“I’d hate for us to have to fight off these coyotes, Frank. What say you meet me in the middle so we can talk?”
After a few seconds, Frank walked slowly to the side of the metal building. “Coyotes don’t attack people. You ought to know that, Detective Lightfoot.”
“I’m headed your way. No gun.” Lightfoot lifted his hands in the air.
I prayed he was lying.
The two men drew within ten feet of each other. “Aren’t you tired of running, Frank?”
Fillmore turned his head left and then right as if he suspected a trap. “You ever lost someone you loved?”
“Sure.” I could just make out Lightfoot’s deep voice.
“Then you get why I had to rid the earth of Lucky Straw.” He laughed, a sound like a squeaky gate.
“I’m trying, Frank. Help me understand.”
“Who found the stun gun in the chili? Was it you?”
“No, but that was clever.”
“Darn right it was. Thing is, you still don’t know what killed him.”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Lightfoot slowly lowered his hands a few inches. “You wouldn’t be hiding any hacking abilities, would you?”
Fillmore clapped his hands. “Very good, Detective. Here’s the thing. I’m a talented guy . . . one of those indispensable IT guys who’s never supposed to be without a job.” He spread his arms wide. “Yet here I am without work, four years after Lucky Straw fired me.”
A coyote howled, Frank’s head whipped toward the sound, and Lightfoot took two steps closer.
“What’s the story with the blow to the head? Was that to throw us further off the scent?”
Frank’s unhinged laugh cut through the stillness. “All I had to do was hack into the manufacturer’s files for the know-how and Lucky’s medical records for the codes.”
“You programmed an interruption.”
I could see Frank nod and smile. “Very, very good, Detective. The sad thing is Lucky never knew it was me.”
“Not even when you whacked him in the head with his own skillet?” Lightfoot stepped closer.
“That’s far enough.” Fillmore stepped back, wide grin on his face. “In fact, I think I’ll be going.”
Off to my right, an explosion ripped through the night—like the bang of a cherry bomb only a hundred times louder. Lightfoot whirled toward the sound just as Fillmore ran at him, kicked him savagely in the knee, and made a mad dash through the brush. Lightfoot toppled to the ground.
Chapter 21
Night Moves
I had the door of the SUV open before you could say hospital emergency room. I hurried over to Lightfoot, keeping one eye out for Fillmore and another for Lenny. “You okay?” I whispered, keeping my eyes peeled at the place where I’d last seen Frank Fillmore as he disappeared.
“Quiet,” he whispered. His face was set in a grimace, which made his normally passive expression look like a happy face by comparison.
I offered a hand.
With a frown, he reached up, and I pulled until he staggered to his feet like a drunk. “Stay here.” He stumbled a step or two, gritted his teeth, and took off half running, half hobbling, with more than a little hitch in his giddyup. Frank had disappeared into the tall grass on the other side of the Prius, and without hesitation Lightfoot sprang after him.
If I’d have been born a canine, my ears would have pricked. A growl came from my left. My blood ran colder than a mountain stream. I swallowed hard. “Lenny,” I whispered.
Nothing but the sound of the wind blowing the loose metal sheets on the roof of the nearby building.
Lightfoot had run off with the flashlight and his gun. I opened the cruiser door and searched the glove compartment for another flashlight or any light, for that matter. I reached under the seat and found a headlamp. When and where Detective Lightfoot used a headlamp, like a Chilean miner, I hadn’t a clue. But what did it really matter?
I put it on, tightened the band. Now I could see, but I needed a weapon. Nothing was left in the cab that would help me, nor in the glove compartment, except a manual on the cruiser. It had heft, but it wouldn’t hurt a fly even if I could have aimed it with precision.
A growl and a yip, weak, but Lenny, for sure.
