Diamonds Aren't Forever (21 page)

He climbed into the driver's side, keeping the pistol low but aimed in her direction. Inserting the key with his left hand, he started the engine.

"What do you want from me, Carl?"

"You put me behind bars. Remember? It didn't take long to figure out how those diamonds got into my truck. But what threw me is why you left them. At first, I figured you were scared and didn't want to get caught with the stash. Later, I learned from an Oklahoma newspaper that the diamonds were a minuscule part of that heist.” His glare made her shiver. “All I stole were diamonds. Where did you get the other jewels?"

"I don't know what you're taking about."

"Of course, you do. You and that diamond courier were in cahoots. I bet he stashed those gems in that room and you knew where they were. You then hid them in your pocket or on your body while I risked my life to get those damn diamonds."

"Prison has made you soft in the head, Carl. That's ridiculous."

He let out a cynical laugh. “You thought you'd gotten away, but I traced you to Oregon. Then when things got hot, you decided to plant the diamonds in my truck to take the heat off of yourself. After all, you didn't need them with the big stuff."

"You're crazy, Carl,” she said, staring out the windshield. She sucked in a breath and her fingers covered her mouth when she spotted Hawkman running across the street toward the title company. Just then another man dashed out of the office building waving a gun in the air.

Carl jerked his head around, threw the car into reverse and backed up.

"Where are we going?” she asked.

"Getting the hell out of here."

"I don't want to go with you,” she cried, opening the car door.

He jammed on the brakes, grabbed her arm, and shoved the gun into her face. “Shut that damn door or I'll blow your brains out right now."

She stared at him in fear and yanked it shut. His eyes were raging with an emotion she'd never seen. “You aren't the same Carl Hopkins I used to know."

"No, my dear. You, along with a year in prison, changed that. So don't try any more cute stunts if you value your life."

Tears welled in her eyes. “Are you going to kill me?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet. But you keep doing stupid things and you might force me into it."

She focused her gaze toward the front of the car.

Hawkman stood like a giant with his gun pointed at Carl's head.

"Get out with your hands up."

Carl moved his weapon into view pointing it at Jamey's head. “Call off your apes or she gets it."

Hawkman stepped out of the way and lowered his gun, then waved the police back. “You harm her, Hopkins, and you'll go back to the slammer for life."

"That all depends on you guys.” He shoved the gear shift into drive, and roared out of the parking lot.

Jamey hung onto the door handle, terrified at what might happen next. From her side mirror she could see the police cars in pursuit. Her stomach felt queasy as the Honda rounded each corner, barely missing pedestrians and other vehicles. “Carl, you'll never outrun them. They're going to catch you."

"Maybe, but not before I get a chance to have a long talk with you."

Suddenly, she stiffened when Carl pulled up into the front yard of her own little house. “What the hell are you doing?

He turned off the key, grabbed her arm and pulled her over the center console. “Come on. We don't have much time. We've got to get inside."

"We can't,” she said, trying to pull away. “The house is occupied by someone else."

"Don't give me any static, Jamey.” He dragged her to the front entry. When he tried the knob, the door opened. Shoving her into the living room, he slammed the door just as Hawkman's vehicle screeched to a halt at the curb.

Charley experienced an upset stomach during the night and slept fitfully. He arose early, worked in the garden, tinkered with the tractor, then did a few chores until around one o'clock. He figured a large bowl of chicken soup, some crackers and a good nap would correct whatever ailed him. That's what Mary always told him when he didn't feel good.

After eating, he rinsed his bowl and placed it on the counter alongside several other dirty plates. He stepped back and stared at the dishwasher which he'd never used. Stifling a yawn with his hand, he mumbled. “I'm going to have to learn about that contraption one of these days. It might save me some time."

Feeling drowsy and much better with a full stomach, Charley strolled back to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his boots. Dropping them onto the floor, he tugged at the cover of his unmade bed and rested his head on the pillow. The next thing he knew someone jostled his shoulder, arousing him out of a deep sleep.

