In the Shadow of Angels (12 page)

But something had to happen here. Brent was right. They were kind of in this thing together. If Dr. Stephens was arrested, he would take Devin down with him. If Devin was arrested, he would take Dr. Stephens down with him. Slowly on both sides, reluctantly on both sides, they both came to it on their own. Either they both went down for this or neither of them did.

All the cards were on the table and they would need to combine them to build a winning hand.

“It seems we’re at a bit of an impasse then, doesn’t it?” Dr. Stephens offered.

“Yeah.” Devin had no choice but to agree, “I guess it does.”

“That being the case, could we get the tall one to put the gun down? Even without bullets, he’s making me a bit nervous.”

Devin nodded to Brent, who slowly lowered the .38.

“I assume that we’re agreed that no one can find her body,” Dr. Stephens said, looking to Devin, who was nodding in agreement. “So, the most logical question seems to be…” Dr. Stephens started, slowly standing up. He was rubbing the side of his head, which still throbbed fiercely. “What were you planning to do with her once you got her here?”

It was a question that Devin knew would be coming - had known would be coming since well before this whole business with Dr. Stephens - but one for which he didn’t yet have a reasonable answer. With the car following him back from The Place, which he now knew to be Dr. Stephens, the cop pulling him over, the whole business with Beth and now the confrontation with Dr. Stephens, he just didn’t have time to think about it.

Devin didn’t know what to say, but thankfully didn’t have to. Brent offered up the first suggestion: “How about a wood chipper?”

Devin and Dr. Stephens looked to Brent in unison, but it was Devin who spoke. “Jesus Christ, Brent, what the hell? You watch too many movies.” Echoing Dr. Stephens’ sentiment.

“We could bury her here.” Dr. Stephens offered. “The trees are pretty thick out back. It doesn’t seem likely that anyone would find her.”

“No way,” Devin replied, shaking his head. “Then you just call the police and tell them you saw me kill her. They find her on my property, my DNA all over her. You’re off the hook.”

“Not entirely. As I said, I lost a personal effect…”

“Maybe you already found it.”

“Then why would I still be looking when you arrived?”

Devin thought about it for a minute. “A gambit. You heard the alarm and knew I’d be coming. Let me catch you after you already found it. We’d have this little talk. Bury her on my property. I take the fall.”

“I can assure you that I did not find it.”

“How about we bury her on your property?”

Dr. Stephens laughed. “I see what you mean.”

“How about a car accident?” Brent suggested.

Devin thought about this for a moment, “I don’t think that works. That would explain the broken neck, but there’s still too much
evidence
on the body.
”

After a couple more failed suggestions, Devin suggested they go inside. It was getting cold in the garage, and it was just eerie looking at her body while they were discussing how to dispose of it. Dr. Stephens closed the trunk of the Sunfire and they moved to the living room. Brent and Devin were sitting on the sofa, Dr. Stephens in an armchair to the side.

They sat there in near silence for quite some time. Occasionally one of the three would offer up a suggestion, but the others would be quick to shoot it down.

Finally, one of them hit it. “Fire?” It was Dr. Stephens who suggested it.

Something clicked in Devin’s mind. Something he studied in college. “She drives a Fiero, right?”

Both of them nodded. Jezebel’s car was a very distinctive Fiero, with red paint and wheels and little eyelashes on the headlights.

“What model year is it?”

“I think it’s an ’84,” Brent said. “It
could
be an ’85, but I’m pretty sure it’s an 84.”

Devin could scarcely believe the luck. They may have just found a way out of this free and clear.

General Motors was sued a number of times over the 1984 Fiero, due to a history of engine fires. This was one of two cars Devin studied with fire issues, the other was the 1977 Ford Pinto. The subject of their studies wasn’t directly related to the fires, but to the liability of the manufacturers. In each case, they were aware from testing that the issues existed and they produced the cars anyway - without correcting it. They lost many high-dollar lawsuits as a result. There were not one, not two, but three separate issues that each caused a number of Fieros to burst into flames. Something like 1 in 400 ’84 Fieros suffered from it. General Motors issued a number of recalls to replace engine components and wiring under the hood, but they just couldn’t make it go away. This is believed to be the real reason the Fiero was taken out of production in 1989.