I ran to the Prius, and as I did the moon disappeared again behind the clouds, like a shy dancer retreating to the powder room. I turned on the headlamp. Something growled closer, but off to my right. I opened the door of my Prius, searching for a weapon. Unfortunately, all I found was the crate of office supplies I kept handy. There was a stapler, some gum, and a clipboard. MacGyver I’m not, still I grabbed the stapler and the clipboard and hurried to the tall grass on the other side of the cruiser, where the yip had last been heard. Slowly, I approached the tall grass, turning my head this way and that, in order to guide the beam into the grass where a small dog might lay hurt and afraid.
“Lenny.” I raised my voice to just above a whisper.
“Yip.” I heard off in the distance.
“Where are you, little Lenster?” The grass whipped around my boots, the wind blowing through the juniper like so much wheat on the plains. I made a misstep and nearly turned my ankle on a rock. “Ouch,” I cried, and immediately wanted to slap myself for being too loud. I kicked the rock for good measure, and a rattler set his rattles going.
“Yip, yip, yip.” Lenny appeared just beyond the edge of my beam. My dear little friend was trying to protect me.
“No!” I threw the stapler at the snake’s head just as it struck . . . and missed. To my right, I spotted another rock and slammed it down on the pointy head before I could doubt my abilities.
I gave the snake carcass a wide berth and scooped Lenny into my arms, thrusting the clipboard under my arm. “Oh, Lenster, I’m so glad to see you,” I whispered fervently, kissing his tiny head and checking him for bites.
In return, he licked my face and his tiny body shook with joy. I walked slowly back to the cruiser, wondering where Lightfoot and Frank had disappeared to. Should I call it in? Had Lightfoot already called it in with his portable radio? And wouldn’t I have heard it? I found his radio and turned up the volume from its low setting. Lenny continued to shiver as I opened the passenger door and slid inside. I placed his tiny body under my shirt; only his head remained outside, as if I’d given birth to a creature from an alien canine planet. A low growl vibrated from his throat, shaking his body with even greater force, his gaze riveted to the right of the cruiser, beyond what I could see.
“What’s wrong?” I rubbed his ears and scratched under his chin.
A coyote muzzle appeared near the Prius, its owner panting and smiling as if to convince us to lower our guard. My heart leapt nearly out of my chest.
“Grrrr. Yip, yip, yip.” Lenny was no longer frightened. He was downright mad. “Yip, yip. Grrrr.”
Closer, maybe six feet to my right, another coyote appeared. Head low to the ground, taking small steps toward us. Don’t worry about me, he seemed to say from his posture. I wouldn’t hurt you.
Suddenly my brain unfroze and I slammed the cruiser door. The two coyote brothers met in the front of the cruiser as if discussing a second plan of attack. They must really be desperately hungry if they hadn’t run away from a human. I remembered the two coyotes from the parking lot. My gut told me these were the same ones. But were they as friendly as they seemed? I racked my brain for more information on coyotes. Just as I checked my phone for a signal so I could search how to get rid of coyotes, the radio crackled to life.
“Josie.” Lightfoot’s voice, faint and weak, came over the radio.
I grabbed the radio and couldn’t figure out how to answer.
“Yip.”
“You’re right, Lenster. It’s great to hear his voice.” I took a deep breath and tried again. I removed the headlamp and positioned it so that the beam shone on
the radio, but not out the window. After a bit of experimenting, I located the button to talk. “Lightfoot. Where are you?”
“I’m about a hundred yards to your east in the brush.”
“Want me to call for backup?”
“I already did.”
“That’s great. Guess who I found?”
“Be quiet. Fillmore is headed your way. He’s got a knife and a stun gun, and God knows what else.”
“I’m locked in the car.” My gaze darted left and right, trying to remember which way was east. “You said the cavalry is on their way.”
“Look, I don’t know where he is or if he’s coming back. Get down in the floorboard, lock the doors, and make sure you can’t be seen or heard.”
I slid onto the floorboard, taking Lenny with me, forcing him behind my legs. All but my face fit beneath the dash.
“Are you sure the cavalry will be here any minute?”
Silence. “Yes, they’re on their way. No, I think it will take longer than a minute for them to get to you.”
“Oh.” I calmed myself. “Are you all right? How’s your leg?”
“Gotta get off this line. Quiet now. You can do it.”
The line went dead. Do what? I laid my head on the seat. I could just make out the sky and the hills beyond through the driver’s window. If the cavalry—read “two deputies”—was on its way, why wasn’t I hearing any other radio activity? I reached out and turned a knob on the radio, and the thing screeched loud enough to deafen me in that ear for at least until the cows came home. I’d never owned cows, so that wasn’t such a good analogy.
I turned it off, laying my head once again on the seat.
Behind me, Lenny made a little sighing noise and settled himself on top of my legs. I yawned. A sliver of moon slowly crept from behind a cloud, shyly peeking out just the corner of her face. A thought entered my head and bloomed into a fear. Had Frank heard the screeching radio? Had the sound carried beyond the cruiser? Maybe good ole Frank had run for the hills and was hiding out in the low trees.
I yawned again. Not. The. Time. To.
My eyes opened, heavier than if someone had weighed them down with copper pennies. Not the best of images when I was determined to stay alive. I blinked to clear away the sand of sleep. My eyes focused, and every hair on my body rose. There, pressed against the driver’s window, was Frank Fillmore’s face.
I knew the windows were tinted, and thank God it was dark outside. But the previously shy moon was showing not just a sliver of her face but a frighteningly bright half-moon of clear, silvery light. How could Frank not see me and Lenny with all that moonlight and the outside light on the metal building?
His gaze moved back and forth, landing first on the dash and then the headrests of both seats, where he supposed someone might be sitting. For a second he stared straight at me, where I lay, half-crouched, in the floorboard. If I moved farther down he might see me, like that dinosaur and those kids in that Jurassic Park movie. I slowed my breathing and cleared my mind, willing myself to disappear, to blend into the seat cushion so that he could find no trace of my body, mind, or spirit. After endless moments, he moved to the passenger window and again pressed his face to the window, desperately looking for what?
Lenny growled low.
“Shh,” I uttered as lightly as I could, a mere hiss of air escaping from a bicycle tire. “Shh.”
Fillmore straightened. I could no longer see him without sitting up. Slowly, I moved my chin to get a better view out the driver’s window. I could just make him out as he walked away from the cruiser. I raised my head to follow his movements.
“Josie,” Lightfoot whispered in a crackle over the radio.
I inched out my arm and grabbed the radio. “Shh,” I whispered, quiet as breath. “He’s right here.”
“Watch out! He admitted he killed Lucky Straw.” Lightfoot’s voice was faint.
I whispered back, “Why the confession?” Nervous butterflies rumbled in my stomach. “You stay low. He’s crazier than a dog in a hubcap factory.”
“Said he wants to rid the world of evil.”
Slowly, I raised my head a fraction of an inch and peered out the window. “Oh, shoot the moon!” I hissed.
“What?”
“He’s back in the Prius.”
He groaned softly. “You’re going to have to come get me.”
“How? You’ve got the keys.”
“There’s an extra key hidden under the driver’s seat.”
I watched as Frank opened the trunk of the Prius and removed a box of rockets, like the ones I’d seen on his launching platform. He bent over the box and his mouth moved as if he were crooning to his babies.
“It’s not here. Someone must have taken it.” I admit it—when I can’t find something I always blame it on someone else. “Nothing’s here.”
“A small metal box connected to the spring by a magnet.”
I felt around again, finally dropping my head to the floorboard so that my arm could reach farther.
“You got it?”
“No.” I flung my braid out of my eyes, banging the back of my head on the steering wheel. I reached farther though I was seeing spots in front of my eyes. “Yes!” I shouted. Quickly I sat up and unscrewed the box. Inside was the key just as he had promised. “Where are you exactly? I don’t want to run you over.”
“Head east,” Lightfoot said through gritted teeth, his voice filled with pain.
“Which way is that?”
Fillmore continued to run his gaze over the brush and grass, searching for Lightfoot. Or for me. “He’s standing next to the Prius. You think he’s going to let me just drive by?”
There was silence on the other end.
