Crimes of Passion

by Toni Anderson

  Mary shuddered.

  “Really? With your mother watching?” Mary slurred her voice. “That’s perverted.”

  Hank glanced around again. “She’s not here,” he said. “She not’s here!”

  “She wearing a house dress and has curlers in her hair,” Mary said weakly. “She’s watching you, Hank. Always watching you.”

  He looked around again nervously. Then he looked back at Mary, who pretended to be unconscious. “You’re going to wish I had my fun here,” he said. “Now I’m going to be sure that you’re awake to enjoy it.”

  He pulled the vinyl bed cover over the top and fastened it down. Then he slammed the gate closed. Except for the light peeking in at the edge of the gate, Mary and Bradley lay in total darkness. She heard the engine start and the sound of the garage door opening. Moments later she felt him turn out of his driveway and head down the street.

  Mary’s arm felt slightly numb, but she hadn’t really felt any other effects of the pin prick. She prayed that he had chosen the vial in the desk. She took a deep breath, so far so good.

  The truck veered quickly around a corner and the motion caused Bradley to roll and nearly crush Mary. Wouldn’t that be ironic, Mary thought, crushed to death by Bradley.

  She levered her feet against the side of the bed and pushed her body against him, repositioning him so she could breathe.

  “Thanks, Chief,” she muttered, inhaling deeply. “Now to come up with a plan.”

  FORTY

  Mary knew that they were getting closer to Tapley Woods, but she hadn’t come up with a plan yet. She hadn’t really been able to get much past the first challenge—Bradley. Even if she could somehow escape from the handcuffs, there was no way she could carry him to safety. The five foot trek from the passenger’s side to the truck bed nearly did her in.

  Besides, she really hadn’t had any luck getting the cuffs loose from the hook on the side of the bed. She had pulled on the steel hook to try and either break the hook or the cuff chain, but both had held.

  She laid her head against Bradley’s chest and sighed. She really didn’t want to die again. And if she were going to die, she really wanted to take Hank with her.

  Bradley inhaled deeply. Mary raised her head. “Bradley,” she said, “are you awake?”

  Bradley groaned. Loudly.

  Mary wondered if Hank had the cab back window open. She certainly didn’t want Hank to know that either of them was awake.

  “Shhhh,” she whispered.

  Bradley groaned again. Mary kicked him in the leg. “Bradley, you need to be quiet,” she said.

  He continued to fight his way out of the drug, tossing his head and moaning. If she only had her hands free, she would have covered his mouth. She frantically looked around. Nothing.

  “Damn,” Mary decided, “there’s only one thing to do. Sorry Mrs. Alden, wherever you are.”

  She slid up and placed her mouth over his. Mary could feel that he was startled at first, but after a moment, natural lust replaced confusion. Not only was he returning the kiss, he was doing it with gusto. Mary’s head swam. Wow! He was good at this.

  His lips slid off hers as he trailed a path of kisses across her face and along her neck. “Mary,” he whispered softly. “Oh, Mary.”

  She was tingling from head to foot, as each new wave of excitement washed over her. “I sure hope your wife’s name isn’t Mary,” she murmured, before his lips found her mouth again.

  The truck hit a bump. Mary swore. “Crap! Someone is trying to kill us. What am I thinking?”

  She pulled her head away. “Bradley, stop,” she said in her firmest voice.

  “Mary, please, just another kiss,” he moaned, his arms stroking up her back.

  “Bradley, stop,” she said, as he nibbled on her chin and lower lip.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, Bradley, but I did ask,” she said and then sunk her teeth into his bottom lip.

  That did the trick. Bradley pulled back, bringing Mary along with him. His eyes were now open, wide, and he was staring at her as if he had just woken from a dream. “What happened?” he asked, his voice still slurred. “Did you just bite me?”

  Mary nodded. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” she replied.

  He tried to move away and she came along with him. “Mary, why are you lying on my chest?” he asked.

