“You’re going to let your own parents think you’ve been kidnapped?”
Her eyes narrowed and squinted with instant anger. Her thumb slid across the top of the hammer, cocking it. I readied myself to fire and zeroed in on her facial expressions. I’d only have a fraction of a second to beat her to the pull of the trigger, when and if she chose to pull hers. Most likely, when.
“I said mother, you moron. Not mother and father. I don’t have a father. Samuel Chesterfield took my daddy away and left us with nothing. Nothing!” Her voice rose to a screech. “He thinks he can just screw people over and destroy families? Go on his moneymaking merry way, living in luxury—while I’m living in a roach-infested apartment? Sharing a pullout sofa with my sister? Watching my mother drink a bottle of vodka a day after Daddy killed himself?”
For a split second, her body shook with rage and just as suddenly, she calmed. Enjoying the moment, she wasn’t yet ready to fire the gun.
“What about Darlene? Was her overdose your handiwork, too?”
“That was just to irritate Samuel. He relied on her to keep his schedule straight.” Lolly smiled, shrugged. “Besides, she never treated me with the respect I deserved.”
I kept my sights on Lolly but threw a question at the senator’s son. “You’re in on all this, Walton? I figured you to be smarter than that.”
“Despite his miserable attempt at a higher education,” Lolly said, “Walt is really quite the genius. I discovered that when we met at one of his daddy’s boring fund-raisers. The rack of lamb was delicious, but the conversation on the verandah with Walt was even better.”
The gun, a Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, remained pointed at my chest from her stance behind Walton and it occurred to me that Lolly was the driver who’d shot at me while I was jogging. She was also the disguised person who tried to shoot me through the car window as I sat on the side of the road, taking notes from Soup. I was close enough to see the rounds snuggled in the gun’s cylinder, but I wasn’t close enough to disarm her before she had time to react by shooting me. I wanted to keep her talking and luckily, she wanted to talk. She was enjoying bragging.
I inched closer, figuring it would be better to disarm her than exchange fire. “Was that before or after you married Samuel Chesterfield?”
“Oh, long before,” she answered, then nodded her head toward Walton. “Is your little bug still in place, darling?”
“Bug?” I asked, sounding perplexed. “What bug?”
“Nothing that concerns you, Jersey. It’s one of those computer things you wouldn’t understand,” she said to me but looked at Walton, awaiting an answer.
“Y-y-yes. I checked it earlier. It was doing its thing, just like I told you it would,” he reported, like a child seeking approval from his teacher.
Her face displayed something near ecstasy when she turned back to me. “Yes, that was long before I married the son of a bitch. I was actually introduced to Samuel at the same party where I met Walt and discovered his daddy was on the finance committee. But I’d been learning all about Samuel for many, many years, even before Barb went to work at his office. Can you believe my idiot sister ruined her body to have the bastard’s child? That wasn’t part of the plan. She was only supposed to get inside Chesterfield Financial to learn what she could,” Lolly said, shaking her head left to right once.
I remained silent, waiting for more, and took another miniscule step toward her. “So you met Samuel and Walton at a party?” I prompted, keeping the Glock up.
When she nodded, her gun dipped slightly. I was almost close enough to take it away from her. “Samuel was telling me all about the SIPAs and how his firm would soon be on the approved list. And later Walt mentioned how unstable the whole system was because it was happening in cyberspace. He said the government’s security wasn’t worth a damn and that Chesterfield Financial’s probably wasn’t much better. Then I found out that his Citadel roommate was Samuel’s son, the gay little golden child that Barb gave birth to. Can you believe the coincidence? That’s when it hit me! There had been a reason for all the things that happened, after all. It was fate. Fate! I decided right then and there that I would marry Samuel and live well until I could destroy him like he destroyed my daddy. I’d destroy his family and his business. The more I talked to Walton, the more the plan came together, like it was meant to be. All the years of watching and waiting for the right opportunity finally paid off,” she said proudly. “It only took four months to get an engagement ring and two months after that, I was Mrs. Chesterfield. It’s amazing what a good blowjob can accomplish.”
