by Jon Mills
“What about Merle?”
“He’s on his own.”
Meghan could hear them walking back and forth. She managed to determine there were three of them. Had they brought her there? What were they going to do to her? She tried to recall the news articles that she’d seen about the Green Bank Five. Had they raped them? How did they die? She could barely breathe. Panic rose in her chest. All she could think about was staying alive, getting back to her kid. That was all that mattered now.
They were loud. One of them started laughing. “Oh God, that cop’s face. I’m surprised he didn’t come after us.”
“And that guy. Fucking guy.”
“Well, we don’t have to think about him now.”
“This weekend, Billy, you’ll head into Green Bank and pick up some food. I’m sure there is enough here for a few days but it’s not going to last. Chances are the streets are going to be crawling with State Police.”
“Why do I have to risk it?”
“Because they are probably looking for me. No one knows you.”
“Of course they do.”
“Just do as I fucking say.”
“Don’t I always?”
A bucket was kicked across the floor.
“Hey! Don’t give me any attitude. Go down and bring some beers up.”
Meghan looked across the room and saw a large fridge in the corner. The door opened at the top of the stairs and light flooded in. The guy was bitching and complaining as he stomped his way down.
“I don’t want to go back to prison, Aaron.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
She watched as his legs came into view, then when the rest of him emerged, he got this wild look in his eyes. “Holy cow! Aaron. Hey, Aaron, you are going to want to see this.”
“What the hell are you on about?”
His boots stopped at the top of the stairs.
“Down here now.”
Protesting all the way, he trudged down. “This better be good.”
As he came into view, he sighed. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I told him — not here. That damn fool never listens.”
“Well at least we can have some fun,” Billy said hopping down off the last step.
Chapter 28
Larson drove on autopilot, fully aware that he’d stepped over a line. Ethan might have been able to cover up the incident in the cell but he wouldn’t be able to keep Merle’s gums from flapping. Still, Ethan was right, he couldn’t afford to have more harassment complaints on his file, not at this stage in his career. Heading north on Highway 28, he grumbled to himself. It should have only taken forty minutes to reach Green Bank but the road was clogged up. A little after ten at night, and it should have been clear sailing but there were still tourists packed into SUVs and minivans towing boats. His cruiser crawled behind traffic that was being forced to take a different route due to the multiple blockades that had been set up by State Police.
As he drove, he thought about Jack Winchester. Why would a man risk so much for someone he didn’t know? It didn’t make any sense. Even if Jenna was paying him, no amount of money could be worth placing himself in the line of fire. Aaron Gance wasn’t a man to back down. Merle’s words haunted Larson. She might be, but your wife won’t. He couldn’t take that threat lightly. Not after all that had happened. The thought of finding his wife buried in a shallow grave because he didn’t put the Gance brothers away ate away at him. That’s why he was on his way to Green Bank. He should have remained with the State Police, helped them stop vehicles but something told him that Aaron would be avoiding the main arteries. Though he’d made foolish decisions in the past, he wasn’t an idiot.
Larson cast a glance at the scrap of paper. Ten more minutes and he would be there. Let’s hope your hunch is correct, Winchester.
Aaron sat in a chair sipping on a beer, wondering how he was going to strike back at Larson. They initially had plans to visit his wife at her home. That’s what the masks were for. They would scare the shit out of her, drag her out and bury her in Watago with the other women. That was until they saw the Shelby. It was a lot of fun but it had seriously thrown a wrench in the works. Now the county was crawling with cops. Any chance of being able to get close to Larson’s wife was all but gone.
He took a hard pull on his cigarette and watched as Billy taunted Meghan. He had to admit she was pretty hot, stripped down to her underwear and cuffed. Dale sat off to one side, tossing pieces of scrunched-up paper at her face.
“C’mon, Aaron, I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun with her. It’s not like anyone’s going to miss another whore.”
“I told you assholes that no one is doing anything until I’ve spoken with him.”
“Just a taste then,” Billy said, smirking before running his tongue up the side of her face. Meghan reacted by jerking her head in a whiplash fashion and driving it into his nose. Billy’s nose burst and blood began streaming out.
He cupped his hands over his nose. “What the fuck?”
Dale and Aaron started laughing. “Oh God that was good. She is a feisty one.”
“Bitch.”
Billy grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back.
“Let her go,” Aaron said. Billy shot him a dirty look.
“Oh, I see how it is.” He scoffed before releasing his grip. “You just want her all to yourself.”
“Shut up.”
“No,” he crossed the room and snatched up some tissues off the counter to block the scarlet flow. “You’ve had a thing for her ever since she turned down your offer to be her pimp.”
“You don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Isn’t that right, Dale?” he said seeking additional support from him. Dale shrugged. He wasn’t getting involved.
“Just go and get the rest of our stuff in from the vehicle. And Dale, start a fire, it’s getting cold in here.”
“No, Dale, don’t. Let him do it.”
Aaron’s eyebrow shot up. “You calling the shots now, Billy?”
He patted the sides of his nose while keeping an eye on Aaron. “No, I’m just tired of taking them.”
