Dark Star

by Roslyn Holcomb

  “Okay. So do you want to go out with him?” Tonya decided to cut to the chase.

  “Of course not,” Roshonda blustered. “After that last buster, I have no desire to ever date again. I’m done.”

  “Roshonda you’re not even thirty yet.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve been to hell and back dealing with these jackasses. Nope. Done.”

  Tonya shook her head. Roshonda’s history was a bit turbulent and it really wasn’t her place to lecture the girl, especially considering that she had sworn off men for a lot less than what her friend had gone through. Tonya made a conscious decision to back off. “Well, if his looking at you is so annoying, just ask him to stop. Dare’s a nice guy. Spooky as all hell, but nice. He wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  * * * * *

  “Will you stop staring at me?”

  Deringer started, looking down at the object of all his most recent lust-filled fantasies. “What?” Roshonda stood before him, arms akimbo as she scowled at him, her hair all but standing on end in annoyance. He almost smiled. She reminded him of a little terrier he’d had as a boy. There was no one else in the office today. Tonya had demanded that he leave her alone so she could write so he’d wandered over to the office to check on his latest obsession. As always she pretended he wasn’t there. He didn’t really mind because from time to time she had to get up to use the copier or some other machine and he got to watch her almost criminally curvaceous body. He’d never seen a woman with so many gifts -- her full round breasts were balanced by an ass that would make a dead man sit up and say hello. He drifted off, contemplating what he would do with her, starting with kissing that luscious mouth -- for a year.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to stare?” she demanded forcing him out of a lovely daydream.

  “It might have been mentioned a time or two.”

  “So why are you doing it?”

  “Because my mama isn’t here.”

  He watched as she pressed her lips together as though to repress a laugh.

  “Just stop it. Okay?” she said.

  “Why? Did some moron make it illegal to look at a beautiful woman? If they did I’m going to have to find myself another country to die for.”

  This time the laugh did escape. High and musical, it swept over his senses like a cool breeze on a hot day.

  “Because it’s rude and makes me uncomfortable,” she said after abruptly cutting the laugh off.

  His thoughts scrambled as he struggled to come up with something to say that would make her laugh again. “What would you rather I do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sorry. I can’t accommodate that.”

  “So what can you accommodate?”

  “Dinner.”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. I eat dinner every day,” Deringer said.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know you,” she said.

  “I’m sure Tonya would be happy to vouch for me. I have all my teeth. I’m even housebroken...mostly,” he said.

  Not a full laugh this time, but the smile that broke through was almost as good. He watched as she deliberately smoothed her face then turned and walked away. Skittish. Somebody had done a real number on her. Well he had time. The sigh came from deep within. Right now all he had was time.

  * * * * *

  “Rehab, huh?”

  Tonya struggled to keep from rolling her eyes as she repeated the same story. Again. “That’s right, Scooter, I got hooked on painkillers from my surgery.” And if Nate weren’t already dead she’d kill him for having to discuss her freaking uterus with this bozo.

  “And you decided to take off and go to rehab,” Scooter said.

  She walked back over to her desk and took a seat, suddenly needing the barrier between her and the law officer. Scooter remained standing, leaning against the bookcase just a little to the right of the door. She’d always enjoyed her office, which was decorated in the bright jewel tones she favored, but at the moment it was much too close and confining. Despite being a running joke in the community for winning a job nobody else wanted, Scooter was the sheriff and she was lying to him. Wasn’t that a crime? Considering all that had already happened it wouldn’t surprise her at all to wind up doing time for this little escapade.

  “That’s right. Things just got a little crazy and I thought I’d better deal with it immediately,” she said.

  “Hmmm. Right in the middle of your book dealie.”

  “Yes.” She just managed not to suck her teeth. Years of dealing with her mama had taught her better.

  “Without telling your mama,” he said walking toward her desk. He paused a foot or two away and leaned a well-padded hip against the credenza.

  She couldn’t quite utter such a bald-faced lie so she nodded instead.

