by Gen Griffin
Trish cringed as Addison kicked Curtis in the stomach. The fat man slumped over backwards. His head hit the pavement with a thunk.
Addison knelt down on top of him, keeping the toe of one steeled-toe boot positioned squarely in Curtis's crotch. He still had the lit cigarette dangling from his lips. His voice came out as a low, raspy growl when he spoke. “You snatched the wheel of that car and put it into the trees. I know you did and you know you did.”
“Screw you,” Curtis coughed.
Trish imagined that it wasn't easy to breathe with Addison's knee in the middle of his breastbone.
“I will chop you up and feed you to an alligator if you ever come near Trish again. That's a promise.”
“She's mine,” Curtis hissed defiantly.
Addison pulled his service pistol out of its holster. He raised it until the barrel was lined up perfectly with the end of Curtis's nose. “No. She's not.”
“Addy, don't hurt him,” Trish said.
“You won't pull the trigger.” Curtis sneered at Addison.
Addison adjusted the gun just slightly to the left and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the otherwise still night with a terrifying boom.
Trish screamed.
The smell of urine filled the air as Curtis peed on himself.
Addison had shot the gun into the trees just to the left of where Curtis was laying. “She's not your wife anymore.”
“Fuck you.” Curtis's huge chest shuddered as he visibly gasped for breath. “What kind of a cop are you?”
“A damn good one.” Addison turned the barrel of the gun back onto Curtis. “Trish wants a divorce. You're going to give it to her. Understand?”
“You won't shoot me.” Curtis sounded terrified.
“Addison-.” Trish didn't even know where to start or if she even wanted to try. She'd been told he had a temper but she had never seen the violent side of Addy before.
“Be quiet, Trisha.” His tone was surprisingly mild. “I'd be scraping pieces of your brain off a tree right now if you hadn't been wearing your seat belt. And I'm willing to bet that this jack-wagon knows that you used to have a bad, bad habit of not wearing your seat belt.”
“Oh my god.” Trish sucked in an unexpected gulp of air. She didn't like wearing seat belts because the belts always rubbed uncomfortably against her neck. Addison was right.
“He does know, doesn't he?”
“Of course he does,” Trish whispered with a nod. “I hadn't worn one in years until you pitched your little hissy about it. I only started wearing it after you made me look at all those horrific pictures on your phone. I only wear it now because I'm tired of fighting with you about it.”
“If you hadn't buckled yourself in, you would be one of those horrific pictures right now.” Addison was still holding the gun on Curtis.
Trish gulped but she didn't say anything else. She looked away as Addy pressed the gun barrel into Curtis's fleshy double chin.
“Trish belongs to Trish,” Addison said flatly. “She doesn't belong to you. She doesn't want to see you ever again as long as she lives. Got it?”
Curtis's eyes were solely focused on the gun. “Fine,” he muttered.
Addison smiled chillingly as he pulled the gun away from Curtis's head and inserted it back into its holster. “Good boy.”
“Fuck you.”
Addison stood up and brushed his own knees off. Curtis sat motionless in the middle of the road as Addison picked up his official accident report and neatly folded it. He handed it to Trish. “Ready to go?”
Trish nodded wordlessly.
Addison gestured for Trish to slide into the passenger's seat of the Ford as he climbed into the driver's seat. He bumped Curtis twice with the driver's side door before Curtis moved far enough out of the way that he could close it.
“Hey! You can't just leave me out here in the middle of nowhere.” Curtis sat up on the roadway.
“Call a cab,” Addison told him.
“You're just going to abandon me?” Curtis demanded. “Leave me in the middle of nowhere on a dark road with a wrecked car?”
“Pretty much.” Addison cranked his truck and shifted it into gear. Curtis was still watching them. His hate-filled eyes were fixed on Trish.
“Trish, you're going to regret this,” Curtis said.
“No, I really don't think I will.” Trish felt unbelievably numb.
“Say bye-bye,” Addy told Trish as he hit the accelerator.
