In response, Butch punched Jonathan in the face three times in rapid succession.
“I said shut the fuck up,” he hissed before spitting in Jonathan’s face.
Jonathan shook his head, pushing aside the waves of pain before looking up at Butch and smiling with blood stained teeth.
“You’re a piss-ant wuss,” he said softly. “A cowardly, ball-less pussy.”
Butch yanked out the Magnum from its back holster and pressed the barrel against Jon’s forehead hard enough to tip the chair back a couple of inches.
“Do you want me to blow your brains out right now, old man?” he demanded. “Do you want me to put an end to your stinkin’, miserable life?”
“Go ahead,” Jonathan replied. “Blow my damned head off. I’ll die knowing that you proved my point, that you really are a gutless wimp.”
Butch glared at Jonathan, breathing hard, a film of sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Pull the fucking trigger!” Jonathan bellowed suddenly, causing Butch to jump back in surprise.
“Y-you’re fucking crazy, man,” Butch stammered before turning to Fingers who was sprawled on the loveseat, the official station for anyone on guard duty. “Keep an eye on these bastards. I don’t trust them for a minute. I’m gonna go round up the others and figure out what the hell is going on.”
Chapter 18
Saturday - 7:32 p.m.
Likely the most laid back member of the crew, Smokie was easy to get along with and rarely got involved in any disagreements, especially not with Butch. As long as he had his pot to smoke, he was happy and willing to go along with whatever was going on. To this extent, when Butch had given his orders over ninety minutes earlier, Smokie had simply headed for the Suburban and driven off, heading north to the town of Brome Lake while Dibs went in the opposite direction toward the larger town of Knowlton.
Since leaving, Smokie had been driving non-stop with a multitude of joints to keep him company, dutifully exploring the area as he canvassed side roads and streets of small developments along the way. That was until Butch had called him ten minutes or so earlier, telling him to get back to the house. Butch had been angry because some others weren’t answering their phones but that wasn’t Smokie’s problem. He had answered his and was heading back as he had been told to do.
* * * *
“I spotted the Suburban,” Josée announced when Leslie answered the phone. “He’s heading your way, southbound on Lakeside Road.”
“How far is he?” asked Leslie.
“He just turned on Lakeside at the north end of the lake,” Josée replied.
“That’s about five kilometers from here,” Sandy piped in. “How fast is he going?”
“I’d say fifty to sixty,” Josée guessed, “So you’ve got maybe five minutes before he gets there.”
“Then we’d better get moving,” said Leslie. “Great work, Jo. Come on back. I don’t think we’ll be needing the aerial view any longer.”
* * * *
Alex Morin sat in his small office at the marina, able to concentrate on little else than the situation involving his friends, Chris and Sandy Barry. Though he felt he should be doing something, both he and Serge had given Sandy their word in exchange for her promise to call them if she and her friends needed help.
His phone vibrated on his belt and he was pleased but surprised to see it was his brother calling so soon after the delivery of the second captive.
“Oui, Serge,” he answered. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine with me,” his brother replied, “But I’m worried about Chris and his friends, not to mention Sandy and the other women.”
“Have you spoken to the little bastard I sent you yet?” Alex asked.
“Yes, as soon as he arrived,” said Serge. “Like so many of these tough gang guys, once they have to fend for themselves, they piss in their pants and this one was no exception.”
“But he arrived less than twenty minutes ago,” Alex insisted. “You surely didn’t get all the information you could out of him.”
“Alex, s’il te plaît,” Serge sighed. “Give your big brother more credit than that. I kindly asked the young man to tell me everything about what was going on in exchange for his life, and he did. I now know how many of them were there, how many are dead or have disappeared–”
“Dead? Disappeared?” Alex exclaimed. “Mon Dieu, Serge. What is going on?”
“There seems to be more than meets the eye with Sandy and her lady friends,” Serge replied with a touch of humor to his tone. “They apparently have been quite busy in the last few hours.”