"Wake up,old man."

Charley blinked open his eyes and tried to focus on the two figures standing by his bed. “Huh? What is it? Something wrong? Mary, is that you?"

He raised his head and shook the cobwebs from his brain. Once his vision cleared, he realized the two standing before him were not family. Even though the female had gray hair and wore a mature woman's dress, she wasn't old. In fact, he recognized her as the woman who owned this house. Why the heck had she dressed like that, he wondered? And the man didn't have a beard or long hair, but he remembered those piercing blue eyes that looked through your soul.

Charley shoved the pistol barrel away from his face with the palm of his hand. “Don't point that damn gun at me. What the hell are you two doing in my house?"

"We're going to have to use it for awhile, grandpa."

Charley threw back the cover and sat up on the edge of the bed. “I ain't your grandpa. So don't call me that."

Carl seemed physically shaken by the old man's brazen behavior and glanced at Jamey whom he still held tightly by the wrist. She gave no reaction as she watched the old man yank on his boots.

Charley stood and propped his fists on his hips. “Now what the hell ya want?"

About that time, a voice bellowed over a bullhorn. “Charley Sullivan, are you all right?” And then the phone rang.

The old man brushed past Carl, stomped into the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

"Hello."

"Hawkman here. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Got my nap interrupted by this damn fellow you warned me about. He's got a gun pointed in my direction. And it looks like he's also holding the lady who owns this house as a hostage."

"You're right on both statements. Remain calm and do whatever he wants. We'll get you out of there real soon."

Charley hung up and glared at Carl from under bushy eyebrows. “You know you're not gonna get away with this. Whatever's on your mind, won't work. Never does.” He pointed toward the window. “And if you ain't careful, you'll get yourself killed by them sharp shooters out there."

Carl felt beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He expected the old man to show some sort of fear. “Go sit down,” he said, pointing the gun at one of the kitchen chairs. “And I'll answer the phone from now on."

"Whatever you say,” Charley said, heading for the seat.

Holding on to Jamey's wrist so tightly made Carl's hand cramp. He glanced around the kitchen. “You got any rope around here?"

"Out in my shed. You want me to go get it?"

Carl raised the gun toward him. “No. You're not leaving this house. Understand? And if you try anything cute, I'll kill the girl."

Charley held up both hands. “I ain't gonna try nothin', don't worry."

Spotting a rag hanging on a hook beside the kitchen door, Carl dragged Jamey behind him and yanked it off the nail. He put the corner of the cloth between his teeth and tore it in two pieces. Shoving Jamey down in one of the chairs, he slipped the gun into his belt then jerked her arms behind the back rest.

She grimaced. “You're hurting me."

"Shut up and be still."

While tying Jamey's wrists, he noticed a braided sash dangling from the side of her dress. After making sure her bindings were tight, he worked his hand until the circulation returned, then tore off the tie and used it to secure Charley's arms. Carl then moved to the window and peeked outside. Police cars had surrounded the area. He spotted the private detective standing beside an unmarked car, talking to several men and pointing toward the house. He knew it wouldn't be long before they tried to contact him again.

Carl stepped in front of Jamey and stared into her face. “We can all walk out of here alive, if you'll do something for me."

She let out a sigh. “What?"

"Tell the police how you set me up."

Narrowing her eyes, she cocked her head and glared at him. “I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

Carl reared back and slapped her hard across the face. “You're a lying bitch."

The wig flew from Jamey's head and landed with a thud on the floor. Charley tried to rise, but the restraints held him and he flopped back into the seat. “You scum!” he yelled. “No real man hits a helpless woman."

Carl shot him a fierce look and pointed the gun. “You stay out of this, old man. Or I'll shoot you first.” He turned his attention back to Jamey. “You're the only one who had a key to my truck. It had to be you who planted those diamonds and then somehow let the cops know. Then my little lady went to South America, met her diamond courier and has been living it up ever since. Have you had one ounce of remorse that you left me holding the bag? Did it ever bother your pretty little head that you ruined my life?"

