Marie leaned forward, banging her hands futilely against the metal grate. “Keller!” she shouted. “Get on the radio! You’ve got to warn them!”
“I’m kind of busy right now,” Keller muttered, but he picked up the handset and keyed the mike. “All units,” he barked, “Heads up, you’ve got a man behind that black pickup with an automatic weapon, repeat, an automatic weapon. Two officers and an accomplice are down.” He released the mike button.
The reply came back immediately. “Who is this? Who’s on this channel? Get off immediate--” the voice was cut of in a scream as Raymond opened fire. The windshield of the lead car blew in and it slewed crazily across the street into their lane. Keller spun the wheel to avoid the out-of-control police car as he jammed the accelerator to the floorboard. The patrol car rocketed away.
The pain in Raymond’s side cut through the fog of the pills like a laser, pulsing bright red and clear. He could feel the lower part of his shirt stuck to his skin with blood. The foul smell of the wound let him know that there were other, less wholesome fluids leaking from him as well. The pain filled his awareness, taking over his mind until he had no more rational mind than a wounded bull in a ring. The howl of the sirens as the first patrol car pulled up pricked at him like the picador’s spear. He raised the machine gun to his shoulder and fired. The recoil of the gun jarred him and he almost screamed with the renewed pain. But the agony was replaced with a feeling of exultation filling him as the siren abruptly cut off and the police cruiser slammed into the curb. The following cars also slammed on brakes and went sideways. Raymond dimly registered the sound of Geronimo screaming in agony. He walked over behind the pickup and looked down.
Geronimo’s shattered body lay in the street. One leg was bent at a bizarre angle. The other showed a splintered stub of bone protruding through the blood-soaked pants leg. Geronimo stopped screaming long enough to look at Raymond. His breath came in long, bubbling moans.
“Get me up, man,” he rasped. “Get me outta here.”
“I cain’t carry you,” Raymond said. “An’ you know where I live. I cain’t let the cops ask you questions.” Geronimo’s eyes widened as Raymond raised the gun. Then those eyes disappeared in a red cloud beneath the hammer of bullets.
He stepped over the body. “It don’t matter anyway,” he said to the still figure. “It all ends today.” He waded through the blood and shattered glass in the street and got into the truck. He saw the sheriff’s car getting away and gritted his teeth in frustration. He punched the gas and took off after them.
“Man,” DeWayne whined as he sat up awkwardly in the back seat. “What the fuck’d you hit me for?”
“Shut up, DeWayne,” Keller and Marie said at the same time. DeWayne muttered something and slipped down lower in the seat. The radio crackled with shouted questions and orders.
“Sounds like a real cluster-fuck back there,” Keller observed.
“Where are you going?” Marie asked him.
“Damned if I know,” he said. “Any ideas?”
They were approaching an intersection. The traffic was growing heavier. “Yeah,” Marie said. “Back to the police station.”
“That didn’t work out too well for me last time, Marie,” he said.
“You saved my life back there, Keller,” she said. “I’ll tell them. That ought to count for something.”
He wheeled around a VW putt-putting along in the right lane. The driver of the Bug gaped at the spectacle of the shot-up car as they passed. “Yeah, maybe I’ll only get ten years for trying to escape instead of twenty.”
“I saw what was going on, Keller. It’s why I stopped.”
“Then you probably saved my life, too.” Horns blared and brakes squealed as he made a right turn on a red light without looking. “Guess we’re even.”
“JACKSON KELLER,” a voice boomed over the radio. It sounded as if the person broadcasting had cranked on all the power in the world. “COME IN. I KNOW YOU’RE LISTENING.”
“Damn it,” Keller said. He made no move to pick up the mike.
“KELLER. THIS IS DETECTIVE BARNES. DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.”
“Keller picked up the mike and keyed it. “Little late for that, Barnes.”
“WE FOUND JONES’ CAR SHOT UP. IS SHE WITH YOU?”
Keller put the mike up to the metal grating and pressed the key.
“I’m fine, Detective,” Marie said. “Mister Keller got me out of there. You get the shooter?”
