“Fucking run on me, will you?” Shane screamed, lashing out a boot and cracking Bub in the side of the head. Shane’s once slicked-back hair flapped over his brow, his eyes wide and mad. “I’ll show you what happens to pieces of shit who run from me. Steal from me.”
Shane scanned the room but couldn’t seem to locate what he wanted. His eyes settled on Willie for a minute, but Willie turned away quickly. He wanted to get the hell out of there, but there was no telling what Shane would do if he ran. He forced himself to stay anchored to the wall, pressing into the paint. Shane locked in on something past Willie on the patio outside. He walked through the door and came back in moments later with an ax in hand.
“No,” Bub groaned from the floor. His beaten eyes swollen to mere slits, but wide enough to grasp what was about to happen.
“Gag and drag this asshole outside.” Shane removed his shirt and threw it on the couch. His bodyguards stuffed a rag in Bub’s mouth and grabbed his arms, dragging him across the floor. Shane followed, his lean, ripped frame holding the ax like a Samurai warrior. Willie stayed at the wall, afraid to move. With each thunk, Willie’s knees gave way a little at a time and he slid down the paneled wall. Bub’s muffled screams forced their way through Willie’s hands covering his ears. By the time the horror stopped, Willie sat on the floor, heart pounding and sick to his stomach.
Thirty minutes later, he paced, waiting for Shane to come back, his plan with Halle rolling through his head. It was a long shot and worthless if he was the next one to get the ax. As Willie crushed his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table, Shane returned, freshly showered and wearing a new set of jeans with his patented, tight gray T-shirt. He must have a dozen of those things. He crossed the room and poured a drink from the crystal carafe on the bar. Shane’s cell rang while he poured.
“Yeah,” Shane said, setting the bottle down, brow furrowed. “Who is it? What did he want? You get a plate? Okay, make the call and track it down. Call me when you find out.” He hung up the phone and tossed it on the bar. “Want a drink, Willie?” This time Willie didn’t refuse. Shane poured and handed it to him.
“Thanks.” Willie took the glass, gripping it tight so his trembling hands didn’t drop it. He sat on the couch and gulped the amber liquid, which burned all the way to his stomach.
“You see anyone poking around town asking about me?” Shane asked. Willie’s cheeks tightened. Bub’s bloody corpse made him worried about his omission to Shane about the stranger beating Bub and the Sterretts, and he shook his head.
Shane took a chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Sorry about that back there with Bub. Had to be done.”
“Did it?” Willie asked, focusing on the ashtray on the table rather than face Shane’s gaze. Bub may have been a dirtball, but he was Willie’s friend all the same. In any case, no man should have to die that way. It was fucking medieval.
“I won’t tolerate desertion or theft, Willie. Little Halle in there told me what Bub said and you confirmed it. I figure it had to be Bub who stole the money from the warehouse. Hell, even if he didn’t, it was a matter of time before he did something stupid and exposed everything you and I have worked hard to build. The message had to be sent. You think anyone in my organization will dare question me after that?”
“No, sir,” Willie said. Not if they like their legs attached. He sipped the Scotch, face scrunching as it worked its way down. “You could’ve just shot him, though.”
Shane laughed. He took a swig of his drink. “You scared of me, Willie?”
“Most definitely,” Willie replied, bobbing his head like a rooster. A little wood carving of a deer sat on the table. He pictured the deer in the woods with its legs chopped off, Shane bare-chested and holding a blood-dripping ax.
“You worried I’m going to hurt you?”
“A little.”
“Don’t. You’ve been straight with me and I know you’d never betray me. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to promote you.”
Willie’s eyes narrowed in confusion. What the hell? From worried Shane would take him out next to a light at the end of the tunnel. Where the light led remained to be seen.
“I want to expand your territory,” Shane said. “I’ve got a new product line I’m delving into. Easier to make, more profitable, and nowhere near as high on the radar of local law enforcement as meth.”
Shit. A new product line? So much for making a big score and fading into the sunset. Then again, something with high profitability and lower risk would still allow him to make his escape in a few years. “What is it?”
