One Deadly Sister

by Rod Hoisington

  “Sounds like a Hummer. It’s a trap, Sandy. Get out of there!”

  “I can’t get out. There’s nowhere to go. He’s blocking the driveway, and I’m at the back of the lot.”

  “Start your vehicle now, and buckle your seatbelt!”

  Suddenly, she saw the swinging reflection of restaurant lights in the door window as the driver’s door opened. “Now the driver is getting out. He’s tall and skinny, has on a baseball cap. Maybe he’s going into the restaurant. No, Chip, he’s walking right toward me!”

  “I used to patrol that area. There’s an old wooden fence across the back of that lot, it’s rotted. Swing around and drive right through it. There’s a road on the other side.”

  “What? Drive into a fence on purpose, you’re nuts. No way, not with my baby car!”

  His voice was tense, “Is your car running? Is your seatbelt on?”

  “Okay, okay, but I’m going to wait, maybe he’s just lost and wants directions.” Then the realization hit her. “My God, that must be Pirro. I’m trapped here with him.”

  “Sandy, I’m telling you, either head for the fence or drive over him.” He shouted, “Get moving and go through the fence. If you don’t hit a post, you should sail right through. Now! Go!”

  She stepped on the accelerator and turned hard. The little car started sliding and fishtailed at first, then recovered. The man yelled and started running toward her. Then he turned and ran back to his vehicle. She could see the fence coming up fast. She ducked instinctively. The fence broke with a sharp crackle, followed by a thud and the sickening crack of breaking glass. A web of shattered windshield spread across in front of her. The car was now sliding sideways down a slight slope with the tires spinning in dirt. She realized she still had her foot on the accelerator. She hit the brakes. She felt the car lurch up from the shallow ditch and slid to a stop with dust swirling around her.

  She was in the middle of a dirt road. No streetlights. She could make out lights in a house a block away. Quiet, except she could hear her car still running. One headlight was out. She felt something damp and sticky on her forehead. She twisted around in her seat, looking at her car, expecting shambles. A small plank of wood was on the seat next to her. She threw it out. Otherwise, all appeared normal except for the cracks in the windshield. She felt around for her phone and found it tucked between her legs. “Chip are you there?”

  “Thank God, you okay?”

  “I’m surprised, the car came through okay. I’m on a back street.”

  “I’m in my vehicle now and already halfway there. Which way did you turn after you busted through?”

  “Left, I guess.”

  “Okay, that’s away from town. Make a U-turn and head back. Stay on that back road. I’ll cut over and meet you. You’ll see my flashing lights coming up right in front of you in a couple of minutes and you’ll be safe.”

  “Well, don’t hit me, one headlight is out.” Before she could turn, there was a thunderous crash and with a bouncing flash of headlights, the huge vehicle roared down the slope just behind her. She pushed the accelerator pedal hard against the floorboard. The tires spun on the dirt road for a second, then caught and the little car shot ahead down the dark back road.

  “He’s on my tail, Chip and I’m going away from you. I’m heading out into the country. Don’t think I can outrun him.”

  “Don’t try to speed on that dirt road, there’s a roadside canal along there. Just try to keep in front of him until I catch up." He grabbed his microphone, “Dispatch this is David Three. Code three. Request you get an ambulance moving west on Milkrun Road, west of the Jardin Café. Not on the main highway, on Milkrun! I’ll tell you how far west in a minute, just get rolling out here. David Three en route.”

  She barreled ahead on the unfamiliar dirt road, trying to see the road with a broken headlight and a cracked windshield. “He’s gaining on me. Real close now. He’s enormous, I’m just a little speck compared to that monster. Feels like searchlights shining down on me. Geez, he bumped me. He keeps hitting me! He’s smashing my trunk. Chip, he’s going to drive right over me!”

  Goddard heard her phone go dead. He was now on Milkrun Road. His siren blared as he sped down the dirt road. He strained to see any taillights ahead. He pushed his speed. As he passed behind the restaurant, there was no time to swerve to miss the broken fence boards in the road. He rumbled across them like train tracks.