Walton turned his head to look over his shoulder and Lolly realized her mistake. “It’s different with you, darling,” she crooned into his ear, and seeing Walton grin stupidly, I realized that he was as stoned as he was gullible. “Go get in the car, sweetheart,” she said, and as Walton did so, she positioned herself to keep Walton between us, her revolver steadied on me. The Glock remained fixed on her as I moved to block their exit.
“Not another step or I’ll shoot,” Lolly threatened. As they sidestepped a wide arc around me to the door, I caught a whiff of marijuana smoke clinging to Walton’s crumpled clothes.
“What does cyberspace and the SIPAs have to do with anything?” I said, playing dumb to keep her talking.
“Oh, you’ll find out eventually. If you live that long.”
“And Eddie Flowers?” I persisted.
Lolly paused, like an actress delivering a grand exit. “Samuel’s accountant? I overheard Samuel talking on the phone and knew he was flying to town. He could have been dangerous, so I shot him. He was such a nice man, too. Jared never should have told him about giving Walton that memory stick.”
“Memory stick?” I said.
Gesturing at me with the gun, she sighed. “I’m growing bored with your questions. I think I’ll shoot you now.”
Like a striking snake, Ox appeared from behind the sofa and punched Lolly’s extended arm toward the ceiling. The gun fired, discharging a round into the air before Ox took it away from her. Bits of wood and plaster plunked down on them. With one large hand, he held both of her wrists behind her back. She struggled briefly, but stilled with a screeching yelp when he tightened his grip.
“Jared’s in the bedroom,” Ox told me. “Unconscious, but he’s got a pulse. And track marks. They had him tied to the bed and they’ve been keeping him drugged. Apologies for keeping you waiting—they had the back door bolted and chained shut.” Even entering noiselessly, he’d gotten inside within minutes. And I knew he’d cut Jared loose from the bed.
While Ox kept an eye on Lolly, I ran outside to collect Walton and found him in the Mustang. When he saw it was me instead of his lover, his eyes grew wild. He’d heard the shot and assumed wrongly. “You shot her! Did you kill her? I loved her!”
“I didn’t shoot her, Walton,” I said, yanking him out of his car and losing patience. “Stand up and shut up.”
Neighbors peeked at us from behind curtained windows. Someone had probably dialed 911 to report a disturbance and possible gunshot. I hauled Walton back inside the trailer, where Ox restrained a venomous Lolly.
“She just kicked me in the shin, twice,” he said. “She does it again, I’m going to get irritated.”
A glass bottle sailed through the window. It was stuffed with a burning rag and shattered when it met the floor, throwing gasoline and instant flames throughout the living room. Trying not to breathe the caustic smoke, we cuffed Lolly and Walton together, and while I went for Jared, Ox guided the pair of lovebirds outside with one hand and held his Kimber .45 in the other.
I dashed to the rear of the mobile home, where Jared opened his eyes briefly but they were unseeing. The wrist was raw and bloody and the fingers were a bluish white. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair was damp, and his body stank with stale sweat. But he was alive.
Fed by synthetic carpeting and curtains, darting flames crept into the bedroom and bellowed pungent smoke. I r
ipped a set of mini blinds away from the room’s single window, unlocked and opened it, and kicked out the screen. Jared felt light when I lifted him from the bed and, carrying him in front of me, stuffed us both through the window feet first and jumped the four or five feet to the ground. We fell into the dirt when we hit and I immediately rolled beneath some scrappy bushes to survey the yard. Somebody had thrown the bottle so Lolly had at least one other cohort. Sensing nobody in the immediate vicinity, I slung Jared over my shoulder and tried not to grunt with the effort as I stood and cautiously made my way to the road, one arm holding his unresisting body in place and the opposite hand holding the Glock.
I made my way along the side of the trailer and stopped short when I came into the small front yard. Ox stood next to Lolly and Walton, leaning against the Benz and a man stood eight or ten feet from them holding some major firepower that was aimed at Ox. Taking a second look at the weapon, I recognized it as an Uzi and taking a closer look at the man, I realized it was Bill. For a split second, my brain would not process what my eyes saw and in the next instant, betrayal slammed into my chest like a sledgehammer. For a flash of a second, the night went darker than it already was and I thought I might pass out. Partially hidden by shadows and Jared’s limp hanging arms, I slid the Glock into the waistband of my pants at the small of my back.
