Atonement (18 page)

Authors: Michael Kerr

Tags: #Crime, #Thriller, #Vigilante, #Suspense, #Mystery

BOOK: Atonement

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Logan
and Kate spent over an hour in conversation with Clifton and Ray Marshall. The father and son both thanked Logan profusely for proving that Ray was innocent, and for seeking out Tanya’s killer and apprehending him.

“Kate made it possible,” Logan said. “Some guy was about to shoot me, when she appeared from nowhere and took him down.”

Back outside, Ray offered to run Logan and Kate into town. And as Kate finished up telling Clifton of what the legal procedure appertaining to Larry Horton’s upcoming trial would be, Ray took the opportunity to speak to Logan.

“I still find it almost impossible to get my head round Tanya being gone,” Ray said. “Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Mr. Logan?”

Logan nodded. “Call me Joe,” he said. “And, yeah, Ray, I’ve lost a lot of people that I cared for and loved. It’s part of the process. We live and we die, and loss is part of all our lives.”

“How do you deal with it, Mr…er, Joe?”

“Same as you will, Ray. I absorb it and move on, but hold on to the people in my memory and remember the good times had. Basically, you have to let go emotionally. Remember that once someone has gone, then it’s yourself that you’re feeling sorry for, not them. They’re at rest and beyond hurt.”

Tears formed in Ray’s eyes, and Logan put his arm around the boy’s shoulder and squeezed firmly for a few seconds. “You need to let the grieving take its natural course, Ray,” he said. “You have the character to come through it stronger for the experience. The hardest part is overcoming unwarranted guilt. Shit happens, and when it does, you have to make it clear to yourself that you had no way to see a single second into the future and stop it.”

“But―”

“That’s a bad choice of word, Ray. You’ll be saying ‘if only,’ next. I knew a pilot in Iraq. He made a split second decision and bombed a convoy of vehicles that he believed to be the enemy. But they were British troops. Sixteen died, and double that number were injured.”

Ray swallowed hard. “How did he get past having done that, Joe?”

“You don’t get past something like that,” Logan said. “He incorporated it into his life experience. Last I heard, one of the survivors– who lost both legs – is now his best friend. You have to make the best that you can out of the worst life throws at you.”

Ray looked up into Logan’s steel-gray eyes and nodded his head. The man was his idea of what a real life hero should be. And his words made sense to Ray. Some obstruction in his mind that had been stopping him contemplating the future shifted, then seemed to dissolve. He decided that if Joe Logan and people like the pilot he’d spoken of could overcome all misfortune and carry on, then so could he.

“Thank you, Joe,” Ray said. “What you’ve said helps.”

“I hope so, Ray,” Logan said. “Your dad needs you. And you have a future to make the most of.”

Ray drove them into town and stopped outside the Steamboat Diner. Logan and Kate climbed out and waved to Ray as he drove off, and then went inside to consume a hearty late breakfast.

For the following five days and nights Logan and Kate spent a lot of time together. It was on Saturday morning that they got the news. Bama was fit to be discharged from the veterinary surgeons in Leadville.

Kate drove Logan to Leadville in her Kia. Logan had the front passenger seat back as far as it would go, but his knees were still almost up against the dash. They stopped three times on the way, so that he could stretch, and Kate could smoke.

Bama looked a little thinner, but still enormous. He was lying in a large cage out back, head on paws, when James Kelly took Logan and Kate through to be reunited with him.

“Remember me, boy?” Logan said, hunkering down as the vet unlocked the gate. “I’m the guy that you had a tussle with a few days back.”

Bama made a grunting sound, got to his feet and advanced towards Logan, who put his hand out, hoping that he wouldn’t lose a couple of fingers by doing so.

Bama stared into Logan’s eyes, and then licked his hand.

“How’s he been behaving, Mr. Kelly?” Logan asked the vet.

“Fine,” James said. “I was under the impression that he was an attack dog, but he hasn’t shown any aggression while he’s been here.”

Bama padded over to Kate, sat down next to her and put the side of his head against her thigh and made a chuffing sound. She tentatively put her hand out and patted his back. There was some kind of almost instant bonding. It was as if Bama had been Kate’s dog since being a pup. He followed her out to the car and got in the rear seat when she opened the door.

Logan settled the bill with the vet and came out with a new leash and Bama’s collar. He grinned at Kate as he got in the car.

“What’s so funny?” Kate said as she started the engine and drove off.

“That I think Bama just found himself a new owner,” Logan said.

“Me? You must be kidding,” Kate said. “I don’t need a dog the size of a pony.”

“I think you do,” Logan said. “He’s cottoned to you. I think it was love at first sight. The mutt needs a good home.”

By the time they got back to Kate’s house in the Creek, Bama had won her over.

