“I’ll stab either one of them if you get cute!”
“Oh, I won’t, I won’t.”
“Start up and meet whoever it is in the drive. The light is dimmer there.”
I was surprised that he was following my orders. Either I had totally convinced him that I was jelly, or he was unsure of his own reaction.
When I saw that it was Jasmine coming up the drive, I put my hand tentatively over his on the wheel.
“Dim your lights, and slow to a crawl. Stop the truck where the windows are together. It won’t take more than two or three sentences.”
“Don’t make me use the scissors!” He dimmed his lights and rolled down his window.
“Oh, I won’t,” I whispered.
Rand and Jasmine stopped when their windows were even with each other. I leaned forward so she could see me in the dim light.
“Jasmine, it’s Miz Sidden. You’re late again! I’ve got a good mind to tell Hank! If my boyfriend comes, tell him I don’t know when I’ll be back!”
I could see Jasmine’s eyes widen as I began talking. I held my breath.
“Yes’m, I’s sorry I’s late. I’s tell ’em.”
Her voice had been shrill and she had sounded scared. Absolutely perfect. I let out the breath I had been holding and started listening to the voices, as Rand drove the terror train toward Bubba.
“You know he’s gonna keep going ’til he succeeds in killing you,” my mind asserted.
“Don’t do it, my dear, it would be very difficult to live with, in fact, I don’t believe you could. You’ll be confessing before New Year’s!” My heart was practicing her usual bleeding-heart routine.
My gut rumbled. “I need some fizzy stuff. You two have got me upset with your bickering!”
“Shut up, you guys! Leave me alone!”
The voices ended. They could tell I meant business. They knew what I was planning. I was being delivered to the slaughter, willingly. I could have stopped the trip half a dozen times in the last fifteen minutes. I was gonna take this get-out-of-jail-free card and blow the sucker away.
33
“Who’s Doing What to Whom?”
October 23, Monday, Midnight
Rand drove with confidence. He didn’t hesitate on turns and seemed to be heading in a southeasterly direction. If he knew where he was going, he was using the back streets well to get there. He was staying off all the main roads. I didn’t know that he knew Balsa City at street level. He must have been here several times to drive so effortlessly in the maze of small suburban streets lined with rows of houses that were mostly dark at this hour.
Bypassing the main part of town, he worked his way over near Johnson’s Landing, pulled off in a small lot with a turnaround, shut off the engine, and killed the lights.
I removed my arm from the door panel, slid my hand behind my back, and closed my fingers around the gun. I didn’t want to be surprised by any sudden move, from him or an unexpected visitor sneaking up to the window. I sat and listened to the occasional ping of the hot engine cooling, cicadas in the brush, and a lonesome grunt of a bullfrog in a drainage ditch a foot from the right wheels.
Neither of us spoke. I don’t know why he was keeping quiet, but I didn’t want my voice to cover the small rustlings that would signal a clandestine approach. After several minutes Rand turned on the cab light, checked his watch, cranked up, and pulled back on the road. Killing time, or checking to see if someone was following? Whatever, he seemed content to drive slower. He turned onto a paved area in front of the old Bleeker warehouses that had been abandoned years ago.
Turning left, he drove into a small alley between the two rusted tin structures and pulled up to a double door that was closed. He gave a single tap on the horn button.
Adrenaline surged through my veins and my knees felt weak. The door started slowly sliding open with assorted creaks and groans. There were absolutely no traffic sounds, although I knew we were only two blocks from Highway 301. Rand pulled slowly into the inky blackness and I shut my eyes, hoping to build up some night vision. When the truck stopped moving I opened them to see a single shaded bulb suspended from a high rafter shedding a dim light on the gray concrete floor. The darkness outside of the dim cone of light felt cold and empty.
My bare arms were covered with chill bumps. Rand opened his door and alighted, and walked forward. I eased open my door after a careful 360-degree scan, and dropped lightly to the floor. I placed both hands under my T-shirt in the back and ran them just inside my jeans. I thought both arms would look more natural than just one.
