Authors: Anthony Izzo

Evil Harvest (24 page)

BOOK: Evil Harvest

10.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Nothing like a little guilt,” Jill muttered.

After setting down her lemonade, she flipped on the stereo and Molly Hatchet blared from the speakers. She forgot they’d left it on Ninety-Seven Rock last night. Buffalo’s only classic rock station, as they claimed. She wasn’t a big classic rock fan—her tastes leaned more toward John Coltraine—but it would suffice.

She went into the bedroom and changed into a tank top, jean shorts and sneakers. Realizing she forgot her lemonade, she walked back to the living room.

“I’m losing it.”

The lemonade was not on the coffee table where she had left it.

“What the hell?”

Maybe she left it in the kitchen. No, that wasn’t right, because she had brought it into the living room, but she’d check the kitchen anyway.

She got halfway through the dining room and gasped.

“Pretty damn good lemonade.”

Ed Rafferty leaned on the wall in the archway between the dining room and the kitchen. He took a rude sip off of the lemonade and sucked an ice cube into his mouth, crunching away.

How could she not know he was in the apartment? The stereo was how. He must have sneaked into the living room while she was changing in the bedroom, his footsteps masked by the music.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just came for a visit. You should clean out that attic. It’s a mess.”

She suddenly realized what had been out of place in the kitchen: the chair pushed away from the table. She always pushed the chair back in, and she knew for sure that she pushed it back in this morning. It occurred to her that he must’ve pulled the kitchen chair out and sat in it. Waiting.

Rafferty chugged the glass of lemonade and belched.

“Sweet. I could taste your lips on the glass.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just concerned about you is all.”

“So concerned that you picked my lock?”

“You shouldn’t leave your door open.”

“I didn’t.”

She was getting hot, her blood rising and making her skin flush pink. This was the second time he’d invaded her home, solely for the purpose of surprising her. The thought of him sneaking around the apartment made her skin feel like beetles were dancing on it.

He dropped the glass on the dining room rug and it tipped over, the liquid dribbling onto the carpet.

“Get out,” she said. “You have no legal right to be here.”

He started toward her.

She backed up into the living room, bumping her calf on the coffee table.

“You’re an outsider, Jill, and I have to keep tabs on all the outsiders in my town. It just so happens that you’re also a particularly lovely one.”

Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for a weapon to fend him off with. Her best shot would be the brass candlestick on the mantle, but she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to actually hit someone with it. It could cave in somebody’s skull if swung with enough force.

And if Rafferty changed forms, she wouldn’t have a chance.

“Tell me about your experience in the warehouse.”

“I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me, you dumb cunt.”

“Don’t call me that, you son of a bitch,” she said through clenched teeth.

“C’mon. A junkie named Dietrich chased you through the furniture warehouse. You couldn’t miss him. Pale, whitish hair, lips like a woman.”

He was only five feet from her, a sour odor coming off of him like heat from a radiator.

“No need to worry about him anymore. He’s dead. But I would like to question you, Jill. I worry about you. A pretty girl all by herself. There’s some nasty people around this town.”

“I’m finding that out.”

He stepped closer again. She backed up against the couch.

He slumped in the lounge chair next to the couch and set his feet on the coffee table, blocking the path between the chair and the table, trying to trap her.

She saw an opportunity to run.

She planted her foot on the coffee table and pushed off, bounding over it and running through the dining room to the kitchen. Rafferty’s footfalls pounded on the floor behind her.

Her scalp caught fire as he yanked her hair from behind, jerking her backward, her sneakers squealing on the kitchen floor. Rafferty whipped her around and shoved her back against the stove, rapping her lower back on the door handle.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Anywhere away from you.”

“I knew the first time I saw you I had to have you.”

He leaned in toward her, his rank smell overpowering.

He reached for her arm.

Her left hand struck like a cobra, jabbing hard into Rafferty’s right eye. He growled and slapped his hand over his wounded eye.

Seeing an opening, she bolted out the door and down the back stairs, Rafferty following, clunking on the stairs.

She reached the side door, yanked it open, and hit the screen door handle with her palm.

