"Yeah, sure." I let her go, throwing her down onto the dirt trail. "So the kid from the security company saw you that morning?"
She rubbed her wrist and nodded. Moving toward me slowly, Glo held a hand out in supplication. "Please, Odelia, help me. I didn't mean to hurt Sophie. I loved her."
"You sang the Lord's Prayer at her service, Glo," I said in a small voice lost in tears. "You sang, knowing you'd killed her." I felt drained, old, and broken. "How could you?"
Wearily, I started to get up. It was time to drag her sorry ass back up the trail to my car. Frye could take it from there.
"You gotta believe me, Odelia," Glo begged.
Unable to stand the sight of her, I turned and walked a few paces away from where she huddled on the ground.
"It was an accident," she whined. "We'd never harm Jonathan."
We both must have realized her slip at the same time because, just as my eyebrows shot up and I spun around, something whizzed by, nicking my shoulder. I looked to the side to see torn fabric, then I felt a sharp sting turning to pain. I clutched my shoulder and blood appeared, staining my heavy t-shirt.
Frozen by shock, I looked at Glo. She had gotten to her knees and was facing me. Her right hand was in the pocket of her windbreaker and the pocket had a big hole in it. I stood still, numbed by disbelief, as she rose to her feet. Slowly, she pulled her hand and the gun out of her pocket. She waved it in the direction of a stand of trees and high shrubbery.
"Start walking, Odelia, slowly, in that direction," she commanded, and without a Southern accent.
I put my hands up and started moving in the direction she'd indicated.
"Oh, for God's sake, Odelia, put your hands down." Glo laughed slightly. "I'm not robbing you. We're just going to have a little talk."
"Talk?" I asked. "Talk about what? How you and Blaine killed Sophie?"
"That's old news, Odelia. And for the record, Sophie died because she was stupid."
We reached the edge of the trees and she directed me into the grove a few feet. Once we were out of view of the trail, she told me to stop.
"Now," she said, standing a few feet away with the gun aimed at my ample gut, "let's see if you're smarter and more cooperative than Sophie."
"I don't understand, Glo," I said truthfully, my eyes glued to the barrel of the gun.
It was the first time I had ever seen a gun up close and personal. Needless to say, it was making me nervous. Perspiration broke out on my forehead and upper lip. It trickled down the side of my face like hot fudge over a scoop of ice cream. I wanted to wipe it away with my sleeve, but didn't dare.
"I don't know anything about Sophie's business with Hollowell. I found out about it after she died," I said trying to keep panic out of my voice.
Glo laughed. "I believe you, Odelia, but it's not the sex business I'm talking about. That was just to throw you off, to buy me time when you surprised me this morning. What I really want is information about her son."
"Her son?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes, her son. More importantly, I want to know about John Hollowell's son."
"I still don't understand."
Glo rolled her eyes in disgust. "Blaine should've clubbed you harder Friday night. Just like one of them fat baby seals everyone gets worked up over."
She took two steps closer and raised the gun so it was aimed at my chest. Forget the sweating, now I had to pee.
"Don't play dumb, Odelia," Glo said to me. She twitched her upturned nose. "Tell me where I can find Hollowell's son and I'll let you go."
I didn't believe that for a minute. "What does her son have to do with anything?"
"I just want to know how to reach him, that's all." She purred the words sweetly, almost slipping into her phony Southern accent in an attempt to sway me. For a moment, I got a glimpse of the Glo Kendall we all knew.
"If Sophie wouldn't tell you, why should I?" My voice was getting thick. I cleared my throat. "That's what happened, isn't it? Sophie wouldn't tell you anything about her son. She knew you were going to hurt him, maybe even kill him. But why?"
"We asked her nicely, Odelia, we really did," she explained, ignoring my question. "But she wouldn't talk." Evil Glo smirked. "She even tried to deny she had a son. Finally, we just had to threaten her. When she pulled her gun on us, we had to let her know we meant business. Blaine didn't just tell her what we were going to do to the boy, he told her what we were going to do to her to make her talk. That's when the stupid bitch shot herself."
