Ragged Man

by Ken Douglas

  “ Little shit really gets off with that thing,” Nate said.

  As they passed the trooper, Nate picked up the speed.

  “ Aren’t you afraid he’ll come after us?”

  “ Naw. He’s too stupid to turn around.”

  Minutes later, doing fifty in a twenty-five, Nate spun onto Main Street, speeding through the center of town like he was on the freeway.

  “ I’ll have you there in less than a minute.” And true to his word, the old man was slamming on the brakes, laying rubber onto the pavement, bringing the truck to a stop where the Palma Pier met the land.

  “ I got you here with twenty minutes to spare. Not bad for an old man.”

  “ And I appreciate it” Rick pulled a banded wad of bills out of a hip pocket.

  “ That’s a pile of money.”

  “ And it’s yours. There’s ten thousand dollars here.” He handed the banded bills to the old man.

  “ You don’t have to give me all this. We had a deal.”

  “ If I save the boy, it was worth it and if I don’t, I won’t need it.”

  “ Well, we can use the money. That’s a fact.”

  “ One more thing,”

  “ What’s that?”

  “ I probably won’t be coming back for the plane.”

  “ Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

  “ I gotta go,” Rick said, and the two men shook hands.

  “ You be careful, son.”

  “ Yeah.” Rick got out of the car and jogged down the pier toward the Seawolf.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rick heard the hum of the motor drop a key as its RPM was lowered. He spent the thirty minute trip from Palma to Tampico below, on one of the top bunks, pretending to be asleep. He counted himself lucky that he was able to buy a ticket, get on board and get below without running into Wolfe Stewart.

  He didn’t know if Wolfe knew the police were looking for him and, as much as he wanted the man’s help, he couldn’t afford to take the chance. It was better, he reasoned, to err on the side of caution.

  He felt the boat slow to a stop and then reverse. Shortly, he heard the sounds of the crew above, tying the Seawolf to the pier. And when he heard the sounds of the Tampico anglers boarding, he jumped out of the bunk and climbed the stairs into the morning sun. He glanced quickly around the boat and satisfied himself that Wolfe was still on the bridge. Then with a head-down-straight-arrow walk, he left the boat, passing the boarding anglers on the gangway. Nobody gave him a second glance.

  Off the boat, he looked down the pier, toward town, half expecting to see an army of police with high-powered rifles trained on him. He was pleased to see instead, Judy Donovan running in his direction.

  He jogged toward her, meeting her halfway. He put his arm around her waist and led her back toward town.

  “ I don’t want anybody to know I’m back.” He held her close, managing to hide his face from at least half of the people on the pier.

  “ I didn’t tell anyone I was meeting you.” Then she asked, “how did you know my phone was tapped?”

  “ Maybe it’s not. I’m just a little paranoid. But when someone is running around killing off your friends and the police are trying to pin the murders on you, maybe being a little paranoid isn’t such a bad thing.”

  “ J.P.’s okay,” she said.

  “ What?”

  “ Sheriff Sturgees called a little while ago. J.P. somehow wound up in Jesse Terrenova’s police car out at Donkey Road and called for help. He sent Lincoln Hewett, one of his new, young deputies, out to get him.”

  “ What about Jesse?” Rick asked.

  “ Probably goofing off somewhere with Stacy.”

  Rick shook his head. When they reached the end of the pier, she led him to the parking lot and a new Mitsubishi Montero.

  “ We can talk in the car.” She unlocked the passenger door. He climbed into the four-wheel-drive vehicle, stretched over and unlocked the driver’s door for her and she climbed behind the wheel.

  “ New car?” he asked.

  “ I was on the way to the airport, when a sudden urge took me into the dealership. Before I knew what happened, I was driving out in a sporty, new four-wheel-drive SUV and I’d cancelled the Hawaiian vacation.”

  “ When will J.P. be home?” he asked, watching as she ran her hands over the steering wheel. She’d put on his old, leather, wheel cover, the one Ann had given him so long ago.