“Open, dammit!”

The wind whooshed from her lungs as Rafferty’s shoulder plowed into the small of her back. The screen door flew open, the two of them hitting the concrete, Jill rolling away, heaving for air.

He must’ve jumped off the landing to get at her, she thought dazedly. Judging from the force of the blow, and from Rafferty’s sheer size, she was lucky that her spine hadn’t snapped.

He was coming at her again, teeth bared, growling low in his throat like a wolf.

She was still on the ground sucking air when Rafferty clenched his hands around her right ankle and began dragging her. The skin on her right elbow shredded on the concrete.

He moved backward, dragging her like a woodcutter might drag a freshly cut pine tree through the snow.

If she let him get her in the house, there was no telling what horrible things he might do to her.

His back at the screen door, he took one hand off her ankle and pulled it open. It slipped from his hand and slammed shut, Rafferty yelling “Fuck!”

This was her chance.

She slipped her free foot between his legs and drove the point of her sneaker into his crotch.

Grunting, his grip on her ankle loosened, and she twisted her leg free. She crawled away, scurrying like a mouse from an owl.

The full weight of him slammed into her again, banging her chin into the concrete and making the ground start to spin.

“I should’ve done this in the first place.”

She heard metal jingle and clank behind her.

Handcuffs.

He jerked her left arm behind her back and slapped the cold metal on her wrist. Then he did the same with the right.

Gripping her upper arm, he hoisted Jill to her feet with little effort. Chin throbbing, vibrating like a tuning fork, she knew she was in trouble.

Would he try to rape her? The thought of him forcing himself between her legs made her stomach churn.

He turned her around, still gripping her upper arm.

“No one gets away from me.”

She saw his eye was swollen and pink, looking like raw hamburger.

“Let’s go.”

She was aware of a sticky wetness dribbling from her chin and running down her throat. The fall on the concrete had cut her open. Absurdly, she hoped none would get on her tank top, because blood was a bitch to get out. Surely the least of her problems right now, but it sprang to the forefront of her mind.

He gave her a shove and they started up the driveway when Matt pulled in.

C
HAPTER
22

Donna pointed to her truck and the cab driver pulled up next to it. The driver turned around and through a tangled beard said, “There ya be.”

She paid him with a rumpled twenty she’d found in her pocket. Then she climbed out of the cab. The cab pulled away, its muffler rumbling.

The hospital had released her with instructions on how to care for her wounds. She didn’t relish coming back here, but she needed to get her truck. Donna stepped on to the sidewalk. Looking around, she saw no sign of any police cars. She walked down the block and stopped at Rhonda’s house.

I can’t believe this.

Rhonda was dead, the house was burned, and Bob was acting like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was amazing how the status quo could get so fucked up in such a short amount of time.

How did it come to this?

The house was a total loss, the paint around the windows scorched black where the smoke and flames had jumped out. The acrid tang of smoke and charred wood hung in the air, like the world’s biggest bonfire. The right side of the roof was caved in, beams and joists burned black and sagging, leaving an open wound in the house. More likely than not, the town building inspector would deem the house unsafe and an emergency demolition would be performed.

Looking at the house, her throat tightened and she willed herself not to cry again. But she felt like she had let Rhonda down by not bringing her killer to justice.

The excursion into the house had left the murder suspect dead and the house ruined. Not to mention that she had witnessed a monstrosity take shape and chase her through the house. To top it off, her days as police chief were probably numbered once the full story of the incident got to the Marshall Town Supervisor.

She had to pull it together, somehow find a positive in this whole mess. If ever she needed redemption, it was now.

Calling Jill Adams would be a start.

Matt flung the car door open, making the hinges whine. He sprawled over, stuck his hand under the passenger seat and poked around until he gripped cold steel. He pulled the Beretta out and slipped out of the car.

Today was the day Ed Rafferty might die. Upon seeing Matt pull up, Rafferty had shoved a dazed-looking Jill up the driveway and into the side door of the house. If Rafferty hurt her, he would put one bullet hole in his body for every mark on Jill.

