Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle (27 page)

The sun thrust fingers of light through the canopy of pines and dusted the forest floor with golden flecks. A few birds called to one another above our heads, but otherwise the woodland behind Hemp Hollow was silent. It was a dead kind of quiet, and I thought of the mauled body of the unfortunate Jerry. Except the coywolf hadn't killed Jerry. He had been hacked to death by a human hand.

I shivered and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Right here, Chesley. Rip the bags and dump them, but fold up the bags and put them in your pocket. You don't want to leave any fingerprints.”

“I wouldn't leave plastic bags lying around in the woods.”

Through the trees, I glimpsed the small clearing behind the Quigley trailer and a pile of freshly cut firewood. I glanced at the roof of the lean-to at the back of the trailer, but no smoke drifted from the metal chimney.

Something wasn't right. Dumping Dougal's marijuana behind the home of the local pot dealer and Baker of earthly delights had seemed like a good idea when I was sitting on a lawn chair separating celery from the other vegetables on my plate. Now, it just seemed childish.

“Bliss, I'm done. Can we go now and see the wetland?”

I looked down at the pile of cannabis leaves at our feet. “Let's kick it around a bit so it can dry up faster. Wait!”

“What's wrong? That's all there is.”

I moved the weed with the toe of my shoe.

“These are just leaves and stalks,” I said to Chesley. “Where are the buds?”

Chesley managed to look insulted. “You can't throw out the flowering tops. There's more resin in the tops than the leaves, hence more THC, the active ingredient.”

“It was my impression that Dougal was out of the pot-growing business.”

“That's true. He isn't going to grow another crop, but that doesn't mean we're going to waste this batch.”

“So, Dougal thinks he's doing a good thing by keeping the buds and asking you to dispose of the less valuable leaves?”

“Yes. Can we go now, Bliss? This place gives me the creeps.” He hitched up his pants and looked around.

Chesley was the only man I knew who wore both a belt and suspenders. I guessed he was pantsed a lot in high school.

“First, I want to drop into my trailer and pick up a few things. Just a quick in and out and we'll be gone.” I needed a change of clothes and Redfern surely couldn't freak out about that. I suspected Ewan Quigley was the second man in the cemetery last night with Snake and both of them had already been arrested, or had fled to a city where biker gangs were active.

“Come with me, Chesley.” We moved through the trees and crossed over the path bisecting the woods until we came to the clearing behind my trailer.

“You live here, Bliss?” I could hear the wonder in Chesley's tone and bet Mum had always kept a better-
appointed roof over his head than a rundown trailer on the wrong side of town.

“Not for long,” I replied. “My ship just sailed into harbour. But I need some clothes. That's Rae's on the left, by the way.”

As we walked between Rae's trailer and mine, we heard a bang, then several more.

“Rae's door is open, Bliss,” Chesley said. “And look at the windows, they're broken. And so are yours.”

“Check inside Rae's trailer, Chesley. I'll go into mine.”

My door was closed, but the small window set into it had only a few jagged shards left. Glass from the rest of the windows lay on the ground, surrounding the front of the trailer. Someone had broken the glass in the door to gain entrance, then smashed the other windows from the inside.

I stepped inside the trailer.

Stuffing spilled from the bench to the floor like a waterfall of white cotton. The tabletop lay crookedly against one wall. Even the door of the fridge hung by one hinge. I had to step over the smashed microwave in the hallway to reach my bedroom, where I found the same degree of ruin. The mattress and bedclothes were in tatters and the plastic tote boxes where I kept my clothes had been upended onto the floor. The clothes had been ripped to shreds.

Only the bathroom had not been vandalized, and I was relieved my boxes of mementoes in the shower stall were intact.

I turned and ran for the door, where I found Chesley standing at the bottom of the steps. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to swallow.

“Rae's trailer has been totalled, Bliss. Even the metal support pole has been pulled down.”

“I think we better get out of here, Chesley.”

“Shouldn't we call the police?”

“We'll do it from the motel. Let's go.”

