Leave No Stone Unturned (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 1) (27 page)

"Shut up, boy!" Homer said. "You've said more than enough already."

"And 'cept for Uncle Bill, Uncle Homer's the only one who—"

"I said put a sock in it, boy! Don't you know when to keep your damn mouth shut?"

As Homer turned and backhanded Jake across the back of his head, he noticed me peeking
around the corner of the house. He grabbed the Colt .45 from Jake's hand and fired
a quick shot in my direction. He missed his target, and I fell backward into a thorny
bush. Detective Glick hollered at me to stay down. He stood up and fired a shot back
to the right of the threesome huddled together on the porch. He couldn't risk firing
a shot any closer because Wendy was positioned in front of the two men. I think Ron
just wanted to advertise the fact he also had a firearm he was ready and willing to
use.

Homer returned fire with two wild shots back in Glick's direction. I flinched when
Ron grabbed his arm as he ducked back down behind the wall.

That was the fifth shot to come out of Jake's Colt .45. By my recollection. Clay had
said it was a double-action six-shooter. I hadn't noticed Jake take the time to load
new bullets into the revolving cylinder. Homer now had possession of Jake's gun, and
he had just one more unspent bullet. I'd have to come up with a way to make him waste
it.

"Hey Jake!" I shouted from my position, flat on my butt in the bush. I knew my backside
would look like that of a baby hedgehog's. I could feel numerous thorns embedded there,
but with the adrenaline speeding through my veins, I was impervious to the pain.

"What?" he hollered back with a defensive edge to his voice.

"How come you let Homer talk to you that way?" I asked.

"What way?"

"Like you're a half-wit who can't think or speak for yourself. I'd say he's just using
you as a pawn in his evil game. Bet he'd stand back and let you take the rap for him
too, Jake. Seems to me like he treats you with even less respect than your real father
did."

"No, he don't. He's always been good to me."

"Gives you cocaine when you need it, things like that?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. When I need it."

"Oh, so is that how he controls you, Jake? He buys your loyalty by supplying you with
drugs for your habit? A habit you are finding hard to finance, isn't that right? He
knows your weakness, and he takes advantage of it and uses it to get you to do his
dirty work for him. He doesn't care about you, Rod, he's just using you, manipulating
you. Deep down, you know that's true, don't you, Rod?"

I had intentionally switched to his real name to jolt him back to reality.

"Well, maybe a little—"

"Oh, yes, I can see why he's so special to you, Rod. Why can't you see that he's evil,
and when he gets taken down—which he will—he'll take you down with him?"

"Oh, but, he's uh—he only killed Eliza to teach Clay a lesson."

Homer backhanded Jake again. I couldn't see them but I heard Homer's hand make contact
with the back of Jake's head and the bones in Jake's neck crack as it snapped forward
from the force of the blow.

"Ow!" Jake exclaimed.

"Shut the hell up, boy! You really are a half-wit, aren't you?"

"Hey! Don't talk to me that way!" Jake said. He pointed my way and continued, "She's
right, you're starting to talk to me worse than my real father. I did everything you
asked me to do, and now look at the way you're treating me, like I don't mean a thing
to you. No wonder Clay's been avoiding you all these years."

I was beginning to understand how badly Jake's childhood had affected him. Between
the emotional scars of the past, and the drugs of the present, Jake was a very vulnerable
and confused young man. He'd be easy pickings for a vile and manipulative character
like Homer Pitt. Apparently, Homer was using Jake to enact vengeance on his son, Clayton.
Clay had commented earlier that his father was a mean and abusive man. He was worse
than Clay had imagined. Not only was he not "Father of the Year," he was also a drug
dealer, a kidnapper, and a murderer.

If Wanda had been correct that Homer had been redheaded, his hair had probably just
naturally turned white since she or Clay had last seen him.

