LYING COP

by Sandy Night

  “But you did take him to the cave, right? You drove him out there. All I want to know is where did you pick him up?”

  “I told you, I picked him up at the cave and took him to the police station where he turned himself in.”

  “But where was he before the cave?”

  Shit. Now this old trooper geezer was trying to make her confess. Alaska stood. “I’m done talking to you.”

  “Sit down.”

  “I want a lawyer, this is bullshit.”

  Surprisingly the trooper got up and opened the door for her. She guessed she said the magic word—lawyer.

  *****

  Colt shifted in his chair as he slyly wiped the moisture from the palms of his hands onto the jeans he wore. “I don’t know how Blade got to the cave.”

  Sitting behind the desk, Major Richard Jenkins raised an eyebrow above his glasses. “His sister must have given you some clue as to how he got out there. Isn’t that why you went to the Cliff Café, to find out?”

  “Yes, and I befriended her to get information. But all she said was, ‘I have an idea where he might go to hide.’ And we went out there and he was there. And also Esther Ketch followed us out there and she shot at us with a shotgun. I would like the DA to press additional charges against her concerning that incident.”

  “But don’t you think Alaska helped her brother and drove him to the mountains?”

  “No,” Colt lied, knowing darn well she drove him out there in the act of aiding and abetting an escaped convict. “Oh by the way,” he said standing, “look at what I found in the tunnel along with a skeleton.” He stuck his hand in his jean’s pocket, pulled out the rustic six-point badge he found amongst the bones, and gently laid it on the desk, right under the Major’s nose.

  Richard Jenkins picked it up and peered at it more closely. “Well I’ll be damned. I wonder if this belonged to a Sheriff Wooster, disappeared back in the early forties.” He opened a desk drawer, took out an evidence baggie, and slipped the badge inside. “His deputy thought he was hot on the trail of some bootleggers. They searched for his body for years.” He began writing on the tag. “You may have found it.” Pausing, he glanced up with a sparkle of humor. “How about we call it Colt’s tunnel?”

  Colt chuckled. “Hey that’s fine by me.”

  “How soon will you be up to going back out there? I’d like you to show Fish & Game exactly where the cave’s entrance is at, and the cabin, and the hole you think they put you down. I want to make sure we got the right tunnel before sending investigators in there. And also Tom Ketch could be out there. We’ll have an arrest warrant.”

  “Daybreak. I’ll take Alaska home and then I’ll go to the station.”

  Major Jenkins nodded and reached for the phone.

  Colt sighed with relief the second he closed the door behind himself. Glancing up and down the hallway, he wondered how his feral woman fared. He went in the direction she and Trooper Joe had gone. The door to the interview room stood ajar, he peeked inside but no one was in there. He strode up front as quickly as his bruised side would allow. Joe was there, in front of the water cooler.

  “Where’s Alaska?” Colt asked with a seed of trepidation in his gut.

  The seasoned trooper half turned and said like he had a Doberman in his throat, “She left.”

  Glad she hadn’t gotten arrested, Colt went out the building. And there she was—a dark figure sitting in his dad’s Dodge.

  Smiling, he climbed in.

  “What did you tell them?” Alaska’s voice was on the edge of panic.

  “Everything,” he teased as he started the engine.

  “Everything! Are you kidding me?”

  Chuckling, he backed up and headed out of the parking lot. “Relax, I didn’t tell them about that thing you did.” Actually, he just wanted to permanently erase from his mind the crime she had committed and the fact he knew about it. “Oh by the way, your truck is still at the apartment complex in Branson and appears to be okay. We’ll go pick it up latter.”

  Chapter 30

  Loud buzzing sliced the early morning gray like a fire alarm. Moaning, Alaska rolled over, disconnecting her body from Colts warm and soft nakedness. She slapped the clock. Praying everything was okay at the café, she pushed herself upright, fluffing the pillow behind her and keeping her bum knee straight. She disengaged her cell from the charger. The man of her dreams stirred, pulling the comforter off her legs. She yanked it back and then focused on the cell’s lit buttons.