  “ Maybe now,” she said. “Sheriff Sturgees said that they would question him for about fifteen minutes, then bring him straight home.”

  “ Aren’t you in a hurry to see him?”

  “ By now he’s with the sheriff, he’ll be okay. Besides, I wanted to see you. And anyway, your note said you needed the gun.” She handed him a leather overnight bag. “It’s wrapped in a beach towel.”

  “ Thanks.” He wondered about the wheel cover. Why had she taken it off his Jeep?

  “ Come here, Flash.” She pulled him close, reached out with a hand, brushed his hair aside as she ran her tongue along the length of the scar behind his left ear, sending shivers of temporary pleasure from the scar to his spine. “Does that still drive you crazy?

  He pulled away shocked, trying to wipe what just happened from his mind. He didn’t have time to think about it.

  “ I need you to do something for me,” he said.

  “ Anything.”

  “ Get Wolfe Stewart to hold the boat till I get back.”

  “ How long will you be?”

  “ I don’t know, an hour, maybe two, maybe longer. You’ll have to get him to cancel his fishing trip. Tell him it’s a matter of life and death. Tell him someone kidnapped J.P. Tell him Ann was murdered. And tell him when I come back to the boat, I’ll have that son-of-a-bitch in tow.”

  “ He’ll hold the boat.”

  “ You’re sure?”

  “ That man would move heaven and earth for J.P. He’ll hold the boat.”

  “ And have him send the crew away. Just him and you on the boat. Nobody else. Will he do it?”

  “ He’ll do it.”

  “ Good. Now I need your car.”

  “ I figured you would,” she said, getting out.

  He got out too, met her halfway to the driver’s side and they embraced.

  “ Be careful,” she said.

  He kissed her briefly on the lips, “I’ll be careful.” He broke the embrace, climbed into the car and drove off. He saw her walking down the pier toward the boat in the rearview and smiled as she held her arm up high and waved. She knew he was looking.

  He drove half a block down the street, then pulled over and parked. Making sure that nobody was looking, he fished into the bag and withdrew the thirty-eight. A quick inspection told him that Judy had reloaded. Then a strong feeling attacked, like an inner voice, and it was telling him that he needed a bigger gun.

  He put the revolver back into the overnight bag, checked the rearview to make sure he was still unobserved, got out of the car and started down Seaview Avenue toward Jaspinder Singh’s Mini Market and Bait Shop.

  So many questions. Why had his friends been murdered? Why had J.P. been kidnapped? How had he gotten away? What had he done to cause it all? And now, why had Judy kissed him like that, running her tongue along his scar and why had she called him Flash? He decided to put it all out of his mind and focus on the one thing he could do, and that was find the man who was responsible, and stop him.

  “ Rick Gordon, I am truly glad to see you,” Jaspinder Singh said, the golden bells announcing Rick’s arrival as he entered the bait and convenience store.

  “ I’m in a little trouble and I need a favor.”

  “ The sheriff has been telling me about your troubles. They are really looking for you. But I am believing none of it.”

  “ I was hoping I could count on you.”

  “ If you could be counting on nobody else on this God-forsaken planet, you could be counting on me.”

  “ You know
why they’re looking for me?”

  “ They think you are a murderer.”

  “ I think the real murderer killed Ann and he’s going to come after me sometime today.”

  “ How can I be helping?”

  “ Six months ago you had a very big gun behind your cash register. Do you still have it?

  Jaspinder Singh reached down to the shelf under the register and brought out an automatic pistol. He laid it on the counter in front of Rick.

  “ Yeah, that’s a big gun.” Rick said.

  “ It’s a Para Ordinance forty-five automatic, made in Canada. It carries five more rounds than the Colt, thirteen in the magazine, one in the chamber. It is fully loaded with Starfire PMC Eldorado hollow points for maximum penetration and expansion. They will stop anything short of an elephant.”

  “ You keep a round chambered?”

  “ And the safety off. When I am wanting to use it, I am wanting it ready. Take it.” He pushed the gun toward Rick.