  “Because my arms are handcuffed behind your waist,” she answered. “And you’re actually cutting off the circulation to them right now.”

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, shifting. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

  “Why didn’t you use the keys?” he asked.

  “Because I had to give them to Hank,” she replied. “He’s smarter than he looks.”

  “Did you give him the extra set?” he asked, still obviously befuddled.

  “No, I didn’t know you had an extra set,” she said, trying to remain calm. “Perhaps you could give them to me.”

  Bradley cheerfully dug the keys out of his pocket and maneuvered around to unlock Mary’s hands. “There, that’s better,” he said with a smile, and then he giggled.

  This wasn’t good. He was coming off the drug like a cheerful drunk. “Bradley,” she said slowly. “I need you to concentrate. I need you to work past the fuzzy happy part of your brain and go to the warrior-police guy, okay?”

  Bradley nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

  Mary wasn’t convinced.

  “My guess is that Hank is driving us to Tapley Woods,” she said. “I think that last turn was the junction with Highway 84. So we only have a few minutes before we get there. We need to have an escape plan.”

  “I’ll shoot him,” Bradley offered helpfully.

  “He has your gun,” Mary replied.

  “Oh, then that won’t work.”

  Mary sighed. Somehow she didn’t think that Bradley’s warrior-police guy was coming back anytime soon.

  “So, how do your legs feel?” she asked.

  She felt a large hand squeeze her thigh.

  “Bradley, that was my leg.”

  “Oh, sorry, but what a relief, I thought I had lost feeling in my legs.”

  Maybe death isn’t all that bad, Mary thought.

  Mary slid down to the bottom of the truck bed. She felt around in the darkness and located the interior latch. She felt Bradley move down beside her. “What did you find?” he asked.

  Mary thought he seemed a little more rational. “The latch for the gate,” she said. “Perhaps we can crawl out when he stops the truck.”

  “If he has my gun, we won’t have a chance,” he said, his voice sounding a little more serious.

  Oh, thank goodness, Bradley’s coming back.

  “Well, he has to slow down once he enters the woods,” Mary said. “We could roll out while the truck is still moving.”

  Bradley looked at her. “It’s gonna hurt.”

  She smiled back at him. “Yes, but so does dying.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Mary could feel the minute they left regular pavement and turned onto the rough maintenance road. She turned to Bradley. He met her eyes and nodded. Yes, he was back.

  She reached up, released the latch and slowly lowered the gate. The brown dirt road slipped past them quickly. The drop was only a couple of feet, but Bradley was right, it was going to hurt.

  “Roll sideways,” Bradley suggested. “And when you hit the road, keep rolling to your left so he doesn’t see you through his side mirror.”

  Mary nodded, and shifted in the bed so she could roll out. She lifted her head up and looked at Bradley. “Good luck,” she whispered.

  He smiled and nodded. “You too.”

  She rolled out and hit the ground with a thump. “Ouch! Crap!” she whispered, as she pushed her body toward the brush on the side of the road.

  Once hidden, she glanced up and saw Bradley rolling off the truck and onto the road. He rolled into the woods and out of sight. Mary was about to sigh with relie
f when she noticed the brake lights on the truck brighten. Crap, she thought, he’s stopping here.

  She was immediately on her feet and running toward him. Bradley was starting to get up when he saw her running toward her. “He’s stopping,” she said. “We have to get out of here now.”

  She grabbed his hand and they plunged together into the dense brush, running downhill from the road. A bullet hit a tree a few feet in front of them. Another hit somewhere on the ground near them. Mary pulled them to the right and they crashed through more undergrowth.

  Bradley felt the burn the moment the bullet entered his foot. He kept moving, but the pain was intense. He was sure the bullet must have ricocheted off the ground first and then into his foot, because a direct shot would have caused more damage.

  “We should split up,” Bradley said, knowing he was going to slow them down.