  “You and Callie started hanging out with those L.A. rockers and this was bound to happen.” He shook his head, a mournful gesture which seemed to indicate that she and Callie were involved in something akin to interstate baby smuggling.

  Tonya caught herself before she sighed with relief. He was buying the story.

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time,” he said as he heaved his bulk away from the credenza and came closer to her desk. “I’ll get the report out to those boys in New York City.”

  Tonya smiled and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Then he stopped.

  “Oh, by the way, Tonya, I don’t believe for one minute that you’ve ever come close to being addicted to anything other than licorice Jelly Bellys. But we’ll keep that under our hats, hmmm?” He grabbed a fistful of the treats from the crystal bowl on her desk and popped a few into his mouth.

  Tonya automatically reached out to smack his hand away from her bowl. Fortunately she checked the movement and simply grabbed a few which she’d never eat since he’d contaminated them. Everyone in her office knew better than touch her jellybeans. She was so caught up in the etiquette breach that she failed to respond to his last comment before he turned and walked out her office. Then she laughed. Old Scooter did have a functioning frontal lobe after all. She couldn’t wait to tell Callie. She sighed with relief, mollified that the people who knew her did know she’d never do such a thing. Score one for the fishbowl.

  * * * * *

  Later that day Tonya sat on the edge of her bed with a tattered old shoebox on her lap. Scores of letters, notes mostly, written so long ago the ink had started to fade, were stored inside. She hadn’t opened them in a long time, but she had never been able to throw them away. And now she was glad that she hadn’t. They were the only thing she’d ever have of Nate. Back in college most of their classes were far apart and in that age before cell phones were common they would pass notes through Callie who had several classes with Nate. Some were short, just a few lines, but one went on for pages filled with his love for her. She went over it line by line, though she’d memorized it long ago. In the years after he left she had convinced herself that she’d gotten over him, now she realized that all she’d really done was push those feelings deep inside, where they had hibernated like poppy seeds in an undisturbed field. She couldn’t have continued to function without the stratagem; her agony had been too overwhelming. His return had simply brought new life to a love that had never died. But then she’d at least known Nate was still alive, even if she thought he didn’t want to be with her. Now she knew he’d never stopped loving her, but he was gone forever.

  She closed her eyes as another wave of grief struck her, soaking down into the depths of her soul. Crossing her arms around her torso, she rocked back and forth, caught in a riptide of despair. For a while she’d had some renewed hope. Her period was late; it was due shortly after her return, and she’d hoped that against all odds their final night of reckless passion had left her with his child. However, it was not to be. Her cycle had started that morning the accompanying misery only adding to her anguish. Her he
art ached so badly she moaned aloud as she swayed trying to bring an end to the agony, but she couldn’t push this aside as she’d done before and she eventually collapsed on the bed. Lying there curled up on her side she repeated the lines of his letter over and over, until she fell into a fitful slumber.

  * * * * *

  Tonya came awake with a feeling of déjà vu. Someone was in her room. Panic set in. The Rooster had come for her after all. She almost welcomed the intrusion. The bastard had killed Nate and she’d be damned if she’d go down without a fight. God willing she’d take him with her. She lay still trying to collect her thoughts to strategize. They didn’t know she was awake so she might be able to catch them off guard and get away. Springing from the bed headfirst she caught the man who was leaning over her under the chin with her head. He cried out in pain as she brought her knee up to catch him in the groin before he could recover from the chin blow. She missed, but the knee to the thigh was pretty effective as he yelled again. She was reaching for the heavy water glass she kept on her bedside table when his words finally penetrated the fog of rage she’d been fighting under.

  “Goddamnit Tonya, stop it.”

  “Deringer!” The familiar voice stopped her, and she dropped the glass. It hit the floor and rolled harmlessly under the bed. She switched on the lamp flooding the room with light and peered up at him in vexation.

  “Honestly, do you guys know any other way to come into a girl’s room? What are you doing here anyway? You left two weeks ago.” Tonya was cranky from being awakened in the middle of the night. Again. This was getting ridiculous. Deringer didn’t respond and something in his facial expression made the breath stutter in her chest. Suddenly she was too scared to move. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are they coming after me?”