  Rick took it, clicked on the safety and shoved the gun between his Levi’s and his skin. His loose shirt easily concealed the weapon. Then he reached into his back pocket and withdrew the other packet of bills. “There’s ten thousand dollars here, if anything happens to me, I want you to use it to get Judy Donovan and J.P. as far away from here as possible.”

  “ You are afraid that they will wind up like Mr. Donovan and his family?”

  “ Yes.”

  “ I will do as you ask.” Singh took the money.

  “ Thank you, Mr. Singh.”

  “ Good luck, Rick.” in their relationship, both professional and personal, it was the first time he had addressed him by his first name. “Oh, yes, this might be helping.” Singh reached back to the shelf under the register. “You might be needing an extra magazine.”

  Rick took it and slipped it into the bag, then he stuck his hand out and Jaspinder Singh shook it.

  “ If you don’t hear from me by this evening, get them out of town tomorrow.” Then he turned and opened the door, setting off the three golden bells as he left.

  On his way back to the car, Rick cleared his mind of everything, but the moment. The sun was rising, changing from orange to yellow, and brightening the day. The soft breeze carrying the scent of the sea came in from the ocean and the gentle sound of lapping waves competed with the occasional passing car. Any other time he would have taken in the air and enjoyed the morning to its fullest, but today he tried to clear even the sunrise and ocean air from his mind.

  And, as he forced everything out, he felt one thought sticking and he concentrated on it till it screamed and he knew where the big man was. He had come to Tampico to humiliate him one last time, before sticking in the knife, and the best place to find him was at home. The man with the gravel voice was most likely sitting in his living room, waiting to jump him as soon as he walked in the front door.

  But before confronting the killer, he wanted to go up to Prospector’s Donkey Road and make sure J.P. was okay.

  Five minutes later, he turned from Mountain Sea onto the dirt track, slowing the car when he left the pavement. He drove up and parked behind one of the two police cars and felt a pang in his chest when he saw they were both empty. There was no sign of the deputies or of J.P. He feared the worst.

  With the forty-five auto in hand, he got out of Judy’s new SUV and started toward the path. He clicked the safety off and kept his finger on the trigger. He couldn’t help feeling like he was walking into an ambush.

  He heard a rustling in the brush off to his left and stopped, pointing the gun in the general direction of the sound.

  “ J.P., Lincoln, Jesse!” he called out. The rustling stopped. “It’s Rick Gordon.” He waited for a long twenty seconds and getting no answer, continued on toward Lover’s Hideaway.

  A low growl stopped him in his tracks. He crouched low and waited. There was something out there. His mind raced back to the day Judy had been chased by the bear and how J.P. had insisted that he’d fired the revolver at the Ghost Dog, not a bear.

  He waited a few more seconds and hearing no further sound, got up and continued. Then he tripped over something. He threw his hands out in front of himself to break his fall. He hit hard, twisting his arm, spraining his wrist and losing the pistol.

  “ Damn!” He turned and started to get up and came face to face with Lincoln Hewett’s bloody head. “Shit!” He scrambled back.

  The horrible head, eyes screaming wide, stared into the sky with an unfathomable fear frozen onto its face, daring Rick to go further, but he no choice, he had to know what had happened to J.P.

  He looked around for the gun, trying not to look at Lincoln’s staring eyes. He couldn’t find it. He stepped back and saw why. It was lying next to the dead deputy’s head, with blood on the grip. When he dropped the gun it must have landed on the head and bounced off. He grit his teeth, picked it up, wiped the blood off on his Levi’s.

  He was stepping around the head when he heard the low growl. Something was on the path behind him. He turned and pointed the gun down the path, but there was nothing there except silence.

  He turned back toward Lover’s Hideaway, moving as quickly as possible, rapid heartbeat, tense nerves and clammy skin betraying his fear. When he plunged into the clearing, his horror at the bloody sight sent him reeling backwards and he had to fight to keep from running away.