“Get up here and unlock their cuffs,” Bill demanded of me.
“I have to put the kid down first,” I said. No longer the easygoing boyfriend I’d come to know, he nodded once with a precise movement and he held the Uzi one-armed like he knew what he was doing. Dismay churned in the pit of my stomach as I looked into the stranger’s eyes.
Keeping one hand in the air and moving slowly, Ox opened the back door of my car. As I placed Jared’s limp body in the rear seat, keeping my weapon out of Bill’s line of sight, I glimpsed Ox’s gun on the ground. My ex-boyfriend was smart enough not to risk bending down to pick up the weapon. He’d also managed to get the upper hand when Ox had come out of the trailer. Had Ox not been holding two struggling people, it would have been a different situation.
I shut the car door and faced Bill, reminding myself to stay in the moment. There would be plenty of time to absorb the situation later, but right now, my goal was survival and I couldn’t be distracted. I drew a calming breath to steady my nerves and shoved all emotion aside but my heart continued to pound ferociously, like the bass drum in a rock band. After a second controlled inhale and exhale of air, the beat slowed to a rapid thud.
“I’m absolutely blown away, Bill. You were in on this scheme all along?”
“No, not when we first started dating. I really did like you, for what it’s worth. But Lolly approached me with an offer that was too good to turn down.” He dipped the gun, pointing. “Let me see your hands.”
I spread my fingers and showed him my palms. “So the whole marriage thing was a scam, too?” I asked, thinking that I’d stressed over his proposals for no good reason.
“In actuality, I would have loved to marry you. But Lolly offered me a much more attractive net worth. A guy can’t earn a decent living from modeling gigs.” His eyes narrowed. “Take your gun out—two fingers only,” he said. “Don’t test me. I’m quick.”
I lifted my arm so he could see the empty shoulder holster. “Don’t have one.”
His mouth spread into a tight grin. “Sure you don’t. I’ll give you one more chance before I open fire on your half-breed bartender.”
“Actually, Bill, he is a full-blooded Lumbee Indian,” I said, showing my back as I removed my gun with two fingers as instructed and dropped it into the grass. “If you’re going for insults, at least get your facts straight.”
“You always did have a smart-ass attitude,” he said, shifting the Uzi from one arm to the other in a lighting-quick move that placed Lolly and Walton between himself and me. It was the type of action that was typically acquired through military training.
“Where did you learn—”
“How to handle a weapon? From the arms consultant they brought in to train the actors for Vengeful Vandals.” Months earlier, Bill had proudly shown me the independent film in which he scored a minor role. It hadn’t been very good.
I thought about going for the Sig, which was beneath the flap of a pocket in my cargo pants. My draw time would be slow, making the move risky, not to mention that Bill was using Walton as a human shield. Ox was quick enough to drop Bill with a thrown knife, if he could get a clear line of sight.
Something crashed inside the trailer and spirals of fire began to dart through a hole in the roof. Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Wh-wh-who are you?” Walton asked Bill. “Who is he, Lolly?”
“He’s our chauffeur, darling,” Lolly answered through a sinister smile.
“He’s going with us?” a naïve Walton asked Lolly. Everyone ignored him.
“I said, uncuff them, Jersey. Do it now!” Bill demanded.
I patted my pockets and threw a sincere look his way. “I can’t, I don’t have the key. I think I dropped it when I was getting Jared out of the bedroom … the fire and all …”
Hissing flames completely engulfed the trailer and the resonance of multiple sirens drew closer. Clumps of neighbors gathered to watch the show and their silhouettes were highlighted by the fire’s glow. I spotted Bill’s silver pickup truck parked behind Walton’s Mustang.
Bill snorted with disgust as he made a decision. “Get in the truck, Lolly. I’ve got bolt cutters; we’ll get you apart once we get out of here. Hurry up, doll.” He kept his weapon aimed loosely at a spot between me and Ox.