Aaron looked over to Meghan who was watching intently. She was wearing nothing but a black bra and panties. Her dark hair hung past her shoulders. Billy was right. He did like her but he wasn’t going to tell them that. He knew why she turned him down. She was smart, unlike the others. Pimping out women had changed. It was harder to convince girls to go with him now that they had the Internet. They could post an ad in minutes and have four or five calls within the hour. Without a pimp, one hundred percent of the money from clients went to them. They were in control. They were their own boss. Whereas if they worked for him, he took all the money and made sure they had a place to stay, food to eat and protection from abusive clients.
Meghan’s dark eyes darted back and forth between them. She looked like a scared mouse.
Aaron rose to his feet but before he could bitch slap him, Billy withdrew his handgun and aimed at him. “Don’t do it.”
Aaron laughed and tapped his own chest. “You gonna shoot me, Billy?”
Dale tried to intervene but Billy was beyond the point of listening.
“Billy.”
“No, fuck it. We are in this mess because of him, because of his brother. I said we should have split a few months back but oh no, you wanted to stay.”
“You wanted to split?” Aaron asked.
“You’re a fucking idiot and so is Merle. Like did you really think that the cops wouldn’t figure it out in the end? All these women showing up dead. Are you that egotistical?”
Aaron was enjoying this. This was a different side to Billy. He’d always been so compliant; definitely not a guy to square off to Merle or him.
“I’m not going to jail for you, Aaron.”
“A little late for that now. Your DNA is all over those women.”
Billy pointed the gun at an angle like he was some kind of gangster.
&
nbsp; “Billy,” Dale interjected. “Put the gun down.”
“You want to wake up in a cell again, Dale?”
Billy didn’t threaten Aaron. He knew he wouldn’t pull the trigger; he didn’t have the balls to do it. Initially, he stood a few feet away but slowly he inched his way forward.
“Get back, Aaron.”
He smiled. “You’re not going to shoot.”
Billy spoke through gritted teeth while shaking the gun in front of him. “Don’t tell me what I will or will not do. I’m tired of listening to you.”
“I know you won’t because you’re a pussy. You always have been.”
“Fuck you.”
Aaron kept moving forward and Billy took a few steps back. Slowly but surely, Aaron crossed the room until the barrel of the gun was pressed against his chest. He reached up and adjusted the angle so it was against his forehead.
“Go on. Shoot.”
“Don’t push me.”
“Shoot. You’re a big man now. Squeeze the trigger!”
He pressed hard against the gun, clutching it and feeling the cold steel embed into his skin.
“DO IT!”
Billy’s hand was shaking, Dale looked on nervously.
Seconds passed before Aaron slapped it out of his hand, grabbed Billy by the throat and lunged forward, pinning him against the wall. Billy released his grip on the gun and it clattered on the hardwood floor. Aaron stared into his eyes, teeth gritted. With his other hand free, he reached around to the small of his back and yanked his own revolver out.
“Aaron,” Dale immediately tried to get between them but Aaron pointed the gun at him.
“You want it?”
Dale threw his hands up and took a step back. Aaron turned his attention back to Billy; he placed the barrel against his chest, right over the center of his heart.
“Feel that?”
Tears began to well up in Billy’s eyes as Aaron cocked the gun.
He was about to pull the trigger when the sound of tires breaking through gravel caught his attention. Dale hurried over to a window and pushed back the drape a little.
“Fucking cops.”
Aaron released his grip on Billy and he let out a relieved breath.
“Shut off that light, and get her downstairs. How many, Dale?”
He snorted. “One. It’s Larson.”
Chapter 29
Jack burst through the exit door of the sheriff department, staring wildly at the vehicles in the back lot. After knocking Rigby out, he rooted through his pockets for his keys. He pressed the button on the key fob and lights blinked to life. There were two cruisers. One was State Police; the other belonged to Ethan Rigby.
He didn’t bother to drive slowly through town; he’d heard sirens long before he turned his on. He sped up through the uneven streets, veering towards the east side of town. He figured he would run into a blockade but being as he was wearing a uniform and driving the cruiser they would let him through without even stopping.
However, that didn’t stop his pulse from racing as he drew close to four State Police cruisers. Jack kept his head low and the lights flashing as the cruiser crawled up to the one guy who shone his light inside then waved him on without stopping him. Jack’s eyes swept side to side as he waited for them to pull back their cruisers. His heart slammed in his chest thinking that any minute they would get a call from the department telling them to look out for a stolen cruiser. He slapped away the paranoia from his mind and eased his way past them and on to Highway 28, leaving the lights of the town behind in his rearview mirror.
The place was located at the end of a sparsely inhabited street. Nestled in the surrounding forest, the old place was a ramshackle cabin, fronted with a porch and dirty white siding. Whoever owned the place hadn’t taken the time to do any yard work. Overgrown bushes and wildflowers hemmed it in. A rusted-out mailbox at the end of the driveway had no name on it, just the number 669, except the nine had dropped and turned a little making it look like another six.