“Yo, Rand!” rang out from the darkness. It seemed to quiver and bounce in the cavernous space. I spread my legs slightly, so I could swivel easier, and tried to remember which direction the now-echoing voice had came from. I took a quick peek at Rand, but he hadn’t changed position. His head hadn’t turned and he continued to face the space in front of the truck, so I did likewise.
“Brought me the bitch and almost on schedule!” This blast came from behind the truck. I turned without haste to see a parody of my first love step into the light. This travesty was a disgusting sight of bulging ropy muscles that looked grotesque on his six-foot frame, beer-keg thighs straining against their denim restraints, with an impossibly tiny waist between the two abnormalities. His hair was a prison bleach job, yellowish-orange shocks of dried-out corn shucks falling to his shoulders. Both arms were twisted snakes of sinew and muscle. His right hand held a bat.
I shuddered with distaste. The unformed boyish face I had married fourteen years ago had gained creases and rough-looking pitted skin adorned with crudely carved tattoos. Twin daggers, one on each cheek. Could he possibly think he was handsome?
He could. “See what you been missing?”
My mind searched for an explanation of his weird looks and could only guess that maybe he had tried the forbidden fruit and was now wired for both AC and DC. It was the only answer I could think of at the moment.
He swaggered toward Rand, putting the width and bulk of the truck between us. I was glad to get them closer together; it had been a strain trying to keep an eye on both of them while they were twenty feet apart.
Bubba spoke under his breath to Rand. I couldn’t make out Bubba’s mumble, and only caught the last of Rand’s answer. “… leaving now.”
“Not yet!” Bubba spoke sharply. “You haven’t been paid yet.”
He moved his bat under his left arm and reached back for his wallet. Neither one of them were looking at me. It was as if they had forgotten me. I could have faded back into the darkness, or made a break for the door. I didn’t do either. I stood rooted in place, a yard from the truck door, and watched them both across the hood of the truck.
Bubba slid a sheath of money out, and Rand looked uncomfortable. I couldn’t make out the denomination of the bills. I wondered what my capture and delivery was worth to Bubba. Five hundred? A thousand? Rand was protesting.
“No need, no need.” He raised both hands in front of him as he swiveled his head. “… wanted … way … also.”
I wished they would quit mumbling. Did he possibly mean he wanted me out of the way also? From what I saw, I would guess yes. So … that meant that I was investigating him and his past couldn’t stand to be scrutinized, or was it possible he was the one who had snatched Amelia and murdered Alyce? I couldn’t think about Rand now, he was the lesser of two evils. I had to concentrate on Bubba.
“Listen, I was for this one hundred percent!” My head spoke nervously. “Now I’m not so sure. What if they both want you dead? Are you capable of killing both of them?”
“It won’t come to that! You’re the one that gave me the idea in the first place. Are you chickening out?”
“Not exactly. I just didn’t count on Rand interfering and being present when you shoot Bubba. You are still planning on shooting him? Huh?”
“He won’t. Trust me. Rand will take off at the first opportunity.”
“But what if he doesn’t?�
�
“Hush! I can’t think when you’re nagging at me!”
“You are taking the money,” Bubba said, with cold resolve steeling his voice. “You brought her here, and you’ll be paid! That way you will keep your mouth shut because you’ll be just as guilty as I am when I kill the bitch!”
He punctuated his speech by rubbing his left hand back and forth on the smooth surface of the bat. His action was slow and deliberate and quite mesmerizing. I followed the movement of his hand and wondered woodenly if death was waiting in the wings to take just me, just him, or both of us.
Bubba’s face lit up with a grin displayed from ear to ear. He took a step closer to Rand, who hastily stepped backward to compensate for Bubba’s advance. He looked terrified.
“Maybe I should do both of you, make it a double-header. That way I won’t have to worry about you squealing.”
I shook my head to clear it, taking a deep breath.
“Hey, you bastard! What’s this talk about killing! Haven’t you learned anything from all those years in prison?”
