BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (19 page)

“No horses,” said Ronnie sadly as we walked into the stable portion of the barn. She was right; just a long line of empty stalls on either side of the aisle. The tack room was standing open and we went in, Hambecker, Claire and I sitting on an old bale of hay covered with a Navaho patterned blanket. Victor locked the door we’d come through and then handcuffed Claire to my other wrist so my arms were crossed in front of me. Not the most comfortable position I’d ever been in.

Ronnie was tidying, hanging up old halters and bits of left behind tack that remained in the room. She picked up feed bags and old soda cups and dumped them into a trash barrel, clucking and talking softly to herself. Victor went to talk to her, voice low.

Claire took advantage of the moment and leaned into me. “I walked in on Ronnie cleaning the other night. I startled her and she knocked over her mop bucket. The minute she saw the mess on the floor she pulled diapers out of her bag and laid them on the water. They were disposable ducky diapers.”

I looked at Ronnie, her head bent, listening to Victor. “Are you sure?” I asked Claire.

“Without a doubt.”

“Did you hear that?” I asked Hambecker. “Ronnie uses ducky diapers to sop up spills.”

“I heard. Let’s worry about that later.” His voice was so low I almost couldn’t hear him. “Be ready. Tell Claire.”

We sat for a minute longer, until Victor looked deep in conversation with Ronnie. Then I felt Hambecker tense and he laced his fingers in mine. The next minute we were running through a small doorway, Hambecker dragging me and Claire holding my wrist from behind. I hoped like hell that we weren’t running into a dead end, like the bathroom, but it was stairs leading upward.

“Wait! I can’t run like this,” I hissed. Claire ducked under my arm so that my arms uncrossed. Better, but running while handcuffed was no piece of cake. We went up the stairs like the three stooges.

I was nowhere near as fit as Hambecker, and I couldn’t keep up. He pretty much pulled us up the stairs and into a hayloft, with Claire pushing from behind. We ran to the rail overlooking a drop into a huge indoor riding arena. Hambecker would have been able to take the fall, but there was no way I was vaulting the railing. I’d have broken my leg for sure.

“Run.” He headed right as I headed left, his greater bulk snapping me back. I slipped and fell, my arms nearly popping out of their sockets. I scrambled to my feet with their help, tears leaking from my eyes. We ran the length of the building, until we reached open wooden steps leading down. Ronnie and Victor close behind us. Hambecker grabbed a bale of hay and rammed it in the top of the stairs behind us on the way down.

“Head start.” He pulled us onward out into the arena toward a huge set of doors on the far side. A shot sounded and a bullet hit the dirt inches from me. We reversed direction and ran back under the loft and through a passageway to the main barn. We were three quarters of the way down the barn.

“This way.” Hambecker grabbed my wrist and pulled me along.

“I can’t breathe,” I panted.

“Don’t talk.”

We burst out the doors into a paddock. The grass was high, four feet at least. It was obvious to me that it had been a while since it had been used. We ran three-across through the pasture toward the road and when we heard a gunshot from the direction of the barn Hambecker said, “Crouch down,” and the three of us ran doubled over, trying to stay beneath the level of the weeds.

I was trying to stay calm. I didn’t want to get shot. We reached the fence and Hambecker motioned me down. We slithered under the bottom rail, sat and slid into the ditch lining the road and splashed along as quietly as we could. Not that noise mattered, we’d be sitting ducks when Victor and Ronnie caught up.

Hambecker pulled his cell from his pocket and tapped in 911. He started to hand it to me then shook his head. “You don’t know where we are either.” He spoke into the phone and handed it to me. “Hang on to this. Don’t turn it off.” I took the phone and kept splashing along behind him, but my arm kept jerking with the pull of the handcuff, so I handed it off to Claire.

At a bend, Hambecker took the opportunity to pull us onto the road and we ran faster. Claire breathed hard beside me and I watched where I was putting my feet. Dirt roads are full of pitfalls like rocks waiting to sprain the ankles of the unwary. My shoulders ached from the constant yanking and my feet were leaden and soggy. But living was high on my list of priorities, so I forced myself to keep going.

We came to a cross roads and Hambecker slowed and looked at the signs. “Do you know where we are?” he asked.

