Ace parked three spaces away, jumped from the driver’s seat and quickly ran through the rain to Kandie’s car and got into the front passenger’s seat.
“Oh, Ace, I’m sorry!” she said. “There was nothing I could do. What happened? How’d he know all about us? How’d he know about Hank and Melvin!”
“Richey told him, I’m sure. Listen, it’s just a temporary setback. You did what you could. No problems.”
She suddenly became aware of his disguise. “Why are you dressed like a security guard, Ace?”
“It’s too complicated to explain right now, Kandie. We gotta hurry here.” Wearing black leather gloves, as he had most of the day, Ace took Hank’s gun from the holster. “This is Hank’s gun which I took from him that night. I want you to take it. For protection.”
“I’m afraid of guns, Ace.” Indeed, Kandie’s whole body seemed to quiver with fear. She audibly sucked in each breath as if oxygen was in short supply in the atmosphere. “Why would anyone want to hurt me? I ain’t done nothin’.”
“The world is full of bad people, baby.” He injected a shell into the barrel of the Glock. Then, he reached over and took Kandie’s right arm by the wrist. “I’ll show you how to use it. To load it and unload it and even fire it if you need to. Grab the handle. That’s right. Point it up at the ceiling. Put your finger lightly on the trigger. Lightly, just to get the feel. See?” Ace’s large hand covered her hand and he put his forefinger on top of her trigger finger. She turned her head to look directly into his eyes. Ace pushed the barrel of the gun under her chin and pressed down on her finger.
The bullet exploded through the top of her head, splattering the ceiling with bone, brains and blood. As her head jerked backward, Ace open his hand and the gun fell. It hit her right leg and bounced onto the floor. It landed near the accelerator pedal.
Ace looked at the scene and said, “Perfect.” He wiped some of her blood from his face. Kandie's head had lodged between the headrest and the doorframe. He looked closely at her face. Her eyes were open and she looked horrified, surprised and confused all at the same time. He had a brief twang of conscience. It was like killing his mother again, although his mother actually had died in her bed, with her attentive daughters present, while Ace languished in a jail cell in Michigan. He’d abused or killed his mother’s surrogates on several occasions and it was always fulfilling. Kandie’s kids would undoubtedly wind up back in the Missouri hills being raised by their grandparents. Lloyd would have to learn to fend for himself, like Ace did. Maybe the kids would turn out for the better. Kandie had been a terrible mother and role model.
In fact, Ace didn’t think he was doing badly, despite the setback. He still had a chance to become a millionaire before the day was over. As an old gambler in prison told him, the only thing better than playing and winning was playing. Now, he didn’t have to worry about Kandie telling the police anything. He didn’t need the gun. He had better weapons.
As Ace got back into the Chevy, Country asked, “I heard a gunshot, Ace! What happened?”
“Kandie committed suicide,” Ace said, gunning the car toward the street and the interstate on-ramp.
“Why’d she do that, Ace?”
“Some people just get tired of living, Country. They ain’t tough enough to do what’s gotta be done. You tough enough, Country? ’Cause if you ain’t planning on using that shotgun when you need to, someone will shoot you down in the parking garage.”
“I’m gonna do what you tell me, Ace,” Country said, for once impressed enough with the gravity of the situation to forget about fast food.
Ace once again assessed all developments to date, since he arrived in town. He couldn’t rehearse his interrogation speech too often, if the cops got hold of him. Yeah, he’d killed the two robbers at The Wheel, but he'd claim that was self-defense. As for Hank and Melvin, yeah, he was a suspect, but nearly all the witnesses were dead and the last one sitting across from him soon would be. Actually, Country’s fingerprints, not Ace's, were inside the Firebird. Although it might be a stretch, Kandie’s suicide with Hank’s gun might be considered her final atonement for helping Country kill him and Melvin. Ace could deny any knowledge of the killings; at the worse, he would plead to disposing of the bodies after Country killed the two men.
