No Going Back (31 page)

Baldy rolled his neck. ‘You need to walk away now, crazy man. You’re scaring off valuable
paying
customers.’

Samuel took a look around. At a far intersection traffic flashed by, but there was no one else currently on the street.

‘I am?’

‘Yes. Now get outta here.’

Samuel didn’t move.

‘Look, last chance. You go or we move you on,’ the baldy said.

One of the mirror men said, ‘Don’t know why we’re giving this asshole any of our time. Kick his ass, Duane.’

‘Duane?’ Samuel twisted his lips into a sneer. ‘That doesn’t sound like the name of a tough guy.’

‘The fuck?’

Samuel pointed at Duane’s right ear. The lobe was elongated, a thick steel circlet embedded in it. ‘Does something like that hurt?’

Duane leaned in, shoving his chin directly in Samuel’s face. ‘Not as much as my fist in your face will, asshole. Now, last chance, get away from us.’

‘I thought the last time was my last chance. You should make yourself clear if you want people to understand.’ Samuel shot out his left hand and made a fist around Duane’s earlobe. He twisted counter-clockwise, and the baldy had no option but to go with it to avoid his ear ripping off. He let out a startled shriek. ‘See, that’s how you get someone’s attention,’ Samuel added.

‘Get your hands off him!’

Samuel wasn’t sure which of the mirror men yelled at him. He didn’t care. He continued to twist Duane’s ear and the Goth reared up on his augmented boots, his spine arching backwards to alleviate the agony. His coat fell open and with his right hand Samuel tugged out the gun. Samuel wasn’t an aficionado of firearms but he thought the gun was a Glock. The butt felt heavy where he gripped it, indicating a full load. He lifted the gun so that it was aiming loosely at the mirror men.

‘I’m not an unreasonable man,’ he said. ‘Seeing as you gave me a chance, I’ll offer you the same terms. Leave now.’

The mirror men didn’t know what to do. They looked at each other, then at their friend who was still writhing in Samuel’s grasp.

Right Parting said, ‘Let him go, man.’

Samuel exhaled. Then he shot the youth in the face.

Left Parting let out a girlish scream as he watched his friend collapse to the ground. Samuel turned the gun on him. ‘See, last chance means last chance with me.’

He shot the second youth. The bullet took him through the throat, cutting off his squeal of terror.

But now Duane’s screams had grown louder.

His howling was magnified threefold: he’d just watched his friends brutally gunned down, he thought he was next, and Samuel had just ripped the steel ring off – and the lobe it was attached to.

The Goth fell to the ground, his hands trying to stem the flow of blood. His eyes were hollows of disbelief. He couldn’t get his legs to move, no matter how much he wanted to flee the scene.

Samuel studied the ring between his fingers, the gun momentarily forgotten and hanging at his side. He used his thumb to rub off some of the adhering flesh then held the steel ring up to see it more clearly. It was a quarter-inch thick with a deep groove around its entire circumference. Samuel jiggled it round and allowed it to slip on to his pinky finger. He showed it to Duane. ‘Does this mean we’re going steady?’

Duane let out another howl, then tried to propel himself away. His boot heels caught in the hem of his leather coat and he sprawled on his back. He rolled over, tried to get his feet under him, but Samuel stepped on his lower back, forcing him down in the dirt. ‘What, you’re breaking up with me already?’ Samuel asked. ‘Well, sorry Duane, but that just doesn’t work for me.’

He leaned down and placed the muzzle of the gun to the nape of the youth’s neck. Duane squealed, but it was cut short. Pressed deep in the flesh of the youth’s neck, the retort of the Glock was muffled.

He allowed the earring to slip from his finger. ‘We’re finished, Du-ane,’ he said.

Somewhere a dog was barking. Samuel could hear startled voices rising in alarm. He surveyed the three dead boys scattered around him. Then he looked at the gun dispassionately. Not much fun to be had with a gun in your hand, he thought. But he could see its value.

He went quickly to the mirror men. He could tell them apart now that they had different wounds. Neither had a firearm, but one of them had a bone-handled knife, the other a regular lock-knife. He pocketed both items, then went back to Duane and checked his coat pockets for extra ammunition. He didn’t find any, just a handful of small baggies with white powder. Samuel took them.

The dog was barking louder now, or more correctly closer to him. The voices were also approaching.

Samuel walked away quickly, escaping through the alley towards the main strip. He could hear the wailing of approaching sirens. He wasn’t too worried that he’d be identified as the shooter. In this neighbourhood, a middle-aged man in a suit would be the last person anyone would suspect.

Back on the main strip he watched as two police cruisers swept by. He pursed his lips, deciding that this was as good a diversion as any. He began walking towards the hotel where Jay waited for him.

39

There were further questions to be answered by both Nicole and Jay, and I chaperoned them to the police station. Jameson Walker and Herb Challinor had come along as well, but they were currently consulting with legal representatives hired by Jameson. While they were all led into offices behind the scenes and offered refreshments by a chirpy policewoman, I got a hard plastic chair in the public area at the front. The SIG Sauer nestled in the hollow of my back felt exceedingly heavy, but even at the police station I didn’t want to relinquish it. I felt very conspicuous, as if every uniform in the place was aware of my concealed weapon, but while I sat there quietly there was no reason for a cop to come and shake me down.

I had a long wait, but it was time well spent for the family groups when finally they came out. They were all exhibiting varying degrees of relief, sharing smiles all round and shaking hands with the detectives and attorneys. It looked like they had fulfilled their duty to the investigative team and were finally allowed to go home. I stood up, ensuring my shirt concealed my gun. I watched the families hugging again as they made their way towards me. I was happy for them, but there was a needle of annoyance jabbing at me. If they all headed for home, that would mean I wouldn’t get the opportunity to finish things with Samuel Logan. I’d be leaving with them, before returning to Florida.