Keeping the gun pointed at the ground, he moved in a crouch to the side door. He tried the doorknob and found it locked. Matt kicked the door and it rattled. He lowered his shoulder and slammed into it. Still, it didn’t give. He didn’t want to resort to blasting the lock, but he had no choice. In a few minutes, neighbors would all be coming out of houses and gawking anyway.

Leveling the gun, he fired twice. The bullets splintered the wood and gave a ping as they shredded the lock. He kicked the door and it flew open.

Opening the screen door, he padded up the stairs to the landing between floors. Again he listened but heard only an appliance humming in Jill’s apartment.

A refrigerator?

If he’s hurt her ...

He moved to the landing outside the kitchen door. To his dismay, that door was locked and he had to blast it as well. His ears rang from the gunshots.

He nudged the door open with his foot, both hands on the nine, in a shooter’s stance, ready to fire.

He slipped into the kitchen, where one of the chairs lay on its side. Positive the kitchen was clear, he advanced to the dining room, where a glass lay on its side, a pool of water sinking into the rug.

Matt moved through the arch that separated the living and dining rooms, expecting Rafferty to pop out at him any moment. Rafferty had taken his family from him, and now he faced the possibility that the police chief had taken Jill. This gave him more reason to waste Rafferty, but the rate at which today’s events had accelerated made him feel dizzy. He also felt vibrant, alive.

The living room was empty save for the furniture.

Sweat dripped down his back, plastering his shirt to the skin.

There was only the bedrooms and bathroom left.

He advanced to the windowless hallway.

Jill’s bedroom was the first room on the left; its door was closed.

Matt braced his back against the wall and faced the door.

Coiling his leg, he kicked the door right below the knob. The door flew open and hit the wall.

Matt pointed the nine straight ahead, ready to fire. Instead of finding Rafferty behind the door, he found Jill.

She lay on the bed, one arm over her head, tied to the bedpost with a scarf. Her top was slit down the middle and sticky blood covered her abdomen. A brown leather belt covered her mouth, serving as a gag.

“Jesus, no.”

She covered her wounded belly with her free hand, the blood staining her fingers.

Matt sat on the bed, setting the Beretta next to Jill’s right arm, the one covering her wound. She shook her head furiously, motioning to the doorway.

“Let me see the wound.”

He moved her hand to look at it. They were just scratches. Thank Christ.

Matt untied her hand and the gag, and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Matt, he went and hid when he heard the gunshots. He’s still here.”

From behind him, Rafferty said, “Damn right I am.”

Matt didn’t have to turn around to know that Ed Rafferty had him covered with a gun.

“You should’ve checked the porch, loverboy.”

The son of a bitch was hiding on the upstairs porch. How could he be so careless as not to check the porch?

“How do you like my artwork? You can’t see it but it says ‘bitch.’ I couldn’t finish the rest of my carving because you showed up.”

Matt turned around to look at Rafferty. He held a big chrome revolver on Matt. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“I think not.”

“Here’s a souvenir for you. The artist’s tool, if you will.”

He tossed something onto the floor next to the bed. It was a steak knife, fresh with Jill’s blood.

“Hands on your head.”

Matt put his hands on his head and clasped his fingers. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re the little prick I stopped for speeding the other day.”

“Close but no cigar.”

“There’s something else I should know?”

“Emerling Park. Family of four. You killed my parents and my little brother.”

Rafferty raised an index finger, wiggled it back and forth. “I knew I knew you from somewhere else. Well, maybe I’ll pick off the last family member today. Who knows?”

“You’re gonna die, Chief Rafferty.”

“If you say so,” Rafferty said. “Get on your knees.”

Matt looked down at Jill. She had inched her hand over to the Beretta, and now she gripped it.

Rafferty hadn’t seen her grip the gun, for Matt was blocking his line of sight.

She mouthed, “How do I fire it?” to him.

“Point and pull,” he mouthed back.

Rafferty said, “Enough of the sweet nothings. Get on the floor.”

“Are you sure you want to do it?” Matt said to her.

“I’m sure,” she said.

