
“Look,” Sam continued, “if you don’t want to file a report, that’s fine by me. But I don’t take kindly to having whiskey bottles tossed at me. So she’s going downtown. Clear?”
Barry worked his mouth, but no words came out. Sam stared at him for another few seconds and then turned away.
“Okay Loretta, let’s go.” He reached down and helped the cuffed woman to her feet.
Miranda kept her gaze moving from one person to the other, and followed Sam down the hall. They almost made it to the front door when Barry flew out of the bathroom after them.
“Naw Sam! You can’t do her like that! It ain’t right!”
Miranda turned to meet his rush. “Mr. Hamm, please,” she said.
“Naw, this is between me and Loretta. You all just let us fix it up.” He tried to push Miranda aside.
And that was a mistake.
Barry’s world spun end over end, and when it finally came back into focus he was staring up at his dilapidated ceiling. Then the gaping black hole of a gun barrel obstructed his view.
Miranda stared over her Glock at the man on the floor. The sight of her dead brother, the rush from following Damon and the shock of trailing him to her chief’s house all flooded through her. She needed to vent, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from relieving the pressure by pulling the trigger.
“Miranda?” Sam’s voice came low and even. “Easy now.”
She didn’t look at him, but acknowledged his words by lowering her weapon. Miranda left her foot pressing into Barry’s chest long enough for him to wonder if she was going to change her mind, and then she backed away.
#
Miranda drove Sam back to his home after Loretta was processed at the station.
“You think she and Barry will be alright?”
“I don’t know,” Sam replied. “They’ve been going at it since before I moved here. I honestly don't think they know any other way to treat each other except to fight all the time.”
“Can’t imagine living like that. Our-” Miranda paused and corrected herself, “My folks were pretty close. Same with Justin and me. At least until we got older.”
“What changed that?”
“Justin was assaulted one summer at camp. One of the older kids made him do some pretty terrible things. After that, it was like he had to prove he was a tough guy. Got into trouble at school, picked up for possession a few times. After our parents were gone, he pretty much went into his own world. Came to me for bail money.” Or whenever he needed protection. She forced a rueful smile. “Guess I shouldn’t have given it to him.”
“Did they ever catch the kid who abused him?”
This time Miranda’s smile was genuine. “Funny thing, actually. The little shit who molested Justin died that same week. Stumbled down a cliffside while he was on a hike. I even got to see his body. Spent days plotting how to get back at him, and then poof! Made me a believer in Divine Intervention.”
“I guess so.”
Miranda pulled her car in front of Sam’s house. “Last stop.”
Sam made no move to exit the car. “Thanks for your help tonight.”
She shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
“I know this is a terrible time for you, but I’m glad you’re hanging in there.”
“I’m trying. They’re not going to go anywhere with my brother, are they?”
“They still say suicide.”
“I see.”
Sam put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
He meant to take his hand away, but instead found himself caressing the back of her neck. The softness of her hair and the smooth skin against his palm sent a shockwave up his arm and deep into his chest. The confines of the car shrank around him, and he felt his pulse hammering in his ears. He tried to swallow, but his tongue was too thick and his throat too constricted.
Miranda turned away and placed both her hands on the steering wheel. “I have to go,” she said without looking at him.
Sam felt the wash of heat turn to ice and drew away from her. Bad move, he told himself. He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. “Miranda, I’m-”
“Forget it,” she said quickly. She tried to soften the blow with a smile. “Have a good night.”
He shut her door and watched her pull away. Bad, bad move.
Chapter 6
The next morning Miranda arrived at
the station to follow up on the previous night’s incident. As soon as she arrived, Chief Wainwright called her into his office. She stiffened as he closed the door behind them, but forced the warning bells sounding in her head to silence. No way he was going to try anything right here in the police station. Besides, she was armed too.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to one of the chairs opposite his desk.
She had a brief image of a James Bond villain smiling benignly as he reached for the silenced pistol whose barrel stretched from one end of the table to the other. Get a grip, she thought. Wainwright’s desk was solidly paneled, and even if he did try to shoot through it, it would take a rocket launcher to penetrate the sturdy wood. Miranda smiled and brushed back a strand of her dark hair, and sat as comfortably as she could make herself.
“First of all, I want to say ‘good job’ on helping Sam out last night. He says you were quick and efficient, if a little, ah, over-eager.”
She nodded her acceptance of the praise.