“Bye-bye,” Trish whispered.
Chapter 9
Kerry would have been cursing for the entire three mile walk back to the Callahan County Sheriff’s Department’s Main Office, but his asthma made it hard to breathe and curse at the same time. His inhaler was in the glove box of the missing cruiser. Along with his cell phone, wallet and house keys.
He wondered how much debt the thieves would wrack up on his credit cards before they were caught. He wondered if any of his fellow officers would even be willing to help him try and figure out who had stolen his cruiser in the first place.
He wondered if his fellow officers had stolen his cruiser. Stealing Kerry’s cruiser was definitely the kind of thing Addison would do just to spice up a boring Friday night in Possum Creek. Addison was off duty tonight. He had all the opportunity in the world to steal the cruiser and hide it somewhere unpleasant. Like the middle of the damned swamp.
A loud croaking bellow came from the bushes ten feet to Kerry’s right. He jumped, startled. The noise had been too loud of have been the call of a bull frog. It had been the mating call of a bull alligator. Kerry shuddered and glanced at the rusty chain link fence that ran just behind the bushes. The Appledale Alligator Farm had been in Callahan County for more than 60 years. It wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite local business due to an extremely high number of alligator escapes.
The City Council had been trying to force Ron Appledale to move the alligator farm to the outskirts of town for as long as Kerry could remember. They had offered to purchase the alligator farm for three times its actual value but Ron Appledale had turned the very generous offer down. The council had then tried to put the alligator farm out of business by playing with the local zoning laws and business licenses. The new zoning laws had made sure that no new alligator farms would be able to open for business inside the city limits of Possum Creek, but they hadn’t been remotely useful for getting rid of the one that was already in business. The Appledale Alligator Farm was grandfathered in.
The bellowing noise came again. The bushes on Kerry's right shook. Kerry reached for the gun on his hip. The bushes were on the wrong side of the fence to be shaking. Kerry broke into a cold sweat as a large alligator stuck its toothy snout out of the shrubbery.
Kerry held his ground for approximately half of a second. The alligator lunged for him, nearly clamping its jaws down on his leg. As he bolted for the safety of town with an alligator snapping at his heels, Kerry discovered he could keep running after all.
Chapter 10
“You wouldn't have really shot him, would you?” Trish asked as Addison wiggled out of his skunk-sprayed uniform shirt. He tossed it out through the open window of his truck. He was steering with one knee.
“Did you want me to shoot him?” Addison countered. “Reach into the back seat and get me another shirt, will you?”
Trish twisted around in the seat and began digging through the sloppy collection of clutter that had filled the backseat of Addison's county truck. She saw several gun cases, a compound bow, no less than four boxes of 12 gauge shotgun shells, a fleece blanket, an open first-aid kit that was missing half its supplies, two different jackets, a wrinkled Bible and a military-style backpack. She decided the clothes were probably in the bag, so she unzipped it. The smell of lavender dryer sheets hit her immediately. She dug through the backpack until she found a plain black t-shirt.
“You want pants too?” She asked.
“And boxers, if you don't mind. I think the skunk smell has soaked throu
gh all my layers.” Addison was wiggling out of his uniform pants while going 60 miles an hour down the mostly empty two lane highway.
Trish pulled his clothes out of the bag and dropped them back in the front seat. “I guess its a good thing you didn't decide to arrest me. Your truck is so full of junk that I don't think you have any room for transporting criminals. Where do you put the people you arrest?”
“I don't normally arrest people.” Addison slipped his pants off and nearly ran off the road in the same moment. He yanked the steering wheel back straight at the last possible second. “And the few folks I do have to pick up aren't usually violent. I let them ride in the same place where you're riding.”
Trish settled back into the passenger's seat. “You know, the police aren't friends with the convicts in the town I'm from.”
“You also have more than 1,200 people living there.” Addy wiggled his way into the fresh pair of jeans that she had just handed to him.
