Twilight (33 page)

Cal tried not to muss it as he lifted the edge to peer under the bed. A few dust moats huddled against the wall where even Cissy couldn’t ferret them out with the vacuum. The shotgun lay front and center, right where an old woman could get at it. Cal dragged it free and straightened the spread, then stood.

Ray was right beside him, face earnest. “I want to go with you.”

“You don’t know what’s involved, Ray. Besides I can’t implicate you. That’s aiding and abetting.” He didn’t expect Ray to understand.

“What about Aunt Millie?” Ray stood in his path. “She’s aiding and a—betting.”

“Aunt Millie’s why you’re not coming. If anything happened to you, she’d have my head more surely than Danson ever dreamed of.”

Ray crossed his hammy arms. “You can’t go alone.”

“Yes, I can.”

“What did you learn in fireman school? Never go in alone. Always take a buddy.”

Cal could hear himself saying those same words to Ray. He hadn’t known how much stuck. He sighed. “Ray, I would … I really would, but it’s too dangerous. You don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“Do you?”

Cal checked the load on the shotgun. “Not exactly. But enough to know—”

“You be the brains; I’ll be the brawn. Partners.” Ray held out his hand.

Cal looked up at him. “Ray, you could get killed.”

Ray nodded, still keeping his hand aloft.

“I can’t be responsible for that.”

“I’m responsible for myself.” Ray hooked his thumbs into the overall straps, looking like an overgrown Huck Finn wanting adventure.

Cal grinned. He made a very poor Tom Sawyer himself, but if Ray was set on it … “You sure?”

“Sure.” The nod was definite.

Cal expelled his breath. He could always have Ray hold back if it came to it. “Okay, but I drive.”

Ray’s grin was as broad as his face. He shoved his hand out again, and this time Cal shook it. They went together to the kitchen.

Cissy’s face was flushed and flustered. She wrung her hands and looked at the shotgun in Cal’s grip. “What could you need all that cornstarch for? Just a little bit will do for any recipe.”

Mildred must have posed the request already. “This isn’t for gravy, Cissy. It’s just for show, and I hope to heaven they don’t taste it.”

She shook her head. “I might have to go to three different stores for that much.”

Cal pulled out his wallet and handed her two twenties. “Go wherever you need to.” He helped the coat over her shoulders and eased her toward the door. “It’s all right, Cissy, really.”

While she was gone, he and Ray rummaged the closet for Mildred’s suitcase. Cal clasped it by the handle and pulled it out. It looked like a small bomb shelter, and weighed about as much. He set it on the table where Mildred’s cards still waited to be written, and opened it up. It would do. It would have to. It was ludicrous to think he could pull this off, but it was the best chance he had to get near Laurie.

Laurie watched Dieter standing like a specter in the dim light, her handgun in his belt during his turn to watch. She wished now she’d left the gun in Mother’s drawer. As thugs went, they weren’t highly ar med. Not that it mattered. Either weapon was deadly, though she hoped for a bullet over the slow damage of a knife.

Her hands and feet had lost most of their feeling; her eyes were grainy with lack of sleep, her throat, tight and dry. Which man would do the killing? Dieter’s glares were more chilling, but less threatening than Luìs’s. Dieter’s pale eyes turned to her now. “You better hope your boyfriend, your fireclown, gets the message.”

She didn’t answer. She hoped anything but. Cal couldn’t get the message, not if he’d left with the children. Not “if.” She was no longer questioning, only believing that Maddie and Luke were safely away.

She dropped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Sheer exhaustion would make her sleep soon. What did it matter anyway? Brian was dead. She would be soon. Her own stupidity the cause of it all. That and Brian’s. A flicker of sadness. Had it finally been dangerous enough for him? What had he proved? Poor Brian. Always trying. Like her.

She heard a car engine and tires on the dirt outside. The barn wall shook as the door pushed open, flooding the recesses with daylight. Laurie looked up as Luìs walked in, dark and silent. Dieter raised his brows, but Luìs shook his head. “Only the fat one and the retard.”

It was the first time she’d heard him speak. His voice was soft and accented. But his words brought hope. He must mean Ray and Cissy were home. But no Cal. She silently sighed her relief.

Luìs turned to her. “Where is he? Your loco fireman.”

She cleared the night from her throat. “I don’t know.”

“Has he gone to sell it?”

“He doesn’t know anything about it.”

Luìs came toward her, reached into his pocket, and drew out Dieter’s knife. He flicked the blade up with a touch of his thumb. “Do you know what happens to people who lie?” He leaned and touched the blade to her chin. “They go to hell.”

Hell. Was that her destination? The tip pricked, slicing in just enough to draw blood. She closed her eyes against the pain and fear. How could it still be there? She kept coming to the point of oblivion where she thought she could feel no more, and then they found a new source and plumbed it. Would he slice her face? She had to make them understand.

She opened her eyes. “I told you I flushed it down the pool drain. That’s the truth. Now, why don’t you just finish this?” They’d ended it for Brian; why prolong her terror?

Luìs’s eyes were like plates, no human emotion at all. The blade reflected her face as he held it pressed into her chin. She no longer felt it, but she would if he sliced. She tried not to think of her face in ribbons, tried to keep the fear from her eyes. Luke and Maddie were safe. She fastened on that thought and held it.

“Luìs.” Dieter’s voice broke through her concentration.

