The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (The Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mysteries) (41 page)

Scared the hell out of me.

My only advantage was agility, and I used it.
Yelling “hang on!” I braked again, letting the truck shoot ahead.

Don’t say “shoot.”

I popped the ATV back to the road and made as if I
were heading for the other ditch. The truck swerved again, trying to cut us
off. Whoever was in the passenger seat had already shot at us, so I decided to
keep to the left side, if at all possible. I dove back into the ditch on the
driver’s side.

They must have figured out what I was doing,
because Justus shoved the gun out of his window. He fired, but he was shooting
with his right hand angled across his body and driving with his left; it made
for an awkward position. Frustration convulsed his features when he missed.

Now,
that
pissed me off. Just days ago the
rat bastard had been panting for Smurf sex while feeling up my calves. I had
even stolen two dinner rolls for the asswipe.

I pulled the brake-and-dodge maneuver again. As
the truck leaped ahead, I finally spied another road coming up on the left. I
slowed even more, trying to make it obvious.
Take the turn or not?

Justus raked his gaze back and forth between
watching where he was going and trying to keep track of us through the rear
window. He was shouting orders, or maybe just screaming. His buddy stuck his
head out the window. Adlai. He fired wildly, closing his eyes and turning away
as he pulled the trigger. Coward couldn’t even look at us.

I gunned the ATV and passed them, Beth flipping
them off as we flashed by. The truck was practically on top of us. I banked
hard and made the turn.

Tires squealed, sounding like screams in the
night, as Justus tried to make the turn with us. We shot onto the side street,
covering ground as the truck wrestled with the turn. The pickup’s back end
swung wildly, and I had half a second to hope they’d lose it and roll.

When they didn’t, I took another gamble. Once
again, I plunged the ATV off-road, across the opposite corner, angling back to
W. We popped back up onto the asphalt, still heading north to Winter. In fact,
I could see the town just up ahead.

Behind us, tires screamed in protest again as
Justus slammed on the brakes. He would have to turn around or reverse back to
W, and that gave us a precious bit of time.

I pushed the ATV as fast as I could, refusing to
look at the speedometer. Beth had her head down, hands clenched to the basket,
hanging on. Priella had her arms in a vice grip around my middle, head buried
between my shoulders. One unforeseen roadkill carcass, one pothole,
anything—and we were dead.

We were going so fast that we didn’t approach the
town as much as we materialized in the middle of it.

It was the middle of the night, and everything was
shut down. Almost everything. Like a homing pigeon, I made for the first bar I
saw.

As soon as we slammed to a halt, we all leaped and
ran for the door. We burst in, surprising the crap out of the bar folk. Being a
week night, there were only a half-dozen farmers and rednecks hanging around,
but they grasped the situation pretty quickly.

Three hysterical, sobbing, beat-to-shit looking
women.

Bad guys chasing them.

Nuff said.

Epilogue

I
t’s going to be
years before this mess gets cleared up. Maybe it never will. From what I’ve
been told, the authorities haven’t even decided which charges will be filed or
against whom. My guess is it’s the “against whom” part that is the real
sticking point. As far as I can see, the only problem with
which
charges
to file would be having so many to chose from: two murders, three attempted
murders, methamphetamine manufacturing and distribution, false imprisonment,
and the probable money scams that need to be sorted out. The list goes on and
on. In fact, several of the “hens” fled the roost and the police, along with
the FBI in some cases, are still trying to gather them all up.   

Justus and Adlai were the first to get scooped up.
After taking a few moments to “express their opinions” about Justus trying to
run three women over with his pickup truck, our barroom buddies held on to the
two until the police showed up. In addition to that, Beth and I had to give
statements about having seen Justus patrolling the meth camp. We’ll have to
testify when he comes to trial. Maggie, Luke, and Ben scattered as soon as the
three of us escaped. They were probably the first to run. Maggie and Luke were
picked up hours later at a McDonald’s in Eau Claire, where they were trying to
catch a Greyhound bound for… well, anywhere. They didn’t much care which
direction the bus was heading. Ben still hasn’t been found.

Maggie’s clean now, but she’s also behind bars.
Reggie has tried visiting her at the jail, but Maggie refuses. She uses the
money Reggie adds to the commissary, though. I’m hoping Maggie will use the
services available for dealing with substance abuse that most jails have to
offer. If I’m honest, I’ve never seen a person who has been court-ordered for
treatment make much use of the opportunity. If he or she hasn’t decided on her
own to commit to a lifestyle change, it probably isn’t going to happen. Reggie
says she won’t give up on her daughter, and I believe her—as long as Reggie
stays sober, that is. She’s still coming to meetings and working through the
Twelve Steps with Beth, which is a good sign.    

Father disappeared too. After sending Justus and
Adlai to patrol the road to Winter, while Seth and another Elect member tracked
us through the wilderness, Father grabbed as much as he could carry and took
off, along with Casper, Dathan, and Mark. Rumor has it Maliah went with them.

Casper and Mark were picked up within a few days.
Of course, everyone is claiming they knew nothing about the meth lab or the
murders. Although they were in the Seven, Mark and Adlai are both maintaining
they weren’t high enough in rank to have been let in on the secret. That might
even be true. Father certainly liked to keep his secrets spread out—some
knowing this, some knowing that. Casper, as the Elect’s accountant and third
highest ranked in the Seven, is pretty much screwed. Eli heard he’s been put on
suicide watch. 

