False Witness (31 page)

“How about that band?” he asked.

“How about that
babe
, man? She’s fucking hot.”

Angie gripped Alex’s hand, pulling him along with her. “You guys are sweet,” she said. “We’re just on our way home. Have a good night.”

The college boys sped up to a jog and quickly closed the gap. They were all carrying white plastic cups filled with a reddish liquid. Alex’s heart rate doubled as they walked up alongside them.

“What’s the hurry?” asked the blonde. He draped a heavily muscled arm over Alex’s shoulder. “The night’s still young.
Party
time, man!”

Alex tried to smile. He had seen guys like this in bars before. They were unpredictable; some would take a gentle rebuff and go on their way. Others were looking for something else.

“Sorry, guys, I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said. “Gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“No problem, dude,” said another of the frat boys. He was skinny, with a patchy beard that made him look like a Taliban soldier. “
She
can come along with
us
, and
you
can go on home to bed.”

Angie gripped Alex’s arm more tightly. “That sounds great,” she said. “But I’ve gotta work in the morning, and my boss is a bitch if I’m late. Sorry.”

The blonde reached forward and grabbed Angie around the waist, dragging her away from Alex’s grip. “Come on, babe!” he hollered. “Fucking
YOLO
, man!”

Alex’s pulse doubled again as the adrenaline roared into his veins. He dropped a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and spun him around. “Let her go,” he said. He could hear the fear in his own voice.

The blonde looked offended that someone had laid hands on him. “You shouldn’ta done that, man,” he said. “Shoulnd’ta touched the merchandise.” His right fist exploded in a tight arc, connecting squarely with Alex’s jaw.

Angie screamed as Alex hit the sand like a sack of fish. Taliban grabbed her by the arms from behind, holding her in place. “Don’t worry, babe,” he laughed. “You don’t have to hang out with Uncle Downer here tonight. You got us.”

Alex struggled to get to his feet. The blonde stopped him short with a sandaled foot to the ribs. The air
whoofed
out of his lungs and he dropped back down.

“
Alex!
” Angie shrieked. “Oh my God, Alex!”

“Stay down, man,” the blonde warned. “Just stay there.”

Alex rolled onto his back, gasping like a fish on dry land. He couldn’t get his breath. He couldn’t take another kick from this blonde ape, but he couldn’t let them take Angie. He looked up at the sky as the copper tang of adrenaline flooded his mouth.

Suddenly, the moon disappeared.

“Howdy, boys!” a nasally voice hollered. “Looking for a good time?”

Alex heard what sounded like a fencepost hitting another fencepost, and the next thing he saw was Taliban dropping to the sand next to him.

“
Get that fucker!
” he heard the blonde yell. Then he heard a scream that reminded him of the time he had visited a hog slaughterhouse for a story. That was followed by a sickening crack, followed by another piercing wail.

“Geez,” said the nasally voice. “You oughtta get that trick shoulder looked at.”

Alex had his breath back by now and managed to raise himself up on an elbow. He still couldn’t see much, but the moon had reemerged from hiding and he could make out shadows. The blonde was kneeling on the sand, clutching one arm in the other hand. It seemed to be hanging from his shoulder socket at an impossible angle.

Two silhouettes moved simultaneously toward what appeared to be a wall. Suddenly, the wall moved, and Alex heard the sound of a baseball bat hitting a side of beef, followed by a dull crack. Two more shadows hit the ground.

The wall turned around and faced the last of the silhouettes. “No, man,” Alex heard the last frat boy plead. “Everything’s okay, man. I’m just gonna go, you know?”

“So soon?” asked the wall. “The party’s just gettin started,
man!
”

The frat boy turned to run, but the wall blocked him. Alex heard the sound of brick on bone. Next thing Alex saw was a body being hoisted above the wall. It dropped quickly to the ground next to him. He was close enough to see blood streaming from the kid’s mashed face.

Alex finally had his wits about him again. “Angie!” he shouted. “Angie, are you okay?” He had no idea what the wall had in store for them.