“Good for them but their luck may run out,” said Alex. “These are dangerous men and we mustn’t forget that Chris and his friends are being held hostage. I’m not comfortable just sitting and doing nothing.”
“Neither am I,” Serge replied, “So here’s what I propose.”
* * * *
“Almost there,” Smokie said aloud as he recognized a landmark he had noted upon his departure.
He rounded a curve, cruising at a leisurely speed and came onto the straight stretch of road, just a minute or two from the Barry home. As he approached, he noticed a woman standing in the middle of the road in the distance, waving her arms in the air, obviously signaling him. He slowed as he got closer and spotted another woman, sprawled on the side of the road, immobile.
Edging onto the shoulder, he pulled to a stop, set the gearshift into Park then opened the door and climbed out.
“What’s going on?” he asked as the clearly agitated, attractive redhead rushed over to him.
“We were walking and my friend suddenly felt faint,” she explained, tugging on his arm to lead him toward the prone woman. “Then she passed out and fell there. Please help me. I’m worried and I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m not sure what I can do to help,” Smokie replied as he moved toward the apparently unconscious woman a dozen feet away. “I ain’t no doctor or nothing but maybe I can give you a ride somewhere.”
“Or maybe you can stop where you are and keep your hands where I can see them,” said Leslie from behind.
Something in her tone convinced Smokie that obeying her command would be in his best interest and he immediately froze and raised his hands in the air. He was further reassured he had made the right decision when the woman lying on the shoulder of the road sprang to her feet and pointed a pistol at him.
“Aw, crap, ladies,” Smokie muttered. “What’s going on? Are you mugging me or what?”
“Are you armed?” asked Leslie, ignoring his questions.
“Why would I be armed?” Smokie asked in return. “Look, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to get back to my buddies. They’re waiting for me.”
“Answer my question,” Leslie insisted. “It’s a bad idea to waste my time right now.”
Smokie sighed. “Switchblade, back left pocket. Want me to pull it out?”
“No,” Leslie replied. “I’ll get it. If you move, you’re dead. And keep any smart-ass frisking comments to yourself.”
She pulled the knife from his back pocket and asked, “What else do you have on you?”
“Wallet in the back right pocket,” Smokie replied. “Phone and smokes in my shirt pocket. That’s it.”
Leslie quickly retrieved the mentioned items then confirmed the absence of anything else with a quick pat-down during which Smokie remained still and silent.
“Good man,” she approved once done. “Now, we’re going to get into your truck. I’ll drive, you’ll sit in the passenger seat and my friend will sit behind you with her gun pointed at your head.”
“You sure you don’t want to just take the truck and let me go?” suggested Smokie.
“I’m sure,” Leslie replied. “Turn around and bring your hands together.”
“It was worth a try,” said Smokie as he watched Leslie bind his wrists with a zip tie. “Am I gonna get out of this alive?”
“Keep on b
ehaving like you have so far and you’ll be fine,” Leslie replied. She led him to the Suburban and settled him in the passenger seat, securing him with the seatbelt before adding, “But if you do anything stupid, you’ll be dead, just like some of your other buddies.”
She hurried to the driver’s side, climbing in and starting the engine while the other woman, Sandy, got in behind Smokie.
As they drove the short distance to the entrance of their temporary base of operations, Smokie suddenly chuckled and said, “Wait a minute. Are you telling me the other guys disappeared because of you?”
“That’s right,” Leslie replied. “You think that’s funny?”
“Hell, yeah,” Smokie replied with a grin. “Butch would totally freak if he knew his bad-ass crew was being taken down by a couple of babes, no offence intended.”
“None taken,” said Leslie.
“So, you’re like the Barrys’ neighbors?” Smokie asked out of curiosity, “Or are you cops or something?”
“I’m Mrs. Barry,” Sandy replied from the backseat. “That’s my home you’ve invaded and one of your hostages is my husband.”
