Silent Night Suspect

by Sharee Stover

  “He didn’t say no,” Slade clarified, climbing in.

  “What’s going on?” Asia’s query weighed heavy with exhaustion.

  “Trust us,” Trey said.

  Two words that Asia would accept from his sibling, but not him. She didn’t persist in her questioning, and no one spoke the remainder of the ride. Each was lost in their own thoughts.

  When they reached Trey’s brick house two miles outside Newman Valley, he ran inside and returned with a bag of essentials for himself and Magnum, along with his personal laptop. He loaded the dog into his rusted King Cab dually pickup. With a wave, he signaled the go-ahead to their plan. He would follow them to return Beardly’s vehicle. Then they’d continue the rest of the commute together.

  “Can’t believe he still drives that old thing,” Asia said.

  “Hey, I’ll have you know older vehicles are easier to work on, and sometimes more reliable.”

  She shrugged. “Why did Trey need his own laptop?”

  “We’re eliminating any traceable electronics. I promise to give you all the details once we get to the house.”

  They dropped off Beardly’s vehicle, and while Trey delivered the keys to the receptionist, Slade and Asia transferred to Trey’s truck.

  “You can sit in the front,” Slade offered.

  Asia slid next to Magnum. “That’s okay. I don’t mind riding in the back.”

  “I can move him into his kennel if you prefer,” Trey said, returning to them.

  “No, he’s fine.” She clicked her seat belt into place. “I love dogs, and Magnum’s a handsome boy.”

  The dog panted with an expression resembling a smile.

  “Yeah, and he knows it.” Trey reversed out of the parking lot.

  “You didn’t like that old Beardly either, did you?” Asia cooed from the back seat.

  Trey shot Slade an I-told-you-so smirk. He replied with an eye roll and swiveled to face her. “Magnum’s intelligent, but he doesn’t speak.”

  “Sure he does, in his own way.” She grinned, drawing attention to her full lips.

  Slade’s heart did a strange flip. He needed sleep. Bad.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Asia sat beside Slade in his classic muscle car. He’d prized and meticulously maintained the hot rod since high school, and Asia’s presence brought back too many wonderful memories, like drive-in movies and cruising Main Street on Saturday nights.

  Slade cranked the ignition, breathing life into the engine that he and Trey had rebuilt, to silence the internal movie reel playing in his memory. “We have to let Big Sally warm up before we take off.”

  Asia chuckled. “You still call this beast Big Sally?”

  He grinned at the hot rod’s nickname. “Shh, you’ll hurt her feelings,” he joked.

  She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re willing to drive your baby on these roads in the dead of winter.”

  “This is an emergency, and she has no traceable electronics.”

  “Ah, smart move.”

  “You’re in professional hands, Mrs. Stratton.”

  “I appreciate that, and although I love a good mystery, my perspective has changed since becoming the main character in this one. So I’d like a little more information about our next steps.”

  Slade palmed the steering wheel. “Fair enough.”

  “Let’s start with where Trey went.”

  “He’ll take a shorter route to the house, ensuring he arrives before us. Once he’s cleared the property, he’ll send a text and we’ll head that way. Oh, and I asked him to grab food.”

  “Now you have my full attention. Why didn’t you mention that earlier?” Her stomach growled, and Asia’s cheeks flushed red.

  Slade chuckled. “I’m hungry too.”

  “You guys have thought this plan through.”

  “We’re no amateurs.” He grinned and shifted into Drive.

  Slade’s home was a mile from the county highway, and he couldn’t wait to open the engine on the almost vacant road.

  “Where’s our final destination?”

  “About twenty minutes from here in Meadow Hills. Faster if we don’t hit the train near Monroe.”

  She shrugged. “Neither town sounds familiar, but I’m a homebody. Rarely go outside of Newman Valley. As long as I’m protected from potential killers, I guess location doesn’t matter.”

  “You’ll be safe.”