The blade came away from her chin as Luìs turned. Another tiny jerk of Dieter’s head and Luìs stood up and backed away. Dieter took out his cell phone, and for the moment she was free of either gaze. But they weren’t through with her yet. Not until they had the cocaine. How long would they wait before they realized Cal was gone and she had told them the truth?

“Always tell the truth, Laurie. Jesus hates lying lips.”
She’d looked into Gram’s eyes and known she could not tell Daddy she’d lost his watch. She had taken the gold pocket watch to show her friend the little tune it played when the lid opened. Daddy kept it in a box and never looked at it, but it was one of her favorite things to sneak out and play with. Now it was gone from her pocket, and Grams wanted her to tell Daddy what she’d done. Jesus wanted her to tell the truth. She’d started by lying to Grams.
“I’ll tell him, Grams.” “Good girl.”

Of course she hadn’t. The watch wasn’t missed for years. When it was, Daddy couldn’t remember exactly where he’d kept it, though he’d thought it was the box on his dresser.
“Do you know what happens
to people who lie?”
Her whole life was a lie.
“They go to hell.”
Laurie started to shake. What if this life was only the start? What if what waited for her on the other side of the bullet was worse?

How could she turn to Jesus now, when she’d had so many chances and refused? She had wanted her independence, left her parents behind, married a man she didn’t love because he had what she wanted—the wealth and power to let her be whatever she chose. Would she surrender it now to a God who wanted complete control, just like Daddy?

Tears stung her eyes and she forced them back. She would not show these men her fear, her weakness. She would not show God her weakness. Something inside her shrank. Was she doing it again? Making the wrong choice? She couldn’t help it. She would never be perfect. Soon she would not even be alive.

Cal had run upstairs for his coat and one last chance to think before he headed out on this escapade. He looked around the room, pictured Laurie in the chair, hair loose and soft, her half smile. Beautiful scent. He could almost smell it.

He jumped when the phone rang, all his nerves tensing. Reaching out he snatched the phone and croaked his name.

“You okay, man?”

The rush of relief was immediate. His system couldn’t take much more of this. “Yeah.”

Reggie’s voice was none too certain. “You sure?”

Cal laughed dryly. “What have you heard?”

“What should I have?”

Cal sobered. “Nothing.”

“You in trouble?”

Cal hesitated, then, “Yeah.”

“Can I help?”

Cal pictured Reggie. Between him and Ray … “No.”

“Then you remember one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You got the Big Man in charge.”

Cal slumped against the wall. “I know, Reg. But last time I said a word to Him, things didn’t work out so well.”

“That’s His business. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Yeah. Well, if you have an inside line, put in a call for me, okay?”

Reggie’s voice softened. “I’ll do that.”

Cal placed the phone in its cradle. Wiping his forehead with his palm, he blew the breath between his lips. Now there was nothing but … His hand jumped from the receiver as the phone rang again. What if it was Danson? What if it was Laurie?

He picked it up. “Cal Morrison.”

“If you think this is a game, you’re mistaken.” The voice sent a shiver down his spine.

“No game.”

“Where is it?”

Did the man think he was a fool? Cal swallowed. “I’m bringing it now.”

Silence for a full two seconds’ count. “No cops.” A click and then nothing.

Again Cal hung up and released his breath. Why hadn’t he asked if Laurie was all right, demanded to speak to her? Why hadn’t he done anything but act the sheep? Because he was a sheep. A stupid damaged sheep.

“Cal?” Ray’s voice came up the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He held the delete button until zeros flashed on his machine, then took up his coat and threw it over his shoulder and headed down.

He lifted the suitcase, now increased in weight by several army stews’ worth of cornstarch, and left Cissy fretting in the kitchen. “You stay here for a minute, Ray. Let Cissy cool down while I get this into the jeep. No sense her knowing you’re coming.”

He nodded. “I’ll go out the front and walk around.”

“Okay.”

Cal headed for the side door. He reached the jeep, set down the case, and dug into his pocket for the key.

“That’s far enough, Morrison.”

Cal’s head jerked as Chuck Danson stood up and came around the far side of the jeep. “Look, Chuck …”

Danson came on, chest at full sail, taking in the suitcase with his eyes. He must think Cal had packed to leave town. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Brian Prelane. Anything you say can and will be held against you …”

Cal spread his hands. “Why would I kill Brian Prelane?”

“The oldest reason in the book after Cain and Abel.”

“What?”

Danson reached for the cuffs in his back pocket. “Never mind. I’m bringin’ you in. You can do your talking at the station.”

Panic rising up, Cal held out his arms. Danson reached for Cal’s wrist, but not quickly enough to catch it. The first blow to the jaw was lucky; it stunned Danson and gave Cal the chance for a second, which caught Danson in the left temple. His head jerked back and hit the side of the jeep, and the big man went down. He wouldn’t stay out for long, though, and Cal worked fast to slap the cuffs onto Danson’s wrists behind his back.

As he yanked the bandanna from Danson’s pocket and used it for a gag, he heard Ray lumbering along the side of the house. Rounding the corner, Ray stopped and stared.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Give me a hand.” Cal tucked his arms under Danson’s shoulders.

Ray hurried over. Together they dragged Danson to the shed. Cal pulled the packing blanket off the old tractor and wrapped Danson with it for good measure. No sense letting him freeze waiting for someone to find him out there.

Cal closed the shed door behind them. He wished he had a dead bolt, but the rusty rod would have to do. He shoved it through the latch and tested its hold, then headed for the jeep. Hands shoved into his overalls, Ray kept step. Cal glanced his way. “Welcome to the world of crime, Sundance.”