As Larson made his way into the drive, he saw a black Ford truck parked off to one side. His eyes flitted to the windows but there were no lights on. Was there anyone home? He brought the cruiser to a crawl and sat there for a moment; the engine idling. He stared at the windows that had shabby-looking drapes. He stepped out of the car with his gun drawn and moved around the truck, stopping only to place his hand on the hood. It was still warm. Someone was home. He backed up a little and radioed through to get them to run the plates. He pulled out his flashlight and positioned it across his other hand holding the Glock. Static came from the radio as he waited for them to get back to him.
A minute or two and they came back with some name he didn’t recognize. There was no report of it having been stolen and yet it didn’t match the address.
“Copy that.”
He pressed on towards the cabin pushing past the overgrown bushes and climbed the steps onto the porch. He listened intently for any movement inside. His nerves were on edge. His hands were clammy and though he knew he should call for backup, he didn’t because the chief would want to know why he had left his post without permission. There was no denying it. He was treading in hot water and this was liable to cost him his badge but something about Winchester’s run-in with the Gance brothers, along with what he’d unearthed told him that this wasn’t his first rodeo. He knew a thing or two about tracking people.
Larson peered in through the front window, he saw the silhouette of a few pieces of furniture; a table, four chairs, and a sofa. By any measure, the place looked peaceful like any ordinary cottage in the country. A nearby river could be heard rushing in the background. After trying the front door, he gave it a knock and stepped off the porch with his gun at the ready. Seconds, then minutes passed without any answer. He worked his way around the back, peering into different windows through thin, dirty drapes that blocked out most of the view. It was hard to see anything at night.
He returned to the truck and peered in through the window. There was a packet of smokes on the dashboard but beyond that nothing to indicate who might own it.
He cast a glance around before heading back towards the cabin.
Finally, he made it to the back door and gave it a twist. It was locked.
He shone his light down and saw four cigarette butts on the ground. Larson crouched and picked them up. One of them had recently been put out. He wasn’t feeling good about this. Again for a few seconds, he contemplated calling in backup.
Everything inside him told him this was not a good move but the way he saw it, if the owner was asleep, he could just make up some bullshit about having received a noise complaint and that someone had been spotted lurking around their property. It was a page right out of Ethan’s handbook but it worked. He’d seen him do it. That was the thing about the public, most didn’t really know what the police could or couldn’t do. If they did, they would realize their hands were tied more than they knew.
He looked again through the window, this time cupping his hand over the pane of glass and waiting a few more seconds, just in case the owner had heard his first knock and was taking their time to crawl out of bed.
It was dark inside. No movement. Only a faint glimmer of light from a crescent moon illuminated a few spots in the cabin. He shone his light at the door. He could hear his wife’s voice reminding him that he had a daughter.
He ground his teeth together. This is your job, do your job!
Screw it! He thought, before kicking in the back door. Wood splintered and scattered all over the floor. “County Sheriff Department.”
There was no answer, so he stepped inside, hoping that Winchester was right about this.
Chapter 30
The cabin was darker than any residence he’d been inside. Larson’s flashlight started to flicker, so he tapped it a few times against his leg. Not now. Don’t die on me now. The farther he ventured inside, the less of the moon filtered through the drapes. Nothing but endless black was before him. Every s
tep he took made a floorboard creak. Every so often he thought he saw a shadow move until he swept his light over it. As he swung around into the living area, he raked his gun back and forth, his heart pounding in his chest. Most of the furniture was covered in white sheets except for the four chairs. There was an ashtray on the ground; an open bottle of beer and what looked like loose binds around one of the chairs. He stepped forward and bent down to touch the bottle. It was ice-cold. Someone was here, of that he was sure.
There was a sound, barely noticeable. What is that?
Was his mind playing tricks on him? Remaining where he was, he crouched, brought his ear to the floor and listened intently. It sounded like muffled cries. Slowly he walked towards a doorway that led back into the corridor on the far side of the room. As he came out, he hugged the wall with his back while holding his Glock out in front of him.
No. Again his flashlight started flickering, and this time it went out.
Enveloped by darkness he waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust before giving the flashlight another hard smack. It didn’t turn back on. Shit!
Up ahead he noticed the faint glimmer of light below a doorway.
His pulse sped up as he got closer. He placed a hand on the knob and gave it a twist. It opened. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was somehow making a mistake by entering alone, whoever was in here could be waiting for him.
If he wanted to back out, he needed to do it now.
Pushing his fears aside, he opened the door and gazed down the steps that led into the basement. For a brief second, he cast a glance over his shoulder and it was then as he stepped inside that Larson felt as if he was being watched.
Jack brought the car to a crawl as the cruiser and truck ahead of him came into sight. He switched off his lights while the car idled. It was probably Larson but it could be anyone. He might have sent a different officer to check the cabin out. He contemplated backing up and putting the vehicle out of sight. He gripped the wheel tight as his eyes took in his surroundings. Every nerve ending was on high alert. Ahead he could just make out a faint glow coming from a window at the foundation of the cabin.