  “Cliff Café,” Stormy answered after the first ring.

  “It’s me.”

  “Alaska! Where are you?”

  “Home. Is Jack there?”

  “Yeah, he’s here, he’s busy cooking. He got behind. I found him sleeping in the middle of the dining room. I thought he was dead.”

  “Oh good.” Alaska sighed. “So is everything okay there? Any masked men throw you all in the walk-in yesterday?”

  Stormy giggled. “No. When are you coming in?”

  “I can come in now but I’d rather stay in bed if you all can manage without me for awhile. I got three hours sleep, my knees busted, had a nail in my foot, got kicked in the back while I was tied up, and got walloped in the head, it almost killed me.”

  “In bed huh, Hunk-O with you?”

  “Yes, Hunk-O’s here.” Alaska felt Colt’s big hand stroke her thigh under the comforter. “Is Pearl and Nikki there yet?”

  “Pearl’s here and Nikki just came in. Go ahead, take the day off, we’re fine.”

  “I don’t need the whole day, just a few more hours.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Bye.” Alaska laid her cell back on the nightstand and snuggled up against her soon-to-be fiancé. She began to drift off in total peace and comfort but Colt moved away from her and got out of bed. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He turned the bathroom light on. “I’m going to the station to take Wildlife Officers out to where the cabin is. And show them the tunnel.”

  “Why?” She flipped on her back so she could watch him.

  He chuckled while slipping on the pants he borrowed from his dad. “So they can start their investigation concerning everything that happened, including the skeleton.” He picked up his cell holder that was still on the dresser, put it on his belt, and then slipped his cell in that they’d fetched from the bushes. “You have to get up too and go somewhere Tom can’t find you. You can take my car.” He sat on the edge of the bed and began putting on his shoes.

  Alaska stared at his muscular back hunched over. “I don’t need to go anywhere. Tom doesn’t know where I live.”

  “You can’t be sure about that.” Colt sat up and gave her a serious look.

  “I’m not scared of him. I’ll kick his ass.”

  Colt broke eye contact, stood up, and shook his head. He put his shirt on and came around to her side of the bed where he sat back down. His gaze picked up where it had left off. “I know you’re not scared of him. And I’m sure you can kick his ass. But at the same token, he could hurt you worse than what you already are.”

  “No, I’m staying. I really don’t think he’s still looking for me after the fire. I’m sure he knows by now he’s busted. He’s probably headed toward Mexico.”

  He caressed her arm. “”Well then…go to the café, have some breakfast. I won’t be long, and then we’ll go to Branson.”

  “No, everything’s okay there, I’ll wait for you here.”

  “I’m not worried about them.” He leaned away from her and pulled the cord to her dragonfly lamp, turning it on. And then he picked up her cell and started messing with it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m putting in my number so you can call me.”

  “Isn’t your battery dead?”

  “I have a car charger.”

  Alaska’s gaze followed Colt to the other side of the bed where he pulled the revolver he’d been toting around out from beneath the mattress.

  He str
olled back around and stood facing her. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  *****

  Tom knew exactly where Alaska lived, down a dirt road before Blade’s trailer, in a dinky little house. She had no neighbors, unlike Sally Jean who’d screamed when he pushed her to the floor, before he strangled her with his bare hands.

  He tore down Alaska’s road, no time to waste, needed to head for the border. But while he was going south, he may as well make a quick pit-stop; take care of business, if they were there.

  There was a black car. Bingo, cop car. Passing it, Tom came to a jolting stop in front of the porch. With his loaded and cocked Dirty Harry in hand, he left the motor running, jumped out of his truck, leapt up the steps, and kicked the door open.