However tenuously, he had connected a thread from Marshon through Jemmy Shoemaker to the kidnapping of Cathy Kennedy. Richey had harbored Marshon and conducted the ransom negotiations. If everything went wrong, the most consistent and accomplished liar still had a chance of escaping the harshest consequences. Ace was prepared to spend seventy-two continuous hours trapped in a small room with a revolving squad of detectives trying to break him down. They’d give him coffee, maybe sandwiches, and always be respectful of his many legal rights.
However, Ace preferred the most positive outcome, which was that he acquired the ransom money and killed Richey and Marshon in the process, and then successfully escaped. He might even let the women go, in that scenario. Cops like to wrap things up. They might be satisfied to declare a victory at the point, saying they had rescued the women and up to four of the kidnappers were dead. Although one remaining kidnapper apparently had the ransom money, he undoubtedly had fled their jurisdiction. Someone else’s problem.
In retrospect, Ace acknowledged that he shouldn’t have dumped his load of DNA into Cathy Kenney’s vaginal cavity, but she and her husband might be inclined to not even mention that. She had a reputation and social position to maintain. If worse came to worse, Ace could allege that Cathy was in on the whole kidnapping plot. She and Ace were lovers planning to take the ransom and flee to Costa Rica. They’d been introduced by a Belton employee, Maggie Iscaria. Most people found it hard to disbelieve every aspect of a really big lie. Hitler understood that perfectly. It was relatively easy to establish reasonable doubt.
Ace drove downtown and exited onto Main Street about a mile or two from the parking garage across from The Shops. He saw a do-it-yourself car wash off to the right and immediately turned in there and parked in an empty stall. It was perfect. Directly behind the car, about twenty feet away, was the back of a building. In front of the stall was a metal fence iced over from the freezing rain.
Ace reached into the back seat and grabbed the sawed off shotgun. He crammed the barrel between his seat and the console.
He said to Country, “Let’s get out.”
“We gonna wash the car, Ace?”
“No.” Ace walked to the front of the stall and fished around in a trash container until he found a newspaper. He returned to the driver’s side and opened the car door. He arranged the newspaper around the stock of the shotgun so no one could see it through the front windows.
Then, he opened the back door on his side. “Open your back door, Country. See the child lock? The silver switch like this one.” Ace pointed to his open door. “Push it. That’s right. Now, leave the door open. Come around to the trunk.”
Ace walked to the back of the Caprice. He’d already flipped the inside latch and the lid had popped open a few inches. “Okay, I’m gonna open this trunk and you pick up the woman nearest the back and put her behind the driver’s seat. Be fast! Nobody can see us. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, Ace!”
“Then, I’ll bring out the second woman and stick her in the back seat, too. Then, we slam the doors. You drive then. Okay?”
It took less than ten seconds for the exchange to transpire. For once, the dummy did an exceptional job without asking questions.
Ace considered the other body in the trunk. Probably a salesman. When they found him and his abandoned car in the downtown parking garage, it might look like a robbery. Of course, Country’s fingerprints and the fingerprints of the women would be found in the car, but that would only be one more confusing issue in a day of complex events. The cops might even conclude that the salesman was initially in on the kidnapping. Ace knew it wasn’t a perfect plan, but no evolving plan of battle is perfect. Otherwise, it would be a p
erfect world.
“You drive, Country,” Ace said, getting into the passenger’s seat and turning sideways to look into the backseat. The Kennedy woman was behind the driver’s seat and seemed shell-shocked, so he addressed his remarks to the remarkably bright-eyed and attentive Carmen Salazar.
∞ ∞ ∞
After Ace threw Carmen and Cathy Kennedy into the trunk of the car at the hotel, the women had drastically different reactions. As a result of her abduction, the murder of her maid, and a brutal rape, Cathy had slipped into a catatonic state. She was aware of her surroundings and people moving, and of being moved, but the context wasn’t clear.