“Holy crap, I’m sorry, ma’am,” Smokie exclaimed, seeming sincere. “Honestly, I’m not real keen on these things but what Butch says goes so I don’t have much choice but to go along. When we get in somewhere, I go find a spot out of the way with a bottle and my pot until it’s time to go. Butch knows I don’t get into the nasty stuff and him and me get along so he leaves me alone.”
“It’s good to know he’s such a considerate man,” Sandy replied, her sarcasm obvious. “Too bad he reserves that consideration to a select few.”
“At least you weren’t home when we got there,” said Smokie, “But I guess this all screwed up your trip to L.A.”
“There was no trip to L.A., you idiot,” Leslie retorted as she slowed to a stop at the neighbor’s home.
“Damn, I guess there wasn’t,” said Smokie, shaking his head. “I am an idiot, and it seems like Butch is too. It’s looking like he made a big mistake this time.”
“He definitely did,” Leslie replied, “And you’re all going to pay for it. If you’re smart, you’ll keep on being a good boy and you won’t die for it. Stay put while I get the door for you.”
She hurried around the Suburban and when she opened the passenger door, Smokie said, “I know you all hate us and I can’t say I blame you but I’m too young to die so, don’t worry, I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Well, I hope you really mean that,” Leslie replied as she untied his seatbelt, “Because none of us will hesitate to kill you if you do anything remotely stupid. Now, get out and I’ll show you to your room. I hope you don’t mind sharing with some of your friends.”
Smokie shrugged as he slid out of the truck. “You’re the boss, lady. Whatever you say goes but can I at least have my smokes back?”
“No can do,” Leslie replied. “Those things will kill you.”
Chapter 19
Saturday - 7:44 p.m.
“So, boss,” asked Shades. “Where the hell is Smokie? He couldn’t have been that far from here.”
“I don’t goddamned know,” Butch growled, his tone displaying anger, frustration and perhaps, just a touch of fear. “Call the idiot, will you cuz, yeah, he should be back by now. He was just at the end of the lake, for Crissakes.”
Shades nodded and ambled off into the kitchen from the dining room where Butch had assembled the three crew members remaining on the premises. A moment passed and Shades returned, shaking his head.
“Call went right to voicemail,” he announced. “Phone’s off.”
“You’ve been abandoned by another, Butch?” asked Dave, unable to resist. “I guess the boys aren’t as devoted to you as you’ve been trying to let on.”
Butch turned toward Dave and smiled as he sauntered over.
“Is that what you think, Mister Policeman?” he asked as he roughly patted Dave on the cheek. “Maybe you know more about me and my crew than I thought you did. After all, you’re a smart cop and all, a specialist in investigating shit. Why don’t you tell me what you do know about me and the boys?”
“What I know about you is what I’ve seen since you showed up here,” Dave replied. “Which is, you’re vicious, violent criminals who take pleasure in trying to terrorize people but, as Jonathan has pointed out, you’re cowards.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Butch, nodding. “Pussy wusses with no balls and stuff. Been there, done that and it’s getting kinda old. There’s something else we talked about though and it looks like we need to talk about it again. Can you guess what it is?”
Dave gazed at Butch and shook is head. “I don’t have a clue.”
Butch laughed and said, “You’d think a super cop like you would have a clue. Ain’t having clues your job? Come on, Captain. Show me how smart you are.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dave replied.
In response, Butch backhanded Dave across the face, leaving a deep, bloody gash on his cheek from a heavy ring he wore.
“Wrong answer, buddy,” said Butch, no longer smiling. “Try again.”
“I told you, I don’t know,” Dave replied through clenched teeth.
“Dave, Dave, Dave,” Butch murmured, shaking his head before driving his fist into Dave’s abdomen.
“Enough of that,” Chris barked in rage.