Matt nodded toward the floor, hoping that she would get the message that he was going to hit the deck. He hoped Rafferty would follow him with the gun and not have it pointed at Jill. She was putting herself in harm’s way, and given the fact that she hated guns, he loved her for what she was about to do. It took incredible guts.

He nodded to her.

“On the ground now!”

Matt dove right, toward the foot of the bed. Rafferty tracked him with the revolver.

Jill raised the gun and fired, the gun bucking upward, causing the bullet to go high. Luckily Rafferty was a big target. The bullet caught him in the side of the face and spun him around, forcing him out the door and slamming him into the hallway wall.

Rafferty worked his way to his feet, ready to bring the big revolver up. Matt pushed himself up, ready to do damage.

Jill couldn’t believe she had fired a gun at somebody.

Her wrist ached from the recoil of the weapon, and ringing buzzed in her ears. If they got out of this alive, she hoped her hearing would eventually come back to her.

Her stomach felt raw and sticky, thanks to Rafferty’s artwork. He had thrown her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs with tremendous speed. On the way into the apartment, he took a steak knife from one of the drawers, took her to her bedroom and tied her to the bed with the belt from her silk robe. To top it off, he took another belt off the dresser and gagged her. Then, working with quick strokes, he carved up her abdomen.

She hadn’t given him the satisfaction of crying out while he was cutting her.

He told her he would wait for Matt to come upstairs, enter the room, and then sneak up behind him. If Matt were lucky, he would only frame him for Jill’s assault. If he was unlucky, Rafferty would kill Matt, rape Jill and then get rid of both their bodies.

Now, Rafferty rose to his feet. A flap of ragged skin hung from his cheek where the bullet had grazed him. The exposed bone gleamed; black fluid leaked down the side of his ruined face. She obviously hadn’t scored a direct hit, because his brains would’ve been all over the wall. Although, who knew how much damage the thing under Rafferty’s skin could sustain? Maybe it was immortal.

He started to raise the gun when Matt charged him. Matt drove his shoulder into Rafferty’s gut and knocked him off balance. The revolver discharged, thundering a blast through the window and spraying glass across the floor.

Jill flattened herself against the bed, angry with herself for not pulling the trigger again before Rafferty got up. She felt numb, disconnected. It was like being in a slow-motion movie.

Matt wrapped his arms around Rafferty, tried to throw him to the side. Rafferty brought the revolver butt down on Matt’s shoulder. Matt grunted but hung on to the Chief.

Matt hooked his leg behind Rafferty’s and shoved, toppling him into the clothes hamper in the corner, hitting his head against the wall. Rafferty lifted the revolver again, but Matt slapped his wrist away, causing Rafferty’s shot to blast a hole in the plaster.

Matt gripped his wrist, but Rafferty was too strong. He broke away and swung the gun at Matt, clipping him in the side of the face and knocking him aside.

Jill saw Rafferty swing around again, aiming the gun at her. The barrel looked as big as a subway tunnel.

“Die, bitch.”

She rolled off the bed and onto the floor as he fired, the bullet taking out the plaster in chunks, spraying dust and chips on her head.

Rafferty got up, and Matt caught him in the throat with a punch. The blow sent Rafferty back against the wall, holding his throat, but still gripping the gun. Matt charged him, but Rafferty had the presence of mind to get his boot up, catching Matt in the gut and sending him to the ground.

Rafferty choked and gurgled in the corner. Jill hated herself for thinking this, but she hoped his windpipe was busted and he would choke to death.

He took his hands away from his throat and grinned. He aimed at Jill. Matt got his hand up and knocked Rafferty’s hand aside before he could fire. Rafferty kicked him again.

Flat against the ground, Jill looked underneath the bed and saw Matt on the other side, his face still contorted in pain from Rafferty’s kick.

“Matt!”

She slid the gun under the bed and it hit him in the chest. He looked surprised, as if the gun had dropped from the sky, and she yelled, “Shoot him!”

Matt picked up the gun, rolled on his back and fired.

She closed her eyes and prayed for Rafferty to die.

BOOK: Evil Harvest

10.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads