The Killing Kind (21 page)

Rob let out a shuddery sound somewhere between a laugh and a terror-stricken moan. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s right. You could say that.”

Roxie stepped between them and steered Rob away from her. “Shut up, Rob. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The three of them started moving toward the exit.

A metallic click stopped them in their tracks. Julie turned around and saw the old lady from the beat-up Oldsmobile. She clutched a little revolver in her gnarled hands. The hammer was cocked and the barrel was aimed right at Julie’s chest.

“Y’all ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Julie imagined a bullet ripping through her body, could almost
feel
the searing agony. It was too easy to imagine the messy aftermath. Those last dreadful moments as her life drained away. It was easy to imagine because she’d caused it to happen to several people now.

The old lady nodded. “Drop that zapper, you mean little bitch.”

Julie forced her fingers to open and the Taser hit the floor with a clatter, just out of reach of the grasping fingers of Tod,
who’d just begun to recover from the jolts he’d received. Right now he didn’t have the strength to sit up and reach for it, but that wouldn’t remain the case for long.

Holy shit, we are as fucked as fuck can be.

The old lady smiled. “Done called the cops. We’ll just stand right here and wait for ’em, I reckon.”

Then something came sailing past Julie’s head, making her flinch. The object hit the old lady square in the center of her face and she staggered backward a few steps before letting go of her cane and crashing to the floor. Julie giggled when she saw the Clairol box hit the floor.

Robin to the rescue. It’s a miracle!

Rob had been holding the package throughout their contentious exchange moments earlier. And now he dashed forward to scoop up the old lady’s gun before she could recover it. Still giggling, she shoved Rob aside and kicked the woman as hard as she could in the stomach, eliciting a pained wheeze. “Take that, you ancient bag of fuck.” She swung her leg back and brought it forward again, driving it hard into her chest. The woman was mewling now, holding her hands up and trying to beg. Julie kicked her a few more times.

Rob’s hand on her shoulder.
Again.
“Maybe you could stop now.”

She pried the gun out of his hand and shot the old woman in the face.

She smiled. “Okay. Done with her anyway.”

She walked over to Tod, who had just gotten his fingers around the grip of the Taser. A bullet through the top of his head took him out of the game. She dropped the gun in her purse. “Ready to go whenever you guys are.”

She strutted outside and stood in the cool air again. She smiled at the mental image of Roxie’s shell-shocked expression. Roxie was one crazy bitch. When you had shocked the likes of her, you’d really done something noteworthy. Rob
and Roxie followed her out of the store seconds later. They all got in the Tercel, with the usual seating arrangement—Rob and Roxie up front, Julie in the back.

Roxie started the car and drove away from the Walgreens at a fast clip. Julie was glad to see it recede and then disappear in the rearview mirror. As over-the-top as her behavior had been, she remained fearful of being caught by the authorities. The video from the Walgreens security cameras would soon be all over the network and cable news outlets. The chances of them eluding the cops much longer, already small, had just grown significantly dimmer. It was looking more and more like Rob was right. Going down in a blaze of glory was the best they could hope for at this point.

So why did she feel so good, with doom at hand?

“That was a hell of a throw, Rob.”

Rob stared straight ahead, refusing to look back at her. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You saved our asses. Were you a major-league pitcher or something in a former life?”

“I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, it was mighty fucking brave of you.”

He didn’t reply to that.

They rode on in silence for several moments. Julie watched the headlights of passing traffic and thought about some things, including the likely imminent end of her life. “Roxie?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t been laid in, like, forever.”

More silence. Then Roxie said, “What about it?”

“Could you send Rob back here?”

An even longer silence. Roxie sighed. “Rob, get back there.”

“But—”

Roxie’s voice turned hard.
“Now.”

Rob climbed through the gap between the seats. Julie reached for him and pulled him down on top of her. She could feel how ready he already was.

It was hard to be surprised.

She got her mouth real close to his ear and made her voice as soft and quiet as she could. “It turns you on when you watch us kill.”

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

March 27

The blare of a television roused Zoe as she emerged from the embrace of the soundest sleep she’d experienced in some time. She groaned and sat up, still feeling groggy as she rubbed her bleary eyes. She winced at the obnoxious, excited tones of the television-news announcer coming from the living room. Her door was shut, but the volume of the news report was such that the TV might as well have been right there in the room with her. Zoe started feeling a little pissed off. It had been nice to sleep so deeply, undisturbed by thoughts of having to get up at a certain time. It was one of the best things about being on vacation.