As usual, I didn’t know when to keep quiet. They both stared at me.
Baiting Bubba was akin to grabbing a wild bull by the horns, but I was tired of standing on the sidelines sweating the outcome of tonight. I was psyched and ready.
“Just hold on there, tootsie!” Bubba yelled, his mouth releasing the rictus of his deadly grin. “Don’t be so impatient. I’ll get to you in a minute!”
Bubba’s head jerked back to stare at the spot that Rand had been occupying before he decided to run like a striped ape. We both listened to his fading footfalls, Bubba cursing with frustration, while I smiled at my small victory. I had gotten Rand out of the picture without bloodshed. Neither one of us wanted a witness at this last confrontation, I was sure.
“See what you did?” Bubba screamed. “Now I’ll have to go looking for him. You’ve messed up my life for the last time, bitch!”
“Freeze!” shouted a familiar voice.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I turned my head quickly and saw Jasmine step into the cone of light, bracing her gun with both hands, correctly positioned, and aiming it steadily at my ex-husband.
Oh shit! I just had time to remember that her revolver hadn’t been left in her empty apartment. She had kept it for her journey, I suppose. I wanted to yawn from the tension of the moment, but just then time turned into slow motion. I began my mad dash to get around the truck to get in front of Jasmine. I didn’t want her killing him, it would be the worst thing that could happen to her now, and I didn’t want him attacking her. My bullets had to enter him from the front to successfully claim I shot him in fear of my life.
God, why couldn’t I run? My knees were pumping and I could feel my harsh breath leaving my lips, but it was like I floated around the back of the truck.
Jasmine was still pointing the gun at Bubba when I came up behind her. Too slow, too slow. Bubba was in full stride and bringing the bat around in a roundhouse swing, less than six feet away.
“Nooo!” I shouted. I had time to hear it echo in the dark open empty spaces and up to the faraway high-pitched roof. Moving dreamily, I brushed effortlessly against Jasmine and sent her falling softly to the right like a downy feather. Off balance, I took my time raising the gun with my right hand. I knew at this moment that the rest of my life would be changed forever.
I wished that Tom Selph, dead these past nine months, could have seen my aim. He had taught me how to shoot at the county firing range. We had never been buddies. Hank had insisted that Tom was the best shot on the force and made Tom spend his time and effort so I would be prepared with the knowledge I needed.
“Hold it steady, and squeeze, until the chamber is empty,” he had drummed into my head when I had pulled up the muzzle with each shot.
“Thanks, Tom,” I breathed silently. “You would have been proud of your student. I placed all six in the chest at point-blank range.”
It was done. I had deliberately murdered my ex-husband, Buford Sidden Jr., and the only emotion that I felt was enormous relief that it was over.
34
“The Investigation Is Ongoing”
October 24, Tuesday, 1:00 A.M.
The bullets didn’t stop Bubba’s forward motion. He hung there above us for an incredibly long time, it seemed, before he toppled toward us like a fallen oak. He landed on top of us, as if he wanted to smash us flat for our part in ending his life. I didn’t hear him fall, just felt his warm blood all over me as the air was knocked out of my lungs.
I couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in my ears from the close blasts of the .32, and now I couldn’t breathe. I worked to draw in precious air to keep from blacking out. The first inhalation made my chest burn, and I heaved in more to clear the black dots from my vision.
Jasmine hadn’t moved beneath me. I scrambled around like a crazy person, trying to push the heavy body off me, and drag her away from the pool of blood. His heart would have stopped pumping when I hit it bang-on, but it must have been the final bullet. It seemed as if we were drenched with gore.
I fumbled for Jasmine’s pulse and felt her move her hand to push mine away. She sat up and looked at me. I must have been a sight. I could feel the wetness covering my face.
“Are you hurt?” My hearing had returned with a vengeance. Her voice was too loud for normal conversation, but we weren’t exactly in a normal situation. At least we were still breathing.
“The blood is all his.”