“NEGATIVE. HE LEFT THE SCENE IN THE BLACK PICKUP. OFFICERS ARE IN PURSUIT.”
“He’s behind us,” Keller said into the mike.
Marie whirled around. The black pickup was looming in the back window. She could see Raymond Oxendine behind the wheel.
“Oh, shit,” she heard DeWayne say. She turned back.
There was a stoplight ahead, cars filling both travel lanes. Their way was totally blocked. Keller muscled the patrol car up on the grass median that ran down the center of the boulevard. Dirt flew from beneath the wheels as the car bucked and shuddered on the uneven ground. Again, horns blared and brakes screeched as Keller accelerated into the center of the intersection. An SUV turning left across their path slid to a stop. A terrified child pressed her white face to the glass of the passenger side. Keller yanked the wheel to the right. They cleared the front bumper of the vehicle by inches.
“God damn!” DeWayne whooped. “That was fuckin’ intense!”
“Is he still back there?” Keller demanded.
Marie turned. The black pickup followed doggedly in their path into the grass median and through the intersection. The driver of the SUV was still attempting to get through the intersection. The pickup struck it in the right front side and spun the vehicle around. It came to rest sideways, blocking the median.
“He’s still back there,” she said. “And I think we’ve lost our backup.” She could see the flashing of the patrol cars’ lights behind the snarl of traffic in the intersection.
“This day just gets better and better,” Keller muttered. He picked up the mike. “Barnes,” he said, “we’re headed south on 301 towards I-95. Raymond Oxendine is still following us, and your pursuit just got tied up in an accident in the intersection.”
“KELLER,” Barnes said. “TURN THE CAR AROUND AND COME BACK THIS WAY.”
“Forget it,” Keller replied. “You people are just as likely to shoot me as Oxendine.”
“THAT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, KELLER. YOUR GIRLFRIEND TURNED UP A WITNESS.”
“Girlfriend?” Marie said.
Keller grimaced. “Not exactly.”
“THE WITNESS BACKS UP YOUR STORY,” Barnes went on. “HE EVEN TURNED OVER THE GUN THAT WAS POINTED AT YOU.”
“Did you hear that, Jack?” Marie said. “You’re cleared. Now turn around. If that guy follows us--”
“Barnes could be lying,” Keller said. He keyed the mike. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, Barnes?”
There was a long pause. Then Barnes’ voice crackled back. “THE WITNESS IS A HISPANIC MALE, WITH A HEAVY ACCENT. THAT RING ANY BELLS?”
Keller remembered the touch of the gun on the back of his neck and a soft Spanish voice: I am a man with a bag of money and a gun. Soon I will have a big truck. Is that not the American dream?
“Hang on,” Keller told DeWayne and Marie. He took his foot off the gas pedal and placed it over the emergency brake while reaching beneath the dash with one hand for the brake release. He yanked the wheel a quarter turn to the left while stomping down as hard as he could on the emergency brake. The tires screamed in protest as the car went into a slide. When the car had skidded a full 180 degrees, Keller yanked the brake release and stepped hard on the gas. The car shot forward, across the grass median and into the northbound two lanes of traffic.
Raymond saw the sheriff’s car slow down slightly, then execute a perfect bootlegger turn. He picked up the submachine gun in one hand and laid it across the window frame, hoping to get off a shot as the car wen
t past. He couldn’t get a decent angle, however, and he cursed as the car vanished behind him. He knew that to follow it was to head right back into a wall of police guns. He had resigned himself to the idea of dying, but he wasn’t going to throw his life away. He needed to get rid of this pickup truck. He was nearing the area where he and Geronimo were supposed to have met Antonio and Jesus, ditched the stolen cars, and switched vehicles. He hoped the other two gunmen were still there.
They were. Raymond found them leaning against the black Suburban behind an abandoned warehouse near the Black & Decker plant. Their eyes widened as Raymond slid drunkenly from the driver’s side of the pickup.
“Donde está Guillermo?” one of them asked. Raymond thought it was Antonio, but he wasn’t sure.