  “Nate’s not dead. Or at least we don’t think he is.”

  “What?” Joy flooded her system so quickly she felt light headed and had to sit down on the bed. Only then did she realize she was clad only in her panties and a tank top. Deringer was being a perfect gentleman about it, but she grabbed her robe from the chair next to her bed and wrapped it around herself.

  “Look at this.” He took out his phone and clicked on a few buttons. In a moment a video came on the screen. The image was of a large house, set resplendently on a hilltop surrounded by what appeared to be forest. Nothing happened for several seconds, and then the house exploded in a spectacular fireball. Deringer closed the phone and put it back into his pocket.

  “Uh, maybe I’m still asleep but I have no idea how that proves he’s still alive,” Tonya said.

  “That explosion is his signature. Did you see how the small explosions went off around the perimeter, then three big ones in the middle?”

  “Yeah sure.” She hadn’t really paid that much attention to the particulars, but it seemed important so she went along with him.

  “That’s what Nate called a butterball.”

  “A butterball?”

  “Yeah, he saves that one for the real turkeys.”

  Tonya couldn’t help but laugh. Vintage Nate. It was impossible not to laugh at his crooked perspective on life. So much about him had changed but that warped sense of humor was still intact.

  “We’re pretty sure that was the Rooster’s headquarters,” he said softly. “We know Nate was taken there.”

  “Okay, so Nate blew the dude up. Where is he?”

  Deringer shook his head. “That’s the problem. We have no idea. I mean, we know he’s in Brazil, but it’s a big country and a lot of it is backcountry and almost impossible to navigate.”

  “But surely you guys have a way to find him.”

  “We do, but there’s a problem,” he said.

  “What? What is it? I’ve got money and I can get more. As much as we need.”

  “No. No, money isn’t the problem. That’s been taken care of.” He frowned but didn’t elaborate. “We think the Rooster is dead, but if he’s not, you’re in greater danger than before. He’s been known to take revenge against those who cross him.”

  She knew where this was going. “I don’t care. You’ve got to go find Nate.”

  “I know that, but I’ve got to figure out what do with you,” he continued over her attempt to interrupt. “There is definitely a mole in the Department and we don’t trust anyone else to take care of you. I’ve got to find someone -- ”

  “There’s no time. I’ll hire some bodyguards or something. You go after Nate.”

  “You know regular bodyguards -- ”

  “Hey, I hang out with rock stars and have a shark for an agent. Surely between the two of them they can find someone sufficiently badass to keep me alive. I’m not stupid. These people’s level of craziness is world news every night. I won’t take chances. You can lock me in my room for the duration if necessary, but if you won’t go after Nate I will.”

  Deringer bristled. “Nate’s right; you are crazy. Have you ever even thought about using a gun before?”

  “You mean besides right now?” she said with a glare. He grinned in response. “Of course I have. I write mysteries, you know.” He rolled his eyes in disgust. “Okay, I’m no weapons expert, but I’ve got the perfect motivation now and if I have to use a gun to go hunting the man I love I’ll do it in nothing less than a heartbeat.”

  He looked taken aback but didn’t pursue that line of questioning any further. “Look, it won’t take long for me to find someone who can -- ”

  Tonya shook her head emphatically. “No. No. No. I’m no expert but even I know that the longer he’s out there the more dangerous it gets. I’ll take care of myself. You go find Nate. If I have to go it’ll be even more risky because I haven’t got a clue. I’m liable to get both of us killed and then some.”

  Deringer opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Tonya shook her head again. With one final frustrated look he finally conceded. Without uttering another word he turned and left her room -- through the door this time, though she had no idea how he’d entered in the first place.

  She laid back on the bed, her thoughts scurrying through her head as she tried to take in the fact that Nate was alive. She sobered. Or at least he had been when that house exploded, and who knows when that happened. Thinking back she realized it had barely been three months since this little trip down the rabbit hole had begun. Somehow it seemed much longer. But if Nate was still alive -- she shook her head. Identification by bomb-making ability seemed sketchy to her, but Deringer was so certain, and if anyone would know it would be that spooky bastard. No. She wouldn’t let herself hope. Surely being disappointed again would kill her. Then again she could hardly be more devastated than she was already.

