Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

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Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 84

by Aaron Paul Lazar


  And then he’s going to kill me.

  The thought of that freak getting his hands on me again made me gag. And after I damaged his “goods,” back there in the cabin, he’d probably be really anxious for some retaliation.

  What would he do to me? How would he hurt me? What did men do to women who squeezed their nuts so hard it incapacitated them?

  My skin crawled when he lifted a leg to slide behind me on the seat, one arm around my waist and the other holding the rifle on my friends and Barker. “Hasta luego,” he said, laughing.

  I thought I would throw up.

  He prodded me. “Go.”

  I turned to glance at him over my shoulder, trying to sound calm. Never show your fear, isn’t that what they always said? “A little instruction would be nice. Which one’s the gas and which one’s the brake?”

  He explained briefly and I sort of got it, although I really didn’t know what a throttle was. I jerked the sled forward, turning in a tight circle around my friends.

  He slapped the side of my head with his free hand. “Forward, you stupid—”

  I zoomed ahead in another tight circle, knocking the back of my head against his nose. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t say a word.

  He swore at me over the sound of the engine, and I stopped again. “Damn it, woman. You broke my freakin’ nose.”

  I wanted to break much more than his nose. I steeled myself.

  Valentino pointed toward Pumpkin Hollow Road. “That way. Now go straight and easy.”

  “I’m trying,” I whined. Of course, I wasn’t.

  I made a wide circle around Sky, Callie, Copper, and Barker, gently heading for Pumpkin Hollow Road. I went as slow as I could, then zoomed erratically back again toward the group. “I think I’m getting the hang of it,” I shouted.

  Another rap on the side of my head. I gently urged the beast forward, taking it as close to Sky as I could manage.

  Valentino kept the gun pointed at the group until we’d cleared them by about fifty feet. When he turned to point the way, I saw Sky start churning through the deep snow—following the tracks I’d made just for him.

  I needed to distract the killer, and jerked the sled sharply to the right, apologizing for my klutzy ways. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, Sky leapt onto the sled and dragged Valentino to the ground. I drove it forward a few hundred feet, then turned it around and stopped, leaving it idling.

  Copper raced through the tracks and dove at the struggling pair of men. The three grappled on the ground, now only partially visible in the heavy snow that swelled in the air between us.

  A shot rang out. I watched, hoping Copper had wounded Valentino, but when the snow cleared for a moment, I saw her spread-eagled on her back. The snow turned pink beneath her.

  Callie screamed, leaving Barker’s side where she’d taken over tending his wound. He sat up and pressed the scarf to his own leg, seeming to have regained some strength. She fell on top of Copper, sobbing and screaming. “Oh my God! What did you do to her? You freak!”

  I watched, frozen, still on the snowmobile.

  What should I do?

  Sky pounded Valentino’s face with his massive fists, sitting on top of him. He seemed to have the advantage, but I knew it could change in a second.

  Get him, Sky. Kill him! I wasn’t sure if I’d shouted it aloud.

  The guns. I could use the guns. But I barely knew where to put my finger to pull the trigger, so how much help would I be?

  I warily picked up a gun.

  Valentino flipped Sky, and in seconds he grabbed the rifle he lost in the snow and smashed it against Sky’s head. Blood bloomed on his forehead, streaming from his eyes and face.

  I think I screamed.

  Valentino staggered toward me in the deep snow, his eyes blazing, his face bloody where Sky had beat him. He waved the rifle wildly in my direction. “Over here, you stupid—”

  I tossed the gun and mashed the pedal to the floorboards, heading straight for him.

  Valentino’s expression changed from rage to surprise. Without missing a beat, he raised the rifle and aimed.

  I ducked beneath the windshield, but didn’t veer away from him. At the last minute, when one loud crack broke the glass, I peeked over it to correct my direction, slightly to the right. He tried to sidestep me, but I followed his movement and was two feet from his astounded face.

  NOW.

  I leapt from the sled just before it hit him, and out of the corner of my eye I saw machine and man tumbling into the snow bank on the side of Route 30.

