by Ben Rehder
“Why didn’t you?”
His smile faded. “Not too late, if that’s the way you want it.”
I stared into my drink, biting my lower lip until I tasted blood. I washed it down with tequila. Felt dizzy.
“We’ll never get away with this. Not after these killings.”
“It’s better this way,” he said. “Fewer people left standing means fewer people who’ll talk. The only ones left who know about this are you, me and Vanessa. And we each have our own reasons for keeping our mouths shut.”
The bagged pistol with my fingerprints flashed through my mind. Was it still inside the suitcase?
“What about Lester’s family?” I said. “When he never turns up, they’ll go the cops for sure.”
“What’ll they tell ‘em? They don’t know what happened. And there’s nothing to tie us to Lester’s disappearance.”
“The cops will find a way.”
He frowned at me.
“We’re celebrating, remember? I’m in a good mood, Eric. Don’t fuck that up.”
“Maybe I’m not the best guy to party with right now.”
Rydell snorted.
“You’ll have to do. You’re the only one left.”
He topped off our glasses.
“What about Vanessa?” I asked.
“What about her?”
“Shouldn’t we call her? Let her know what happened?”
“Better that she’s in the dark with the rest of them for now. More believable that way. They’re all sitting around together, wringing their hands, waiting to hear from Lester.”
He sipped tequila, his gaze steady on my face, searching for signs of collapse. Probably didn’t have to look very hard. I felt I might fall to pieces any second.
“You hungry?”
“No,” I said. “Shooting a man robbed me of my appetite.”
“You’d better put something in your stomach other than tequila, or you’ll be back out in the yard, singing lunch.”
He had a point. Rydell got up from the table and started putting together bologna sandwiches. He seemed to relish playing host. I didn’t understand how he could be so relaxed, so happy, after all that had happened.
My eyes strayed to the black suitcase, which still sat on the table. Nearly a million dollars in there, along with that pistol with my fingerprints on it. I glanced at Rydell. His back was to me, and he seemingly wasn’t paying attention. But the hip pockets of his Wranglers bulged, and I could make out the outlines of the straight razor and a small, square pistol.
My stomach flopped. A sandwich started to seem like a good idea, even if it was bologna on Wonder Bread.
Rydell brought the sandwiches on paper plates and sat down across from me. No beverage other than Mister Baby was offered, but what the hell. Tequila was just the anesthetic I needed.
“One thing I still don’t get,” I said. “Why did they kill Lester?”
He took a sip before he said, “That’s a good question.”
One he didn’t seem inclined to answer. He took a big bite of his sandwich. Watched my face while he chewed.
“If they were planning to run off with the money, they could’ve left him alive,” I said. “He couldn’t identify anybody. Why bother killing him?”
Rydell still said nothing.
Then I got it. Killing Lester had been the plan all along. Hubert was following orders when he wrung the old man’s neck, even as he was planning to double-cross his boss. The fewer witnesses, the better. But if that were the case, why hadn’t Rydell killed me already?
My fear must’ve shown on my face. Rydell’s expression closed up, and he said, “Don’t you want that sandwich?”
I mechanically picked it up and took a bite. It was like filling my mouth with sawdust. I chased it with Mister Baby. They started a wrestling match in my stomach that threatened to send me running outside like a sick dog.
“That’s more like it.” Rydell smiled. “You’ll feel better ‘fore you know it.”
Chapter 55
Thursday morning, I snapped awake on a sofa at Rydell’s house. The decks of cash sat on the coffee table, first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. My cut. Blood money.
A hot throb rose in my raw throat. My lips trembled and I blinked back tears. My God, what I’d done.
I swallowed the sob and closed my eyes against the painful morning light. I needed to pull myself together. I needed to gather up my start-over money and hit the highway. I planned to do just that, as soon as Mister Baby let me sit up.
But what about Vanessa? Could I bear to leave her behind? Images of her lithe body and busy mouth played behind my eyelids. Goddamn.
If she’d come away with me, we could make a new beginning. Her cut of the ransom could support us for years, if we lived frugally. On a beach, say. Somewhere far from Rydell Vance.
I remembered what she said about her lifestyle, how half a million would barely get her started. Guess fish and beer on a beach wouldn’t do it for Vanessa. She was more the resort-and-casino type. Cruise ships. Nightlife. How much would it cost to keep her happy? Where would I ever get the money?
Why would she even choose me? I didn’t kid myself that I was such an expert lover that I’d blinded her to all others or that our sudden connection was some sort of destiny. But it felt like something more than passing lust. I think she felt it, too.
Admittedly, it had been an intense few days. What would happen when the adrenaline wore off? Maybe we’d get away only to find later that we couldn’t stand each other. If we could get away.
I sat up over the protests of my stiff back and bruised ribs. Miners were at work inside my skull, trying to break out with pickaxes and sledgehammers. I’d slept in my clothes, and I felt rumpled and chafed as I padded barefoot to the bathroom.