“Muerte,” Raymond said, hoping he had gotten the word right.
The two men looked at each other uneasily. “What happen?” Antonio asked.
Raymond looked at him. “I thought you didn’t speak no English,” he said.
The man shrugged. “A little. When I need. What happen to Guillermo?”
“Keller,” Raymond said. “Keller ran into him with a car.” He brought his hands together in a sharp clap to demonstrate. “Pow. Muerte.”
Antonio’s face darkened. “Don Paco, he not like this.”
“I reckon not. We got a score to even with this Keller.”
Antonio nodded. He said something in rapid-fire Spanish to the other man. They both nodded. Antonio turned back to Raymond. “What you want us to do?”
“First we get out of here,” Raymond said. “I’ll tell you what to do in the car.” He staggered a bit as he approached the car. Raymond saw the looks on their faces as they noticed the blood on his shirt and the smell of the infected wound. “You need a doctor, man,” Antonio said.
“It don’t matter,” Raymond said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Do I understand this correctly?” Judge Tharrington said. “The District Attorney’s office is dismissing all charges against Mr. Keller?”
“That’s correct, Your Honor,” the assistant DA said. She was young, just out of law school, and clearly had been designated to catch the flak on this one. She stood alone at the prosecutor’s table nervously brushing a strand of blonde hair away from her forehead. Detectives Barnes and Stacy sat behind her in the spectator’s seats. Barnes was looking away as if this case was of no concern to him. Stacy had his arms crossed across his chest. He was staring at the floor.
The ADA went on. “Evidence has come to light which substantiates Mr. Keller’s claim of self-defense in the shooting of John Lee Oxendine.”
Tharrington looked at Keller, standing beside McCaskill at the defendant’s table. Marie Jones sat with them. Angela and Sanchez sat behind.
Keller had come straight from the roadblock where he had given himself up to the police. There were still spots of blood amid the grime on his face and clothing. A few pieces of broken glass still glittered in his hair. At least this time I’m not in cuffs, he thought.
“There is also the matter of the assault on Officer Wesson,” Tharrington said, “There’s the matter of his flight to avoid prosecution. And, if I understand correctly, Mister Keller was just involved in the theft of a sheriff’s patrol car.”
Marie Jones stepped forward. She had been able to stick a Band-Aid on her forehead where she had been cut by flying glass. She looked almost as disheveled as Keller. She smelled of sweat and cordite. Tharrington looked at her with an expression of distaste at her appearance. He clearly did not approve of these apparitions disturbing the decorum of his courtroom. She looked back, clearly not giving a damn.
“Your Honor,” she said. “Mister Keller was attacked while being transported over here. There was an obvious attempt on his life by the same subjects responsible for the earlier incident. When I attempted to intervene, the subjects opened fire on me. If Mr. Keller had not acted, I’d probably be dead. As for the prior charges involving Officer Wesson,” she paused and glanced back at Barnes and Stacy. They wouldn’t meet her eyes. She looked back at the judge and straightened her shoulders. “I was Officer Wesson’s partner. I was there. Mister Keller didn’t assault Officer Wesson. It was the other way around.”
“Bitch.” Stacy’s voice cut through the quiet of the courtroom. He was staring at Marie with an expression of pure hatred on his face.
“Detective Stacy!” the judge snapped, his face reddening with anger. ”If you can’t control your outbursts--.” Stacy didn’t give him a chance to finish. He stood up and walked out.
Tharrington shuffled through the papers on the bench in front of him. Finally he sighed. “Very well,” he said. “If the District Attorney’s office declines to prosecute, I suppose I have to accept that they know what they’re doing, even though,” he looked severely at the blonde ADA, “I have severe concerns about this case. The charges are dismissed. You‘re free to go, Mr. Keller.”
“And,” McCaskill said, “He may have his vehicle and tools of his trade returned to him?”
The judge looked as if he were about to choke. “Yes,” he said. ”Of course.”
“Thank you, your honor,” McCaskill said smoothly. He turned and shook Keller’s hand.
“Thanks, Scott,” Keller said.