  Ahead now was a low wall of dust. His headlights glared back from the dust cloud like fog, forced him to slow. He cursed and pounded on the steering wheel with his fist. He strained to stare ahead into the swirling blur, forced to drive much slower now.

  Then ahead, there through the dust, he could make out taillights—large lights, high off the ground. Now guided by those taillights, he started gaining. Goddard had drag raced on this road in his teens. He knew every bump and curve. Dust or no dust, there was no vehicle made that could out run him on this road.

  Then, on the right at the side of road, through the dust he saw a dim light. Peculiar, a light shining up on a tree. No likely landscape decorations in this neighborhood. He had already shot passed it. Something made him stop. He braked hard, skidded sideways to a stop. He watched with frustration as the red taillights of the Hummer disappeared ahead into the dust.

  Something was wrong. He backed until he was alongside the light. The dust started to clear. He could now see the little red Miata flipped upside down in the canal, cocked at an angle. One headlight shone up out of the water like a beacon. The tires were spinning. Most of the car was under water. He had almost missed it. He reached for the mike. It slipped from his sweaty hand. He grabbed it again. He tried to get his breath. “Dispatch—David Three. Vehicle under water with injuries. Respond five miles west of the Jardin Café on Milkrun Road. I'm on the scene. You’ll see my overheads. Make it fast.” He moved his car across headed toward the shoulder so that his headlights now illuminated the canal. He could feel his heart pounding. Stay calm. Don’t panic. She’ll be all right. You can do this. Just do this one thing.

  Chapter 26

  “She was upside down, head in the mud, her seatbelt holding her under water. Somehow Goddard got her untangled, carried her up on the canal bank, and gave her CPR until the ambulance pulled up.”

  “What are you talking about?” It was early, before breakfast. Ray was surprised to see Sergeant Lewis down there, away from his desk in the visiting room.

  “Thought you should know.” The sergeant passed the morning paper through the bars. “Not much in the paper—doesn’t even give her name. Deliberately run off the road. We’re going to catch the guy.”

  A small item was circled. “This is Sandy?” Ray read the brief item and started shaking as the situation sank in. “My God, is she okay?”

  “Well, yes and no. She’s alive. She came to before they got to the hospital. But her legs are numb. I just came from the hospital but couldn’t see her.”

  “What do you mean numb? Can she move them?”

  The sergeant hesitated and then shrugged. “Look, I’m not a doctor.”

  “She can’t move her legs!” Ray yelled and hit the bars with his hand. “Damn, then it’s her spine.”

  “Doctor says too early to tell. They’re running tests. She’s getting good care.”

  Ray stumbled backward onto the bunk. He closed his eyes tightly and thought about the circumstances, the danger in which he had put his sister. He never should have called her, she didn’t want to come anyway. They weren’t close and he had forced the situation. Maybe she believed their folks would have wanted it. Now, what kind of remaining life would she go back to?”

  “Let me know if I can do anything.” Sergeant Lewis said quietly. He waited a few more minutes and then silently walked away.

  ***

  They cleared the breakfast away. All Sandy wanted was some tea, a comb, and a mirror. A nurse leaned into the room and said, “Hello world, she’s sitting up now, that’s good. Got a bet going on
at the nurse’s station on why an armed cop sat outside your room all night. We’re trying to decide if you’re somebody good or somebody bad.”

  “Didn’t know about the guard. Anyway, long story and I don’t remember it all.”

  “Well, the cops drank all our coffee. Another cop’s coming your way right now—good lookin’ one. He’s been in and out looking at you, but you were asleep. If you don’t want him let us know, we’ll take him.”

  She saw Chip look in tentatively, and she motioned him on in.

  He said, “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Just don’t look at me. Look at the wall or the floor. I need a shower. What do I say to someone who just saved my life? Thank you sounds laughable.”