I looked at the signs, digging in my memory. “I think we’re in Randolph Center. There are a bunch of horse farms up here.”

“She’s right,” Claire said. “We’re north of exit four.”

“Which way should we go?”

I thought a minute. “Tom’s on his way?”

“Yeah.”

“Then stay on this road. He’ll find us faster.”

A shot rang out.

“Unless we’re dead. Come on.”

The road started downhill. It was heavily graveled and I slipped on the rocks.

“Slow down!” But it was too late—my foot began to slide, there were a few seconds of
oh shit
while I was in midair, and then I was on the ground with Hambecker on top of me and Claire on top of him.

“Get off already, I can’t breathe!”

Claire slid down to my right and Hambecker grunted and rolled off flat on his back in the dirt, my arm once again pulled across my body.

“I’m getting real tired of this,” I said.

“More than just your arm is going to hurt,” Victor’s voice came from above us. He and Ronnie were standing above us, breathing hard. The gun in Victor’s hand pointing straight at my heart. I closed my eyes.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Hambecker hissed at me.

“I don’t want to see it coming,” I said.

“Keep your eyes open. Trust me on this.”

“I’m lying on a dirt road, about to be shot and you want me to trust you?”

“Stop whining and just do it.”

I squinted up at the two of them, hating them as much as I’d ever hated anyone.
That’s right bitch
, I thought,
you’re going to have to look me right in the eyes when you shoot me
.

The surprising thing was that it seemed to bother him. He lowered the gun. “Get up.”

We struggled to get up out of the dirt. The longer we were shackled together the worse we got at keeping ourselves untangled. Finally Hambecker said, “Stop,” and balanced in a squat. He took my hand and helped me up as he and Claire stood. “You want to take these off of us?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I need the comic relief. I’ll give you the keys before we leave,” Victor waved the gun in the direction of the barn. “Get moving.”

“You’re bleeding.” Ronnie pointed to Hambecker’s shoulder. It was damp with blood.

“Your brother shot me.”

“You’ll live,” Victor said. “Let’s go.”

We trudged back toward the stable. I was worried about Hambecker’s shoulder and listening for the cops because while I used to kind of like Ronnie and Victor, I didn’t anymore.

I was disappointed when we reached the big barn with no sign of the cavalry. Victor put us in a box stall, found a padlock in the tack room and put it on the latch so we couldn’t get out.

“I’ll put the key to the padlock on the floor over here,” he said. “So that when someone finds you, they can get you out.”

“Wait. Where are you going?” I asked. “I thought you needed protection.”

“It’s taking too fucking long. By the time there’s a plan in place, Ledroit will have killed both of us.

“Why did you kill Albin Shvakova?” I asked.

“Hughie doesn’t kill people.” Ronnie’s head popped over the stall wall. She must have been sitting on the floor outside.

“Somebody killed him, Ronnie. I know you don’t want it to be your brother, but who else could it be?” I wanted to go to the door and talk to her privately, but privacy was impossible while handcuffed.

“Me.” Ronnie was resolute. “That man would have killed Hugh, so I shot him instead.”

My eyes sought Victor. His eyes were locked with Hambecker’s, some understanding forming between them.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Hambecker asked. “Keys?”

“Oh.” Victor walked back, pulling the handcuff keys from his pocket. “Here,” he said, and tossed them into the stall. They went straight over our heads and out the window.

“Fuck.” Hambecker looked as if he could kill Victor.

“Sorry,” Victor said, and shrugged. Then he turned and jogged away from us down the barn.

We lined up against the far wall and slid down into the sawdust that remained in the stall. I leaned against Hambecker and Claire leaned against me.

“They could have left us something to drink,” I said.

“It won’t be long now,” Claire patted my arm. “We can take you to emergency and get you drugs.”

“Drugs. Yeah, that would be good.” I closed my eyes, willing the pain in my head to subside.

***

An hour later we heard voices outside the barn. We got up off the cold cement and went to the bars, shouting “Hey!” and “We’re here!” until they reached us.

Tom took one look and choked back a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Tom,” I said.

“You’re bleeding. Let me call the ambulance.”

“Yes.” Hambecker and Claire said together.