  Asia turned on the radio, but the massive engine drowned out the music and she switched it off. “Are you speeding?”

  “I’m a trained professional.” Slade glanced down at the speedometer. Okay, he was speeding a little. He lightened the pressure on the accelerator. “Sally’s such a brute, it feels like we’re going faster than we are.”

  “If you say so.”

  Slade concentrated on the highway’s yellow lines, avoiding the persistent questions tumbling in his brain. No matter how hard he forced his thoughts in other directions, Beardly’s insinuation hovered like a pesky fly.

  He’d only worsen the fractured relationship with Asia by vocalizing his queries. Instead, he fought to rationalize the conversation with the detective or at least shove it away.

  After months of he and Asia not speaking to one another—or rather, her refusing to speak to him—they’d returned to a place of cordial communication. Her barrier of disdain had shifted, giving him hope of peace between them.

  A false peace? He glanced over at the pretty brunette. She stared out the passenger window, providing a clear view of the bandaged wound on the back of her head. It was improbable that her injuries were self-inflicted, but faking memory loss wasn’t out of the question. Surely she’d have made a mistake and slipped up in her story if that was the case. He’d considered amnesia defenses pure fallacy used only in spy novels, but desperation was a rule changer.

  His gaze returned to the rural landscape, and the single doubt he’d avoided landed smack-dab in front of him. Taunting him. Had Asia lured him to that trailer to die? Beardly’s comment trailed on the heels of the uncertainty. Her hate would have to be off the charts to want to kill you.

  Slade swallowed and worked his hands over the steering wheel. He’d left his ex-partner an open target for Quenten’s men and made Asia a widow. That provided her with motive.

  Asia’s grief had exploded into fury, and she’d told anyone who’d listen to her that she blamed Slade. But murder? He shook his head, arguing with the one-sided dialogue. No, even in her anger, Asia was incapable of such evil.

  His time would be better spent identifying whoever else had been in the trailer with her. And worst-case scenario, find another way to get her out of this situation. Failure meant an innocent woman would go to prison. Not an option.

  He sat up straighter and cranked the heater and radio, drowning out his internal deliberation.

  Asia leaned over and turned off the radio again. “Do you think Quenten’s men killed him over that card?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  Slade bit the inside of his cheek and prayed for a stroke of brilliance. “Let’s take it all one step at a time.” Well, that was a lame reply.

  She pivoted to face him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m sort of on a deadline. I can’t wait for the slow wheels of justice to roll in my situation.”

  “Interfering could make things worse. If we uncover anything that will help you, we’ll have to contact Beardly.” Internal policy manual strikes again.

  “He’s the one who thinks I’m guilty.” The bite in her tone melted into a quiver. “I’m no killer.”

  Slade sighed. He had an irrefutable way of upsetting her. “No one thinks—”

  “Yes, they do.” She turned away.

  “If you can’t remember the past two days, how can you
be sure?” Warmth radiated up his cheeks. He’d spoken his doubt. He had to stop talking. Slade rubbed the back of his neck. “What I meant was, until we find the missing pieces, we have to remain transparent. Think through all the possibilities.”

  She huffed. “Do you ever drift from being the perfect rule follower?”

  “Have I arrested you yet? I’ve more than proven I can go outside the rules.”

  The death glare Asia shot him could’ve smoked a ham. “Tell me again how no one thinks I’m guilty.”

  “Hear me out. Maybe establishing a reason for why you had to shoot Quenten makes more sense.” He focused again on the road. What he’d give to pull a heroic action movie rescue for her. They’d run far away from this mess and then return with the evidence to exonerate her, right before the credits spun.

  But this was real life. They wouldn’t hide, and he couldn’t let her go free if she was guilty. Friend or not, she’d be incarcerated. The law was blind to gray areas like friendship. If only his heart were blind to Asia and agreed with his logic.

  His gaze drifted to her. “Hey, I shouldn’t have—”

  The roar of an engine snagged his attention.