  Focusing on the practical, Tonya picked up a notepad from her bedside table. Whether Nate was alive or not she needed to keep her promise to hire security. She’d never done such a thing before, but as she’d told Deringer she knew just whom to call. She began to make a list of what she needed to get done. Despite her effort at distraction the overriding question echoed constantly through her head: Where was Nate? Was he still alive?

  Chapter Eleven

  At roughly the same time, Nate was asking himself those same questions. Oh, he knew he was still alive, and had the aches and pains to show for it, but at the moment he wasn’t sure how long he would stay that way. He had waited nearly a week after he planted the explosives to make his escape. A week for the Rooster to discover that the deadly toxin he’d been given was little more than a harmless powder. During that time, he’d gathered as much information as possible about the man’s network, mopping it up shouldn’t be particularly difficult once he’d disposed of the Rooster. All in all the operation had been surprisingly easy, so easy in fact he should’ve suspected a trap. Bodyguards manned the interior of the home, but they relied on electronics to secure the perimeter. After he’d built his backdoor through the basement, slipping out was a simple matter.

  It was only after he’d blown the house all to hell that he discovered his prey was no
t in residence. Clearly they’d anticipated the double-cross, and he could only conclude that the Rooster hadn’t been staying in the house during his visit. That would explain the fairly lax security. Not for the first time he reviewed how he might have given himself away, but finally concluded that the trap was simply a product of the Rooster’s paranoia. He’d been hidden in the forest not far away from the house when the Rooster returned shortly after the explosion to discover his house in ruins and numerous members of his staff dead or injured. He’d quickly formed a search party to find Nate and the hunter became the hunted, which was just what that psychotic motherfucker had planned.

  Nate scrounged through the forest not necessarily sure where he was, but focusing on keeping as much distance between himself and his pursuers as possible. They’d fired at him several times and the heavy scent of gunpowder hung in the humid air. He feared that at least one round had hit him, he didn’t have the time to investigate right now, but it didn’t impede his progress all that much so he assumed it had merely winged him. The hilly terrain was nearly impossible to navigate; the hidden canyons and cliffs made the going quite treacherous. Keeping the sun over his left shoulder to ensure he was traveling north, he kept his body low, forming as small a target as possible. His mottled camouflage clothing helped him blend in with the forest foliage, and he automatically moved in a furtive, almost smoke-like way that didn’t even disturb the wildlife. It had taken him years to perfect the technique, but it had been well worth the hard work, having saved his life more than once. Even so, despite his best efforts he knew it was only a matter of time before they caught him. It was almost impossible for a man to totally avoid three men in active pursuit over unknown terrain indefinitely. He knew the Rooster was a skilled tracker and the men with him were two of the best Nate had ever seen. Trust the Rooster to have his two best men out of the house when Nate destroyed it.

  Nate focused on finding cover, any cover to give him a chance to regroup. The forest canopy grew so think it was almost as dark as twilight, but Nate continued to run. If he could gain some time on them he’d have an opportunity to reconnoiter the area. He would have to slow down and soon. His training ensured that he could run for long periods, but he’d stumbled more than once, losing crucial time. Tree branches were a hazard as well, but he’d somehow managed to avoid being clothes hangered. Finally sure that he had at least fifteen minutes, he slowed to a jog, his sharp eyes seeking any type of cover. It was so dark he almost missed it -- a box canyon. The small valley it sank into provided only one way in. Better yet a large tree had fallen not long ago and blocked the entrance from most observers leaving an opening so tiny it would be a tight fit for any man who was larger than himself. Now as long as he didn’t disturb a sleeping jaguar or worse it would be the perfect hiding place. He looked around to ensure he’d have an unobstructed view. Not at all sure he’d be successful he went to work on the area around the fallen tree. Despite not having much materiel to work with he was able to finish in very short order.