  He turned away from Lincoln’s headless body. He didn’t need to inspect it to know he had been maimed and killed by a big animal. He picked up a khaki shirt and dropped it. He saw Jesse Terrenova’s automatic and picked it up. It was empty. He tossed it aside, and with pain in his heart, he saw J.P.’s Levi’s and the striped shirt that he’d been wearing yesterday.

  He sank to his knees.

  “ Not J.P., too,” he cried. Grief overcame him. He loved that boy. It was like his own son had been ripped from his breast by starving wolves. He had been dealt deep wounds, piled on, one after another until now he began to believe what the killer had said in his note.

  He was damned.

  His friends and lovers were being torn from him in the most brutal of ways and he was unable to stop it. Now he was going to have to face Judy and tell her that her son was dead. He didn’t know if he could do it.

  He felt eyes on him.

  He looked up through his tears and saw what could only be both J.P.’s Ghost Dog and Ann’s beautiful, horrible animal. It was a long way from Australia. The animal stared at him, unmoving, and Rick took the time to study it.

  The beautiful black coat that Ann had told him about was now matted with blood. Rick assumed that the deputy had gotten off some good shots. The beast was wounded, but still very much a threat.

  Rick tightened his grip on the forty-five as the animal stepped into the clearing and lowered itself, ears back, onto its haunches, like it was going to leap. He raised the gun and started firing. He missed, but the animal turned and fled, vanishing in a hail of bullets pinging in the earth behind it and slapping into the bushes and trees over its shoulders.

  Rick kept firing into the brush until the gun was empty, hoping that he might have gotten in a lucky hit, then he jammed the hot gun back in his pants and scooted over to where Lincoln’s headless body lay and tore the thirty-eight police special from its holster. It wouldn’t do the damage of a forty-five, but it could kill just as deadly.

  He remained still and listened for the animal’s deep breathing and, hearing nothing, he made his way to the path. He wanted to get back to the car. He moved swiftly with the thirty-eight clutched tightly in his right hand. If he fell again, he was determined not to lose the gun.

  Halfway back to the car, he heard a heart stopping roar coming from the direction of the clearing. He heard the beast as it started down the path after him. He stopped, crouched and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long, within what seemed fractions of a second the beast was in sight charging down the path. Rick started firing, hitting the animal several times, not only sto
pping it but forcing it to turn and flee again. And Rick fled also, continuing his dash toward the car.

  Running full tilt with not far to go, he heard the beast crashing through the brush, parallel to him and overtaking him. He fired two rapid shots, without slowing, in the direction of the crashing sounds. They were panic shots, serving only to quicken his already frantic pace, but the beast beat him to the cars. When he reached the end of the path, it was standing by the Montero, its black coat covered in wet blood and it was foaming at the mouth.

  It roared into the morning, then started for him.

  Rick fired on the move, but the hammer fell on an empty cylinder. The weapon was empty. He dashed for one of the police cruisers, grabbed the door, dove in and slammed it shut.

  The beast pounced, smashing its head into the safety glass of the passenger window. The glass cracked into hundreds of small bloody pieces, held together by only the safety film, but it held. The black beast bounced off and readied itself for another charge. Rick knew the glass wouldn’t stop it a second time.

  He ripped the riot gun from its rack, clicked off the safety, pumped a round into the chamber and fired as the beast’s head hit the glass for a second time, deafening him and shattering the glass outward, turning the black beast’s head into bloody mush.

  He didn’t wait to see what it would do next. He jumped out on the driver’s side, pumped a second round into the chamber, dashed around the car, fired again into the bloody pulp that was the beast’s head. He emptied the remaining three rounds into its chest at point blank range.

  And then he collapsed, fighting for breath. The Ghost Dog was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  J.P. woke sitting up. He tried to move, but it hurt his neck. He opened his eyes to a glaring light and studied his surroundings in a way that wouldn’t have occurred to him just forty-eight hours ago.

  He was in Rick Gordon’s upstairs bathroom, in the bathtub and he was naked. His hands were again tied behind his back and his bruised feet were lashed together in the same manner as they were when he had been held captive in the trunk.