  Chapter 37

  I killed Valentino.

  Staring at his lifeless body, still pinned beneath the snowmobile, I kept repeating the words. I killed him.

  I pulled myself out of the trance and went into action. There were too many people bleeding, dead, and possibly dying around me, and it was up to me to get help.

  Callie stayed with the injured, which included everyone except her and me. And of course, poor dead O’Brien. I still didn’t know how Valentino had tricked him into stopping. Maybe he’d somehow uncoupled the trailer from the sled? Maybe he’d climbed forward and jumped him? We’d never know.

  I drove the snowmobile to the closest house that had lights on and smoke coming out of the chimney. I used their landline to call McCann, who ordered emergency snow equipment and EMTs to our location. I guess if they couldn’t fly helicopters in the storm, there was some other vehicle they had that could handle the heavy snow. I was anxious to see what kind of mechanical monster it would be. Maybe a giant snowplow on monster tires?

  I stood shivering in the kitchen of the family who’d let me inside, and had just told McCann where we were and how many were injured.

  “Marcella? Did I get that right? Quinn’s been stabbed? Copper and Barker are shot? O’Brien’s dead? What the hell happened out there?”

  “Valentino happened,” I whispered.

  “Okay. You can fill in the details when I get there. But for now, just tell me, is he still at large? Are you still in danger?”

  I let a grim smile slip onto my lips. “No.”

  “He’s been apprehended?”

  I nodded into the phone. “Oh, he’s been apprehended all right. Right into a snow bank. I killed him.”

  Silence.

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Me and one trusty snowmobile.”

  I started to cry and told him how worried I was again. About Quinn. About Copper. About Sky. About all of them. It was embarrassing, standing there in the kitchen of the lovely folks who welcomed me inside from the storm, but I couldn't help it. It just poured out of me. “I’m so scared, McCann. I can’t lose Quinn.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said in a soothing tone. “You hang tight. We’ll be there soon.”

  The snow didn’t stop. I drove the sled back to the spot where Callie hovered over Copper. I parked it and jumped off near Quinn’s trailer. A grizzly old guy on a purple sled had showed up to help. I barely reacted when he introduced himself, saying he lived on the mountain and had heard the shots. I took his hand with my limp fingers, mumbled thanks, and turned away. He resumed his position beside Officer Barker, holding the bloody cloth to the wound, much to the officer’s continuing insistence that he didn’t need it anymore.

  I was afraid to look inside, but I lifted the blanket to check on Quinn. To my relief, one of his eyes cracked open.

  “Babe?” he whispered. “Where am I?”

  “Honey!” I leaned over to hug him, but he moaned in pain.

  “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I kissed his cold forehead. “I can’t believe you’re awake.” In the back of my mind, I wondered if it could have been the oils Sky slathered Quinn with that helped him.

  His words slurred. “It’s cold, Marcella. What are we doing out in this storm?” He tried to reach for me, but seemed too weak. He frowned and looked up at me. “Wait. Where’s Valentino?”

  I smoothed back th
e hair that had escaped his hood. “No worries, hon. He’s been dealt with.”

  He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. Touching his side, he groaned. “Dealt with? How?”

  I pointed to the upside down snowmobile in the distance. “Um. I kind of ran him over.”

  He stared at the wreck as if confused. “Wait. You drove that thing?” He blinked. “And you ran him over?”

  “Yeah.” In spite of the sick feeling I had inside about killing someone, I told myself I’d done it before when my friends’ lives had been at stake. And I’d do it again.

  He touched my hand, mumbling his words. “Way to go, babe.”

  I bundled him up again with the blanket and kissed his lips. “You stay put now while I check on the others. Copper was shot, and Sky’s been knocked out.”

  “I want to help.” He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “Damn.”

  “You were injured in the line of duty, soldier,” I said. “Stay put until we can get help, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” He offered a weak smile, closing his eyes.

  I kissed him again and hurried to Callie’s side. Her face was streaked with tears. She cried over Copper and held her hands over a bloody blanket to stop the flow of blood.

