Dead Burn

by Jennifer Chase

  Glancing to his right, Red saw the large pool of blood left behind from the bodyguard.

  No sound emitted, except the low hum of the plane.

  Less than thirty seconds…

  There was no turning back now. From a crouch position, Red readied his gun, took aim and fired. The bullet smashed into the control panel, sputtering, crackling, and a small fire erupted as the plane made a gut wrenching drop.

  The floor banged and slammed like an amusement park ride out of control, but with deadly circumstances. Everything inside the cabin battered against Red’s body.

  Fifteen seconds…

  Red kicked at the emergency door. He missed several times trying to gain his bearings.

  The plane lurched sideways and barrel rolled. Everything in the plane tossed around like a blender in a dizzying somersault.

  Two more gunshots buzzed by Red’s head.

  With a final kick, the door opened with such a force that it blew him backward. Wind whipped through the cabin with a force of a banshee in a hurricane.

  The noise was deafening.

  Several pings of Bishop’s bullets battered around the cabin.

  Red tried to gain his balance and prepared himself to exit. He clumsily unzipped his leather jacket, shed it as fast as he could, and revealed the compact parachute. The wind thrashed the discarded coat in a mad tornado and pasted it up against the wall.

  The aircraft stopped spinning for a moment, and then continued to whirl in a turbine-like motion.

  Using all of his strength and fueled by instinct, Red gripped the edge of the doorway. The plane continued to roll. He thought he heard a voice yelling, but the wind held strong to center stage.

  As Red observed the infinite blue below every three seconds, a gunshot exploded into his shoulder again. The sound seemed small in comparison to the drumming heartbeat inside his head. The last thought that entered his mind was that his arthritis didn’t hurt anymore.

  He disappeared out the exit.

  Three seconds…

  Two seconds…

  One…

  The Cessna headed downward at an extreme angle before it collided into the deep water with a horrendous force.

  The plane sank immediately.

  * * * * *

  Jordan watched the planes harrowing descent just before it slammed into the ocean. It was like nothing he had ever witnessed before and for a few seconds he thought the plane would land right on top of him. The waves churned with choppy cutbacks in the swell after the plane made contact with the water. A shower of seawater blasted a radius of at least two hundred feet.

  Before the Cessna had made a sharp nosedive, spinning as it fell, Jordan saw a body fall from the aircraft. He knew it was Red. The form took a free fall before the parachute opened, but the body looked like a lifeless ragdoll as it floated down and pitched into the water.

  Opening the outboard motor to full throttle, Jordan rushed to the aid of the assassin.

  As he approached, the scene looked grim. Red’s body floated, unmoving, and he had the look of a wax mannequin. The chute had tangled around his legs and made the entire display look even more shocking than it previously did from the distance.

  Jordan maneuvered the boat next to Red. For the first time, he saw the blood around his shoulder and arm.

  The sea began to build velocity as the waves churned, lifting the boat up and down. Jordan’s stomach matched the water with an unsettling motion; it wouldn’t take much for him to hurl his breakfast overboard. He fought the tightening of his gut in order to focus on his orders.

  He leaned over and touched Red’s back. The hit man flinched under his contact and rolled to his side. The normal calm stare of the expert killer, now looked rattled and in a moderate amount of pain.

  “You okay?” Jordan managed to ask.

  Red nodded. He clumsily climbed into the boat. It took a little bit of extra effort, but he managed to sit upright, grimacing in agony.

  Jordan helped to free the chute from his legs and body. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious that Red had suffered gunshot wounds, which had entered and exited the body.

  “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “No.” Red replied. “Go.”

  Jordan hesitated for only a moment, but then nodded in agreement.

  He turned the zodiac around and headed back toward the harbor as fast as the boat would carry them against the current, bumping and fighting the waves.

  He glanced at Red every so often during the trip, wondering how he would explain his own participation in the premeditated murder and crashed airplane. What bothered him even more was, if he would be Red’s final contract. He doubted that authorities or emergency personnel would find the body or the Cessna, but stranger things have happened.

  The journey seemed to take forever, but in actuality, the return trip made good time despite the tide. Jordan steered the boat east away from the main harbor and up toward an adjacent river.

  Jordan tried to make some small talk with Red, but the hit man only stared at him and didn’t offer any further information.

  With his stomach still churning, Jordan realized that he hadn’t eaten anything in hours. He thought better, a strong drink would do the trick if he made it back to shore.

  The zodiac taxied along the deserted shoreline where a car and pick-up truck waited. Instructions were that Jordan was to drive the truck back to his car, wipe it down for any prints, and leave the vehicle parked.

  It was a welcome sight to get to land, but he knew that there was the possibility that his mission wasn’t over – yet. When he saw the shoreline, his thoughts turned to Emily again.

  “You know that it would never work.”

  Jordan turned to Red in surprise. He felt that his feelings had overflowed and now everyone could read his deepest, most intimate thoughts.