So, I thought to myself, for the second and final time, Sophie killed herself to protect Robbie. I felt tears sting my eyes and clutched my searing shoulder, but it wasn't my physical pain making me cry.
"So, Odelia, tell me about John and Sophie's son and I'll let you go," Glo said, sweet as pie. "Otherwise, you'll just have to join Sophie. The two of you can shop the big mall in the sky together." She laughed.
"This time, Glo, everyone will know it's murder," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "There'll be no doubt."
She adjusted her grip on the gun and took aim.
"But why, Glo?" I asked in earnest. "Sophie only wanted to help you." Soon it wouldn't matter why, but I needed to buy some time.
"An eye for an eye, Odelia. It's as simple as that."
"Revenge?" I moved my foot slightly, shifting my weight from one leg to another. My shoulder still hurt, but I was beginning to get used to it. "This is about revenge? What did Sophie ever do to you, except help you?"
"Sophie never did anything to me. She was just plain stupid, a casualty of war, you might say."
"Like the security guy?"
She shrugged. "Hey, Glenn Thomas had already killed for John Hollowell, so why not for someone else?"
I looked at her incredulously. "You made Glenn Thomas kill Danny Ortiz? But how?"
Bad Glo grinned. "It was easier than you think. You see, I know all about John Hollowell's evil deeds, even those from twenty years ago. I know who, what, when and where...everything but where his son is."
My brain shushed the pain in my arm so it could think. Suddenly, a piece of the puzzle, the piece lost on the floor under the table, was found. The bracelet...a silver bracelet with the initials BS...could mean Bonnie Sheffley. They sure didn't stand for Gloria Kendall and I quickly ruled out bull shit. But Glo couldn't be Bonnie. She wasn't old enough.
"How do you know Bonnie Sheffley, Glo?" I asked, forgetting the gun and looking straight into her eyes.
She looked straight back, her eyes as hollow and cold as the end of the gun pointing at me.
"Bonnie Sheffley was my mother."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ALTHOUGH I HALF-EXPECTED her to say that, the shock of actually hearing it nearly knocked me off my feet. I staggered back a few steps.
"Careful, Odelia," Glo said, realigning her aim. "You wouldn't want me to think you're trying something."
"But I thought Bonnie was...I mean, she's been gone a long time."
"You mean, you thought she was sold into white slavery by John Hollowell, and she was. My mother had me when she was in high school. I don't know who my father is. She stashed me with her grandmother in Hemet when she went to work for the Hollowells as a live-in nanny. One day she came to visit me and gave me this." Glo indicated the bracelet.
"She said she was going away to marry a very rich man and soon she'd send for me. She was so excited. She actually believed that scumbag Hollowell had arranged a marriage for her with a wealthy older man overseas. We never heard from my mother again. Grammy tried calling the Hollowells to see if they knew where she was, but got nowhere."
Her voice started to crack. She sniffed, cleared her throat and continued. "About three years ago, my mother showed up in Hemet out of the blue. Her grandmother was dead and I was living in her trailer with Blaine. My mother was half crazy and a diseased drug addict when she finally came home. A year later she died."
"If you want revenge, why not kill Hollowell? Why his son?" I asked a
s I cautiously shifted my weight again. My lower back was starting to hurt more than my shoulder from standing still so long.
"I told you, Odelia, an eye for an eye. That's why." She wiped her face with her free hand. "I want that bastard to suffer. Killing him outright is too good for him."
I couldn't argue with that.
"Before she died, my mother told me everything. She told me how Hollowell got his company, how he was blackmailing his wife and her brother, and about Sophie and Hollowell's bastard son. She learned a lot living in that house, listening to the fights that went on constantly. She even told me about Jonathan and her role in his death, and how Hollowell had promised to marry her as soon as he divorced his wife, then changed his mind and found her a rich husband instead. There was no rich husband, of course, just a pimp a hundred times worse than Hollowell." Glo coughed her smoker's cough.