“Cannibinoids,” Shane said.
“What the hell is that?”
“You hear of K2, Spice, synthetic marijuana?”
“Yeah, never tried it though.”
“Don’t,” Shane said. “There’s a reason they label the packages ‘not for human consumption.’ Doesn’t mean we can’t make a profit off it because there’s plenty of idiots out there wanting to get high on the stuff.”
“Why mess with dope?”
“It’s not dope. You basically get the chemical, spray it on some natural herbs, bag it up in a colorful package which draws the kids’ attention and bingo. Costs nothing to make and you sell it for ten bucks a gram.”
Colorful packages selling for cheap that gets kids high? He had his doubts. “And the cops don’t track it?”
“Oh, they’re after it. The reason we’re even talking about it is because of a big bust in Kansas City in October. Cops seized over twenty-four thousand packets of the stuff and a hundred grand in cash. Teddy Garrett got pinched and that leaves an opening for yours truly. Keats is bucking for the territory, but I’m going to wedge my way in before he gets the chance.”
“How do I fit in?” Willie asked.
“I like you, Willie. You know how to maintain a low profile and you don’t make stupid mistakes. I’m expanding into Kansas City and St. Louis with this. I’ve been in contact with some suppliers and I’ve got the lowdown on the distribution. You help me expand the web in Kansas City, hit both sides of the state line. We both make a shitload of money. You up for it?”
A change of scenery would be welcome. Get the hell out of Warsaw and Benton County. If he could save enough money over the next few years, he could get out of this violent world and do something legitimate, maybe open a bar or a liquor store. Still, there were loose ends.
“What about Howie and Bennett?”
“Howie’s done. That leaves one of your crew, assuming Bennett isn’t going to cause me any trouble about his brother.”
He was afraid to ask what "done" meant after what Shane did to Bub. “You can’t get Howie out of this?”
“He’s dead, Willie. Got shanked in the eye in the jailhouse this morning.”
Willie closed his eyes, trying not to react. He liked Howie and Shane just killed him. Two of his crew wiped out in one day. Play it cool, man. Never let ‘em see you sweat.
“Bennett ain’t gonna be happy,” Willie said. “But random violence happens in this business, right?”
Shane winked. “You’re going to need some additional help. I have a couple of guys I can move over from Sedalia while you’re setting up in Kansas City. Bennett can handle the business here. Cool?”
Time to address the elephant in the room. “What about the girl?”
Shane held up his drink and swirled its contents, the light dancing in and out of the liquid.
“I’m not a monster, Willie. I don’t want to kill a child. But she can’t go home now. She’s seen too much.”
“I’ll take her with me,” Willie said, the perfect opening for his plan.
“She won’t stay. She’ll run to the cops the first chance she gets and you know it.”
Willie fell silent. All the reasons he came up with to plead his case were stupid. He couldn’t think of a logical argument. But maybe he could keep her contained until he made enough in Kansas City to run far, far away. Maybe she would run with him. Until
then, he had to convince Shane keeping her alive wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. He had to convince Shane he was tough and couldn’t let him know of his love for Halle.
“I’ve got a plan,” Willie said. “I’ll keep the bitch drugged up and with me. I’ve been waiting to tap her ass for a couple years now. Either she comes to appreciate me or I’ll deal with her.”
Shane drained his drink and set the glass on the table. “Tap that ass all you want, but she isn’t leaving this house. She’s seen everything. She could take us all down and I can’t risk it. Show me you’re committed to the cause, Willie.”
Willie’s gut clenched, and he lowered his head, closing his eyes. Shane said he wasn’t a monster and wouldn’t kill a child, but he expected Willie to.
“You told me to bring her here,” Willie said.
“Yeah, probably not my wisest decision ever,” Shane said. He had the gall to laugh about it. “But it would’ve ended the same anyway. She saw me, you and your crew, the meth and my cook. She’s gotta go.”