  A truck grille filled his rearview mirror.

  Before Slade processed the visual, a jolt to the rear end sent Big Sally swerving.

  He recovered from the fishtail and regained control. The pursuer advanced again and made impact a second time, thrusting them forward. Confusion collided with reality at the volatile attack.

  “If they run us off the road, we’re dead!” Asia’s statement of the obvious increased Slade’s tension.

  He accelerated, hoping to outrun the pursuers, but the truck stayed close behind.

  Another slam propelled them sideways.

  Slade jerked the wheel, and his response had the car deviating through the ice-covered median as he battled the velocity forcing them out of control. He corrected the move, and they bounced across the highway into the southbound lanes. Thankfully, there was no oncoming traffic on the rural road.

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he moved them back to his lane. He tapped the brakes. The pedal slammed against the floorboard.

  Heart jackhammering against his ribs, Slade pumped the brakes, but the car seemed to have a mind of its own and continued to speed up.

  Asia screamed and he jerked the wheel, avoiding a mile marker pole by inches. Dear God. His two-word prayer held the desperate plea for rescue and survival.

  “I don’t have brakes!” He slammed his foot repeatedly against the pedal, but it was useless.

  “Slade, do something!”

  But he couldn’t stop. The truck pursued them.

  Desperate, Slade yanked the wheel. The overcorrection sent the car careening into the ditch.

  “Hang on!” In terrifying slow motion, dark shapes blurred outside the window.

  He turned, meeting Asia’s terror-filled expression.

  Big Sally landed with a slam on the driver’s side, went airborne, then smashed down again. The impact shook every part of his body. Each horrific, recurring tug of gravity imprisoned them like riders on a nightmare amusement park ride.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the vehicle to yield. Each repeated lurch rattled the interior of the car, stealing his breath. He couldn’t yell. Couldn’t breathe.

  Asia’s shrieks melded with the screeching metal and shattering glass as the hot rod rolled.

  Finally, the acrobatics stopped, and they landed with a last bounce on the tires. Sally’s broken engine hissed.

  Slade gasped and stretched across to Asia, ignoring the excruciating pain in his arm until he touched flesh. “Asia, staydow—!” he slurred. “Juss—gedown!” Why couldn’t he talk?

  Frustrated, he reached for his gun. The movement sent electric shocks up his left arm, which hung limp at his side. Gritting his teeth, he grappled in clumsy, awkward slaps.

  At last his fingers wrapped around the metal and he tugged the Glock free from his hip holster. A thick substance oozed over his eye, blurring his vision. Weapon in hand, he swiped, coating his wrist in blood.

  “Are they—” came Asia’s voice.

  “Shh!” he hissed, grateful she was alive and praying she kept quiet.

  Slade wiped at his face again while the drumming in his brain pulsated behind his eyes.

  Doors slammed.

  His whole body vibrated from the rushing river of adrenaline. Slade searched where the side mirrors had once hung. Only broken pieces remained. He reverted his gaze to the rearview mirror, watching in the fragmented slivers.

  Two figures approached, their footsteps drawing closer.

  * * *

  Asia dug her fingernails into the seat cushion, grounding herself as she worked to calm her breathing. Shards of glass from her window pricked her hand and arm. Smoke billowed from the hood.

  She jerked to look at Slade. He mouthed “Get down,” pointed to the mirror, then gestured to the floorboards. Was he trying to hide her? Or did he see something she couldn’t? A crimson stream colored the left side of his face near his hairline. There’d be worse damage than that if the men got to them.

  She nodded, released her seat belt and did her best to scoot down.

  “Kill the cop,” a man’s voice ordered.

  Snow crunched outside, and she sucked in a breath.

  Slade stretched across her and lifted his gun, watching in the rearview mirror. She twisted around, searching for the men. Two large shadows stood near the trunk but remained at a safe distance.

  “Why aren’t you shooting at them?” she hissed.