I was halfway between the trailers, heading for the path, when I realized Chesley had stopped and was staring across the muddy compound. I went back and pulled on his sleeve.

He shook me off and said, “Look there, Bliss. The windows on that trailer are broken, too. And the door is open.”

“That trailer belongs to the local drug dealer. Come on, Chesley, pick up those feet and let's make tracks.”

“We have to check, Bliss. Someone could be in there, hurt.” He started across the compound, and was at the Quigley's door by the time I caught up to him.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Do you hear anything?”

We waited, but the only sound was a faucet dripping. I edged through the door first.

“Oh, God, what is that smell?” Chesley placed a hand over his mouth and nose.

“That's blood, Chesley, lots of it. Let's get out.”

“Okay. No, wait! What's that?”

That
was a body, splayed out on the floor, covered with debris and broken glass. The face had no discernible features. It was slashed in a dozen places, like Jerry's in the woods. The head tilted to one side, and I recognized the stubby grey ponytail at the back of the neck. A wide gash split the throat. The body lay in a puddle of blood, and more had spurted over the walls and cupboards. Crimson spray decorated the ceiling.

Ewan Quigley's drug dealing days were behind him.

Chesley ran out the door and pulled out his phone. I heard him tell the 911 operator a body had been found in a trailer. He looked questioningly at me, and I replied, “Hemp Hollow.” I stumbled outside after him, finally able to tear my eyes away from Ewan's corpse.

Chopped to death by a hatchet. I felt hysterical laughter begin its ascent from deep in my throat, and to prevent its escape, I said quickly, “Right, run. Run between the other two trailers and through the path. Our vehicles are in the field. Go!”

Too late. Too late to run.

Sarah Quigley stepped in front of us, blocking our escape. I heard Chesley choke on his breath as he backed up a step. My feet were rooted to the earth and my eyes could not translate an acceptable image to my brain.

Her naked body was striped with blood. Red rivulets ran down her face from her matted hair and dripped onto the ground.

I pushed against Chesley to make him move, but then stopped when I saw the axe in her right hand. I couldn't look away from the blade as she slowly raised her arm.

One glance at her expression and I knew Sarah had stepped through the door into insanity. In her hate-filled eyes, I saw the promise of my death.

“Get ready to run when I give the word, Chesley. Don't look back no matter what you hear. Keep running until you get to the highway.”

Sarah took a step closer, and I said, “Now!”

Chesley's muscular legs carried him across the compound in seconds. Sarah turned to watch him run, but, as I hoped, she chose to concentrate on me. I used her momentary distraction to step sideways so my back was no longer against the trailer.

She advanced another step and I whispered, “Sarah, put the axe down and we'll talk. You don't want to do this.” I could see Ewan's blood cracking on her skin as it dried. Her nude body was sinewy and tense, as dangerous as a cornered cobra.

“Yes. I do,” she corrected, in a child-like voice. “I killed Jerry and I killed Ewan, too. Now I'll kill you. Then I'll look for that whore and kill her. Then it will be done.”

Stall, Cornwall, stall. Chesley would have called 911 again. Redfern would come. He would be here any minute.

“Why did you kill Jerry and Ewan, Sarah?”

She hefted the axe, testing the weight of the handle. Reaching out, she felt the edge of the blood-stained blade with a thumb. I flinched, imagining the pain as the blade slammed into my body, over and over.

“Jerry was one of our runners. He wanted a bigger cut. Ewan and I knew we'd have to do something about him, so, when he came back after Ewan and Snake laid a beating on him for what he did to that whore, well, I decided to deal with it myself. You can't rely on men, you know. Sometimes you have to do things yourself.”

“Where did you kill him?”

She cackled suddenly, then choked on some phlegm in her throat. “Did it right in the shed where we dry the product. It was an awful mess, but a few gallons of bleach took care of most of it. Ewan dragged Jerry out in the woods and left him. Damn fool! He should have put him in the truck right away and dumped the body far away. But he left it in our own backyard. He said he meant to move it later that night, but then you and that blonde whore found it. Bitches!”