  “What on earth did you think you were doing out there?”

  “No, no, this is where you say, oh my God, Sandy, I’m so glad you’re alive!”

  “Your convertible saved you. I wouldn’t have had time to force open a door to get to you. Even then, I had trouble getting your seatbelt off. Your body was pulling against it. The paramedics got you breathing. They figured you were out less than five minutes—that’s very positive according to them. You hit that ditch at high speed and burrowed into the mud. You were lucky.”

  “Lucky my buddy was right behind me.” She reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it briefly, before he slowly pulled it away.

  “Scared the hell out of me,” he said.

  “Hey, I run around Philly at night.”

  “I don’t want to hear about reckless in Philadelphia. Not only is Towson’s murderer out there, now we know Pirro is gunning for you, and you might want to look over your shoulder for Huress. You’re mucking around in the gutter where the slime balls are.”

  “I don’t mind mixing it up with the bad guys. But I stay Teflon clean. Always been that way.”

  “You’re not only cocky, you’re reckless. I hope you never meet your match. You know, often the bad guys win. In fact, if you look at the numbers the bad guys usually win. And if they’re caught, they don’t get convicted.”

  “So, I have better odds being the criminal than the victim. You cops should shoot more of them before they get to trial.”

  “Not funny. I’m glad you’re not a cop.”

  “No joke. I’m not saying shoot all of them, just more of them.”

  “Sounds like you’re back to your old lethal self.”

  “Not so bad right now. All night they had me strapped to a board and wouldn’t let me move my head or anything until they examined all the pictures. Stiff and sore here and there. They say I have bruises from the seatbelt in some strange places. I’m getting away with just this cut on my forehead—and the legs I guess.

  “I asked the doctor about your legs, but he couldn’t tell me much. What did he tell you?”

  “Said just wait. They still feel numb.” She wanted to change the subject. “Have you seen my car?”

  “Yes, I put the remaining pieces in an envelope. You can mail it to your insurance company.”

  “Guess I’ll be on foot, so to speak, until I get a new one.”

  “Anything else you need?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to bother you, it’s not police business.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need a new cellphone. Mine is soaking in Florida swamp mud somewhere. I’m lost without it”

  “Oh, I forgot, the tow truck driver found it on the canal bank, must have flipped out when you overturned.”

  “A miracle—all my precious numbers.”

  “It’s downstairs with your clothes, I’ll have it sent up.” He turned toward the door. “I bullied my way in here. They said please just thirty seconds. I guess my time is up.”

  “You arranged for a police guard outside my room.”

  “Just precautionary. Someone tried to kill you.”

  He started to say something else. She guessed it was about her leaving Florida. He walked to the door.

  He turned. “Can you describe the guy?”

  “It had to be Pirro. Tall and skinny, I couldn’t make out his clothes. Oh, and the baseball cap.”

  “I got a good paint sample off your trunk lid. I’ll find the bastard.”

  “Might not be a problem. I have a feeling if I tell Elena Duarte what happened, she’ll tell me exactly where to find him.”

  After he left, she reached down and touched each leg, still no feeling. She picked up the mirror, moved her head back and forth slowly, and spoke aloud, “I suppose I’m lucky at that.” Yet, she had to consider that the rest of her life might be quite different than she had always imagined.

  The bedside phone rang and she shuffled around and stretched to reach it. “Hi, Miss Reid it’s Sergeant Lewis. Can you talk?”

  “Sergeant—Lewis—who?”

  “That nice old cop who runs the visiting room at the jail. How ya doing, Philly?”

  “Sarge, of course, hey thanks for calling. I feel better just hearing your voice. I really mean that.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. I just know it. Of course, your car’s a goner.”

  “Makes me sick all over again, and I have places to go. Why don’t you assign me a police car with a driver? Make him single and good-looking. I want the lights, the siren, and all that jazz. Be sure it has a good stereo.”

  “That’s why I called. You can use your brother’s car.”