“Thank your friends,” McCaskill said. “They came through for you.”
Keller turned. Angela was standing there. She came into his arms and embraced him, squeezing tightly. He put his own arms around her more gently. She broke away and stepped back.
“Thanks,” Keller said. He looked up at Sanchez who was standing a few feet away, looking uncomfortable. “And thank you, Mr. Sanchez.”
Sanchez inclined his head in a slight bow. “Sorry about the gun,” he said. “It was a mistake for me to go with those men.” He sighed. “This revenge business. Once you start, it never ends.”
“You got that right,” Keller said.” Sometimes it takes a while to figure things out.” He extended his hand and Sanchez took it.
Keller turned to Angela. “You need a ride back to the office?”
“No,” she said, and actually blushed. “Mister Sanchez and I are going out for coffee.”
Keller looked back at Sanchez. “Oh?” he said. Sanchez was looking ill at ease again. Then Keller grinned. “Well, if you’re taking a day off,” he aid to Angela, “I suppose I might as well, too.”
Angela smiled back. “I think we’ve both got some vacation time coming,” she said.
Keller looked around for Marie. He saw her going out the door. “Excuse me,” he said to Angela and Sanchez.
He caught up with her in the hallway. “Thanks again,” he said. “It took guts to say what you did about Wesson.”
“Yeah. Well.” she said. Her shoulders slumped. “ I just blackened the name of a dead hero. I guess this means my career in this department is pretty well fucked.”
“Probably,” he said.
She looked at him sourly. “You’re not much for being comforting, are you?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been learning that it’s best to play straight with people,” he said. “At least I hope I’m learning that.”
She smiled. “I hope so, too.” They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Keller broke the silence. “You need a ride home.”
“No, I’ve got my..” she remembered. “Shit. My car.”
“That’s what I mean. You need a ride home. It wasn’t a question.”
“Okay,” she said. She looked ruefully down at her ruined clothes. “I could really use a shower.”
“Yeah,” he said, “me too.”
“You want to use mine?”
“Sure,” he said.
It was almost 10:00 PM when they got back to Wilmington. Coffee had turned into a long afternoon of conversation, which had turned into dinner. Sanchez had been embarrassed when Angela had offered to pay, but had eventually acquiesced after promising to pay her back when he found work.
The pulled up in front o
f the H & H office, behind the big brown pickup that Sanchez had taken from Raymond Oxendine. “I suppose I should turn it in to the police,” Sanchez said, “but I need transportation to find a job.”
“I understand that,” she said, “but if you get stopped by the police--”
“Si, I know,” he said. He looked at her. “Thank you for the dinner,” he said. “And the company.”
“Thank you, Oscar,” she said. “It was nice. It’s nice to find a man who doesn’t...”
“What?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Who doesn’t treat me like I’m some sort of breakable porcelain doll.”
“That man, your husband,” Sanchez said. “He tried to break you. If what he did did not do it, then no, you are not breakable by anything I could do.” He looked at her for a moment, then looked away.
"What?" she said.
He smiled. "It is nothing," he said. There was a brief silence between them before he spoke again. "I would like to see you again."
"Oscar," she said. "I--" she hesitated. "I'm not sure that--that would be a good idea."
He turned to her. "Why?"
The simplicity of the question stopped her in her tracks. He held her gaze, his brown eyes calm. Finally, she laughed softly.
"Okay," she said. "I can't really answer that, except to warn you, I'm not the easiest person in the world to deal with."
He shrugged. "It is a chance I will take."
She thought back to Keller's words. I've been going through my life so far taking stupid risks, he had said. This time, I'm taking a risk on something important.
"Okay," she said again. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Well, you can't say you haven't been warned." He turned and put his hand on hers.
“Well, ain’t this nice,” a voice said. The passenger door was yanked open. Raymond Oxendine was standing there, a pistol pointed at Sanchez. The other door was yanked open to reveal a dark-haired man. He held a stubby machine gun pointed at Angela. She looked around in panic as the man grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her out of her car. There was a Chevy Suburban parked behind her with another Hispanic man at the wheel.
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