  *****

  After Colt left, Alaska dozed on the brink of apprehension, his leaving his gun behind for her spoke volumes of his gut feelings. Maybe she should have heeded his advice and go somewhere. Or at least get dressed. She had totally stripped before climbing into bed. She was tossing the idea around when the hefty rumble of a vehicle entered her yard. It could have been Colt coming back for something, but still, she automatically reached for the revolver laying on the nightstand. And when the vehicle drove right up to the house as if it was going to plow through a wall, her heart skipped a beat and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stood and took a step toward the window, but before she could peer out to see whoever the hell it was, the front door burst open, crashing against the kitchen wall with the vengeance of an unexpected thunder clap.

  Every nerve ending in Alaska’s body popped, sending cracklings of fear through her. Clutching Colt’s gun, she dropped to the carpet, plopped onto her stomach, and hastily maneuvered herself underneath the rail of her wrought iron bed, pushing aside a pair of sandals, Aussie boots, and a couple of storage boxes. She scooted backward as far as she could. Staring at the dresser bottom and the opened doorway leading into the living room, she cocked the hammer back on the revolver and held onto to the grip for dear life with both hands and one finger on the trigger.

  The floor quivered.

  The intruder entered her bedroom. Pointy, rattlesnake skin cowboy boots paused before zipping past and going into the bathroom.

  Alaska’s aim followed him.

  He came right back out and stopped in front of the closet. Hangers whooshed and clacked. Her winter coat flopped on the carpet. Then he spun around and knelt down on one knee.

  She stopped breathing.

  His other knee came down along with a hand holding onto a big-ass gun. And then Tom’s face appeared.

  She squeezed the trigger. BANG!

  Tom slammed against the dresser.

  Skittering out from beneath the bed, Alaska cocked the hammer. She quickly got to her knees, ready to shoot again but she didn’t see him standing or trying to get up. Belly flopping across the bed she fired again. BANG! Smoke came out of the barrel.

  He lay on his side with his back against her blood splattered dresser and his head hanging over his shoulder. The bullet she put in his chest wasn’t necessary, blood streamed from a hole between his dark evil eyes, now vacant of life.

  “You son-of-a-bitch!” she yelled, sitting up.

  Where was his gun? She couldn’t see it, but wanted it as far away from him as possible. If there was one minuscule of a moment left in him somewhere, he would pick it up.

  Sliding off the bed, she spotted it laying just past the threshold in the living room. She crossed the refreshing air-stream from the box fan in the window. It was mid-morning and the sun beat brightly outside, gearing up for a hot spring afternoon.

  Clutching Colt’s gun with her right hand, she cautiously picked up Tom’s with her left. It had a long frightening barrel and weighed more than the revolver. She laid it on the coffee table and covered it with some junk mail. If the cops didn’t like her moving it, than that was just too frickin’ bad, after Esther rose from the dead, she was taking no chances with Tom.

  Alaska hobbled back into her bedroom. Her gaze went directly to the dead body, still dead. But she suddenly felt vulnerable in her nakedness. It was as if he could still see her. Her body got cold. She went to the fan and turned the knob to off. The whirring ceased. She had to call the police.

  Keeping her back to the wall so she could have a constant visual on Tom, she picked her cell up off the nightstand. But her skin tingled with goose bumps and her bones began to shiver. The authorities could get here faster than expected, she better get dressed first. She laid her cell back down.

  Crap. The dead body blocked the path to the other side of the room, between the queen bed and the dresser.

  Crawling across the bed to get to the closet, she crossed over into icy air as if she had stepped out her front door on a frosty winter’s day. What the hell?

  Nerves; had to be nerves.

  She wrapped the comforter over her shoulders and went to the bathroom, dragging the fluffy cover behind her. She dropped it to the floor and sat to tinkle, but had an odd feeling of being watched so she picked it back up and held it in front of her like a shield. After she got up, she immediately looked out the doorway to make sure he was still dead and no other intruder had entered her bedroom.

  Everything was still and quite, except for some birds chirping. All she could see of Tom was his legs sprawled and the scruffy bottoms of his boots. She turned toward the sink and quickly rinsed her face. After she turned the water off and the dripping stopped, the sound of hangers clacking and sliding was unmistakable.