“That explains Jerry, Sarah. But what about Ewan? Why did you kill your husband?” I knew I had to keep talking. But my brain was shutting down.

If I ran, I had no doubt she would swing that axe and drop me like a stone. The muscles running up her arms looked as strong as rope.

She could barely force words from lips twisted with rage.

“Ewan was going to leave me. He was packing, saying with Jerry's body and the cops poking around the product, he was leaving with Snake. Snake belongs to some biker gang and Ewan was going to join, too.” She hawked and spat at my feet, but I didn't move. “He said he'd send for me later, but I knew I'd be in jail if he left me here.”

“Then what happened, Sarah?”

“Why, then I killed him,” she stated matter-of-factly, and every hair on the back of my neck snapped upright.

“I can see you would be angry with Ewan, Sarah. But why Rae? What did she do to you?”

“That piece of trash.” Sarah moved the axe handle back and forth between her hands, but so far hadn't raised it. “She screwed my husband, then he expected me to take her in when she was hurt. He hasn't touched me in years, but he was quick to visit that tramp in her purple trailer. Can you imagine how that feels?”

“Yes, I sort of can, Sarah. But what about me?” My eyes were searching the woods behind the trailers, hoping to see movement, the flash of a cop's gun, anything.

“You.” She cackled again, but didn't spit. Her breath was coming fast and loud. “I just plain don't like you. You have a smart mouth, and I knew you felt better than me every time you saw me outside. And you never came over and talked to me, not once.”

“I didn't think you wanted me to, Sarah.” My brain was no longer functioning and I couldn't keep talking much longer.

She raised the axe slightly higher, not yet high enough to take a swing.

With my last shred of composure, I said, “I live in a trailer in Hemp Hollow, same as you, Sarah. I'm not better than you.”

“Maybe I won't have a chance to kill the whore before they catch me, but I will kill you.”

“You'll go to prison, Sarah.”

“I won't. I'll spend the rest of my days in a comfortable room in a nice hospital, where I don't have to cut wood to stay warm in winter. There will be food I don't have to cook, nobody to pick up after, or orders to fill.” Her words were mixed with sobs, and the tears streamed through the dried blood on her contorted face.

I looked around frantically. I would have to make a break for it, but knew I wouldn't get far.

“You're the Baker,” I said, hoping to keep her talking.

“People came from everywhere for my baking,” she said with pride. “We made lots of money from my baking and Ewan's business. But I never saw any of it. It's been years since I've been out of Hemp Hollow. He wouldn't even take me into town. I'm glad I killed him. Now it's your turn.”

The axe was on the upswing. I darted through the mud and between the two mutilated trailers.

The ragged efforts of her breathing and the footfalls of her bare feet were only metres behind. As I reached the clearing behind my trailer, there was a movement on my left.

I barely noticed the blond hair and the gun held between two hands. Sarah's steps didn't falter.

Just as Redfern screamed the words, “Halt. Police,” she swung at him.

He dropped to the ground with a cry of pain. A shot rang out, but Sarah kept coming.

Sarah swung the axe again. The skin on the back of my right forearm split open, but I didn't stop. Not until I had a tree trunk between us. She swung again, and the axe blade burrowed into the trunk. As she struggled to dislodge it, I took a quick look at Redfern.

He was lying on the ground, a red stain spilling from his upper thigh onto his pants. He crawled toward his gun, which was lying a few feet away. If I kept Sarah occupied, Redfern could reach the gun.

With one hard wrench, she freed the axe. A pinecone bounced off her head and both of us looked up. Chesley was perched in a nearby pine, about eight feet from the ground. He was pulling at a cluster of immature pinecones, pitching them one after another at Sarah.

“Come down and throw some rocks at her,” I screamed. The threat of rock throwing was enough to turn Sarah's attention to Chesley. She swung the axe with one hand, trying to reach his legs. He clambered a few feet higher and, before she could return her attention to me, I scooped a fist-sized rock from the ground and slammed it against the back of her head.