“She’s fine,” said the wall above him. As it leaned closer, Alex could make out features in the moonlight. It was a human face, as round as the moon itself, and covered with a beard that could qualify it as an honorary member of ZZ Top. Huge hands reached out and grabbed his shoulders, hoisting him to his feet as if he were a rag doll. Angie stood there, eyes wide, chest heaving, staring at the aftermath of the carnage.

The wall-man surprised Alex by flashing a wide, friendly grin. He reached out a hand the size of a baseball glove and enveloped Alex’s own in a bone-bruising grip. “Name’s Shitbox,” he squeaked. “Pleased to meetcha.”

Eddie Spanbauer had never arrived at work early before, unless it was for time-and-a-half. He wasn’t much of a union man, but he also never felt the need to give away his time for free. But here he was, walking the halls of the Badlands Institute at three a.m.

Jason Crowe had been clear in his phone call a few hours earlier: protect Rufus Hodge at all costs. There would be another attempt on his life, and soon, possibly from multiple attackers. As he hurried towards Hodge’s cell, Eddie wondered if he was here early because he feared reprisal from Crowe, or for another reason entirely. Was he, in fact, eager to keep Hodge from harm? Would that really be so crazy?

Eddie had told the night shift guards that he had come in of his own volition after he saw the attack on the Wild Roses’ clubhouse on the late news. They had given him some funny looks, but they didn’t question him. That was good; he might need some help, depending on how the attack was carried out. He ran over scenarios in his mind. They had installed two more cameras and an extra guard in the laundry after the incident with Billy Trinh and the Aryan, so that was out of the question.

Eddie thought if it was going to be an Aryan attack this time, it would happen in the mess hall, in full view. Aryans were well known as prison assassins, and they didn’t care about the fallout. The uglier, the better. Longer sentences meant nothing to them; all they cared about was money and status within the inmate community. If they wanted Hodge dead, he would need all the help he could get to keep the man alive.

Hodge was lying on his back in the dark with his hands laced behind his head when Eddie arrived. The ugly man didn’t open his eyes. “Morning, officer,” he drawled. “What brings you here so bright and early?”

Eddie blinked. “How did you know it was me?”

Hodge sat up and turned, planting his feet on the floor. “I smelled you. Even if I couldn’t, I know your footsteps. You’re a heel-walker.”

Eddie blinked again. Could that be true? “I got a phone call. The Aryan Brotherhood shot up your clubhouse last night.”

Hodge turned his head to the side. He was still looking at the floor. “Gimme details.”

“Your lawyer was killed. Nobody else was hurt. Just a lot of bullet holes.”

“That’s too bad. I liked my lawyer. Now I gotta find a new one.”

“There’s concern that the Aryans might come after you inside.”

“Good thing I got you.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie. “It is.”

Hodge rose from the bed and faced Eddie. “I need a favor from you.”

“What?”

“I need to use your burner phone. Gotta talk to Crowe directly.”

Eddie blanched. “I can’t. There’s cameras in here.”

“Drop it down your pantleg, then kick it into the cell. Make it look like you’re mad at me; they’ll be watchin your hands, not your feet.”

That sounded ridiculously simple, but Eddie thought it could work. He used his fingernail to tear a hole in the righthand pocket of his trousers. “Okay,” he said. “Make me mad at you.”

Hodge smiled his wolf’s grin. “My pleasure.” He stomped forward suddenly, jamming his face into the bars and snapping his teeth.

Eddie genuinely flinched, then remembered the plan. He raised his baton and raked it across the bars. As he did, the phone slid down his leg, and he kicked it up and over the crossbar on the floor of the cell. He shouted for good measure.

Hodge sat back down on the cot and covered the phone with his foot. “Thanks, officer. I think I’ll go back to sleep now.” He lifted his legs, phone hidden between both feet, and rolled over to face the wall. He reached down to scratch his leg, retrieved the phone, and pulled it next to his head in the darkness of the cell.

Genius
, Eddie thought.
Whoever’s on the cameras wouldn’t have noticed any of that
.

He stood guard outside the cell as Hodge murmured into the phone. The conversation, as always, was clipped on Hodge’s end. After several minutes, he rolled over. The burner phone was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit’s going down, officer,” Hodge said. “You’re going to be busy for awhile longer, but maybe not
that
much longer.”

“Why?” Eddie asked.