“I had more than 1,200 people in my high school,” Trish said. “I don't think I'm ever going to get used to Possum Creek. Everybody knows everybody. No one has any secrets. No one has any privacy.”
“You like living here.” Addison gestured down at his shirtless torso. “And my knowing everyone in town just saved your ass, Trisha.”
“I know.” Trish took a deep breath. “Thank you. And um, thank you for not killing him. I don't love Curtis but I'm not sure I could have stomached watching him die.”
“Shame he doesn't feel the same way about you,” Addy replied harshly. “You should have told me he was dangerous.”
“I didn't really think he was.”
“You admitted he pushed you off that boat.”
Trish closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I thought he did it in a fit of anger, Addison. We've all done things we wouldn't ordinarily do when we're really angry. He and I had gotten into a big fight right before we'd gone out on the boat.”
“And you thought divorcing him would put him in a better mood?”
“No. It's not like-.” Trish struggled to gather her thoughts. “He would lose everything if he killed me, Addison. I mean, really, he has nothing to gain. I don't have any life insurance. I'm not taking anything with me in the divorce. He has no reason to want to hurt me. None at all.”
“You're wrong,” Addy said.
“He's a lawyer practicing with a well-respected criminal defense firm in Silver City. He's working his way towards becoming a partner. His life would be ruined by a murder investigation.”
“Not if your death looked like an accident,” Addison replied. “Seriously Trish, what the fuck were you thinking when you agreed to go out to dinner with him tonight?”
“I was thinking that I didn't want to cause a scene at the house and that he couldn't hurt me if we were driving my car.”
“You were wrong on that second part.”
“I know,” Trish whispered. “I'm sorry, okay? I'm really freaking sorry.”
“I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be honest with me.” Addison reached across the interior of the truck and took Trish's hand in his. “Do you have any idea how much I don't want to work the scene of your fucking murder?”
“Addy-.”
“Swear to me that you won't see him again, Trish. Swear it.”
Trish was saved from having to respond to him because his police-issue radio started squealing and crackling.
“Hey Addy. Addy. Answer your dang radio.” A woman's voice echoed through the speaker.
Addison grabbed his radio off the center console and abandoned his efforts to put his shirt on. “What?” He asked snappily.
“I need you-.” The radio crackled and broke up.
“You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say those words, baby girl.” Addison's expression and tone of voice changed from deadly serious to easygoing in a split second. He grinned flirtatiously at the radio, as if the girl could see him.
“Not like that,” she replied with a huff. “I just took four phone calls in a row from people who live on the right side of Main Street. Our favorite local business has had another mass break out.”
“Tell me you're not talking about-.” Addison scowled at the radio.
“The Appledale Alligator Farm is reporting that their fence has been cut. Ronnie Appledale says he's missing quite a lot of his prime stock.”
“Oh hell no.” Addison leaned back against the seat of his truck. “You're screwing with me, right?”
“Ida Young called me two minutes ago and told me she had to beat a bull gator upside the head with her umbrella because it tried to eat her dog. She asked me to call you. I'm calling you.”
“Damn it,” Addison cursed. “Tell her I'll be there in 20 to 30 minutes. I'm coming back from the Plantation House so it's going to take me a little while to get there. Send Ian.”
“I already sent Ian. And before you ask, I can't get a hold of Kerry. He's not answering his radio. And before you ask, no. He's not on a call. I haven't sent him on a call all night.”
“Go figure that little chickenshit has gone M.I.A when flesh eating reptiles are involved. Keep trying him until you reach him. Burn up his cell phone. Tell the little bastard that he's fired if he isn't on the scene when I get there.”
“Will do,” the dispatcher replied. “There anyone else you want me to call?”
Addison thought about it for a moment. “See if you can get a hold of Cal for me. I'm going to have to drive past David's on my way to town. I'll stop by and see if he's game for a little gator hunting.”
“You know he will be,” she replied. “It's David. But I've got to let you go. The 911 lines are blowing up. I'm sure you can figure out why.”