  The whole thing was starting to seem like a sick rerun of a bad horror movie.

  Quinn, stabbed and cold, probably needing surgery. O’Brien, killed by Valentino, laying in his own snowy grave. Valentino, a still lump under the twisted wreckage of the snowmobile. Copper and Barker, both bleeding from gunshot wounds. And Sky, head bashed and unconscious.

  I felt guilty about spending so much time with Quinn and quickly knelt beside her, hugging her sideways. “Honey? How’s she doing?” Copper had been breathing when I left for help a few minutes ago. She’d been shot in the side, and I didn’t know what—if any—organs had been damaged.

  Callie stuttered. “I…I don’t know. I can’t wake her up, Marcie.”

  I felt for a pulse and found it. “I feel her heartbeat. It’s strong and steady. Thank God.”

  With another hug for Callie, I told her help was on the way and to keep pressing the wadded-up blanket over Copper’s wound. Next, I hurried to Sky’s side. Earlier, I’d dragged him across the snow and propped him up against a snowmobile, alive and breathing, but semi-conscious.

  Now he sat with his eyes opened and glazed.

  I approached him, petrified that he was dead. But when I reached him, he blinked and looked up at me. “You’re okay?” he asked.

  I felt sobs surge in my throat, but managed to control them. “Me? Heck, yeah. I’m fine.” I took out a tissue and started to wipe the blood from his face. “Here. Let’s clean you up a little.”

  “Ouch.” He winced and pulled back.

  “Sorry.” I dabbed more gently. “It’s gonna be a bad bruise I’m afraid. And you’ll probably need some stitches.”

  “What did he hit me with, anyway?”

  I pointed to the overturned snowmobile. The gun poked out from beneath it, along with Valentino’s two still legs. “He whacked you with a rifle. But I hit him with a snowmobile, so we’re more than even now.”

  He grinned, then suddenly reached toward the wound. “Ouch. Hurts to smile. How’s Quinn?” he asked.

  “He came to. I just spoke with him. And the cavalry’s on its way.”

  “Thank God. And Copper?”

  “Heartbeat’s steady, but she’s out. He shot her in the side.”

  “My God, what damage that freak caused.” Sky leaned forward, rocked onto his knees, and stood, holding onto me unsteadily. “There we go. Now, let’s see how we can help.”

  We got Copper off the cold ground and into one of the trailers, covering her with blankets and leaving her in Callie’s hands.

  Officer Barker had found something to wrap around his leg and was limping around the site, showing us what a man he was. He thought the bullet had “passed straight through,” and obviously it hadn’t hit the femoral artery, or he wouldn’t be acting like such a he-man. I thought he’d lost a lot of blood and tried to make him sit still, but he shook it off and moved over to help with Copper.

  Soon we heard the roar of the rescue mission approaching. Two Antarctic-style Snow Cats crawled down Route 30 and stopped beside us. Gargantuan, they crept forward on tank-type treads and spanned at least twelve by twenty-four feet each. I spotted McCann in the front of the first one beside the driver, and waved.

  He quickly joined us and the EMTs swarmed around, readying patients for transport. Two of his men removed the snowmobile that crushed Valentino’s chest and waved in two technicians from the coroner’s office. O’Brien’s body was uncovered as well, and the official investigation began in full.

  The snow kept falling, covering bloodstains, as if it wanted to quickly bury the ugly scene.

  “Marcella?” McCann appeared at my elbow. “We’re arranging transport to the hospital now. You and Callie should come along with us, of course.” He turned me toward him and looked into my eyes. “Listen. I know you’ve been through a lot. You may even be in shock.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not so sure. I’m asking the ER folks to check you and Callie over when you get there, just to be safe. That okay with you?”

  I nodded. “I guess.”

  I was starting to feel numb, like my brain couldn’t process any more and wanted to just shut down. After borrowing one of the walkie-talkies, I got word to Roberta to check in on Dak once the roads opened up again, and told her what happened. She promised to get to Tall Pines even if she had to hire a snowmobile. No way would she let Dak stay alone at the cabin.