Willie drained the rest of the Scotch. He shivered as it scorched its way down through his chest. He had to agree with Shane for now or he’d end up with a couple of bloody stumps for legs. Shane’s phone rang, and Willie jumped.
Shane snatched up the phone on the bar. “Yeah?” His face crunched. “Who? Find him and find out what the hell he’s doing here.” He listened and poured another drink, the confusion turning to anger. “I don’t want your excuses. You’re getting paid to find that shit out. Do it.”
Shane slammed the phone on the bar and threw the Scotch into the back of his throat. He sat on the couch and breathed out.
“Can I count on you to take care of this, Willie?”
“How long do I have?”
“I want you on the road to Kansas City by dark. That gives you a few hours to do what you need to do. You my man, Willie? I have to know if you’re on board.”
“I’m on board, Shane. You can count on me.”
“That’s what I want to hear. You got two hours to prove it to me. You take care of the girl and show me you have a stake in this game, or I’ll kill you both.”
There it was, the ultimatum. As much as it made his skin crawl, Willie shook Shane’s outstretched hand and walked down the hall. Kill sweet little Halle. If he didn’t, Shane or one of his crew would. Shane would kill both Willie and Bennett in the process and start over in Benton County. He stopped in the entry way and called Bennett on his cell, telling him to go to his trailer and bring his stash, his gun and his “hit the road in a hurry” duffel bag he stashed in his closet. He hung up and traced the shadows to Halle’s closed door, feet like lead weights, wondering what in the hell he would do.
CHAPTER FORTY
Jake braced himself against the dash as Bear bounced his truck along the rutted dirt road leading to Willie’s trailer off Poor Boy Road. A few black trash bags adorned the otherwise empty clearing around the mobile home. If not for the fresh bags, one could make the case someone abandoned the dump years ago.
Bear threw the truck in park. “No Shangri-La, is it?” Jake said.
“Hell, this is a pretty nice trailer compared to some of the ones in the back roads around here. He must have some money stashed somewhere because he sure as hell ain’t spending his drug money here.”
“What’s the game plan?”
“I doubt we get this lucky, but let’s make sure Halle isn’t here,” Bear said, opening the door. Jake followed him to the front of the trailer. An uncovered window in the front revealed a dark but neatly maintained living room with a chair, couch and lamp without a shade. Bear pounded on the front door. No answer. He tried the knob, locked.
“Shit,” Bear said.
They split up, walking around either side of the trailer and meeting at the back door set above rotting wood steps. Ratty sheets covered the windows. Jake tried the latch, which was also locked.
“Too bad I’m a cop,” Bear said, eyebrows raised. “Or I would kick the door in.”
“Good thing I’m here.” Jake leaned back and thrust his leg forward. The kick was strong, the door not so much. Jake’s leg burrowed a hole through the center, the momentum propelling him forward, burying his leg to his crotch. Bear almost fell to the ground, doubled over with laughter, hands grasping his knees. Jake joined him.
“That shit never happens in the movies,” Jake said, working his leg back through the hole.
Bear wiped the tears away. “Jesus God, if this wasn’t illegal, I’d snap a picture with my phone.”
“Good thing you’re such a law-abiding officer of the court.”
Jake cleared his leg and reached through the opening. He found the lock and seconds later they were inside Willie’s trailer. A quick search found nothing helpful. The only thing of value was a collection of old vinyl records. Def Leppard, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath. At least Willie had good taste in music.
“That would’ve been too easy, anyway,” Bear said. “Let’s hit the town and find the little douche weasel.”
They started toward the back door when approaching tires crunched over gravel. Their eyes met and they ran to the living room. A beat-up Mazda pulled into the clearing. A young man with chopped, black hair and a few days stubble on his cheeks emerged from the car and stopped, his wary eyes darting between Bear’s truck and the trailer.
“Who’s that?” Jake asked.
“Bennett Skaggs. Dead Howie’s brother and one of Willie’s crew. Let’s get out there before he puts two and two together and bolts. Go out the back. I don’t want him to know we were inside.”