  Oh Shit! Someone was definitely in her closet, it better be Colt. Alaska cocked the revolver and peeked around the bathroom door with her heart hammering the inside of her chest. She couldn’t see anybody, except for Tom who hadn’t moved.

  “Colt!” she called out.

  No answer.

  Hugging the comforter around her but keeping the gun sticking out, she stepped out of the bathroom. The curtain posing for a closet door was pulled back and if anybody were to be hiding in there, they’d have to be squeezed in pretty tight behind her clothes.

  She sidled up to the closet and peered in. There was nobody in there. Using the barrel of the gun, she pushed her clothes around. She was hearing things, nerves.

  Deciding on a cute summer button down and old relax-y jeans, she yanked them off the hangers, dropped the comforter, and put on the shirt. Her shivering stopped. She was feeling fairly warm, thank God, she really needed to keep her shit together.

  Now for underwear, she glanced toward her dresser. There was blood splattered all the way to the top of the top drawer, maybe inside the drawers too. Not necessary, she slipped her jeans on.

  Before she crossed over the bed, she looked around, was there anything else on this side of the room she needed? She stepped over the comforter and went back in the bathroom where she quickly brushed her teeth, applied a little bit of make-up, and ran a brush through her hair. And then she barreled across the bed.

  While she was strapping on her sandals, a sewer type stench hit her. “Ewww.” She glanced at Tom. “You bastard! You ruined my dresser and everything in it and now my house is going to stink.” And then she got an idea.

  She went to the fan, picked it up, turned it around, and turned it on, sending some of the nasty smell outside. That would definitely help. She stood looking out the window and caught a breath of fresh air infused with the scent of honeysuckle. And then someone jerked her hair with a vengeance, yanking her head back.

  “Ahhh!” Her arm flew out as she spun around. Empty space, blank, no one stood behind her or anywhere in the room. Maybe they went under the bed. She was too scared to look, they could shoot her like she done Tom.

  She grabbed her cell and the revolver and high-tailed it to the living room where she stopped, spun around, and gazed into her bedroom.

  What the hell was going on– freezing air, someone watching her in the bathroom, hangers moving around, and she was attacked, but the only person here besides herself was d
ead Tom.

  Holy Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Even though he was dead maybe he was still here, maybe his spirit never left. Tom was still fucking here! And he could hurt her. She could feel the soreness on the back of her head where he pulled her hair.

  Maybe his ghost could pick up his gun and shoot her. She better get it.

  She slipped her cell into her jean’s pocket and attempted to step forward but a force of cold air came in between her and the coffee table, nudging her.

  Shocked, she froze.

  Thankfully, after a few moments, it seemed to disappear but then she saw the impression of someone sitting on her couch, sinking into the middle cushion. And then a knocking noise sounded and everything on the coffee table shuddered. It was as if Tom’s ghost sat back, setting his boots up there right next to his gun.

  Alaska forced herself off the spot she stood on and swiftly limped away. Through the kitchen she went, past the door hanging on one hinge, down the steps, and without looking back, passed Tom’s truck.

  She climbed into Colt’s car and locked the door. She’d better call him first before the cops and explain to him why and where she moved Tom’s gun, why the comforter was off the bed, and why the fan was facing backward. She laid his revolver on the passenger seat. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her cell.

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “Colt,” she said with a squeaky voice. She glanced at her house. The kitchen curtain fluttered as if someone peered out.

  “Alaska, are you okay?”

  “There’s a ghost in my house!”

  Epilogue

  Days passed before Blade was exonerated from his second-degree murder conviction. But he remained in his cell for escaping. Weeks slogged by and then finally the judge ordered his release, time served. He walked out of the pen during a heat wave.

  Colt pulled into the lot.

  Blade slid into the coolness of the black car, slammed the door closed, and wiped perspiration off his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Hey man, thanks for picking me up.”