  “Sure,” Mary panted. “You run down the hill and I’ll circle back and distract him.”

  “Mary, no,” Bradley said immediately, remembering the last thing Hank had said to him about Mary.

  “Then we stick together,” Mary said, turning back to look at him.

  When she saw the beads of sweat on his face, she stopped. “What the hell?” she asked.

  She looked down and saw the blood oozing from his boot. “You could have said something,” she accused.

  “There’s nothing we can do right now,” he said. “The boot is keeping pressure on the wound and we need to keep going.”

  Mary searched for a more level route to put less pressure on his foot. Cutting to the left seemed to be the most level ground of all of her choices. “Let’s go this way.”

  They heard the engine of the truck roar to life. “Well, at least we have the advantage of being able to run through the woods,” she said, pushing through the branches.

  After five minutes, they found a small clearing in the midst of the woods. Mary guided Bradley to a large tree trunk. “Sit,” she ordered.

  He sat, wiped the sweat from his face and lifted his foot onto the log. “Mary, we need to face facts,” he said. “No one knows we’re out here. He has a gun, he has a truck, he has the advantage and I’m just slowing you down. We need a better plan than just trying to hide from him in the woods.”

  Mary shook her head. “We just need to lie low,” she argued. “He won’t know where to find us…”

  “Mary, I’ve left a trail of blood across the whole damn woods,” he interrupted. “Of course he can find us.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” she said.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “He’s not going to be half as brutal to me as he will be to you. I just can’t stomach the thought of you being caught.”

  “But Bradley…” she began.

  They heard the truck in the near distance. “Go, Mary. Go and get help,” he said. “Go now!”

  Mary ran across the clearing into the woods, she glanced back and saw Bradley limping away from the log and back into hiding. She really didn’t want to leave him, but she knew he was right; one of them had to go and get help.

  She ran southeast, toward the highway, toward help. The rough terrain was uphill and covered with a damp matting of leaves. Mary grabbed hold of branches and saplings to pull herself up toward the ridge that lay about forty feet above the maintenance road.

  When she was about thirty feet up the incline she heard the truck. Looking around for cover she saw a tree trunk a few feet away lying horizontally on the ground, caught between two upright trees. She gauged the distance and jumped quickly. The move was supposed to take her sideways, toward the trunk. But her boot landed on a pile of wet leaves and her feet slipped out from under her.

  She hit the ground hard and immediately began to slip downhill. Leaves, rocks and branches rolled down the hill with her. She could hear the truck’s approach and knew she was on a freefall back down to the road.

  Panicked, she dug her fingers into the ground, trying to grab something, anything, to hold on to. She scraped her hands on the thorny brush and jagged rocks, but couldn’t find anything that would stop her descent.

  Finally, she rammed into a sapling and grabbed it with both hands. She buried her face in the leaves. Praying that she was high enough on the hill and the brush was deep enough that she would be hidden. She breathed deeply, her heart pounding as she waited for the truck to pass.

  The truck slowed. Mary held her breath. Then it continued down the road. Amazed and relieved, she waited a few moments before lifting her head.

  The sun was beginning to set. The tree tops were ablaze in red and orange and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. Mary pulled herself up and scrambled up the rest of the incline until she reached the top of the ridge. Once there, she leaned against a big oak and caught her breath. She could hear the truck in the distance, but then the engine stopped.

  Had he found Bradley? She prayed he was still safe.

  “Do you love him?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Mary’s heart jumped. She turned and found Renee Peterson next to her. The sun shone through her translucent form, giving her an ethereal glow. Her face was ice blue, her lips purple and her hair and dress were still dripping with water.

  It took Mary a moment to remember her question.

  “Who?” Mary asked.

  “The man in the woods,” Renee asked. “The one who is bleeding. Do you love him?”

  Mary sighed. “He has a wife,” she said simply.

  Renee smiled sadly. “I understand. It’s hard not to love them, but they can’t be trusted.”