Moses, of course, was still hospitalized when the
others took off, so running was never an option for him. Once the hospital got
him stabilized on the appropriate antipsychotics, he was transferred to the
jail. Even though it’s obvious that he had his hand in most of the pie, his
“diminished capacity” will probably make his prosecution difficult. Cozbi
visits him as often as visiting hours will allow. She’s hired a lawyer out of
Madison for his defense.

Originally, we  thought Gabriel had run off with
Father and the gang, but he only went as far as Minnesota where he hid out at
his sister’s place. After a week of prayer, he returned to Sawyer County and
turned himself in to the police. Eli’s gone to visit him at the jail twice. He
told Eli that he needs to plead guilty to atone for his sins. The DA, although
giddy with the possibility of a confession on the meth charge, had some of that
joy tempered when Gabriel refused to cooperate in the case against Father and
the others. Aside from himself and Enoch, Gabriel says he won’t implicate
anyone. He’s told Eli that while he’s willing to pay for his sins, the others
have to be guided by The Spirit on their own. He’s driving his public defender
batty. Eli is trying to convince Gabriel to cooperate with his attorney, but so
far Gabriel is staying adamant. One of the few things he has been willing to
disclose was that Father had a “bug out” plan already in place. Gabriel thought
Father was just referring to being prepared for the End Times, but apparently
their fearless leader had been busily salting monies into accounts in the
Cayman Islands for years and had a fake identity set up and ready to go.

Eli is certain the authorities will catch up with
Father, but I’m not so sure. Even if they did, my guess is they wouldn’t be
able to charge him with either Enoch’s or Rachel’s murder. Baara’s confession
to me only said she “knew what Father wanted.” That doesn’t mean he gave her
the order. He could even maintain that sending the Seven out to look for Enoch
meant he wasn’t aware of what Baara had done. He could probably get charged with
aiding after the fact, or whatever it’s called. Given Baara’s own issues with
diminished capacity, Father would probably spin it to look like he was just
trying to protect poor Baara.

We still don’t know who killed Rachel, either. I
suspect it was “The Flame” again, but there’s no way of knowing for certain now.
The police found Baara in the Temple, next to Rachel. Baara had used one of the
hunting rifles, a particularly difficult way to kill oneself, but she managed.
Most have interpreted her suicide as an admission of guilt, but I don’t think
so. I don’t think Baara felt remorse for what she had done. I believe she
killed herself when she realized that Father had left her behind. His own
little “Daughter of Zion.”

I’ve let Jala and Priella stay in my apartment.
It’s only a one-bedroom, so I cleared out and I’m staying at Eli’s. Siggy is in
kitty heaven exploring Eli’s old farmhouse.

I’ve told both women to take their time and figure
out what they want to do with their lives. Jala picked up as a cook at a local
restaurant and they love her there. Priella is working part-time as a check-out
clerk at the Aldi’s in town. Between the two, they’re able to manage the rent
and utilities, so I don’t have to worry about that. If they start to struggle
with the bills, I’m pretty sure Beth and Jimmy would help keep them afloat.
Both women are seeing Tracy for counseling.

I’ve thought about it. Counseling, I mean. I could
go back to the woman I had seen for counseling after my last escapade, but
there’s a certain level of embarrassment at having to admit that I allowed myself
to get dragged into another horrible situation. I’m not quite ready to admit
what that might say about me. Instead, when I’m feeling anxious, I go down to
the cellar and stare at the koi swimming around the water tank. Siggy comes
too. We both sit on the deep freezer and watch them. It’s quiet and I’m able to
breathe down there. At first, my thoughts ricochet as randomly as the
orange-and-black creatures writhing around in the bottom of the dark tank. If I
stare long enough, though, the movements shift from chaotic to a gentle,
gliding ballet, and so do my thoughts. Siggy just wants to eat one.

I used Jala and Priella as an excuse to move in
with Eli, but then he knew that I was doing that, and I knew that he knew I was
doing that, so it’s all good. Every couple starts their relationship out with a
shared delusion, don’t they? It feels right. We’ve had one or two “don’t
squeeze the toothpaste from the middle” issues, and one almost-fight over the
need to refill the toilet paper roll when it gets used up, but for the most
part, we’re adjusting very well.

One thing, though. One fear—if I can even call it
that; maybe it’s just a doubt or suspicion—but it crops up every so often and
has sent me to my cellar meditation spot more often than once.

I think Eli is up to something.

He’s been curiously hesitant about his plans to
finish up school. I admit, now that I know him better, I have a hard time seeing
him as a lawyer too, but what that means for his future plans, I haven’t been
able to figure out. He’s quite slippery on the subject. Even more ominous, he
and Beth seem to have established some secret squirrel-ESP telepathy whenever
the subject is brought up.

It makes me wonder.

Thank you for reading THE BLOOD WE SPILL.

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ALSO BY DONNA WHITE GLASER

THE LETTY WHITTAKER 12 STEP MYSTERIES:

THE
ENEMY WE KNOW

THE
ONE WE LOVE

THE
SECRETS WE KEEP

THE BLOOD WE SPILL

COMING SOON: THE LIES WE TELL