Carmen also panicked when the trunk lid closed. She experienced claustrophobia and screamed into her gag, although only a slight sound was audible. Carmen began to hyperventilate and tried desperately to control her breathing and her heart rate. About the time she was able to regain some control, she began aware of the other body in the trunk. The panic returned. She hadn’t seen him as she flew into the trunk. Carmen wound up wedged between Cathy and the man. There wasn’t enough room to change her position. Was he another captive? Another accomplice? She initially feared he’d assault her, but the man never moved and she came to the conclusion that he was unconscious or dead. It made no sense to her at the time, but then all logic had abandoned her nearly twenty-four hours ago.
Carmen became acutely aware of many smells in the confines of the trunk: semen, urine from her wetting herself, blood and shit. It was freezing in the trunk and she could hear the sound of water and ice thrown up from the pavement against the bottom of the moving car.
Carmen again struggled for control. She closed her eyes, even though it was pitch black in the trunk. It somehow lessened the feeling of claustrophobia, and also allowed her to stay within her head and conduct a pep talk. If she fainted or became irrational like Cathy, she couldn’t help herself. If she didn’t help herself, who would? Carmen knew Richey was searching for her, but he might not find them. She had to rely upon herself.
Carmen finally was able to breathe in a regular fashion and opened her eyes, hoping they’d adjust to the darkness and that she could see something. She began feeling around as much as possible for a sharp object to cut the rope binding her arms — or serve as a weapon.
Days, months and even years later, when she relived this day, Carmen would always wonder why Ace had secured their hands in front of them; hers with rope, Cathy’s with handcuffs. There was about four inches of rope between Carmen’s wrists. Had they tied their hands behind them, everything would have turned out differently. She’d likely be dead. Later, Carmen developed several theories, all of which were disturbing, since all of them had to do with rape. With her hands tied in front, she could still support herself on her hands and knees while they abused her from the rear. She could still grab hold of Ace’s penis when he demanded oral sex. They could tie her hands to a rafter, or the headboard of a bed, and then use her day and night.
But, Carmen could also reach her gag and remove it. She did the same for Cathy, who lay on her side, with one leg over Carmen’s leg.
“I’m Carmen Salazar,” she said, aware of how ridiculous introductions might seem at this moment. “He kidnapped me, too.”
“Why?”
“Money, I guess.”
“Who’s the man in here with us?”
“I don’t know. He’s either unconscious or dead. Maybe the car is his.”
“I smell blood,” Cathy replied.
“I know.”
About the time Carmen concluded that Cathy might have been faking her catatonic state, Cathy vomited. Carmen tried to jerk back her head since they were lying nearly face to face, but there wasn’t room. The feel and smell of the vomit on her cheek and neck almost induced her to do the same. Once again, she retreated into her head.
The mind has its own adaptation techniques, developed over tens of thousands of years. Such techniques arose to help humans deal with unimaginable horrors: staring down the barrel of a gun, digging their own grave, standing in a line leading to the crematorium, watching an animal eat one’s child. And, perhaps, even worse things.
Carmen thought of her painting, which she would call The Circles of Life. It seemed appropriate. The planets were circular, as were their orbits, although the big bang trajectory seemed linear. However, was it a straight line within a round universe? If the universe was infinite and didn’t end, wouldn’t it be shapeless? Or, as some physicists postulated, was it a multiverse of circular universes touching each other? Like big bubbles. Like her painting.
Carmen thought like that for some time until the ridiculousness of it started to creep into her mind. Then, she heard a familiar sound. It was the sound she'd heard at the gun range the day she and Richey had shot targets and bought their handguns. What she would give now for that gun, the next time Ace opened the trunk lid.
Then the car was again on the road, traveling at high speed.
“You got anything sharp on you,” she whispered to Cathy.
“No.”
“What about your belt?”
“I’m not wearing a belt.”
Then, Carmen had another idea. Her high heel shoes. She could use the heel as a weapon, thrusting it into Ace’s eye. Then, she might be able to run. If so, no one would catch her. She’d run faster than Usain Bolt!
The only problem was that she couldn’t reach her shoe. There was no more room on the floor of the trunk, and only a few inches of space above them. And, Carmen couldn’t bend her knee far enough to grab a shoe.