Someone was about to get a piece of her mind. And maybe even a swift kick in the ass. She rolled out of bed and scooped up a tank top. She pulled it on and stepped into the still-wet bottom piece of her bikini. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the nightstand to the left of the bed. The digital display showed the time as being after one p.m. Her anger cooled a little. It was hours later than she’d imagined. She was still upset, but the lateness of the hour meant she would come off as kind of psycho if she were to stomp out there and bitch about it. Okay. Fine. She could be more subtle about making her displeasure known. With the right combination of calm, measured tones and carefully chosen words
of polite disdain, she could shame the offender just as thoroughly as she could with a loud diatribe.

She strode purposefully out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the living room. The sight that greeted her was so initially puzzling, the last of her anger was instantly forgotten and her complaint went unvoiced.

Her friends were all present. Chuck stood over by the bar in the entertainment area adjacent to the living room. He had a drink in his hand, naturally, but his eyes were focused on the television. He was completely transfixed by what he was seeing and hearing, as was everyone else.

Emily stood behind a sofa parked in front of the large flatscreen television. Annalisa and Sean sat at opposite ends of the sofa, each of them leaning forward and staring intently at the images on the screen. Joe stood away from them, closer to the television, shaking his head as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

Zoe got closer to the television and frowned. “What’s going on?”

Emily’s voice behind her: “A fucking bloodbath, that’s what.”

She looked at the report and saw a shot of a Walgreens parking lot cordoned off with yellow police tape. Within a few moments she knew the drugstore was the scene of a triple homicide. But she was still confused. Yeah, it was a terrible thing, but shit like this happened all the time. It sucked, but America could be a pretty fucking violent place. Why her friends should find this particular incident so mesmerizing was a mystery to her.

“I don’t get it. What’s the big deal?”

Joe glanced at her. “Give it a second. You’ll see.”

Zoe wanted to smack him for not directly answering her question. But her indignation was short-lived as the report soon made the reason clear.

“Oh…shit.”

Joe laughed. “Yeah.”

The crime had occurred in Myrtle Beach, not many miles from where they were now. An uneasy feeling settled over Zoe. The idea that something so horrible had happened so close to where she’d been sleeping at the time disturbed her. She might have crossed paths with the victims or even the perpetrators any number of times over the last few days.

“Does anybody back home know about this?”

Chuck came away from the bar to stand near her. “Zoe, this is CNN. It’s national news. My dad already called, and your folks want you to call them.”

Zoe gave him a puzzled look. “What? Why?”

“They’re worried. Want to be sure you’re all right.” He shrugged and the half-empty drink sloshed in his hand. “Fair warning, though. They’re freaked out and want you to come home early.”

“What’s your dad say?”

“You know my dad. Running home would make me a pussy in his eyes.”

Emily snorted. “Right. Can’t have
that
happening. God forbid.”

Chuck stayed silent, refusing to take the bait. Zoe felt a surge of admiration and new respect for him. It was a downright
mature
reaction. It stunned her to think he’d seemed as boorish as ever only days ago.

She reached for his free hand and laced her fingers with his. “I’m a grown-up and can make my own decisions. I’m staying. My parents will just have to deal with it. Besides, this shit?” She shrugged. “Happens all the time. Come on, you’re all thinking the same thing. Sucks for the dead people, but this shit’s just random. We’re in no more danger than we were yesterday.”

“Or maybe you’re totally fucking wrong,” Annalisa piped in. She nodded at the television. “Look.”

Zoe focused on the report again. Three side-by-side photos
appeared on the screen, the images of two young women and a man. Names and ages appeared beneath the pictures.

Rob Scott, 23

Julie Cosgrove, 17

Missy Wallace, 20

The three were being sought in connection to the Walgreens triple homicide. All were also suspects in other recent killings. One, the older girl, was suspected in a number of slayings going back at least four years.

She frowned. “That…sort of looks like…”

Chuck grunted. “Yeah. That goth chick.”

Annalisa managed not to sound too smug as she said, “Maybe not so random.”

“Oh, come on.” Emily’s voice dripped contempt. “Maybe that chick really is Chuck’s little goth pal. So what? Ever hear of a thing called coincidence? You can’t really think she followed us all the way from Nashville.”

Annalisa’s tone was just as sharp. “Why not? She’s here.”