Cuffed together, Lolly and Walton ran awkwardly toward the truck. Lolly almost fell when Walton stopped suddenly to turn. “My luggage!” he yelled.
“Forget your luggage!” Bill said.
“I need my laptop!”
“I’ve already got your laptop,” Bill yelled. “Shut up and get in the truck!”
Before tossing the firebomb, Bill had taken time to get Walton’s computer out of the Mustang, but not Walton’s luggage? And he’d referred to Lolly as “doll”? He was obviously Lolly’s lover and the pair of them had no intention of taking Walton anywhere. The virus had activated, they had his computer, and Lolly would have made sure she knew how to access the account on the receiving end of the stolen Social Security transfers.
Bill’s pickup truck started rolling as soon as the three of them were inside it. Ox and I threw ourselves at the ground when a barrel appeared through the truck’s rear window. An explosive burst of bullets pinged off the front of the armored Benz. Bits of gravel stung my face as a few rounds spattered off the pavement by my head. With a squeal of tires, the shooting ceased and the truck roared into the darkness.
“You hit?” Ox called.
“No, you?”
“No.”
We pulled ourselves off the ground and checked for injuries. “He’s not worth the risk of losing focus,” Ox said, knowing the recesses of my mind were harboring what could be an incapacitating dose of realized deceit. “Don’t think about it right now.”
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“Good.”
Bill hadn’t bothered to take our weapons and Ox recovered them while I checked out my car. Miraculously, the tires hadn’t been hit. I made a mental note to buy a set of run flat tires, even if they were ridiculously expensive. I didn’t want to take such a chance again. On the other hand, a retiree shouldn’t need to worry about her tires being shot out. Especially by an ex-boyfriend.
A piece of the Mercedes’ star hood ornament, dangling gracelessly over the front grille, caught my eye. The rest of it had been blasted off. “Oh, man! This really bites.”
“What?” Ox said.
“He shot off my hood ornament.”
“Add it to Chesterfield’s tab.”
A fire truck and an ambulance slid to a stop. The cops would arrive shortly after and I didn’t want to get held up with questions. Reading my mind, Ox retri
eved Jared’s nearly lifeless body from the backseat, slung him over a shoulder, and we ran to the ambulance. Paramedics had a stretcher out in preparation, and Ox deposited the kid on it before running back to the Benz and slipping behind the wheel.
“The kid needs a hospital, quick,” I told the paramedics. “He’s had a drug overdose.”
“Which drug? Who is he?”
I told them I didn’t know the answer to either question. Ox pulled up in my car with the passenger door already open.
“Anybody in the house?” a firefighter called.
“No, it’s all clear!” I yelled and jumped in. We peeled out, leaving a burning trailer, a growing assortment of flashing lights, and much general confusion behind.
Ox passed over my Glock.
“Thanks,” I said.
“My pleasure.”
Bill’s first mistake was in not realizing that Lolly was a psychopath who could kill him just as easily as she’d murdered Flowers and Chesterfield’s secretary, not to mention her own sister. His second mistake was in not realizing my car was armored. He thought he had disabled it when he peppered the front end with bullets as the pickup truck sped away.
I removed the CAR-16 from its compartment in the backseat and readied it, just in case. “We are retired, right?”
Even though we moved at nearly one hundred miles an hour, my Benz hugged the road and Ox handled it like a pro. “That’s a matter of perspective.”
“True,” I agreed.
One of the best parts about doing what I do is delivering the good news. I called Chesterfield with a condensed version of events that didn’t include Lolly or Bill. When he realized his son was alive and safe, Samuel Chesterfield was speechless with gratitude.
Two cop cars flew by us in the opposite direction as we headed away from Piney Place in search of the silver pickup truck. We figured Lolly and Bill wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible and decided the airport was a logical place to look. Although they’d gotten a good head start, we caught up with the pickup truck in less than five minutes. We weren’t sure if they were on their way to the airport or if we’d just gotten lucky but either way, we wouldn’t lose them a second time.
T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 01 - Southern Fatality Page 23