  I followed the men carrying Quinn’s stretcher into the second Snow Cat and readied myself for a long, bumpy ride to the Nathan Littauer Hospital in Gloversville.

  Chapter 38

  Callie sobbed in my arms. I patted her hair and crooned the song I’d sung to my little Kimi when she’d been inconsolable due to teething pain last month. I went through “All The Pretty Little Horses” three times, unsure if I had the lyrics right, but knowing it didn’t matter one damned bit. “It’s okay, honey. It’ll be okay.”

  But I really didn’t know if it would be okay. Things weren’t looking very good for Copper.

  We’d had moments of hope. Moments of delirious joy and expectation when things had gone right. We’d done a happy dance, crying hysterically when she emerged from her first surgery.

  Then things went wrong.

  She’d started to bleed internally again, and during the second three-hour surgery, her blood pressure had suddenly dropped. I really couldn’t remember all the technical terms the doctor had thrown at us when she’d given us the lowdown in the E.R. waiting room, but apparently the medical team had seriously struggled to bring her back from the second surgery. Now, as we waited again, she was back in the operating room, enduring yet a third operation.

  They told us to prepare ourselves. It wasn’t looking good.

  I said it in my head a thousand times. The words felt unfamiliar. Weird. Strange. Like they didn’t fit in my mouth or heart. It’s not looking good.

  Could Copper really die?

  I hugged and rocked my best friend, wanting to turn back time. Waves of sorrow shook her—over and over again—and she sobbed and wailed in the private little grieving room they’d ushered us into when things had gone south.

  “Marcie,” she stuttered. “How will I go on? I can’t live without her.” Another wave of sobs shook her. “I can’t lose her.”

  “Oh, honey. I know, sweetie. I know.”

  We’d already gone through a half box of Kleenex.

  My fragile friend had made it through some terrible times. Horrible times. On top of having a totally unrequited crush on me her whole life—which I just discovered last year—there was, of course, that rape in college by two men that turned her into a recluse and ruined her chances of a normal life. Last year, she was kidnapped by MedicuRX thugs who tried to use her to find Sky. When she’d esca
ped from their riverside hunting cabin, she faced monster agoraphobia head-on in the wide-open woods. She’d fought it. Beaten it. And she’d shown such strength when she was suddenly thrust under the open skies, I figured God had given her Copper as a reward. She’d waited her whole life for this love. She’d more than deserved it.

  Copper.

  Tall, stunningly black, tough, droll Copper. I pictured her gorgeous brown eyes that turned to steel when she faced criminals, or could crinkle with laughter when she let herself relax among friends. I envisioned her strong, long-fingered hands, so capable of expertly taking a bass off the fishing line or snapping cuffs on a criminal. She could doll herself up like the best of them, and she looked particularly gorgeous in an apricot-colored chiffon dress we three girls had bought on a New York City shopping spree last winter. We’d found some dangly peach-colored earrings to match it. She’d looked like an African queen, and the colors set off her unblemished blue-black skin, so perfect and healthy-looking, it practically glowed in the sunlight.

  Healthy-looking, I thought, but capable of being pierced by a psycho’s bullet and just as vulnerable as all of us.

  Think positive. Picture a good outcome. That’s what Roberta had said when I called to update her on everyone’s progress. Don’t let in the negative energy. Imagine everyone healed.

  Just seeing Copper coming toward my dock in the boat with Callie always made me smile.

  I tried to imagine them heading toward me. The sun on my face. The water glistening in Honeoye Lake. The purr of Callie’s pontoon boat engine. Smiles all around. Hands waving.

  I let out a shuddering sigh, praying to God that he let her live. For Callie. For the community she served. For her father in Atlanta. For all of us.

  Copper had fallen hard for my dear Callie. She’d cared for her. Helped her merge into society again. Callie had even started working with Sky at Project Hope, something I never thought I’d see. She drove a car. She worked. She walked outside in the open.

  Copper taught Callie how to make one helluva lentil soup from her father’s old Atlanta recipe.

  Please God. Let Copper live.

 

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