  “Don’t think so, Sarge, it was impounded.”

  “Not exactly, I called over there this morning to see what it would take to get it released. Goddard should have put an Evidence Hold on it but he didn’t. His team searched the car and went over every inch, and all the time there wasn’t even a Hold on it. Just sitting there. I told our man over there you’d be waltzing over to pick it up.”

  Waltzing sounded good. “You lifesaver! Why are you doing all this for me?”

  “Because I like your style. You remind me of my daughter when she was your age, sassy, not as clever as you but just as reckless.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s mellowed out just fine, and I have grandkids.”

  “You have pictures you can show me?”

  “Funny you should ask. Okay, Philly—get better. Let me know when you want to get the car released.”

  “Thanks, Sarge.”

  “Don’t hang up. Here’s your brother. I had him brought up here to the visiting room.”

  Raymond got on and started in with his regrets for asking her to come to Florida. She brushed that aside and tried to explain what happened. At first, they just yelled back and forth. Eventually, they calmed down and quietly talked for ten minutes. She didn’t mention the ultimatum from her employer.

  Tests and more x-rays filled the afternoon. Busy people in blue scrubs, fussed around, patted her on the shoulder, and told her she’d be just fine. When they wheeled her back to her room, she found an orchid plant from Linda. Sandy would call her later. Another call was more important just then. The law firm in Philadelphia was waiting for her decision.

  She phoned Joanna. A hit and run, she explained without further details. Joanna was aghast and kept pressing for particulars—if it’s not serious then why is she in the hospital? Sandy’s boss got on the phone and told her not to worry about hurrying back to work. The company wanted her to get well, not to worry about the expense. They would hold off any decision regarding her employment.

  “Ron, that’s marvelous and I’m overwhelmed, but I’ve already made my decision.” In fact, she had just decided after talking with Raymond. Helping him was unfinished, and no way could she leave town with Moran winning, and the murderer unknown. Also, there was the matter of Chip.

  She told Ron, “I’ve decided to stay here until my brother is safely out on bail. It’s a circumstantial case and it’s entirely possible a confused jury would convict him. I’ll do what I can. Thanks to all you guys for the special consideration. I don’t expect you to hold the job open for me. It may take two weeks or two years. After t
hat, if the company still wants me—well, we’ll see.”

  She awoke late in the afternoon. She tried to pull herself up but was too stiff and sore. She thought about her precious Miata, also crumpled and hurt, but beyond all possible healing. Of course, she could buy a new car, but she loved the old one. She wanted it back. They had shared some good adventures and nearly died together. That bastard Pirro tried to bury them both together in that country canal. La Familia must be touchy about strangers nosing around, or maybe she was getting too close to the truth.

  Pirro would come after her again. She knew that. Even so, the attempt on her life had challenged her and made her angry. He had picked on the wrong girl. She had no intention of waiting around for him to try again. He had to pay.

  She buzzed the nurse for help sitting up and asked for the phone. She needed a different kind of help just now. “Hello, Linda, it’s Sandy. Thanks for the orchid plant. It’s beautiful and you’re a sweetheart.”

  “Sandy! So happy you’re okay. I hope Chip catches that bastard. Can I come up to see you?”

  “Not yet, but I do need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you own a gun?”

  “Anything but that. You’re not getting it. The police will protect you from Pirro.”

  “How did you know his name?”

  “Some cop mentioned it, I guess.”

  “I need it for preemptive purposes. What do you have?”

  “Preemptive hell—don’t even think about that going-after-him shit. Yes, I have a .38. Do you even know firearms?”

  “I’ve been shown a trick or two. I’m serious, Linda, and I’m not going to argue with you. Do I get your gun or not?”

  “The Florida sun has baked your brain. Let me warn you, Sugar, if you go through with this, Chip won’t hesitate to arrest you.”

  “It’ll be self-defense. A cop in Philly showed me exactly how to stage it. They won’t even bring charges against me.”