I didn't hit her hard enough. She whirled around, eyes black with madness, but before she could lift the axe handle again, I ducked in and smashed the rock into her temple. She crumpled to the ground.

I lifted the rock to hit her again, but Redfern called out, “Stop. She's out. Take my handcuffs and cuff her hands behind her back.” His voice was weak.

Handcuffs were new to me, and Sarah was stirring before I got both her wrists behind her and snapped the cuffs closed. Chesley slid down the tree and stood a few feet away.

“Sit on her,” I ordered Chesley.

“What? But, she's naked.”

“Sit on her, or I'll kick your ass.”

He sat, and I reached for his waist and unbuckled his belt. He didn't protest as I pulled it free. He still had his damn red suspenders to hold up his pants.

Running over to Redfern, I looped the belt around his upper thigh at the groin and pulled it tight. Keeping the pressure on with one hand, I took out my cell and called 911 again, ordering an ambulance and telling the dispatcher to alert the hospital about a possible severed artery.

Redfern had been applying pressure to his wound with his hands, but now he let go. He fell back on the ground and his eyes rolled slightly toward the back of his head.

“Hey, Redfern, you aren't going to faint, are you? Not a tough cop like you.” I struggled out of my jacket and spread it over his chest, using one hand while pulling the belt even tighter with the other. “Stay with me, Chief. Come on, don't go to sleep now. If you stay awake, I'll let you hit on me.”

I was just saying any words that came to mind, trying to keep him from going into deeper shock. I continued to pull on the belt and the blood slowed to a trickle. I hoped that was because the tourniquet was working, not because he was running out of blood. But I wasn't sure. My St. John's Ambulance training in high school was a long time ago.

“Cornwall, you're really something,” he said, his words nearly inaudible.

Sarah regained consciousness and tried to buck Chesley off her back. With no clothes to hang on to, he gamely latched onto her blood-soaked hair.

I threw another small rock over to Chesley. “Smash her with that.” He reached for it, and Sarah suddenly went still again. Guess she wasn't up for another blow to the head. Maybe some part of Sarah's brain was still functioning.

Four of Redfern's officers, including Thea, thundered through the woods to surround us. It took only a few words for me to explain what had happened. Two of them relieved Chesley and held Sarah on the ground. The other two took over for me, holding the pressure with the belt. I was covered in Redfern's blood, and wobbled when I stood up. I stumbled over to Sarah and kicked her in the head. Just once, but it was a good one. Neither cop holding her down objected.

I leaned against Chesley and watched the ambulance arrive. The driver skillfully manoeuvred through the narrow opening in the trees, losing only one mirror to the lower branches of the pines.

The attendants ran an IV line into Redfern's arm. They threw my jacket aside and covered him with several thick blankets. I picked up my jacket and cell.

One of the attendants looked at me and said, “You're coming with us, Miss.”

I stepped back. “This blood isn't mine. It's his.”

“Not all of it. You have a nasty gash on your arm. That will need some stitches, so jump in with us and we'll get you fixed up.”

They shoved me in after loading the stretcher with Redfern's unmoving body. I was pushed onto a bench while the two attendants worked on Redfern. I saw them release pressure on the belt, but when the blood spurted, they tightened it again.

Before the door closed on Chesley's white face, I called to him, “Don't tell your mother about this. Can we look at the swamp tomorrow?”

I wrapped my jacket around my injured arm, which throbbed in rhythm with my heart. When my cell rang, it took me a minute to answer it.

“It's me, Mike. Okay, Bliss, you win. I'll buy the fifty acres from you for sixty-five thousand dollars. And not a penny more.”

Well, shit. I was feeling a bit spacey, not at my best, and I really didn't know what to tell him.

“I kind of promised the property to another party, Mike. I can't go back on my word now, but if they decide not to go through with it, I'll give you a call. That's the best I can do.”

“Bliss, I'm tired of your games. Take it or leave it.”

I was tired of hearing that phrase.

“I guess I'll have to leave it.”

“I'll get you for this, Bliss.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mike.”

I leaned back and surrendered to exhaustion.