  “She won’t ever love you, at least in the way you want.”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  Grimacing as he moved and slowly got out of the boat, Red said. “I know people… I read them well… and she doesn’t love you.”

  “What are you my personal therapist now?” It stung Jordan to hear those words because he enjoyed every little bit of his time in denial.

  “Move on.”

  “Oh, and I’m going to take advice from a…”

  Red stopped and stared at him. With an intense, steely-eyed glare, and even with at least one bullet wound, he still looked quite formidable.

  “What I mean is… what makes you so certain?” Jordan clarified.

  “It is what it is.”

  Jordan looked down at the bottom of the boat and saw blood. “And what about her life?”

  “There’s no contract.”

  “I have your word?” Jordan inquired.

  “Yes.”

  “And what about me? My debt is paid, right?”

  Without another word, Red turned and walked away.

  Jordan watched the assassin as he got into the car and slowly drove away. He kept watching until the car disappeared from his view. There was more to the Red than just killing, thought Jordan, but he hoped that he would never see him again.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Tuesday 0330 Hours

  Emily sat in silence on the ride up the coast. She watched the landscape become more rural with the occasional house dappled across the countryside. The estates became larger and more sprawling the closer they approached the attorney’s summerhouse.

  A soft rumble reverberated among the dark clouds, which approached from the west. It was unusual weather for the beginning of fall, but not rare. The brewing storm took precedence and kept the attention away from the actual turmoil that loomed inside Emily.

  Her mood softened as the miles added to the journey. She felt bad that she had vented on Rick, but kept her feelings quiet. She sensed her controlled demeanor return, but something had to give. She struggled even harder to maintain an average sanity in the relentless hunt for killers. Th
ings had a way of getting worse before they settled back down.

  Emily could only wait.

  “It should be the next house.” Rick announced. He didn’t look directly at Emily when he spoke.

  Emily strained her eyes and could see a long driveway with an iron gate. The house camouflaged by extensive bushes and trees sat protected and private. Quick snippets of blue flashed in between the trees, but it quickly turned to more of a dark silver grey as the sky shifted into storm mode.

  Rick drove on past the home and took two quick hairpin curves before he spotted a place to park. Gravel crunched under the tires as the vehicle hugged close to the inside barrier. Dust rose in murky clouds, drifted up into the air above the SUV and gradually settled. Rick cut the engine.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the car.

  Emily’s eyes remained fixed, watching straight ahead at nothing in particular. Her mind raced and mulled over all of the events from the past few days. For a brief moment, she almost forgot why she pursued some of the most violent killers.

  “Do you want to check out the house?” Rick interrupted. “Everything looks quiet.”

  He watched Emily.

  “We’re here. Let’s go have a look.”

  “If we found the house so easily, the arsonist could find it too.” His voice lowered before he finished his sentence. He turned to open the car door.

  “Wait.” Emily touched his arm. She noticed that he tensed; obviously, he didn’t want to talk about the strained communication and edgy relationship issues. She gently pushed, “I don’t want things to be like this… I’m sorry for all that’s happened.”

  Rick studied her eyes. “Em, it’s not your fault.”

  “It’s always my fault. I’m the one who pushes these investigations. How could I not think that something would go wrong?” She looked down.

  “No one is holding a gun to my head.”

  She looked up at him and thought carefully before she spoke. “Because of me, and what I’ve chosen to do, you were kidnapped and tortured…. and…” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I’m here now and all that is behind us.” Rick spoke softly.

  Emily knew that he meant what he said. “I just don’t like the secrets.”

  “Let’s see this case through. Then we can figure out what to do about Leo Brown. Okay?”

  Emily was quiet for a moment as she stared through the windshield at the winding road. She nodded adamantly. “Okay, we’ll figure it out together.”

  Rick leaned over and kissed her on the lips, long and gentle. Emily instantly felt the passion and love that had always been there between them. The incident with Jordan made her rethink her feelings, but there was nothing to rethink any more. Her relationship with Rick was something that she would never take for granted again.

  “Let’s check out the property.” Emily stated with more strength in her voice. She had more energy and felt her concentration sharpen. The dull headache she sustained softened to an acceptable level.

  “You got it.” Rick cracked a warm smile before he opened the driver’s door.

  Emily exited the vehicle, took a long look around at the surrounding area and marveled at how peaceful and serene the location appeared. She immediately caught the sea air, clean, refreshing, and comforting.

  She walked around the car thinking about her weapons. Only her ankle holster carried the Beretta – one gun instead of her usual two. She tapped her pocket to confirm that her cell phone was nestled in a safe place and operational. Pulling the device from her pant pocket, she saw that she barely had one bar showing for signal strength. She also noticed that Jordan had not returned any of her calls or texts and wondered if he was taking some time off to nurse a bruised ego. She hated the thought that they might not be friends anymore, because she valued his expertise and opinions.

  “I think we can enter from this gate.” Rick announced.