“Can you pull up your knees and feet?” she asked Cathy. “Somehow reach your shoe?”
“I’ll try,” she said.
Cathy could only get move her right knee so high and it wasn’t enough for either her or Carmen to reach her shoe.
Then, the car stopped and Carmen got ready to punch and bite, but Ace manhandled her so easily that within seconds she was in the backseat of the car. She was mightily relieved, even optimistic. She was still alive and had one more chance.
∞ ∞ ∞
“We ain’t got a lot of time, Carmen, so listen carefully because I’m only going to say this only once.” Ace pulled a knife from his boot holster, got on his knees in the passenger’s seat, and leaned over the seat. He waved the knife in front of the women with his left hand. “Either one of you yells, I cut you. You continue to yell, I’ll kill you. Keep your mouths shut and we’ll give you back to Richey and your husband in only a few minutes. Trade you for cash. Understand? Nothing will go wrong unless you make it go wrong. Now, clean up a bit. You both look like shit. Do something about your mascara. Country put your purses on the back floor. Use a comb. Put on some powder or eyeliner. Whatever. Carmen, you do Cathy’s face and hair and then yours. Hurry!”
Ace figured that if they looked really used and abused, Richey and Marshon might become enraged and start shooting. If the kidnapped women looked halfway presentable, the two men might relax for a moment, which would be all the time Ace would need to kill them both with his throwing knives. At least, that’s how Ace thought.
“Where we goin’ now, Ace?” Country asked.
“Into a parking lot across from the mall ahead. I’ll tell you when to turn.”
Ace had only a few minutes to think about the upcoming exchange. It had to be a typical parking garage. Many cars. Large, round concrete pillars that would provide cover. A stairwell somewhere, probably near the front of the garage, maybe in the middle. Marshon probably would set up a crossfire. Ace didn’t have a gun, nor did he feel he needed one. He had four throwing knives: two in the holster between his shoulder blades, and one in each boot holster. He was deadly accurate up to forty feet. His enemies might be reluctant to shoot an unarmed man. He only needed to buy the time to get into position; it should be only about five seconds. Ace was supremely confident he’d prevail.
Carmen looked at the backseat floor and was stupefied to see the two purses. Why? So they could use her cash and credit ca
rds later? The baby blue gun case was visible in her purse. As instructed, she bent over, picked up Cathy’s purse, and put it on her fellow victim’s lap. It was the easiest angle for Ace to see into the backseat, since he’d sat back down. Carmen sat directly behind Ace. She leaned over and pulled out the blue case, but left it on the floor. She covered it with her foot. Carmen put her purse onto the seat between her and Cathy.
Cathy Kennedy again seemed emotionally incapacitated. She had begun to whisper to herself and performed a ritual with her fingers as if she were trying to tie them into knots. Ace had shredded her camisole during the rape and ripped most of the buttons off her jacket. Carmen tried to overlap the lapels and tuck the jacket behind her waistband. She had no reason to do that, other than Ace’s orders, and a sense of propriety.
Carmen took a compact out of Cathy’s purse, opened it and used the powder applicator on her companion’s face, mainly to cover the eye-makeup smudges caused by tears. She handed Cathy a lip-gloss tube and said, for Ace’s benefit, “Here, Cathy, put on the gloss using your compact mirror.” She asked herself: Why does he care how we look?
Ace turned his head to look as Cathy did as instructed, while Carmen ran a brush through her hair.
“Turn here,” Ace told Country. Then, he turned and looked at the two women. Carmen was busy putting on lipstick. He said, “Country’s going to roll down the window now and take a ticket from the machine. You two may think this is a good time to scream and wave at the lady in the booth. If either of you do that, I’ll slash your throat before the sound can even get out of your mouths. I got nothing to lose now. Keep that in mind.”
He kept his left arm holding the knife dangling over the seat as they approached the machine. Carmen could see a woman in a glass-enclosed booth about eight feet away. She had her back to them as she collected payment from a driver exiting the garage. Carmen agreed with Ace that now wasn’t the time. She wasn’t quite ready.
The Money Game Page 45