†
The woods were dark and spooky that night despite the clear skies. Strange sounds seemed to come from every direction. Grey rode the slightly excitable black horse along the path in the woods at a fast gait. He was having a difficult time controlling the horse, which obviously didn’t want to be in the dark woods. Even the sounds of the leather saddle creaking seemed to spook the nervous horse. Small animals were heard roaming the woods and the faint sounds were almost deafening while riding a horse that heard everything. The horse suddenly spooked at something and wildly spun around. Grey collected the horse and appeared shaken while attempting to soothe the snorting horse. The horse’s head was raised, his ears perked, and his eyes were wide just waiting to find something else to be frightened by. Once the horse settled, Grey encouraged the horse along the path at a trot. A small animal crossed the path just up ahead. The little, brown rabbit may as well have been a bear. The horse suddenly sidestepped in sheer panic. Grey attempted to regain control of the horse. The horse spun wildly several times at the frightening rabbit, which had just crossed the path. Grey mimicked every move he’d ever seen Casey do while on a spooking horse, but it wasn’t working. The horse suddenly reared up. Grey toppled off the horse and roughly struck the ground. The horse ran back for the fairgrounds and it would eventually end up back at its farm. Grey groaned, slowly moved to his hands and knees, and watched the horse run away.
“Horses suck!”
†
The antique store along Main Street appeared quiet in the town that had settled in for the night after a long day at the fair. The glass on the front door was shattered inward just near the handle. As Diesel cautiously approached the partially open door, a man was seen standing just inside the alleyway opening. Diesel looked at the man. Fred stared back at him and gave a slight nod to the broken door.
“You don’t want to go in there alone,” Fred said softly. “They have crowbars and baseball bats.”
“I’ve got this,” Diesel replied and nodded him away. “You’d better go before they see you.”
Fred slowly nodded and hurried across the street for an old pickup truck. He jumped in and drove away. Diesel gently pushed open the front door and caught the bell above before it could ding. He slowly entered the mostly dark store while stepping over the broken glass. A dim light was seen in the next room over and soft voices were heard. Diesel removed a small, twelve-inch baton and carried it with him. Where most men would appear frightened, Diesel seemed more curious and almost enthusiastic to meet those who broke into the store. The sound of items being smashed was heard within the next room. Diesel followed the dim light and approached the opening. Several men in dark clothing smashed china and other valuable items. Diesel watched them a moment then casually flipped on the lights. Wayne, Ryan, and Blain jumped with surprise and spun toward Diesel, who now casually leaned in the doorway with the baton in his hand.
“I hope you realize you’re going to pay for that,” Diesel said simply.
Ernest sat in one of the antique chairs like a king on his throne and looked at the big man in the archway. He casually stood and glared at Diesel with a smirk.
“Just leaving a little message for your friend, Grey,” Ernest announced with a little too much arrogance. “Stay out of our way, and you may not get hurt.
The look on Diesel’s face was that of humor. The threat was almost laughable. He just grinned and shook his head. “You’re going to hurt me?” His smile was frightening. “That would be quite an achievement, considering all four of your boys couldn’t even handle one, small girl.” He didn’t move from where he leaned in the archway. “You’d need an army to defeat me.” His smile suddenly twisted. “And I’m not even the dangerous one--” Diesel smirked and nodded across the room. “--he is.
All five men looked across the room to Ruger, who stood just outside the office with an oddly emotionless expression on his face. Ernest and his boys appeared humored by the less than impressive man.
Ernest gave a nod to Ruger. “Show him what happens when you mess with a Harford,” he announced then looked at Wayne. “You take care of the muscle.”