If they were to put her in the car and start a fire in the engine compartment, it wouldn’t seem extraordinary. She had a broken neck though. How would they account for that? Maybe they could just put her in the driver’s seat and roll it down a hill? There was a landing when you came to the southern end of Turner Road. If you didn’t stop, you would speed down a steep decline for a couple hundred yards before running into a large rock outcropping. A number of people had done this over the years and it had smashed their cars and bodies up pretty severely.

They would roll it down the hill and leave the engine running, the mid-engine design should make that possible even after a wreck, and start a fire in the engine compartment. There may be some questions like,
was she going fast enough to break her neck? Did the wiring harness
really
cause the fire?
But it would be a hammer next to the vase. No one would think to look for the guy with the garbage bag.

It was perfect.

Once Devin had this all put together in his mind, he passed the idea on to Brent and Dr. Stephens.

“How sure are you about the engine fire thing?” Dr. Stephens had asked.

“I literally studied it in college.”

A plan now in place, the tension between them dissipated a bit. There were still a number of issues needing to be addressed, but they were all on the hook for it now.

“So who drives her car over here?” Dr. Stephens asked. Getting her car from The Place to the end of Turner Road was going to be the most likely place that they would be caught and he wanted to make sure they knew it wasn’t going to be him driving.

“It has to be Beth.” Devin said with a bit of regret. He hated having to ask her to do it, but there needed to be a woman behind the wheel so that no one who happened to see the car drive by, no matter how unlikely it seemed at this time of night, would be suspicious. It was a very distinctive car, after all.

That was the first time he thought of Beth since he left her at the quarry. He remembered telling her to call the police after an hour. At 1:00am, actually. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and looked at the clock: 12:36. It was hard to believe it had already been nearly an hour since he left her. He hoped that she had kept her word about waiting.

Devin dialed her number on his cell phone. She answered it on the first ring.

“Go ahead and come home, Beth.” He said and left it at that. He didn’t want to tell her she would have to be driving the dead woman’s car back from The Place.

“What about Dr…” She started.

Not wanting to go into any detail over the phone, he cut her off quickly, “We’ll talk when you get here.”

Big girl panties my ass!
Jimmy thought to himself as he paced back and forth behind Brent’s Econoline. The cool of the night set in after Brent and Devin left him alone here in the dark. As his fear and adrenaline faded, the alcohol still in him began to fill him with a false courage. The courage of a coward, never afraid to charge into battle
in hindsight.

It caught him off guard, that was all.
Alright, Jimmy, don’t ask any questions, but we got to go kill a motherfucker.
How can you throw that on a guy and not give him a minute to react? He needed a minute to ready himself was all and now that he was ready, they left him behind. Bunch of assholes.

They’re probably not doing shit. Probably had this whole thing worked out before they drove out here, knowing them. Never was anyone at Devin’s house at all, just, hey, let’s go fuck with Jimmy! Those cocksuckers were probably just sitting in Devin’s living room laughing at him. Or maybe they walked a few feet and were watching him right now to see if he pissed himself. Everyone laughing at big fat Jimmy, but not even Jimmy. They were laughing at andJimmy. It was never Jimmy. It was never JimmyandBrent. It was always Brent
andJimmy
, as if he wasn’t even a person on his own.

Jimmy continued pacing back and forth behind the van. Every moment of silence that passed seeming to confirm the story he was been building in his mind. He could see the house and it sure didn’t
look
like anything was going on.
You were never afraid, you just weren’t ready,
the alcohol told him. Goddamned right he wasn’t afraid!

Jimmy opened up the back door of Brent’s Econoline and started moving things around under the bed. He found a half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He screwed the cap off it and tipped it back. It hit his stomach like a warm cup of tea. He could feel the warmth slowly spread from his stomach, making its way down his arms and legs like someone stuck him with an IV full of hot water, ending with a bit of a tingle in his fingers and toes. It felt good against the chill. He threw the, empty, bottle aside.

Then he found what he was looking for - a 34” Louisville Slugger that Brent kept under the bed
just in case
.
In case someone tells me to put on my big girl panties,
he thought. He grabbed the bat and gave it a couple of practice swings. That felt good too.

Fuckers.