“We traveled hundreds of miles. We would’ve noticed her trailing us somewhere along the way. She had no way of knowing exactly where we were going. So, yeah, it’s a fucking coincidence. Pull your head out of your ass.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again, you mean?”

Sean Hewitt’s voice: “Um…what? I think I, uh, misunderstood something.”

Emily laughed.

Zoe moved to intercede before the exchange could take an irreversibly ugly turn. “shut up!”

They all looked at her.

She sighed. “Emily’s right. Think about it. There’s no other explanation. It’s coincidence. That chick winding up here is just God fucking with us. These”—Zoe waved a hand
at the television—“crazy fuckers have been too busy with their wild fucking spree to properly follow anybody.”

Annalisa stared at the screen again, but her expression now was less severe, more contemplative. A sliver of doubt had pierced her convictions. She shrugged. “Yeah. Okay. I guess I can see what you’re saying. It makes sense. It’s just…”

Emily laughed. “Fucked-up.”

Chuck headed back to the bar. “Somebody turn that shit off and put on some tunes. And I can’t be the only motherfucker in this house in dire need of a fucking drink. Who’s with me?”

It was an offer none of them could refuse.

Diary of a Mixed-up Girl blog entry, dated March 27

Today is my birthday. I haven’t told Roxie or the guy about it and I don’t think I will. There’s no real point to marking the day any other way than writing about it here. It’s just such a strange thing to think about. No cake or candles to blow out for me this year. And I don’t think I’ll be alive when this day rolls around again. Not trying to be melodramatic. I really feel like I can feel the end coming. What’s really sort of fucked-up is how okay I am with it. I think about it and it doesn’t bother me at all. The not-caring thing disturbs me more than the idea of dying, but even that’s just whatever. I fucked the guy a little while ago. Straight up asked Roxie if I could. Half expected her to kick my ass. But she was okay with it. I guess it makes sense. She’s so fucking cool. I could live a thousand years and never be half as cool as Roxie. I’d say I want to be just like her when I grow up, but I’m never gonna grow up, so that shit ain’t happening. LOL.

So anyway, I guess that little backseat tumble with the guy was Roxie’s b-day present to me. Only she doesn’t know that’s what it was. It was okay, I guess. Shit. People poking around outside. Gotta go. Later. Maybe.

Note: This entry was closed to comments.

March 27

Chuck had a very pleasant buzz going by early evening. He felt pretty good overall. It was a pleasant change and it made him sad to realize how fleeting the feeling would likely be. He’d spent too much of the trip brooding over things. A man shouldn’t be so filled with anger during what was supposed to be a relaxing time. But there had simply been too much crap happening. This bullshit with Emily, for instance, and the subsequent dissolution of his friendship with Joe. That shit alone would have weighed on any guy’s mind. But the memory of the humiliation he’d endured at the hands of those redneck psychos kept coming back to taunt him. He’d suffered a deep wound to his pride that night, one he’d likely carry with him for years. It compounded all the other shit, like the thing with Emily, turning them into things that made him tremble on the edge of an explosion. At present, he could think of just two ways to cope with the emotional shit storm bearing down on him.

Go back to that bar some night and exact revenge.

Or drown all the bullshit in a sea of alcohol.

The glass in his hand was empty again. He tipped some more scotch into the glass from a nearly empty bottle. This time he had to grip the bottle’s neck a little tighter to pour the booze without spilling any of it. As he brought the glass to his lips again, he realized his pleasant buzz was two,
maybe three drinks from crossing the line into genuine drunkenness. Not that he cared. Getting drunk was the plan. He just didn’t want to get too hammered too soon.

One of the balcony doors opened and Joe came wobbling into the house. The aroma of cooking meat wafted in with him. Sean Hewitt had some burgers going on the grill. The smell made Chuck’s stomach grumble. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day. Too distracted by drinking and watching the news, probably.

“Those burgers about ready?”

Joe turned a glassy gaze his way. “I always thought you were kind of a prick.”

Chuck took a sip of scotch. “That doesn’t really answer my question. I’m hungry and could seriously go for a tasty burger. Maybe two. Your opinion of me means jack shit.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Chuck smiled. “Tell me something, Joseph. What’s it like?”