  A tear ran down her cheek. “He killed me.”

  Mary shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. Joseph Ryerson did not kill you.”

  Renee looked at her suspiciously. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the man who killed you is Hank Montague.”

  “Hank? Hank killed me? Why?”

  “Because Hank had been killing little girls. On the night of the party he was in the process of disposing of a body and you saw him.”

  The ghost looked at her in disbelief. “But I didn’t see anything. I had no idea,” she said.

  Mary shrugged. “He didn’t care,” she said. “He was just tying up loose ends.”

  “Joseph didn’t kill me?” she asked in wonder.

  “No, he didn’t,” Mary replied. “He grieved for you.”

  Renee looked down the ridge and then back at Mary. “So, do you love him?” she asked again.

  Mary smiled. “It would be easy to do,” she replied.

  Mike Strong appeared next to Renee. “Then why are you running away?” he asked.

  FORTY-TWO

  “I’m not running, I’m going for help,” Mary said, more than slightly peeved at his insinuation.

  “Well, you don’t have time,” Mike said. “Hank has nearly caught up with the police chief.”

  “How do you know?” Mary asked, already moving along the top of the ridge, back toward where she left Bradley.

  “Because I was there,” he said.

  Mary looked down. The truck was parked below her, alongside the road. She couldn’t see Hank, but he was fairly close to where she and Bradley had parted.

  “What the hell do I do now?” she wondered aloud.

  “He left his keys in the truck,” Mike said.

  “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Without thinking about the consequences, she ran down the incline, not bothering to hide the noise that she was making. If Hank heard her and decided to turn back, so much the better.

  She jumped onto the road about ten yards from the truck. She briefly glanced around and then sprinted toward the truck. Mary was only fifteen feet from the truck, when Hank emerged from the woods next to the road. He looked up and smiled at Mary.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  He raised the gun and aimed.

  “Run!” Mike yelled at Mary, stepping between them.

  Hank looked at Mike and his eyes widened. He
stepped backward, away from the ghost.

  “He can see me,” Mike shouted and ran toward Hank. “You son-of-a-bitch, you tried to frame me!”

  Hank dropped the gun and jumped in the truck. Mary could hear the ignition grind, then Hank gunned the engine and tore down the road. Mike followed, hovering over the ground and matching his speed with the truck, the rope that still hung from his neck waving in the wind.

  Mary stopped at the edge of the road and watched. Hank was swerving back and forth on the road, driving at breakneck speed and Mike was right behind him. Suddenly, at the bend in the road, Renee stepped out. Her face blue and distorted, her hair and clothes dripping wet. She moved directly in front of the oncoming truck.

  Hank swerved and the truck left the road. It dove into the ditch, rolled over and finally careened into a giant oak tree. A thick low-hanging branch shattered the windshield and plunged into the cab of the truck.

  Moments later, Mike reappeared at Mary’s side. “He’s not dead,” he said, “but he won’t be going anywhere on his own.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “You saved my life.”

  “I couldn’t let him…” he began.

  “I know, and you didn’t,” she said. “I’ll make sure he gets blamed for your death, as well as the others.

  “And Mike,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Your secret is safe. Your legacy is safe.”

  Mike smiled. A tear ran down his distorted face. “Thank you.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Mary leaned back in her chair. Three days later and she was still stiff and sore. She needed to get an easier job.

  “So, how are you feeling today?” Rosie asked, as she entered Mary’s office. “Still aching?”

  Mary turned her chair and nodded. “Yeah, I still can feel where my muscles are,” she said, “each and every one of them.”

  “Good!” Rosie said with delight.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  “No, no, I mean wait until you see what I bought you,” Rosie said as she dug into her oversized purse.

  She drew out a small white jar. “This is a…” She brought it closer to her bifocals. “…a unique herbal remedy that heals the body and the soul in only twenty-four hours.”