Oh, he would show them, all right. He would bust right in and shout
‘Let’s get this motherfucker!’
Then he would give that old Louisville Slugger a couple of swings, just to show that he meant business. They wouldn’t be laughing then.
‘Calm down!’
they would say,
‘we were just fucking with you.’
But he would keep swinging,
‘Where’s the fucker that needs to die?! It’s go time!’
He would turn it right around on them. See who was pissing in their big girl panties then!

AndJimmy would be the one laughing then.

With a sly little smile on his face, Jimmy (and Jack Daniel’s) started a slow, purposeful walk toward the house.

*****

It was only a few seconds after Edward Digby pulled out to pursue the Mercedes and Econoline that they made a right off Turner Road. This was a residential area, so that would mean they turned down a driveway and he dare not pursue. He started scanning the road for a likely place to stop when he saw the familiar BMW with the ‘
DR $
’ license plate. If Dr. Stephens was here, then whoever was in those cars was clearly somehow involved with what happened at The Place. That made what, four cars?
Jesus Christ, what am I doing?
He wondered, but didn’t let the thought stop him.

He found a likely driveway almost directly across the road from the turn that the Mercedes and Econoline went down and backed his van into it. He wouldn’t be able to get it completely out of sight, but the new signs on the side should be enough to deter suspicion. He hoped.

He went to the back door of the van and pulled out his parabolic microphone. His wasn’t top of the line, nor was it very large, since he was always using it in tandem with an enormous camera, but he could still usually hear conversations from fifty yards or so if there was clear line of sight and no background noise. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to be listening for.

He locked up the van and walked across the road. He was walking parallel to the driveway, taking care not to get too close. He could hear shouting coming from just ahead even without his microphone, and moved as close as he could without giving up his position. He could see Devin arguing with two other guys, one very tall, the other quite short. While he couldn’t make out all of what they were saying, they obviously didn’t agree. After a minute of shouting back and forth, Devin walked away with the tall one -leaving the short one behind.

Devin and the tall one set off walking down the driveway and Edward followed, but he walked well to the left side of the driveway. Once he saw them reach the front of the house and go inside, he started looking around from the safety of the trees just beyond the driveway. He wanted to find a place where he might be able to eavesdrop and possibly snap a couple of photos. He wasn’t sure which room they might go to, but the front of the house had curtains drawn on the few available windows, so there would be no chance of hearing or seeing anything. He walked around to the back of the house, still staying in the trees just beside the clearing where the house sat.

Once on the backside of the house, he could see the kitchen window was broken out and the door was hanging open. Whatever was going on, it seemed like at least one person there was not a guest. As he walked a bit further, he was able to see into both the kitchen and living room through the open door. Between his position and the house was an area where some sort of construction was started but never finished. There were forms in place for concrete to be poured, a fact that he likely wouldn’t have known if not for the rented cement mixer and a pallet of Quikrete next to it. That would make the perfect cover.

Crouching low, he moved quickly and quietly to the cement mixer and stepped over the forms. This left him slightly below ground level, which would be ideal for hiding. With a bit of work, he was able to use the forms to hold his microphone in place pointing directly through the door. There was nothing going on inside at the moment, but he should be able to hear it when it did. Working further, he was able to find a relatively comfortable position to hold his camera up with the forms supporting most of its weight as well.

He sat there with his microphone and camera pointed through the doorway waiting for an indeterminate amount of time. Finally, he saw three people coming into the living room from the garage: Devin Bryant, Dr. Stephens and the tall one he didn’t recognize. They took up positions on the sofa and chairs and began talking -directly in line with his microphone.

Even with a straight line of sight, he had to keep the headphones on and the volume turned all the way up to make out the conversation. It seemed that they were planning to stage an accident with Jezebel’s car and then start a fire. They hadn’t mentioned the location where it was to take place though, so he continued listening, hoping they would.

Devin made a phone call at that point. Edward heard him tell someone to go ahead and come home. After that, Devin went into the kitchen and got them all a beer out of the fridge.

Once they had started drinking, the details of the plan began flowing more freely. Over the next several minutes, the accident became much clearer. It would be staged at the end of Turner Road, where there was an outcropping of rock after a steep downhill run. It honestly seemed like a good plan to Edward. It made him wonder, yet again, if he shouldn’t just walk away and pretend none of this happened.