They hustled out the door and trotted alongside the trailer. Jake had to admit Bear still moved pretty well for a big man. By the time they reached the front, Bennett had jumped back into his car and slammed the door shut.
Bear pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the car. “Stop right there, Bennett,” he yelled. Bennett mouthed an expletive and raised his hands.
Seconds later, Bear had him against the car, frisking him. He threw a cell phone, wallet, a pack of smokes and a lighter on to the hood of the car.
“Damn, Bear,” Bennett said. “What’s this about?”
“Shut up,” Bear growled. “Watch him.”
Bear walked back to the open car door and rooted around inside. He paused in the middle of the search and stuck his head out the door.
“Bennett? I got your permission to search your car?”
“Hell, no,” Bennett yelled. Bear looked at Jake who smacked Bennett upside the head.
“How about now?” Bear asked.
“Go to hell,” Bennett said, scowling at Jake.
Jake bounced Bennett’s head off the hood of the Mazda. “We can do this all day long, dickhead.”
“Okay, okay,” Bennett said, wobbling on his feet. “You got my permission.”
“Why thank you for your cooperation. Much appreciated.” Bear laughed and resumed the search.
“You look scared, man,” Jake said.
Bennett’s beady eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Probably the only thing standing between you and an ass kicking of epic proportions.”
“I didn’t do shit,” Bennett said. From the driver’s seat, Bear raised a baggie of red crystals like the ones they found at the cook house. Jake crowded Bennett to keep his eyes away from his car. Bear climbed out empty handed. He walked to Bennett and sandwiched him between he and Jake.
“Where’s Willie?” Bear asked.
“You tell me. I came by to have a beer and say hey.”
“You better not be drinking. You’re barely nineteen.”
“Oh yeah,” Bennett said. “I meant to say I stopped by to have a Coke.”
Bear shot a hand forward and clamped a vise grip on the kid’s face.
“I don’t have time for games. Where’s Willie?”
Bear released the kid’s face, having grabbed his attention.
Bennett rubbed his reddened cheeks. “Don’t know. Haven
’t seen him in a couple of days.”
“You seen Halle Holden?” Bear asked.
Bennett’s eyes darted between the two of them.
“Why?” he asked.
“I’m askin’ the fuckin’ questions. That okay with you?”
“Just around town, but not in the last couple of days,” Bennett said, rolling his scrawny shoulders. “Definitely not as much as I’d like to.”
Jake resisted the urge to backhand the little shit. Seemed different when the kid talked about his daughter, his personal stakes now totally raised.
“She’s missing,” Bear said.
“That’s what I heard. But, like I said, I ain’t seen her in a couple of days.”
“What about Willie? He seen her?”
“Don’t know that either,” Bennett said. Good try by Bear to trip him up, but the kid didn’t bite. “Like I said, I ain’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“You haven’t seen much of anybody lately, Bennett.”
“Nope, I’ve been a good boy, Sheriff.”
“How about Howie?”
“I haven’t, but I know you have. I heard he got pinched and is sittin’ in your jail cells.”
Bear leaned in close. The kid’s cocky grin faltered and disappeared when Bear spoke again.
“I don’t have Howie in my jail cell anymore. He’s currently resting on a cold slab in the county morgue.”
Bennett’s dark eyes darted between Jake and Bear.
“Bullshit,” he said, though without much conviction.
“No, that’s true shit,” Bear said. “Somebody, and I’m going to take a wild guess you know who, had a guy shove a steel pick into his brain. Howie was dead before he hit the floor.”
“Bull…shit,” Bennett repeated. His eyes took on a faraway gaze of disbelief. He squatted, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face into his palms. After a moment, Bennett raised his head. The bravado was gone, leaving nothing but tears in the eyes of a scared kid. Jake could empathize and almost felt sorry for him.
“We’re looking for Willie and for Halle. You hear from or see either one of them, you call me.” He tossed a business card on the ground at Bennett’s feet. “Remember, you know who did this. He’s cleaning up loose ends. God help you if you’re one of them.”
Poor Boy Road (Jake Caldwell #1) Page 19