I saw her glance wildly around until her eyes found his body.
“He’s dead.” My voice was matter-of-fact.
“Did I shoot him?” she asked, in the same tone.
Her question surprised me. It seemed to have taken an eternity to kill him. I had had time to memorize every move and have it indelibly engraved in my memory.
“Of course not!” I answered quickly. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“It happened so fast.” She tried to smile. “Can you fill me in?”
Fast? How could two memories be so different? Maybe it was for the best. I wanted us to be able to tell the same story to whoever got here first, and if her memory was cloudy, maybe I could make her believe my sanitized version. It was worth a try.
“Rand kidnapped me, brought me here so Bubba could beat me. He became scared when he found out Bubba was going to kill me, and ran away. Bubba had the bat raised to beat my brains to a pulp, and I had to kill him to save my life. Do you remember it now?”
“Sorta … Didn’t I yell freeze or something?”
I forced a laugh. “Boy, you’re really out of it. What makes you think you yelled freeze?”
I had dropped my gun, and it was beside the body. Jasmine’s was under my left hip, the one away from her, and I was going to keep it out of this murder scene, if I could possibly manage it.
“I thought I brought my gun inside,” she said with a frown.
“Listen, let’s get this over with as quickly as possible. Someone may have heard the shots and reported them. I want you to go call Hank, and don’t settle for anyone else. Wait till you are speaking to Hank before you tell what happened. Okay?”
“Yes, all right.” She acted as if she needed to have some reason to move. She stood awkwardly, and held out a hand to help me up.
“Nope.” I gave her a grin. “I’m not gonna attempt to stand until I think I can without falling back down. I’ll be fine. Go make the call.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Scat!”
The minute she left I picked up her gun and scuffed my shoe soles every step to keep from leaving clear prints because they were bloody. I walked around the truck and opened the passenger side, pulled the wide seat back, and searched for something to wipe the gun clean. I found a pile of oily rags, and used two of them. I placed her gun beside my backbone, and holding onto the oily waste, I began cleaning my face and hands as I strolled out to where she was in the van, attempting to reach Hank.
> I opened the door of the van and saw Jasmine’s purse on the passenger seat. I slid in, picking up her purse and resting it in my lap.
“Got any tissues in here?” I said, as I causally opened it and moved around its contents.
“I think so—Hank? Oh, I’m so glad I found you. Please come quickly, there’s been an accident.” She turned in the seat away from me, so she didn’t have to look in my eyes when she told Hank that I had shot Bubba.
I quickly placed the gun in her purse and pulled out several tissues.
“I’m afraid so.” Her voice was low.
Hank had asked if Bubba was dead.
She turned back to me with a startled expression.
“Do you know where we are? I can’t direct him here.”
“In the alley between Bleeker’s old warehouses,” I said.
Jasmine replaced the mike with a trembling hand. I slid between the seats and squatted in front of the storage locker, searching for baby wipes. I crammed the oily rags into the locker and returned to the passenger seat and offered the box to her.
We began cleaning our hands and face, and dabbing on our soiled, spotted clothing.
“How did you manage to switch from your car to the van and still tail us?” I asked as we worked on the stains.
“I was terrified that I took too long, and wouldn’t know which way he turned on the highway. I hit the left side of the gate when I turned onto the lane. I felt the bump, but kept on going. I couldn’t see his truck when I got there. I guessed and turned right. I must have been doing ninety when I spotted his taillights when he turned onto Oak Street. I almost lost control when I made the turn because I hadn’t slowed enough.”
“You did great,” I said when she paused.
“Yeah, just great,” she said wryly. “I lost him after about five turns. I was like a lost dog in the meat house, running from one intersection to another trying to find out where y’all had gone. It was pure luck when I finally spotted him pulling out of a small road later. His lights shone my way for a second as he made his turn. I was one street over. Tell me, he actually was the helicopter pilot? Was he really delivering you to Bubba? They didn’t know each other, did they?”
Ten Little Bloodhounds Page 23