It was a little before seven, and the house was quiet. An aspirin bottle stood open beside the sink, which seemed awfully damned convenient, and I downed three with handfuls of water. I didn’t mean to look in the mirror, and averted my eyes immediately, but the glimpse I got wasn’t pretty. I looked like Mister Baby held me down and slapped me all night. My face was puffy. My eyes were bloodshot. I needed a shave. I needed coffee.
I tiptoed into Rydell’s kitchen, wincing against spears of sunlight that penetrated the windows. No sign that anyone else was up and around yet. The glass coffee pot stood empty. On the kitchen table, next to a depleted bottle of Mister Baby, sat the black suitcase.
Holy fuck.
I took a cautious step forward, flinchy as a gazelle at a watering hole, looking all around, leaning to peer through every doorway. No one.
Was I dreaming? Surely Rydell didn’t get so drunk last night that he left a million bucks untended in his kitchen when he shambled off to bed.
I took another cautious step toward the loot, expecting him to pounce any second. Nothing.
I could grab it and run. Jump in my truck and be gone before Rydell rolled out of bed. Pick a direction at random and keep driving. Once I was safe, I could send for Vanessa. Let her decide whether she wanted to join me in hiding.
I wasn’t kidding myself. I would be hiding, the rest of my life. Rydell Vance was a hunter. He’d never stop tracking me.
I took another step toward the soft-sided suitcase, and reached out a trembling hand. A million bucks would be heavy. I’d be able to tell immediately.
One last glance around, then I grasped the handle and lifted.
Empty.
A voice behind me made me jump.
“Looking for something, hoss?”
Chapter 56
I set the suitcase back on the table, and slowly turned toward him. Rydell was dressed for the day, freshly shaved, his hair slicked back. His complexion was a little sallow, but otherwise he didn’t seem any worse for our night of drinking.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave the money sitting around like that,” I said.
“But you had to check.”
I shrugged.
“I don’t blame you,” he
said. “I would’ve done the same. Because you never know.”
I was afraid to say anything.
“I put that money in a safe place last night. Safe from you and everybody else.”
“What about Vanessa’s share?”
“Let me worry about Vanessa.”
We stared at each other for a minute. I blinked first.
“Do I get to walk away?”
“Sure, Eric. You got your payoff. You could’ve left yesterday, as far as I was concerned. But it seemed that a little party was in order.”
Rydell’s dark eyes drifted to the suitcase on the table, then back to me.
“We’re done now,” he said. “Our business arrangement is finished. Lester’s dead, and there’s gonna be a lot of heat. I don’t think you can stand up to that.”
“I wouldn’t talk—”
“Maybe not,” Rydell said. “But why risk it? Take your money and get out of town.”
“But what are you—”
“Now would be good. Before I change my mind about you.”
“If I run now,” I said, “the cops will think I’m responsible for these murders.”
“Our deal all along was that you’d get paid and leave. You need to stick to that, Eric.”
I swallowed against the acid in my throat. My temples throbbed. Slow seconds passed.
Rydell’s eyes narrowed, and he said, “Don’t make me regret keeping you alive.”
I went to the living room, the back of my neck tingling as he followed. I gathered up my decks of money and stuffed them in a paper sack Rydell had provided the night before. I stepped into my loafers and went to the front door.
I braved a look back. Rydell stood across the room, his fists on his hips, flinty face half in shadow. The white side of his mustache glowed.
Then I was out the door, hurrying to my truck before he could change his mind.
Chapter 57
Soon as I reached the highway, I dialed Vanessa.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Eric! So nice of you to call. I was just telling Ted how you’ve been a real godsend through this terrible time.”
“Ted’s there now?”
“Dwight, too. We’ve been up all night, waiting for the kidnappers to call. The ransom was picked up, but we’ve heard nothing from Lester. As you can imagine, we’re frantic.”
She didn’t sound frantic. She sounded weary from keeping Ted and Dwight at bay.
“We need to talk,” I said. “Call me when you get some privacy.”
“Okay. Thanks for calling. Bye.”
Damn, I wished I were as calm under pressure as Vanessa. I put the phone away and turned onto a side road that cut between hills and ranches to the forest where Cody lived.
As I reached his turnoff, my phone rang. When I answered, Vanessa said, “I can only talk for a second. They’re still here. I’m in the bathroom.”
“You’d better sit down,” I said. “I’ve got bad news.”
“What is it?”
“Lester’s dead.”
“What? Oh, God, no.”
“I’m sorry, Vanessa.”
I let the truck creep along the dusty driveway. Pine boughs brushed the fenders.
“What happened?”
“Hubert strangled him while he was tied up in my garage.”
“Oh, my God.”
As upset as she sounded, her voice never climbed above a whisper. I marveled at her self-control.
“That’s why Rydell hasn’t called,” she said. “Lester’s dead, and I’ll get blamed.”
“There’s no way to connect you to—”
“Ted’s already carrying on about calling the cops and the FBI. I’m the one who’ll have to deal with them. Rydell will be sitting out there in the woods, with all the money, laughing at me.”
I pulled to a stop in front of Cody’s rust-streaked trailer. He hadn’t left for work yet; his pickup was parked out front. Next to it sat a primer-gray Nissan with duct tape on its cracked rear window. I’d seen that car somewhere before.