Joe swayed and almost fell. The empty bottle of Bud he’d been holding slipped from his fingers and shattered on the hardwood floor. He looked right on the edge of passing out, probably would’ve dropped right then and there, but something in him wouldn’t let it happen. He swayed again and grabbed the back of a bar stool to stay upright. “What’s what like, bitch?”

Chuck was still smiling. “You know what I mean.” He mimed the flicking of a whip with his free hand. “What’s it like being led around by the nose by that bitch? Do you ever still feel like a real man anymore?”

Joe’s face reddened and the muscles in his jaw quivered as rage built inside him, restoring a semblance of near sobriety Chuck recognized as mostly illusion.

“I’m gonna kick your…your…ass…”

Chuck set his glass down and stepped out from behind the bar, spreading his hands in a bring-it-on gesture. “Give it
a shot.” He made a whip-cracking sound with his mouth. “Come on. Let’s see who the
bitch
really is.”

Joe let go of the bar stool and lunged at Chuck. He had a good head of steam, but his intoxicated state made him slow and clumsy. It was easy to get out of his way. Even easier to get a fist up and crash it across his former best friend’s jaw. The blow was a hard, direct hit. It stung his knuckles and sent a shock of pain down his arm, but that was okay. The pain felt good. Hitting something felt good.

Joe pitched sideways and crashed into an end table. The table shot backward and the heavy brass lamp atop it hit the floor with a resounding clang. The noise and Joe’s howl of agony as he hit the floor brought the others running in from the balcony.

“Joe!” Emily hurried over to Joe and knelt next to his prone body. Her head snapped up and she glared at Chuck. “You asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Zoe had a wary look in her eyes, but she came up next to Chuck and touched his arm. “Chuck…what happened here?”

“Joe wanted a fight. I gave him one. He lost.”

Emily sprang to her feet and got in his face. “Yeah, you’re really fucking tough. Big, bad Chuck. Congratulations. You knocked out a guy too drunk to defend himself. You’re a real piece of work, Chuck. And by that I mean real piece of fucking shit. You fucking dick.”

“I may be a dick, but you’re the biggest whore this side of the Mustang Ranch.” He smiled. “Maybe we should talk about that some.”

Her punch caught him off guard and was delivered with surprising strength, her fist slamming hard enough into his chest to drive him backward a few steps.

Zoe screamed and got between them. “Emily, stop!”

“Fuck you, Zoe.”

Annalisa coughed loud enough to temporarily redirect
everyone’s attention. “You children can start fighting again in a minute, but I need to say something. Sean and I are leaving in the morning. We’ll take a cab to the airport.”

Zoe turned a despairing look her way. “But…Annie…I need you here.”

Annalisa’s expression remained stern. “I’m sorry, Zoe, but we’re going. I love you. I really do. But you need to make some changes in your life. And I do want to hear from you again if you can do what needs to be done. But Sean and I are leaving. We’ve had enough of this disaster.”

Emily sneered. “Oh, right. You and Sean are so above the rest of us cretins. There’s something you should know, Sean. Your—”

“I already know.”

Emily frowned. “What?”

The look on Sean’s face was almost serene. “Annalisa told me. And I’ve told her everything. You can’t hurt us. I feel sorry for you, Emily. It must be damn lonely in that sick little head of yours.”

Annalisa was nodding. “We’re done with you. Play your head games with someone else.” She smiled at Sean. “I’m still hungry, baby.”

He smiled and steered her back toward the balcony. “Your burgers await, madam.”

Emily was shaking. She looked ready to scream. “I hate them so much.”

Joe groaned and slowly lifted himself off the floor. He wobbled again, started to fall, but this time was able to aim himself at the sofa. He landed on it lengthwise, an arm and a leg hanging over the edge, and immediately slipped back into unconsciousness. He began to snore.

Emily sighed. “Pathetic.” She looked at Zoe. “We’re still friends.”

Zoe’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know, Em. I have to think about some things.”

Emily nodded. “Right. Okay. Well, at least Annalisa came right out and said it. That puts her ahead of you in my book.”

She stomped out of the room without another word. They heard her feet pounding the stairs to the second floor and then the distant slam of a door.

Zoe’s eyes misted. “Shit.”

Chuck touched her shoulder lightly and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to see right now, but this will wind up being for the best. You need her out of your life. We all do.”

She turned toward him and buried her face in his chest. He held her and did the best he could to comfort her. He loved her. Truly loved her. He saw that more clearly than ever.

But the truth was, he wasn’t sorry at all.

Not one bit.