“Because I’m either gonna walk out of here a free man, or I’m gonna be carried out in a pine box.”

Alex leaned on the giant as the three of them walked slowly down the beach. He didn’t think anything was broken, but his ribs ached like a bad tooth, and he could feel a black eye forming. He could see his own confusion mirrored in Angie’s face as the man who called himself Shitbox spoke.

“It’s nice to finally meet you folks,” the big man said amiably. “I mean, I kinda feel like I know you already.”

Alex finally had enough wits about him to ask: “Who
are
you?”

The man turned his head and looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh geez, I’m sorry!” he said. “Lookit me; here I am thinkin you know who I am because I know who you are! I’ve been watchin you since you got to Lost Lake. Jason Crowe sent me. I’m one of the Wild Roses.”

Horror exploded in Alex’s belly and he felt the taste of adrenaline in his mouth again. How had they found him? Did they get to Leslie Singer somehow? How the hell was he going to survive this?

Angie. Oh God, Angie
.

Alex wrenched himself painfully away from Shitbox. He swayed a bit, but managed to keep his feet.

“Let her go,” he breathed. His ribs ached with every breath, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. “She has nothing to do with this. It’s me you want.”

Angie looked from Alex to Shitbox and back again. Her eyes were wide, but she still hadn’t spoken. Shitbox just looked confused. Then he smiled again, almost apologetically.

“Geez, I’m stupid!” he said, smacking his giant palm into his forehead. “I’m really sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m supposed to be lookin after you. Keepin you safe.”

Alex stood as best he could.
Supposed to be looking after me?
He stared at the man, dumbfounded by confusion and fear.

Angie emerged from behind Shitbox, still pale and obviously shaken. “What the hell is going on, Alex?” she asked. It was the first time she had spoken since the attack.

Alex reeled. Ten minutes earlier he was having the time of his life. Now he was injured, standing next to a member of the criminal gang that wanted him dead, and staring at the woman he loved, knowing he had to tell her he’d been lying to her from the day they met.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said weakly.

Shitbox looked at the two of them and blushed. “I’m sorry, you guys. I really am. Look, just come with me and I’ll tell ya everything. Or what I know, at least.”

Angie stared up at the big man. “I just want to go home,” she said timidly.

“I know,” Shitbox said, his high voice full of sympathy. “But your place isn’t safe anymore.” He turned to Alex. “Neither is yours. Just come with me and I promise you’ll be all right. And hurry; we gotta get off this beach before anyone comes looking for those stupid kids.”

With that, he wrapped a tree-trunk arm around Alex’s shoulder and took Angie by the hand. He led them off the beach and into the town common, with all its shadows.

#

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the dark in the main room of a four-room cabin, on the side of the hill that rose up behind the Bluebird Motor Inn. Shitbox had practically carried Alex up the steep road to the place. They left the lights off when they walked through the door at Shitbox’s insistence.

With Alex settled as comfortably as possible on the sofa, Angie beside him, the big man went into the kitchen area that opened onto the living room and returned with two cans of Coke. He gave one to each of them. “Drink this,” he said soothingly. “The sugar’ll help take the edge off the adrenaline.”

Alex and Angie did as they were told. It was true; he felt better after a few sips. But he was still exhausted. He looked over at Angie. Her face was unreadable in the darkness.

“Better?” asked Shitbox.

“Yeah.” Alex’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark. “Thanks.
Now
can you tell us what’s going on? Why couldn’t we go back to my place, or Angie’s?”

Shitbox sat back in an overstuffed armchair that groaned under his weight. “They aren’t safe anymore. Jason will have more to tell you when he gets here tomorrow, but –”

Alex nearly choked on his soda. “
Crowe?
Is coming
here?
”

“Yeah,” said Shitbox. “I
told
you, he’s not going to hurt you. He really needs to talk to you. He thinks someone else may try to hurt you.”

“You mean besides those apes tonight?”

“Those guys didn’t have anything to do with this. You’re lucky Jason had me watching you, though. That could have got nasty. Hey, what’s ‘yolo’ supposed to mean, anyway?”

“No offense,” said Alex, wiping his mouth. “But I have a hard time believing the man who blew up one of my best friends with plastic explosives has my best interests at heart.”