Blain and Ryan approached Ruger, while Wayne lunged for Diesel with a baseball bat. Diesel suddenly straightened, flicked the baton in his hand, and it extended to three feet. He defended the bat with his baton. The two men lunged for Ruger with their crowbars. Ruger spun into a series of forward and backward roundhouse kicks and knocked the crowbars from each of their hands. It was easy to see who finished Casey’s martial arts training. Once they were disarmed, Ruger grabbed Blain by the arm and kicked him several times in the side then flipped him over his hip as Ryan came to his brother’s aid. Ryan threw a punch. Ruger blocked his fist, grabbed his wrist, and kicked him in the chest. Ryan crashed into the old settee and appeared momentarily dazed. Ruger casually picked off a speck of dirt from his shirt while Ryan got his second wind and finally sprang to his feet. Blain was back on his feet as well. Both men lunged for Ruger from opposite directions. Ruger spun into a roundhouse kick and knocked Blain to his hands and knees. He catapulted across Blain’s back, using him as a springboard, and flew into a roundhouse kick while airborne, striking Ryan in the head. Ryan immediately dropped to the floor. Both men lie on the floor, writhing in agony, while Ruger casually stood over them.
Diesel knocked the baseball bat from Wayne’s hand, tossed his baton aside, and began punching him with all the skills of a Marine in Special Forces. Wayne was down before he even realized he’d been hit. Ernest watched in horror as Wayne hit the floor. Ruger casually stepped over Ryan and approached Ernest. Ernest backed away with the horror evident in his eyes then attempted to bolt past him. Ruger spun into a ground spin and swept his legs out from beneath him. Ernest painfully struck the floor. Ruger moved over him, grabbed him by the throat, and stared into his eyes. Ruger’s eyes were void of any emotion.
“I vowed to never kill anyone again, but the next time you force me to put my hand on your throat, I’ll rip out your windpipe,” Ruger casually informed him. The look in his eyes conveyed the seriousness of his threat. “Do we understand each other?”
Ernest stared at Ruger with a look of horror while gasping beneath his grip. He slowly nodded. Ruger released Ernest’s throat and casually straightened.
“Video surveillance captured your destruction, so I’ll expect prompt payment for damages,” Ruger said. “And in case you’re thinking your brother-in-law will interfere, you should know we have friends who are worse than me.”
Ernest scrambled to his feet, ran for his sons, and hurried them from the shop. Diesel and Ruger watched them flee the scene. Diesel folded his arms across his chest and gave Ruger a curious look.
“We know someone worse than you?” Diesel asked.
Ruger shrugged and appeared humored. “Probably not, but a man can dream.”
Diesel chuckled softly and patted Ruger’s back. “I was surprised,” he remarked. “One of those boys almost got a punch in. You’re going soft, old man.”
Ruger glared at the big impressive man standing alongside him. “Call me old man again, Diesel, and I’ll permanently crack your nuts.”
Diesel turned to face him and appeared serious. “Now, see, that’s what I mean,” he announced. “You didn’t even take one cheap shot. None were clutching their boys in total agony. I mean, who are you? Casey’s made you soft. You didn’t used to be so gentlemanly.”
Ruger sank into thought then looked at Diesel with realization. “You’re right,” he remarked then shook his head and sighed. “I am getting soft. I didn’t used to be this nice.”
“Exactly,” Diesel chimed in while slapping his shoulder.
Ruger smacked Diesel in the groin with the back of his hand. Diesel gasped and clutched himself. He didn’t hit him hard enough to drop him, but it obviously stung. Diesel glared at Ruger with disapproval. Ruger grinned in response and sighed.
“Yes, that did make me feel better,” he announced cheerfully. “Thank
you.”
“Yeah, any time,” Diesel said in a higher than normal pitch.
†
Grey’s jeep pulled into the crowded tavern parking lot. Dina jumped out of the jeep and hurried inside. The tavern was packed to maximum capacity with fairgoers, vendors, and locals alike. The noise level was staggering and the mood was extremely enthusiastic. Dina easily maneuvered her way across the crowded tavern with years of waitressing practice on her side. She slipped between two men and stood before the bar. Mack busily tended to the thirsty patrons and temporary waitresses, who had their hands full attempting to serve customers. Despite the crowd, Mack approached when he saw her, apparently surprised to see her on Saturday night following the talent show.
“Hey, Dina,” Mack announced cheerfully. “I hear Casey rocked at the talent show.”