Addison let out a short laugh. “Tell all the nice citizens to stay inside, bring their pets inside and that help is on the way.”
“I will. Drive fast,” she said. “Love you. Bye Bye.”
“Love you too, baby girl.” He set the radio back down in the cup holder.
“Love you?” Trish asked him.
“Katie.” He said her name as if it explained everything.
“The girl who writes romance novels about you?” Trish recalled their earlier conversation at the restaurant.
“Okay, now you're making it sound kind of raunchy,” Addison said. “Katie and I's relationship is strictly G-rated. She's married. And pregnant. Extremely pregnant. Like, she's due any day.”
“And you swear it's not your baby?” Trish asked.
“If she is, I don't remember conceiving her,” Addison said with a laugh. “Trust me when I say I would remember sleeping with Katie.”
“She?” Trish asked.
“Katie's having a girl. Her name is going to be Hannah Mae.” Addison shrugged. “Katie's married to Ian. She's our dispatcher. Ian is a deputy. Ian and I have been friends for years, so we're not exactly formal with one another. We joke around about sleeping together but I promise we don't make good on our threats.”
Trish smiled at him. “You know I don't really care who you sleep with, right?”
“I know,” Addison acknowledged with a nod. “But you could?”
“Nope.” Trish shook her head at him. “All attempts to kill me aside, one of the main reasons I filed for a divorce was so I wouldn't have to worry about keeping track of who anyone else was sleeping with.”
Addison hesitated. “Why am I not surprised that dick-face cheated on you?”
“As you already know, he's a lawyer. I caught him getting a blow job from one of his clients after work one night. I thought I was being a nice wife by bringing him dinner when he was supposed to be working late. I didn't know his definition of working late was giving discounts to clients who were willing to perform sexual favors.” Trish focused her gaze out the window of the truck so that she wouldn't have to see the expression on his face.
“Trish-.”
“No, Addy. I don't want to talk about him anymore tonight. Please.” Trish closed her eyes and
leaned her head against the glass. “It's bad enough that I'm going to need to call a tow truck to go get my car. I hope they'll accept a post-dated check or an IOU. My credit card is already maxed out.”
“Don't bother,” Addison said. “I've got a set of keys to the only wrecker in town. Agree to go out to dinner with me and your tow job is on the house.”
“You're not serious,” Trish said.
He poked at his keys and grinned at her. “It's your choice. Make a decision.”
“Pay a towing bill or date you?”
“Not date. Just dinner,” Addison clarified.
“Fine,” Trish said. “I like barbecue. We can go try that new restaurant you've been talking about. But not tonight.”
“I didn't say we had to go tonight.”
Trish nodded and then sat silently for a minute. Something Addison had said earlier had just come back to her. “You know, I've never seen a cab in Possum Creek.”
“There are no cabs in Possum Creek,” Addison said with a sly smile.
“None?”
“Not a single one.”
“Then how is Curtis-?”
“He's stranded.” Addison grinned at her. “He's either going to have to hitchhike or walk back to Possum Creek.”
“You are so bad.” Trish couldn't help smiling at the thought of Curtis being stranded in the woods.
“I'm so bad, I'm good. And speaking of me being good, you know you want to-.”Addison suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence.
“I want to what?” Trish asked.
“Oh. Oh shit.” He was staring ahead through the windshield of the truck. A large plume of gray smoke was coloring the evening sky. “Please tell me that's not a fire.”
“Um, it looks like a fire. A big fire.” Trish glanced at the smoke and then back at Addison. It took her a moment to realize the slack-jawed expression on his face was a mixture of shock and fear.
“Fuck.” He slammed his foot down into the truck's accelerator, showing the engine no mercy as the needle on the RPM gauge shot straight into the red.
“Addison?” Trish gripped the armrest on the seat as if her life depended on it. The big truck shook and shuddered as it accelerated. Addison didn't let off as they sped towards the source of the smoke. “Maybe it’s just a bonfire.”