Sunday morning at seven a.m. Kate drove Logan to the motel to say his goodbyes to Clifton and Ray. Clifton returned his rucksack to him, and refused to take any payment for the room.

“Take care, my friend, and thank you for all you’ve done for us,” Clifton said.

“Glad I could help out,” Logan said, shaking hands with the father and son, before quickly getting back into the Kia.

As they reached the top of the driveway, a dark-gray Toyota pulled up, blocking their way.

Logan got out, to be met by a couple that exited their car and approached him.

“I’m Wayne Foster, Mr. Logan” the man said, “And this is my wife, Shirley. We just want to thank you for what you’ve done. Lyle told us that you were responsible for finding out that it was Larry Horton that…that murdered Tanya, and capturing him. It gives us a certain amount of closure.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Logan said, feeling uncomfortable, because there were no words that could properly alleviate the suffering that bereaved folk were feeling. He shook Wayne’s hand, and returned the hug that Shirley gave him, and once more climbed in the Kia. Kate waited until the Fosters’ drove away before setting off to drive Logan out to the interstate, to drop him at the side of the highway near the southbound ramp.

All of a sudden there didn’t seem appropriate words that either of them could find to say. They hugged, kissed, and then Logan got out of the car and walked away.

“Don’t forget to phone,” Kate shouted after him.

He raised his hand, but did not turn round.

A couple of minutes passed. Logan watched the Kia go back along the two-way until it vanished from view. He then turned back and made his way across to the northbound ramp and stuck his thumb out. He fully intended to head south, but had one last errand to take care of, up in Denver.

EPILOGUE

Wade
stepped into the elevator on the sixth floor of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, followed by Lenny Benedict. Lenny pressed the button for the second level parking garage.

The meet in one of the hotel’s finest suites had gone well. Wade had come to what promised to be a lucrative agreement with Boris Gorchev, who headed up the Russian Mafia in the city, and Carlos Moreno, the leader of a Colombian drug cartel. Wade’s take from future imports had been raised by a healthy percentage, due to his thriving network of pushers, and the substantial increase in sales of heroin-based product over the previous twelve months.

Lenny walked out first. Made his way along the line of cars to the midnight-blue Mercedes, thumbing the remote as he neared it. He opened the rear nearside passenger door as Wade reached the vehicle and began to step inside.

Lenny had no time to think, let alone reach for his gun. A hand clamped onto the back of his neck, and he was jerked backwards, spun round, and had his forehead slammed hard against the roof of a Jaguar XK three times, knocking him senseless.

Wade heard the noise, and knew that something was wrong. He scrambled across the seat, pulled on the door handle to open it, but was dragged back by both legs, to fall out and onto the concrete on his knees.

Logan jerked his left forearm hard against McCall’s throat and simultaneously punched him in the right kidney with his clenched fist. He then applied his right forearm behind the gangster’s neck and took a step back to take up a balanced stance, with leverage and strength totally on his side, preventing McCall from bending forward to resist the hold. By exerting his full power with both forearms, he twisted the head down and to the left and the neck broke almost instantly.

Wade McCall felt a second of excruciating pain as cervical vertebrae C4 fractured. Had immediate and professional treatment been on hand, then a hole could have been cut in his trachea and a tube inserted, to be connected to a ventilator. Unfortunately, for Wade, no such help was forthcoming, and his sudden inability to breathe proved fatal.

Logan walked away, casually, so as not to draw attention. At no time had he faced the closed-circuit camera that covered the side of the garage where the attack had taken place. And he was wearing a long-billed ball cap, and had kept his face down throughout the fifteen seconds it had taken to immobilize Lenny Benedict and kill Wade McCall.

Limping for effect, he made his way to the fire escape stairs and quickly descended to ground level and walked out onto the sidewalk. A half hour later, after having dumped the baseball cap and the gloves he had worn into a trash can, he was on a Greyhound heading south to Durango.

Logan allowed himself to relax. The threat was negated. He felt no sense of elation or guilt at having ended McCall’s life. In his opinion the gangster had deserved to die, as atonement for his many sins, although he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to deal with him personally if he had not believed that Kate might still be at risk from the man.

The bus kept ahead of a storm front that had already blanketed Wyoming and much of northern Colorado in snow. And as it moved south towards the state line, Logan was already looking forward to spending a few days in Santa Fe.

He folded his parka up and placed it against the window as a pillow, and soon after fell into untroubled sleep.

END

The modern-day drifter will be back soon in book 3 ― ABSOLUTION.

About The Author

Michael Kerr is the pseudonym of Mike Smail the author of several crime thrillers and two children’s novels. He lives and writes in the Yorkshire Wolds, and has won, been runner-up, and short listed on numerous occasions for short story competitions with Writing Magazine and Writers’ News.

After a career of more than twenty years in the Prison Service, Mike now uses his experience in that area to write original, hard-hitting crime novels.

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