Jake had completely forgotten about Wendy. He had stepped away from her to confront
Homer. Homer was pointing the Colt at Jake. His stark white face was now pink, flushed
in anger. "Quit your whining, you ninny. You're no better than that no-account son
of mine who thinks he's too good for the likes of me, his own father. I wasn't worthy
of his love and respect—and now I'm not worthy of yours? Ha! Well, I showed him! And
I'll show you too, you little two-bit redneck."

A shot went off a split second before I heard Jake scream and fall to the ground.
That was the sixth shot, I thought to myself—the final round was spent. This was my
chance. Without a second thought I jumped up onto the porch, wailing like a banshee,
with Harriet's buck knife raised high in the air. Homer stepped back in alarm at my
display of pure madness. He fell over backward in his haste to get away from the menacing-looking
weapon I was brandishing. He knew from my reckless behavior I would not hesitate to
use it on him. I'm sure I must have resembled something in a scene from a
Friday the 13th
movie.

Then everything happened at once. The events that followed were a symphony of sights,
sounds, smells, and feelings, colliding into each other as all of my senses came alive.
Each observation imprinted itself on my memory and would remain stored there indefinitely.
It was as if the next few minutes had occurred in slow motion.

I remember Wendy's eyes appearing as large as teacup saucers as she stared at me in
shock. Jake was lying across the threshold of the door, clutching his wounded shoulder.
I could smell his warm blood running down the crevices of the eagle etching on the
door. "Click, click, click," I heard, as Homer lay on his back and fired at me with
a gun that had run out of ammunition. Detective Glick, Sheriff Crabb, Clay, Stone,
Andy, and Harriet were storming the front porch and tackling Homer. I saw Clay rear
back and smash a fist into Homer's face. I heard bones crunch and saw blood stream
down from Homer's nose. I saw Detective Glick show me an indentation on his arm where
he'd been grazed by Homer's bullet, when he saw my shocked stare at the bloodstain
on his shirtsleeve.

I felt Sheriff Crabb take the buck knife gently out of my hand and cut the ropes that
had been binding Wendy's arms and legs. Wendy and I both had tears in our eyes as
we embraced in grateful relief. She whispered into my ear, "Homer told me he was Stone
when I got off the plane. Jake must have told him Mr. Van Patten's name. I'd never
met either of them, Mom, so I believed him. I'm sorry."

"Honey, it's not your fault," I assured her. I comforted her as best I could. I knew
the heartache was just beginning for her. Clay came up behind me, and I walked away
so he could embrace her too. I heard him apologize for deceiving her as he had. He
told her he'd come to realize he'd need counseling before he settled down with a wife
and family. She agreed with a resolve that amazed and relieved me.

I then turned around and saw Ron slap a pair of handcuffs on Homer and another pair
on Jake. I smelled cigarette smoke as Harriet lit up a Pall Mall behind me. I heard
Andy call 9-1-1 on his cell phone. Finally, I felt Stone pull me to his chest and
embrace me tightly. I heard him say, "Oh, thank God you're okay. I love you, Lexie.
Don't ever do anything that impulsive and courageous again."

"What did you say, Stone?"

"I said you are one crazy, impetuous, utterly adorable woman."

"And?"

"And if you do ever do something like that again, I'm not sure my heart will be able
to handle it. It almost stopped beating when I saw you jump up on the porch. It hadn't
dawned on me yet that you'd realized the gun was out of ammo. After the dust settles,
how about if we spend a few days traveling up to Maine and New Hampshire, so you can
really see the beautiful fall colors?"

I didn't get him to say those three magic words again that day. Even so, I knew he
loved me and I loved him too. I readily agreed to a trip to New England with Stone—just
the two of us, getting to know each other better. I decided I was ready to take the
next step in our relationship, and I told him so. I couldn't just drive home to Kansas
and forget him. That would be impossible at this stage.

"Ah, so I'm beginning to grow on you a little?" Stone asked.

"A little." I teased.

"Kind of like Harriet's coffee?"

"Yes," I agreed, laughing. "Exactly like that!"

The End

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THE EXTINGUISHED GUEST

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The Extinguished Guest

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