“More like an earthquake,” Dina replied then immediately fidgeted. “What happened tonight?”
Mack appeared bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“With my--with Olivia.”
He glanced across the bar to her mother’s usual table then looked around the tavern with some surprise. “Actually, I haven’t seen her in a few hours.”
“That’s because she’s been arrested,” Dina informed him then shook her head and appeared surprised. “You don’t know about that?”
“No,” Mack replied. “I hadn’t heard about that. Where did it happen?”
“Right outside,” she replied with rising anxiety.
He again shook his head. “Nope, I hadn’t heard. Is she okay?”
“You have no idea what happened?” she asked with surprise.
He again shook his head. She stared at him a moment. Mack returned to his customers and busily filled mugs. He looked back at Dina, but she was already heading through the crowd for the door. Dina left the tavern and immediately removed her cell phone as she crossed the parking lot. She pressed a button and held the phone to her ear. She groaned when she got Casey’s voicemail. She approached Grey’s jeep and pressed another button. She paused before the jeep and waited. She groaned with disgust as Grey’s voicemail picked up.
“Grey, it’s me,” she announced into the phone. “It was no accident. I think I was lured away on purpose--”
She saw Casey’s black Camaro pull into the parking lot. Dina sighed with relief and disconnected the call as the car drove closer to her. She immediately noticed the damage to the right front fender and appeared alarmed.
“What the hell--?” Dina gasped and hurried for Casey’s car as it stopped.
†
Dina opened her eyes and stared at the steering wheel beneath her head. The only light in the darkness was from the vintage dashboard of the Camaro. She attempted to sit up and immediately groaned in agony. She touched her bleeding temple and looked around with disorientation. She was behind the wheel of Casey’s car! Dina made a second attempt to sit up, but something was holding her back. She uncertainly looked out the windshield and immediately appeared horrified. The hood of the car was severely crumpled and a tree was only a few feet in front of the windshield. Beyond the windshield was the deep ravine. Casey’s Camaro was vertically inclined on the hillside and the only thing that kept the car from plummeting nose first into the ravine was a single, large evergreen tree beyond the treacherous curve’s busted guardrail. Dina gasped with alarm and uncertainly looked around the empty car. Her purse lie on the dashboard, although how it got there was a mystery. She didn’t have it with her when she left Grey’s jeep. How she even got in the car was a mystery. She made another effort to sit up, although gravity and her own injuries held her back. She contained her sobs and slowly reached for her purse. The tree groaned beneath the weight of the car, and she felt a slight jolt. Dina gasped and stared frozen out the windshield. There was no telling how long she had before the car plummeted, taking her to her death in what was sure to be a fiery crash. That was exactly what someone wanted when they put her behind the wheel.
Chapter Twenty-nine
A black, leather gloved hand slowly pushed the master bedroom door open. The intruder entered the quiet, dimly lit bedroom that once belonged to Catherine and Brandon Remington. The Remington’s bed was neatly made, and, although the comforter and decorative pillows weren’t the originals, they were painstakingly close to it. The room looked just as it had with the exception of the empty gun cabinet. The bathroom door was partially open, revealing the glow of a light. The jets from the whirlpool tub were heard circulating. Romantic music played softly from within the bathroom. The intruder quietly crossed the bedroom, paused before the bathroom door, and slowly pushed it open to reveal the large white, bright bathroom. The intruder looked at the circulating jetted tub. It was empty! Deputy Tucker stood in the doorway with his gun in his hand and a surprised look on his face. He quickly turned within the doorway to the bedroom and came face-to-face with Casey, who was now dressed in a black stalking outfit. She swiftly kicked the gun from his hand, caught it mid-air, and aimed it at his face. Tucker stared at her holding his gun and appeared alarmed while holding his hands up in front of him. From the look in her eyes, it was almost surprising she hadn’t pulled the trigger.
“Casey, put down the gun,” Tucker said gently.
Casey stared at him with no emotion and cocked her head slightly. “What are you doing in my bathroom, Deputy?”
“Sheriff Holt said we should patrol your farm,” he sternly informed her. “The front door was open and no one answered when I called. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I need you to give me the gun.”
Her expression didn’t change. “So you heard the tub circulating and just decided to have a look-see?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you assume I was in the tub? A courtesy knock would have been appropriate.”
“This is all a misunderstanding, Casey,” he said firmly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Trust me, anything I do will be smart and deliberate,” Casey scoffed. She nodded to the window. “If you were patrolling, where’s your cruiser? You weren’t driving it when I saw you sneaking to the house on those cute little spy cams Diesel installed.”
His expression suddenly dropped. “You saw wrong,” he insisted and looked more nervous now.
“Don’t fuck with me, Tucker,” Casey growled. “I’m still a little pissy about the last time I ran into you in this bedroom.”
Tucker stared at Casey and appeared stunned. For a moment, he was unable to speak. He slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do,” she insisted. “Remember, that’s the night you murdered my parents and gutted me.” She casually indicated the bedroom door. “That’s the door I blew out with the shotgun when I nearly took off your head.” She smiled innocently. “I would think that would still be fresh in your mind,” she announced then suddenly sneered. “It’s fresh in mine.”
“Casey, you’re making a mistake.”
“I don’t think so,” she insisted. “You told Melanie that Vaughn interrupted a rape attempt, but Vaughn never told you that. He never told anyone that.”
“No, of course he didn’t,” Tucker replied. “I read it in his police report.”
“It wasn’t in the report, because he arrived after the fact. Vaughn didn’t know anything about it,” she informed him and again smiled sweetly. “The only people who knew about that were the two people in the kitchen that night. Me and the killer.”
Tucker suddenly tensed while staring at her. Her look was cold and frightening. “You can’t prove anything,” he informed her. “I have an alibi for the time of the murders. I was with Melanie.”
“Oh, please, Tucker,” she scoffed. “As deputy, you could easily manipulate the time. I doubt anyone ever questioned your whereabouts. You probably showed up at Melanie’s house right after your little side trip here.” Her look was now oddly psychotic. “Besides, I don’t care what I can prove.” Casey raised her brows while tilting the gun. A twisted smile crossed her face. “I’m just l
ooking for revenge.”
Tucker’s look slowly faded to fear. Casey was on the edge, and it wasn’t going to end well for him.
“Let’s see,” she announced reflectively. “An eye for an eye, right? Now what would be the male equivalent to my reproductive organs?” She grinned most sinister. “I think you know what’s coming next--”
Casey cocked the hammer and aimed the gun at Tucker’s crotch. He suddenly cried out. A car was heard pulling up the gravel driveway. Casey frowned and pulled the gun back.
“Damn, that’s Sheriff Holt here to ruin my fun.”
For some odd reason, the sound of the approaching car allowed Tucker to regain some of his arrogance. “I doubt Vaughn will be making your date tonight. He met with an unfortunate accident on his way over,” Tucker bluntly informed her and smiled deviously. “Some drunk driver in a stolen car ran him into a tree.”
Casey’s look suddenly changed from sinister to concern. She removed her cell phone and pressed a button. The phone rang on the other end. Vaughn’s voicemail picked up. Casey disconnected the call then glared at Tucker.
“For your sake, you’d better be lying,” she growled. “Toss your handcuffs and keys to me.”
Tucker tossed both to the floor near her. As Casey reached down to pick them up, Tucker suddenly lunged for her. Casey spun into an upward kick from the floor and struck him in the face. Tucker fell harshly against the dresser then collapsed to the floor. Casey casually collected the handcuffs and snorted a laugh.
“Thank you,” she announced to the unconscious deputy. “That was actually easier than telling you what to do.” She sighed while grinning. “And ten times more satisfying.”
Moments later, within the kitchen. Deputy Mitchell poked his head in through the open door and cautiously looked around with his hand on his gun within his holster.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Mitchell uncertainly called out while scanning the empty kitchen. It was too quiet. “Casey? Grey? Big, brawny dude?”
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