Butch spun around and glared at Chris. “Shut the hell up or I’ll kick your ass. This is between me and the captain here. How many times do I have to tell you I’m in charge so you don’t tell me what to do, asshole. Now, shut up cuz I’ll kill you if I have to.”
“Why don’t you just tell him what the hell you’re talking about?” Chris insisted, ignoring the threat. “You goddamned son of a bitch.”
Butch stared at Chris for a moment in silence then smiled. “Okay, I’ll play along since you’re our host and all but get ready, my friend, cuz yours is coming real soon.”
He turned back to Dave and said, “You’re either stubborn or stupid so I’ll help you out like Chris asked. You must remember when I told you not to lie to me. I’m sure you do, so when I asked you what you knew about us, you shoulda just told me instead of making me beat on you cuz I was going somewhere with it.”
“And, where was that, Butch?” Dave gasped, still trying to get his breath back following the blow he had received.
“I think you know a lot more about us than you let on,” said Butch. “You being a cop and all, I’m thinking you know all about me and my crew and you got the word out somehow that we’re here. That would explain why my boys keep disappearing. You’ve probably had the place surrounded for hours.”
“That makes no sense, Butch,” Dave replied. “I’ve been taped to this damned chair since you got here. How and when could I have contacted anyone?”
“You were down the hall somewhere when we got here,” Butch challenged. “I’m guessing that’s when you called.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Dave argued. “I didn’t even know you were here until Chris told me we had company and, once I saw you, I had no opportunity to call anyone.”
Butch sneered and said, “Don’t start lying to me again. You know how that pisses me off.”
“Damn it, I’m not lying,” Dave replied, his frustration obvious.
“So, you’re telling me you had no idea who we were when we showed up?” asked Butch.
“How the hell would I know who you are?” Dave shot back.
“You really think you’re smart, don’t you?” Butch replied. “I’ll let you in on something. I heard you talking to your two buddies here a couple of hours ago and you seemed to know a hell of a lot about what we all did in Brighton last week. Now, how can you know all these details and tell me you ain’t never heard about us? Try explaining that to me, you stupid cop.”
“I read a report about the home invasion in Brighton,” Dave replied, exasperated, “So, yes, I had details about what happened but th
e report said nothing about who was responsible because the cops down there had no leads.”
“Oh, yeah?” Butch pushed on. “Then how the hell did you know that it was us?”
“Because you told us, you moron,” Chris interrupted, hoping to draw the attention away from Dave.
Butch looked at Chris blankly for a moment before asking, “When did I say that?”
“Right after you accidentally broke all those dishes,” Chris replied, gesturing toward the wrecked buffet. “You said you liked us better than the guy in Brighton last week.”
Butch shook his head and said, “Damn, you’re right. I did tell you but that still doesn’t explain what happened to all my guys. There must be somebody out there taking them down.”
Chris shrugged. “I can’t help you there but isn’t it possible your guys just got bored here and got away when they had a chance?”
“Then why don’t they answer their damned phones?” asked Butch.
“Probably because they’re scared of you,” Chris suggested. “You are their leader, after all, and now they went against your word. They’re probably trying to figure out how to fix this with you now.”
“Okay, then why did Smokie answer his phone and say he was coming in?” Butch challenged. “Then he doesn’t show up and his phone’s off. Explain that.”
“I don’t know about that,” Chris replied. “I don’t even know who Smokie is.”
“Smokie’s always stoned,” Shades interjected, his ever-present sunglasses atop his head. “Maybe he forgot to turn his phone off when he split and you reminded him to turn it off when you called.”
“Makes sense to me,” Chris agreed.
“Hmm, could be that,” said Butch, looking pensive. He turned to his three remaining cohorts and asked, “What do you guys think about all this crap?”
“I don’t think there’s cops out there,” Shades replied. “If there was, they would’ve busted in here with tear-gas and shit a long time ago. Maybe the man’s right and the guys just fucked off on us.”
9 More Killer Thrillers Page 132