  Emily saw that there was a wrought iron garden gate that hadn’t been used in a while. Tucked back with tall brush along with snaking vines, it had blocked part of the property view. Most people would not notice the entrance unless they looked specifically for it.

  Rick wrestled with the gate until it moved, first a couple of inches, and then it screeched open a little wider than a foot. He pushed back the overgrown shrubbery. Within a minute, there was an opening wide enough for them to access the property.

  “Are there any security cameras?” Emily asked concerned.

  “I checked before we got here, and it showed, at least from my sources, that the outside security is inactive.”

  “Inactive?”

  “They aren’t paying for outside security cameras, probably only inside ones.” He looked at Emily. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know… something seems wrong here.”

  “Let’s just take a quick look around to make sure that no one has tampered with the house.”

  Emily hesitated. “Okay. A once around the property would be helpful.”

  Rick smiled again. “It’s just like any other location we’ve searched in the past. Piece of cake.”

  “You’re sounding more like Jordan every day.” Emily joked.

  “Practically everyone is a comedian these days.” He replied with a sarcastic tone.

  Emily followed Rick, she was watchful of the entire area.

  The couple made their way around to the side of the house for a closer look.

  * * * * *

  The Saltine cracker emphasized the creaminess of the pasteurized cheese. Angel allowed the salty texture to sit on his tongue as long as possible in order to impart patience and reward. Nothing crushed an incentive faster than by acting too quickly or too impulsively. He kept that simple mantra, repeating it in his mind continually.

  The cracker slowly disintegrated into a soggy texture that reminded him of a wet paper towel. During one of his school bullying experiences, three boys had shoved his A+ science paper into his mouth, clamped his jaw shut, and then made him eat it. Students laughed hysterically during the entire episode. He shuddered because the image seemed so vivid and alive, like it happened yesterday. He popped another piece of cheese into his mouth to help forget the vision.

  He looked at his computer.

  The laptop screen was small, but it still told a story as it sat on a small corner of the floor.

  Two people approached the house.

  Something inside told him that he would see the She-Warrior again, but this time she had brought an outsider. Someone who didn’t fully understand the fires. His newfound respect for the unknown warrior dwindled rapidly.

  How could she do this to him?

  Angel watched as the couple made their way across the front yard, hesitating every so often, as they scrutinized the area. He imagined a hulking creature with huge fangs from another dimension leaping from the bushes and devouring them. It would tear each of them limb from limb, leaving nothing, not even blood or bones.

  He lingered on the thought of the bloody massacre a little while longer. It was almost as satisfying and cleansing as fire – but not quite.

  He watched the couple walk up the same stairs he did earlier.

  It’s kismet.

  They didn’t respect the stairs by keeping in a straight even line, or traveling in the middle of the steps.

  They mocked him.

  He could almost hear the kid’s voices in elementary school chanting their hateful insults and ridicules.

  A frown washed across Angel’s face as he watched Emily and Rick approach.

  * * * * *

  A faint smell of paint wafted around Emily every few steps on the staircase as she gazed at the tremendous view. She kept in sync and followed Rick.

  Glancing from side to side, everything appeared in pristine condition around the grounds and home. Despite the occasional whiff of paint, the fresh air amplified by the crashing waves, calmed some of the nervous energy that she felt rising up throughout her body. Most of the time, these strang
e, tingly sensations had served her well, but now it gave her mixed signals.

  Emily stepped onto the deck landing and the entire panoramic view came into focus. She and Rick stood for a moment.

  “Wow, what a view.” Rick admired.

  “I never get tired of looking at the ocean.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Everything looks okay…”

  Something caught her eye, Emily walked to the set of French doors and one of them was open by a few inches. She turned and gave Rick a quizzical look. Her instinct was to leave, but her drive made her push forward.

  “Wait.” He motioned to her. Retrieving his cell phone, he punched in a few numbers and waited.

  Seconds later, the phone inside the house rang. The pitch seemed higher than the average phone as it continued to ring. The sound made Emily’s skin prickle.

  The phone persisted until Rick ended the call.

  “Did they just leave the door open?” Emily said, but in fact, highly doubted it.

  “How do we know for sure that no one is home?” Rick looked through the glass, careful not to touch anything.

  Emily searched Rick’s face. She could see that he had the same thought she did. In a low tone, she said. “Should we call it in to the local cops?”

  “We should… just to be safe.” He said as he readied his phone.

  As he pressed the number, a crash came from inside the home. A strained whimper came from another room.

  “I’m going in…” Emily pushed the door wider and stepped inside. She half expected the alarm to blare, but nothing happened. She stood at the threshold of the living room.

  “Wait.” Rick said with urgency in his voice.

  “What?” She turned to face him.

  “My entire cell went dead and there’s no signal.” He stepped inside the house next to her.

  Emily quickly checked her phone. It was dead, like the battery had run out, but she knew that it was fine only a few minutes ago.

  Rick looked over her should and saw her phone too. “What the hell?”

  The door slammed shut behind them with a startling crash.