"The last year of her life, my mother spent in confession with me as her confessor. When she died, I decided whatever it took, I would get back at Hollowell for what he did to my mother." Her voice faltered, but Glo cleared her throat and continued. "My mother told me all about Sophie London, so I checked her out and found out about Reality Check. I took on Blaine's accent and made up a story about moving here from Tennessee. I figured it was just a matter of time before I found out about her son, but as the months dragged on, I got antsy to get it over with, so Blaine and I decided to force her to talk."
Glo paused, then took a step forward. "Now, Odelia, where can I find Hollowell's son?"
I took a step back, then another. Twigs cracked under my feet and low shrubs brushed my legs. I shook my head slowly.
"Come on, Odelia," Glo said, again wiping her face. "Tell me and then you can go home and get ready for work. It's that easy."
Without a word, I slowly backed up through the scrub another few steps. Glo moved forward, matching my pace. A small animal scurried over her trespassing feet, spooking her. She gave a short, low squeal.
As soon as I saw her falter, I moved as fast as my fat, middle-aged body could go...straight at her...and tackled her as if a Superbowl ring was at stake.
Upon impact, the gun flew from her hand and we tumbled into the dense growth. Her arms and legs wrapped around me like a python. I struggled to free myself, but it was difficult. With every move I was dragging her two-hundred-pound bulk around like dead weight.
I fought like a mad woman. My heart was pounding, my breath coming in short gulps. I thrashed around in her arms until I managed to turn over, taking her with me. We rolled over and over, through the prickly brush, coming to a halt under a low hanging tree with me on top, our faces inches from each other. Glo looked frightened, understanding she'd lost control. In the rolling her legs had come free. My weight was pinning her down. Still, she had a tight grip on me.
Freeing an arm, I grabbed her hair and started pounding her head against the hard earth. This was life and death. Suddenly, I wasn't squeamish about smacking her around. I keep raising her head and slamming it against the ground until she let go of me.
Just as I disentangled myself and got off of her, Glo tripped me. She scrambled to her feet and leveled a hard kick to my ribs as I was trying to find my own footing. I went sprawling back into the dirt and almost passed out from the pain.
Shaking my head to clear it, I saw Glo scurrying through the brush on her hands and knees. Even in hazy pain, it only took me a second to realize she was looking for the gun.
Taking off through the maze of low branches and thick brush, I ran wildly. My legs were being torn by sharp undergrowth. My chest heaved. Even with the regular walking, I wasn't in very good shape. I was exhausted, my side felt shattered, and my head hurt where I'd been hit just a few days before. I made a dive into a thicket of dense growth, hoping for cover to give me time to rest.
I head footsteps coming closer and willed my breathing to slow down, to be quiet. Soon the steps retreated and headed in another direction. With as much stealth as I could manage, I started crawling deeper into the bushes on my stomach, mud smearing my clothes and body. Small critters scattered. Slowly, I got up onto my feet, but kept crouched close to the ground. I could hardly make a dash for my life on my belly, and I'd be damned if I'd die in the slime, inching along like a snail.
Die! I might die. My body began shaking. I commanded it to stop and surprisingly it did. I had to keep alert.
Gently pulling apart some branches, I peeked out to see Glo methodically walking through the bushes. Here and there she kicked aside undergrowth. The gun was held ready in her hand. She was dirty from our earlier tumble. Her face, tracked with tears mingled with dirt, reminded me of a stone gargoyle.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she taunted as she walked. Frustrated, she moved away from my hiding place and headed in the opposite direction, searching new patches of dense shrubbery.
It was now or never.
Just up ahead I could see the trail again. It wasn't far, maybe a few yards. It was also in the open, where I had a better chance of people seeing me and helping. Where I was now, I could be killed and my body hidden for days. To my right, the overgrowth ended and an embankment, naked and raw with erosion, plunged downward.
I looked again. The trail was above me, close, but up a slight incline, which would slow my get-a-way.
A shot was fired. It hit the dirt a few yards from my feet. I ran like hell for the trail, screaming the whole way to draw attention.