I stuck the key in the ignition, started the engine, and hoped Frank wouldn’t hear me. No lights to warn him of my approach.
With a jerk and a roar of its four-cylinder engine, the Prius started around the metal building, headed for the dirt road and escape.
“One, two, three!” With a gulp, I threw the SUV in gear, stomped the gas, and barreled into the passenger door of my Prius, crushing the rear driver’s side door of my car, miraculously missing Frank Fillmore. I didn’t have time to mourn my beloved car. My brain was rattling in my skull. Miracle or not, I’d aimed and taken Frank Fillmore down.
Frank’s head rocked back and forth against the headrest as the night filled with sirens. The cavalry had arrived. Slowly he opened his door and swung his legs to the ground.
“Yip, yip, yip, yip.” Lenny jumped in my lap, licking my face repeatedly, showing over and over how excited he was to have caught the man who held him hostage.
I laughed and banged the dash until my palms hurt. “We did it, Lenster! We did it.”
Two deputy cruisers squealed in, neatly blocking in the Prius. Deputies Barnes and Pleasant jumped out, guns drawn. “Hold it right there,” Pleasant ordered, eyes narrowed, her stance wide.
Barnes gave her a look of disbelief. “I don’t think he’s fit to walk as far as his toenails.” He aimed at Fillmore. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Lightfoot needs our help.” I pointed to the stand of mesquite trees barely visible in the distance. “He’s out that way, and he’s hurt.”
“Yip,” Lenny said.
Staggering to his feet, Fillmore slowly raised his hands. “What’s going on, Officers?”
“We understand you murdered Lucky Straw.” Pleasant stepped closer, aiming at his heart.
“Shut it, would you?” Barnes glared at his partner.
I could see his point. If they wanted the guy to start monologuing about his crime, they had to give him some rope.
Fillmore shook his head in feigned bewilderment. “Officers, there has been some kind of misunderstanding.”
“I’m going after Lightfoot while you two s
tay with the prisoner.” I placed Lenny in a football hold and ran back to the cruiser. “I’ll be right back.”
“Miss Callahan, you’ve done enough damage.”
Before they could argue, I slid under the wheel, tossing Lenny lightly into the passenger seat. “That is a government-issued vehicle.” Barnes yelled loud enough for me to hear through the bulletproof glass.
“And I’m using it to find a government employee.”
“I’m coming with you,” Barnes said, starting for the driver’s side.
I held out a hand to make him stop. “You really think you should leave only one officer here with this guy?” I gave him a pointed look. Pleasant might botch it and then she might not. Either way, Barnes’s ego wouldn’t let him take the chance.
“Isn’t it going to take another half hour for someone from another county to make it here to go get Lightfoot? What if not only his leg is broken, but he’s been electrocuted by this guy?”
“Stun guns don’t hurt you . . . much.” Barnes frowned, as if trying to puzzle out the truth of what he’d said.
“His will.”
Barnes’s gaze fixated on Fillmore as Barnes slowly stepped farther away from their prisoner. Pleasant shook her head and gave her partner a look of disgust.
Fillmore crossed his arms and widened his stance. “She’s crazy. Don’t believe a word she says. Her head’s all full of estrogen and cotton balls.” He laughed. “Hah! Estrogen-perfumed cotton balls.”
I wanted to smack him, but I knew when to leave well enough alone. I would leave any vengeance to Officer Lightfoot, the Big Bend County Sheriff’s Office, and the Almighty Smiter.
With a salute to Barnes and Pleasant and a wave to the criminal element, I reversed Lightfoot’s SUV into a patch of cactus, adjusted the wheel, and then promptly backed it into a utility pole. I didn’t think I lost much paint since there was only a slight bump and a high-pitched scraping sound. I drove around the Prius and into the scrub and brush until I found a four-by-four trail, which took me back to the good old days in college, when we’d go mudding off-road south of Austin. I hadn’t found a place to go mudding in the high desert, and I doubted I ever would. Finally I turned my high beams on and began to pick my way carefully down the trail. I called Lightfoot on the radio.
Cinco De Murder Page 25