“He’ll cheat me,” she said. “I’ll never see my share.”
“Take it easy. We’ll work this out.”
“How? Rydell owns half the cops in Shasta County. No one will touch him.”
I sat in my truck, my eyes roaming Cody’s property. His pickup was touched by a ray of sunshine. Through the back window, I could see his shotgun on the rack. It gave me an idea about how to set things right.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Just keep up the show for a while longer. Then I’ll come get you.”
“You’ll run and hide. That’s what I would do, if I were you.”
“I’ve spent too much of my life running scared,” I said. “Always taking the easy was out. But I’ve changed. Everything changed the moment that Corvette went flying over my head.”
Silence.
“I’ll come for you, Vanessa. I’ll find a way. I promise.”
She said, “You know Rydell will never let me get away.”
“He might not have a choice.”
I let her absorb that, then said, “You’d better get back. I’ll call soon.”
“Be careful, Eric.”
Chapter 58
I carried the sack of money to Cody’s trailer. As I reached the porch, the door opened and he leaned out, his hair wet and a wry grin on his tanned face.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I’m running late.” His eyebrows bobbed. “Eric, you remember Petula.”
Petula James stepped into the doorway next to him – ta-da! – all legs and teeth and big blue eyes, and said, “Hi, Eric. Long time, no see.”
“Hey,” I said. “I hear you’re going to barber school.”
Her baby blues flicked from me to Cody and back again.
“It’s not barber school,” she said tightly. “It’s personal cosmetology.”
Cody, blushing, said, “She’s a little touchy about that—”
“I am not!”
I said, “Isn’t that splitting hairs?”
Cody rolled his eyes. Petula huffed past me and went to her car, Cody right on her heels.
I called behind them: “Don’t get snippy with me!”
“Shut up, Eric.”
I went inside and found coffee and downed half a cup while Cody soothed Petula and sent her on her way.
When he finally came indoors, he said, “You are such a jerk.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You think you’re funny.”
I fought to keep a smile off my face, but it was a losing battle.
“So. Petula was here all night?”
He nodded.
“I guess you left the lights on.”
He gave me the poker-face, but he was having trouble holding it.
“Is her hairdo something really elaborate?”
“Just the opposite,” he said. “I think you’d call it a Charlie Chaplin.”
“Ah. Well, simple’s good, too.”
“Sure.”
“Elegant.”
“Right.”
Cody looked at his wristwatch. “I am so fucking late for work.”
“Call in sick.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No, really, take the day off. I need your help. It’s going to take a while to explain it all.”
He cocked his head and studied me. “Trouble?”
“I’m supposed to be running away from it right this minute. I’ve got a head start. But I can’t let it go.”
“Let what go?”
“It’s complicated.”
He stared at me a few seconds more, then said, “I’ll call the office. You start another pot of coffee.”
It took half an hour to tell it all, though I left out a lot, including the fact that I’d dropped the hammer on Wayne Cherry. I told him Wayne and Hubert were dead, and left it at that. Cody was canny enough to let it pass.
/> “The cops will be hunting me,” I said, “soon as someone finds those bodies. Rydell will try to pin everything on me. He’s set me up to be the fall guy. That was his plan all along.”
Cody nodded.
“If I get away,” I said, “I’ll need to hide out for a long time. Vanessa’s in the same bind.”
“So this is about her now?”
“It’s about me. I’m looking out for number one here.”
“If that’s the case, you’d be long gone by now.” He looked me over. “I think you’re smitten.”
An old-fashioned word coming out of Cody’s mouth, but accurate as all hell. I was in deep smit.
He shook his head and said, “I can’t believe you messed with Rydell Vance.”
“You warned me, but I was fucked up, you know? I’d lost everything. My house, my job. He dangled fifty grand in front of my nose, and it seemed like a fresh start.”
“I can understand how you’d be tempted,” he said. “That’s a lot of money.”
The paper sack was between my feet. I pulled out decks of cash and stacked them on the coffee table.
Cody’s eyes got big.
“You can have it,” I said. “All of it. If you’ll help me with Rydell.”
He looked up from the money, but it took an effort.
“You mean kill him.”
I looked away. It was as if I could feel the gun jump in my hand, the backlash from the bullet that bounced around inside Wayne’s skull. I knew I could kill again. Last time, I’d been forced to shoot. This time, a bullet could give me everything I wanted – escape, money, Vanessa. I could almost feel myself squeezing the trigger.
“I don’t need him dead,” I said, but the words sounded hollow. “All I need is a head start with Vanessa, and enough money to keep running.”
Cody plucked a faded ball cap off the coffee table and screwed it down on his head. The front of the cap said, “Kiss Me, I’m Drunkish.”
“You leave him alive,” he said, “and he’ll track you down and kill you. And her, too.”
“Maybe not. A million bucks could buy an awfully good hiding place.”
He chewed on his lower lip, mulling it over. “No, I think we’re gonna have to kill him. It’s the only way.”