Just as I reached the hard-packed dirt of the horse trail, there was another shot. I pitched forward, then wobbled backward, and staggered down the incline. A few missteps later and I was headed down the embankment. Scorching pain radiated down my left leg, and I knew I'd been hit.
On my back, in scrub still damp with morning dew, I did a quick check. Nothing vital had been hit, but my left side from my hip down was screaming violation, and every move was torture. Rolling over onto my stomach, I scrunched as close to the ground as I could, flattening myself against the side of the slope. Slowly, I started moving sideways and down, trying to get away from the trail above. I couldn't see anyone, but she was up there. I could hear her heavy smoker's cough brought on by the exertion.
Pain or no pain, I made my way down the steep embankment like an upside down crab. With each movement of my left side, I bit my lip. Below me were marshy shallows and another trail, a small dirt nature trail. Not much further, Odelia. You can do it, I told myself. My chest ached, my breathing was shallow. Faster, girl, faster. Then I looked up and turned to stone.
Standing above me was Glo Kendall. A sick grin stretched grotesquely across her filthy face. One hand clutched a gun, and that gun was pointed down the embankment directly at my head.
I closed my eyes tight and thought of my father.
"Police," someone nearby shouted. It was a woman's voice.
My eyes popped open at the sound, and I looked back up the slope. Glo Kendall still held her gun, but it was no longer pointed at the top of my head. Now she had it aimed at someone on the trail, someone out of my line of vision.
Again, someone yelled, "Police," this time followed by other words I couldn't make out.
The shot from Glo's gun rang loud and angry, defiling the clean morning air. Then I heard a blast from another direction. I watched as Glo teetered at the edge of the trail above, the gun still in her hand. Then she lifted her arm and re-aimed down the trail. I heard a shot, answered instantaneously by another. Glo turned and staggered, then dropped down the slope, plunging toward me. I tried to move out of the way, but my injury prevented it. Her body struck mine and together we tumbled down, coming to rest on level ground near the marsh.
Her weight was resting on my left side. The pain was so intense I thought I would die from it. I tried to move her off me, fearing she would come to and decide to finish me off with her bare hands. Finally, I managed to roll her over. I gasped. Blood covered her windbreaker in the middle of her chest. Her eyes were open, her mouth slack.
Everything was
spinning, drowning me in dizziness. The pain didn't matter anymore.
Chapter Thirty
THE FLOWERS FILLED the sterile hospital room with springtime, and my friends filled it with love. If my ass didn't hurt so much, I'd actually enjoy my situation.
Since I was positioned on my side, both Greg and Zee were crowded on the same side of my bed. Each looked appropriately worried, yet relieved. They'd both been here the day before when I'd had surgery to remove the bullet from my left buttock. So had my father. Even Mike Steele had showed up with a huge bouquet and asked when I'd be back at work.
I must have passed out yesterday. The last thing I remember was being sprawled at the bottom of the slope with Glo Kendall's dead body. When I came to, Ruth Wise was kneeling over me, checking me for injuries. So much of Glo's blood was on me, it had taken her a while to realize most of it wasn't mine.
I'd been shot in the bottom, the bullet lodging in my blubbery behind, but thankfully not penetrating deep enough to hit any bones and cause serious damage. I'd also been grazed on the right shoulder.
Once again, call me lucky. But I was more than lucky, I was blessed.
"The doctor said you might be able to leave the hospital tomorrow," Zee said. "If not then, the day after." She got up and nervously fussed with my covers. My experience had dropped her into a mode of frenzied caregiving.
"Yes," I said, giving her half a smile. I was still on pain killers and enjoying it as much as possible.
A knock came at my door. "Hello?" someone called in. It was the Olsens, Peter and Marcia. Surprised, I waved them in.
"When we heard, we just had to come," Marcia said, her smile barely masking her worry.
Greg wheeled out of the way. The Olsens stepped forward. Marcia leaned over and kissed my cheek. Peter patted my hand. Zee and Greg introduced themselves. Marcia was holding a large tin, which she placed on the night stand.
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