  He winced and shifted, giving Asia a glimpse of his left arm, limp in his lap. She held out her hand. “You’re hurt. Give me your gun.”

  Slade shook his head.

  “Don’t be stupid. You can’t take us both on. Send out the woman. She’s not worth dying for. Cooperate and I might let you live,” a man called.

  Asia slid upward, peering over the seat’s headrest. The men had flanked the car, surrounding them from behind. If he shot one, the other had opportunity to fire.

  “Not a chance,” Slade responded.

  “I only want to ask her a question.”

  “Then why try to kill us a hundred different ways?” He slouched low in the seat, keeping his gun at the ready, but his hand shook. He scowled, swiped at his forehead and adjusted slightly, no doubt trying to get a better angle for the shot.

  “You’re wasting your time. One way or the other, we will take her. And we’ll eliminate any obstacles. You’re no hero. Your pathetic driving proved that.” The man roared with laughter.

  “You have my word. I won’t kill her. I only want what she’s holding for me,” the other man responded.

  “What’s he talking about? I don’t have anything!” Frustration tightened Asia’s stomach, and she fisted her hands.

  Slade met her eyes. Was that doubt written in the copper flecks? “Fine. Put your gun down, and she’ll exit the vehicle.”

  Asia bolted upright in the seat. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Slade tilted his head, annoyance etched in his expression. No, he was bluffing. Unless he pivoted and secured his target, it’d be impossible for him to take out both taunting criminals.

  “Give me the gun,” she repeated.

  “When I tell you to, throw open your door and get down,” Slade ordered.

  Asia twisted and peered over the seat where the back window had once been. “I’ve got a direct hit from here.”

  “If I do as you ask, how do I know you won’t open fire?” the man interrupted, his voice drawing closer.

  “You don’t,” Slade answered.

  “Then we’re at an impasse. I’m done negotiating. Send her out or I’ll kill you and take her.”

  Asia swallowed hard. Did Big Sally s
till work? Why wasn’t Slade driving away? Yet she remained in their silent standoff, waiting for instruction.

  Slade reached into his pocket, wincing with the movement, and dropped his cell phone into her hand. “Call for help.” He twisted around and focused on his side of the car.

  Shaking violently, her fingers bounced across the numbers until she entered 9-1-1. She tightened her grip, sliding her thumb over the screen and praying she connected with the green icon initiating the call.

  Slade fired out of his broken window. Asia jerked to look at him.

  “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” the operator’s tinny voice asked from her hand.

  She glanced down.

  Footsteps pounded behind her and she turned, cringing at the shadow that hovered beside her.

  “Help! Send help to—”

  A smack to the side of her head sent the phone flying into the windshield with a sickening thud. It slid off the dashboard and out Slade’s window, exhausting any last hope of rescue.

  “Help!” she repeated. Could the operator hear her? She twisted around and came nose to barrel with the gun pointed in her window. Her gaze traveled upward, but the massive arm and torso blocked the light. The man was enormous.

  “Drop your gun and tell your friend to get out of the car,” the brute beside Slade ordered.

  Asia gasped at the gun barrel pointed at his temple.

  “You’ll have to kill me first.” Slade didn’t flinch, but worry swam in his golden irises.

  “That can be arranged,” the man countered.

  “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do what you want.” Asia focused on Slade and gripped the door handle, pushing it open.

  “Asia, no!” Slade hollered.

  “Wise move,” the man beside her commented, shifting over, gun never wavering.

  She climbed out of the destroyed automobile. Keeping close to the door, she glanced up from the wall of a chest until she met the dark eyes and hostile scowl of her guard.

  Please, Lord, help me.

  He took a step backward, giving her full view of him, but maintained a steady aim of his weapon. The man’s murderous glare narrowed, and his massive frame eclipsed the sunlight. Scraggly black hair resembled an ill-fitting toupee, and an unkempt beard partially covered his face.