Tears filled her eyes as blood trickled out the corner of her mouth. She squirmed and drooped her head, causing mussed hair to fall into thick strands around her face. But she remained silent.

Hawkman backed his 4X4 to a location where he could view the front and side of the building. Once the detective's squad arrived and took their positions around the house, Hawkman climbed out of his vehicle. He strolled over to Williams. “Charley's truck is here which means Hopkins now has two hostages. We've got to be careful."

Williams nodded. “I want you to get on the phone and see if you can talk to Charley. Make sure they're all right."

The detective put the bullhorn to his lips. Hawkman slipped into the unmarked car and dialed Charley's home number. Once satisfied everyone was well and alive, Williams gave the order for his men to relax. “We'll give the situation some time and see if Hopkins will surrender."

Hawkman stared at the kitchen window shrouded in sheer curtains. Thinking he detected some movement, he retrieved his binoculars from the glove compartment of the Chevy. Focusing in on the glass, he could see the form of a man's back. Due to the outline of overalls across the shoulders, Hawkman concluded Charley sat at the table. He could vaguely make out the silhouette of a masculine figure pacing back and forth in the background. He turned to Williams. “It appears they're all in the kitchen. I can't see Jamey, but I can make out two men. Carl isn't going to let her out of his sight, so I have a hunch she's on the other side of that table hidden by Charley's body."

"Good,” Williams said. “If we can't talk any sense into Hopkins, we'll go in through the bedrooms."

Chewing on a toothpick, Hawkman dropped the binoculars to his chest. “I hope Hopkins hasn't lost all sense of reasoning. It will probably depend on how much Jamey irritates him."

The detective threw him a concerned look. “Surely the woman sees the man's unstable and she shouldn't push him too far."

Hawkman shrugged. “Hard to know about her."

Charley worked the bindings on his wrists until the small braided sash cut into his flesh. His shoulders ached, but he couldn't seem to loosen the bonds. The man knew how to tie a good knot.

He glanced across the table at Jamey sitting with her head bowed, staring at the floor. If the man hit that little lady again, Charley knew he'd have to do something. He couldn't stand to see a woman abused, regardless of what she'd done. A male just had more power in his upper body than a female, and this little gal couldn't even fight back. This man didn't rate high in Charley's book and he'd like to wring his neck. He turned and looked out the window through the sheer curtains. The cops were doing nothing. Why weren't they taking some sort of action?

That big brute Hawkman stood leaning nonchalantly against one of the cars, looking at the house through binoculars. This lunatic could kill me and Jamey, yet no one's trying to save us. So what gives? You gonna just stand around until he shoots us?

Jamey sizzled inside because Carl had hit her. No way would she ever let a man get away with that. She rubbed her bleeding mouth against the shoulder of her costume, staining it with blood.

Carl stood over her, breathing heavily. “Are you going to tell the cops how you set me up?” he asked for the third time.

"I'll have to think about it. But you slap me again and I won't even consider it. You can kill me and it won't do you any good, because then I'll be dead."

He shook his head and paced the floor, swinging the gun to and fro. “I don't understand you, Jamey. You made me believe you loved me and then you pulled that stunt."

She cast a glimpse at Charley. If she confessed to anything, the old man would let the police know. Of course, she could always claim that Carl made her say these things under duress. She noticed immediately Charley didn't like it when Carl struck her and would probably back her up. That is, if they got out of this alive.

Selling this house for personal income might not have been such a bright idea. Jamey now wished she'd paid more attention to the chills down her back and stayed home.

She needed to think, but the hard slap interfered with her concentration. Her cut lip burned and her arms ached from being tied behind the chair back. Hair kept falling into her face and every time she shook her head to get it out of her eyes, a pain flashed through her jaw. She hoped the blow hadn't broken any bones.

She didn't regret what she'd done to Carl. That had been the plan. Too bad he'd been suckered into falling in love. His problem, not hers. She noticed he had a hard time admitting his part in the heist. After all, he did willingly steal the diamonds.