“No.” I said.

“The key to the lock is supposed to be on the floor down the aisle,” I said, being my normal, helpful self. “Getting us out of here might be a good start.”

A search of the aisle produced no such keys. Victor must have forgotten to leave it after he’d thrown the handcuff key out the window. Tom got the bolt cutters out of his patrol car and snapped the lock. Then he released us from the cuffs.

My wrists were raw, but at least I didn’t have a bullet in me. Hambecker lost no time in getting away from us. He shot out the stall door and down the barn like a man on a mission. I don’t know why it hurt my feelings, but it did. I thought we’d done pretty well, better than most people who were handcuffed together, but I guess he didn’t agree. I didn’t get a chance to ask him; he’d gone off with one of the other state Troopers by the time I got outside.

***

Steve Leftsky took me to the emergency room to have my temple cleaned up and my wrists wrapped and then he took me home. I finished a container of Greek yogurt I found in my fridge and then felt so sleepy that I went to bed without writing anything down.

I opened my eyes to Beagle Annie tugging on my sweat pants and the smell of hot smoke making me cough. Some part of my brain sprang into panic, but I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I rolled off the bed and fell onto the floor when my legs wouldn’t hold me up. Roaring came from the stairs and when I forced my eyes open I could see the reflection of the flames. My head pounding I crawled to the door. Flames already consumed the other end of the hall. I slammed the bedroom door closed.

I lay on the floor, willing my body to cooperate while Annie howled in my ear and jabbed me with her nose. I drifted until she got a mouthful of my hair and pulled.

“Annie, stop.” I forced myself over to the window and pulled myself up, leaning on the sill. I rested my face on the window but I couldn’t think what to do next. Someone was yelling but all I wanted to do was sleep. Beagle Annie nipped me.

“Yow! That hurts. “I opened the window and gingerly touched the metal porch roof. Still cool.

“Annie! Out!” She jumped gracefully out onto the roof. I rolled myself out and lay flat on the roof. There were voices urging me to move. I needed just a minute. One minute to clear my head. Beagle Annie grabbed my pant leg, and I was going to tell her to give me a minute but Max’s voice was in my ear.

“Come on, little girl. We’ve got to get you to safety.”

I was lifted, and handed off to someone on a ladder.

“Annie!” Where was my dog?

“I’ve got her. Don’t you worry,” Max said.

My chest was so constricted I could barely breathe. Thoughts of Ranger, Diesel and Hank somewhere in the flames on the main floor seared through me.
Wake up!
Vehicles pulled into the door yard as more volunteer firefighters arrived ahead of the fire engines. I could hear the wail of the emergency vehicles approaching.

The firefighter set me on the ground near my truck. I took Beagle Annie from Max but she launched herself from my arms and raced onto the porch running back and forth emitting a high pitched howl. I started to get to my feet, my brain at least had started to cooperate, but Max grabbed me from behind.

“No, Bree, You can’t go up there.”

I struggled against Max, crying and screaming for him to let me go. Fire engines rolled into the drive, and then an explosion from my kitchen that burst the windows outward. Beagle Annie ran back to me and I held her tightly as she squirmed, yowling and nipping at me. When she bit my hand, I lost my grip and she jumped from my arms and ran through the door behind a firefighter and into the fire.

“No!” My heart stopped beating. I tore myself from Max but another set of strong arms wrapped around me pulling me away, back.

“Easy.” It was Tom’s voice in my ear. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“The dogs.” The words were so distorted by the sobbing I didn’t think he’d be able to understand me.

“We’ll look for them, Bree, but don’t hold out hope. I’m sorry.”

I stood next to the fire truck and watched my house burn. The ambulance came and the paramedics made me sit down, but I refused to leave. The interior of the house was engulfed. It was shingled in asbestos and from what the fire fighters were saying it just made everything worse. There was nowhere for the heat to escape making it impossible for them to get inside.

A spark caught the chicken coop on fire. I stumbled to the enclosure, fighting the gate in my haste and was able to open the hen house door before I was dragged away again. Restrained by a fire fighter and then an EMT, I fought to calm myself but the horror overwhelmed me. I wanted to be helping, to be
doing
something, not helplessly watching my life erased by fire.