Jameson came over, extending his hand to me. I took it, though I didn’t feel like congratulations were in order.

‘We’re done here at last,’ Jameson said.

‘So what happens now?’

‘I’m taking everyone to Cape Cod for a holiday; to help the girls get over this.’

‘The threat’s still out there, Jameson.’

‘The police say not. After he murdered Doug Stodghill, he stole a car from his garage. They think Samuel Logan has run away.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You’re welcome to come if you like. Up to Cape Cod, I mean.’

‘It’ll take more than one man to offer round-the-clock protection.’

‘I didn’t mean you should come as a bodyguard.’

‘The girls still need protecting.’

‘So bring in Jared and whoever else you need.’

‘It would be much better if I’d ended things here.’

‘Well, that’s not going to happen now. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning, and like I said, you’re welcome to come with us if you want to.’

I looked up and saw Jay staring at me. What was that expression on her face? Hopeful? I stared back, thinking.

She lowered her head, breaking the connection. Nicole stood alongside her and they entwined their fingers, lifting their hands up and down as if repeating a pact. Then Nicole released her grip and walked towards me. I wasn’t expecting what happened next. She took hold of my hand and led me to the door.

We exited the station house and stood on the sidewalk outside. The evening had grown still after yesterday’s high winds. The heat was still oppressive, and beads of perspiration broke along my hairline. I glanced back and saw Jameson, Herb and Jay in conversation with their attorneys once more. Nods and smiles were reciprocated on both sides. Nicole hadn’t said a word yet, but I could hear her breathing shallowly.

‘What is it, Nicole?’

She wouldn’t let go of my hand, only rotated her grip so that she could stand facing me. She had to tilt her head to meet my gaze. ‘Jay told me that she talked with you last night.’

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t offer an answer.

‘I understand you,’ she said.

‘You do?’

‘Yes. After what Samuel and his family did to us, to those other women, he deserves to die.’

Hearing those words from such a delicate girl made me reconsider. Maybe when I’d said much the same to Jay she’d had a similar reaction to mine now. I should have said something, encouraged Nicole to forget about Samuel and get on with her life. But she surprised me again.

‘But you shouldn’t suffer, Joe. You should walk away from this. This isn’t your battle any more.’

Whose words were those? Were they Nicole’s alone or had Jay put her up to them? I knew that Jay felt an attraction to me, though it wasn’t something I wished to take advantage of: I was still in a relationship, and I loved my girlfriend. Jay knew that too, but maybe she couldn’t help feeling protective of me, the way I did her. Perhaps she was trying to offer affection in an attempt to heal me.

‘If I don’t stop Samuel, then who will?’

‘The police,’ she said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

‘The police will arrest him. They’ll put him in prison. After everything that he’s done, he doesn’t deserve such an easy way out.’

She closed her eyes for a long heartbeat before looking at me once more.

‘The Logans raped me. They beat me. They tortured my best friend. I want them all dead . . .’

‘Then we’re on the same wavelength.’

‘But not at the expense of your life, Joe,’ she finished.

‘I don’t intend dying.’

‘That’s not what you told Jay last night.’

I frowned. That wasn’t what I’d meant. I offered her a short laugh. ‘She picked me up wrong.’

‘Promise.’

‘Who would want to die?’

‘I did. Back at that ranch. But now that it’s all behind me . . . I’m happy to be alive.’

She stood on tiptoe and kissed me on my cheek. Her lips were warmer than the night.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and fetch the others. We need to get ready if we’re heading off for Cape Cod in the morning.’

A vehicle pulled up at the front of the station, an unmarked Lincoln but definitely a cop car. There were two figures in the front, and I wasn’t really surprised when the two detectives who’d taken me to Phoenix climbed out. Their attention was fixed on me, and I nodded at Nicole to go back inside.

Chambers was the sprightlier of the two, and approached me three steps ahead of Witherspoon.

‘You still here, Hunter?’ His pointy ears were almost twitching with anger. ‘I hoped we’d seen the last of you.’

‘You’ll be happy to hear I’m leaving, then?’

‘Not soon enough.’

Witherspoon came puffing up alongside us. ‘How long have you been here, Hunter?’

‘In Holbrook? Since I made my way back from our little day trip.’

‘No. Here.’ He indicated the police station.

‘Couple of hours.’

‘Hope you have witnesses,’ Chambers snapped.

‘Will a roomful of cops do?’

Witherspoon clucked his tongue, but it was for his partner’s sake. ‘Let it go, willya,’ he said. ‘I told you Hunter had nothing to do with this.’ He swung to gaze back at Chambers. He lifted his head, nodded his subordinate inside. Chambers swore under his breath but strode inside the police station, stiff-backed.

‘What’s up with Mr Spock this time?’

Witherspoon got the joke, but his features soon flattened out and he was all seriousness again. ‘There’s been a shooting. Three dead. He thought that you’d been up to your old tricks.’

I felt a lump in my chest expand. ‘Who are the victims?’

Witherspoon waved me down. ‘No one for you to be concerned about; all indications are that it was a drug-related shooting. The vics are known to us. Small-time coke dealers.’

‘And your buddy thought I was responsible?’

Witherspoon squinted. ‘After you left Phoenix he did a little more digging into your background. Seems you’ve been in the frame for similar shootings in the past. The latest being an incident in Callaway, Florida, a week ago.’

‘I didn’t shoot anyone in Callaway.’

‘You discharged your weapon.’

‘My finger slipped.’

‘You dislocated some kid’s knee.’

‘He fell off his skateboard.’

Witherspoon shook his head.

‘Don’t worry, Hunter. I knew the shootings here weren’t your style.’

‘I bet Chambers was pissed when you pulled up and saw me standing here, though?’