Just then, Edward’s cell phone rang. It was set to sound like an old time phone and it was loud as hell. At least it seemed that way if you were trying to hide outside of the house of at least one killer. He had forgotten to put his phone on vibrate before the pursuit. Surveillance 101.

*****

You didn’t kill her, but someone did,
and her body is in the trunk of my Pontiac
. Devin’s words still rung in Beth’s mind as she watched him drive away. What the hell was going on? She expected that when he met her here, he would help her figure this all out. Instead, she was more confused. She thought that
maybe
the fall hurt Jezebel, but didn’t think she could have died until Devin told her that her body was in his car. Did he see her push Jezebel? Is that why her body was in the trunk of his Pontiac? Why was Dr. Stephens at their house and why did Devin now think that he killed her?

She had so many questions.

She wished she never went to The Place at all. Somehow, that thought made her smile despite the situation. Devin hadn’t slept with Jezebel. If she had just trusted him, they would both be at home right now. She felt a pang of guilt. They would both be at home, but she would have been giving him the cold shoulder and she knew it. She would have been upset that he stayed out late drinking with BrentandJimmy and she would have been very petty about it. She realized that she was petty about many things.

Sitting there, alone in the dark, Beth had the
breakthrough
moment that Dr. Stephens
thought
she had in their session before. She really was very petty. Jezebel’s words may have been vicious, but they weren’t completely wrong. Devin gave her everything she wanted and in return, she was terrible to him. Not terrible in an angry or violent way, but terrible in a passively aggressive way - not speaking to him, not going out with him, withholding sex, just so damned petty. It was no wonder he turned to Jezebel. She gave him what he wanted with no strings attached.

Now it seemed that he was trying to hide a body to keep her from going to prison. She would never have done that for him. She didn’t think she would at least.

If we make it through this,
she thought to herself,
things are going to change.
She may not know exactly what happened, or why, but if Dr. Stephens was as violent as Devin thought he was - which didn’t seem that far out of character for him - he was risking not only his freedom, but also his life for her. She would never be able to repay that gift. A thought crept into her mind, which made her hang her head again. She owed him more than he would ever know.

Beth stared at her cell phone as the time slowly passed, barely seeing the numbers as her mind drifted. She thought about how it was before Jezebel came into their lives. Things were so perfect. They had a beautiful home in one of the most exclusive areas in Ashwood. A home that Devin bought simply because she fell in love with it. This was before he took on his full time position at Jackson & Carvey - while he was still swimming in the debt of student loans. He was like that. Anything she wanted, he would find a way to make it hers - no matter the personal sacrifice.

When she told him that the living room seemed too dark in the evenings, he hired a contractor to install skylights to make it brighter. When she told him that she thought she might like to have a vegetable garden, he had someone till the soil behind the house, lay out some beautiful brick containing walls and ready it for the seeds she wanted to plant. When she told him that she would like to have a place outside to sit in the afternoons and read without the sun beating down on her, he bought a gazebo and started work on it. Of course, in that case, she kicked him out of the house before he was able to lay the foundation. He spent several weekends out there, moving the soil and setting the forms to lay the foundation, but he had to stop when she caught him with Jezebel and threw him out.

He worked so hard to make her happy. Sitting here alone tonight, she suddenly felt that she didn’t return that at all. She felt so very selfish. She was no better than he was. She was so much worse. She made a silent vow:
Not anymore.

When the phone finally rang, it was 12:36. Devin told her nothing over the phone except to come home. Since he didn’t tell her anything, in her mind, she was able to convince herself that none of this really happened. She would get home and find that it had all been some terrible waking dream. The whole business with Jezebel and Dr. Stephens wasn’t real; some elaborate fantasy her mind created to get her to her
breakthrough
.

Beth got into her car and started toward the house. She, too, was travelling well above the posted speed, her concern for getting to Devin far outweighing her fear of the police stopping her. She was to the turn to her house in no time. She convinced herself so thoroughly that it might have all been a dream, that she was shocked all over again when she passed the silver BMW with the ‘
Dr $
’ license plate just before the turn to her house. Oddly, there was a park and ride van just across the street. Something about it struck her as completely wrong.

Beth stopped in the middle of the road and took out her cell phone. She dialed the number, 634-518-0111. After three rings, a machine picked it up and asked for her name, number and location. She thought she must have just been being paranoid.