Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder (33 page)

The bile rose in the back of her throat at the term of endearment, but she ignored it. She aimed her gun at John’s captor, and said, “Now that I am here, what do you have planned?”

Dennis Farley shook his head and chuckled, “I’ve always admired your spunk and candor. You certainly don’t beat around the bush.”

He lowered his gun to the back of John’s head and said, “Before we get started, though, I think perhaps you should throw away that gun of yours. Behind you.”

Jo tried to keep the disappointment out of her face. With the weapon trained on John, she dared not disobey. She turned and tossed the Glock into the woods.

Dennis said, “Very good. Now I will answer your original question. I intend to prove to you once and for all that you belong with me and that this …” He walked over to stand next to John and pointed his gun at him. “This man doesn’t deserve you.”

Not taking her eyes off Farley, she cleared her throat which had suddenly threatened to close and said, “And I suppose you think you do?”

Farley shrugged and said, “But of course. Now, since you are so curious, I will explain just what I have in mind for the rest of our time here.”

Dennis flipped off the safety of his gun and pointed it at John’s leg and pulled the trigger. Before Jo could yell “stop”, John was writhing on the ground in front of the fire, screaming in agony.

Jo was about to run over to where John lay on the ground, but Farley stopped her by saying, “Don’t come any closer or I will shoot a more vital organ of his body.” He waited patiently as Jo halted. Her instinct was to leap across the fire and tackle Farley, but she knew by the time she could get close enough to him, he would fire another bullet into John. She clenched her teeth, waiting for his next words.

She didn’t have to wait long. “As I was saying, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to load your boyfriend into the canoe and shove it out onto the lake. I will leave him with a day’s supply of water and food. If you agree to the rest of my plan, then I will contact the local authorities to come to his rescue.”

Jo found she couldn’t take her eyes off of the gun pointed at John’s head. “And, just what is the rest of your plan?”

“You and I will take the other canoe and make our way to the Canadian border. Once we are there, we will move to a country of our choosing and live out the rest of our lives as man and wife.”

Jo’s eyes widened at the lunacy of his plan. “What makes you think I wouldn’t kill you the first chance I get?”

“Well, at first I’ll just have to be extra cautious, won’t I? You will be tied up or locked up while you remain a threat to me. But, given enough time together, I’m sure you will come to see we are meant to be together and none of that ugliness will be necessary.”

“You are insane, you know that?”

Farley’s face turned stony. “Show a little more respect to your future husband.”

As if I would ever marry a bat-shit crazy man like you.
Jo stopped herself from saying the words out loud, when she saw the gun waver closer to John’s temple.
Easy, Schwann, easy.

Jo looked around quickly, desperate to find something she could use as a weapon. Her eyes landed on a narrow log, about the length of her arm, smoldering in the fire pit.

Averting her eyes, she forced a subservient tone into her voice, and said, “Can I least bind his wound before we leave? At least give me that.”

Farley rubbed at his temple with his hand still gripping the gun. He was silent for a moment and, in spite of the tightness in her chest as she glanced down at the blood soaking John’s pant leg, she waited for his response.

When he spoke, his voice was flat. “There’s an extra shirt in the bag at my feet. You can use that to slow the bleeding. But don’t mistake this for empathy. I wouldn’t want him to bleed out before he’s served his purpose in motivating you. And don’t forget I have a gun pointed at him.”

“Thank you.” Jo skirted the fire pit and knelt next to John. She considered reaching for the narrow log, but decided she needed to attend to John’s injury first. Pulling out the shirt, she quickly wrapped it as tight as she could around the wound. She heard John’s sharp intake of breath when she tied off a knot and felt his eyes on her. She stole a brief glance at his face and gave him a small smile.

John’s face was ashen and he was sweating profusely. For the first time since she had first stepped into the camp, John spoke. His words were halting and she could tell he was struggling not to pass out, but he said, “Farley, you seem to be having a lot of problems with headaches. Not feeling too much … too much stress, I hope.”

Jo started. John was obviously trying to tell her something. He wouldn’t purposely taunt Farley this way.
Think. What is he trying to tell me
?

And then, it hit her. Farley was the last test victim of NeuroDynamics to survive. He was showing signs of severe headaches, which meant he could be headed for an aneurism.
Stress … John said stress. He’s trying to tell me that if we can raise Farley’s stress level, he might be stopped.

She thought quickly. Her plan was a terrible risk, but they were out of options. She stood up. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You are a piece of shit, not even a real man. You think you could ever satisfy me?”

Farley’s face turned beet red. “Wha … ? Don’t fuck with me.”

Jo thought about grabbing the gun out of his hands, but even with his recent weight loss, he still had a good seventy pounds on her at least. She got into his face, and doing her best to ignore the gun in his hand, she poked him in the chest. “You aren’t half the man John is. Take a look at him. He’s strong, handsome. And smart. Everything you could never be.”

Dennis Farley’s face transformed into a mask of fury. His normally pallid skin was splotchy and his eyes blazed with hatred. He spat out the words, “I will kill … I will kill him slowly and make you watch. Then I will take you with me.”

“I’d like to see you fucking try, you coward.”

Farley roared. He aimed a vicious kick at John’s wounded leg, causing John to scream in pain. Farley pointed at John, who was now huddled on the ground. He said, “You think that’s bad? I can make him suffer in ways you can only imagine. You WILL come with me.”

Jo’s knees threatened to buckle as she watched John writhing in pain. I might as well be the one kicking him. I can’t keep this up much longer … I can’t keep watching him suffer.

Jo was about to give up when she saw Dennis grimace and clutch his head.
It’s working. His head must be killing him. I have to try again. God help us if this backfires.
“You and I are not going to happen. Ever!” Jo exclaimed.

Jo’s heart stopped when she saw Farley raising the gun to John’s head once more. She realized her gamble had backfired. She had provoked him into killing John. Jo would never forgive herself.

At that moment, Dennis squeezed his eyes shut, as if in unbearable pain. Out of desperation, Jo seized the opportuniity to reach down to grip the charred log with both hands. The embers along the wood seared her palms and she let out a startled yelp, but managed to hang on to it in spite of the pain. She swung the piece of firewood like a Louisville Slugger and it connected with Farley’s chin.

The kidnapper roared in pain and staggered back with the blow, trying to regain his footing. For one fearful moment, Jo thought she had failed.

Just as she reared back to take another swing, she saw Farley’s face collapse upon itself and he dropped like a stone at her feet. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he was still.

John said, “Is he really dead? I think that hit of yours must have finally caused the aneurysm to burst.”

Jo kicked his weapon out of Farley’s hand and checked for a pulse. Even when she couldn’t detect a heartbeat, she kept picturing him springing up to shoot John. In Jo’s mind, Dennis Farley had become the boogeyman and could never truly die. Finally, she felt John’s hand at her elbow and she turned to him.

Being careful of his wound, she knelt next to him and removed his restraints. She wrapped her arms around him. He murmured words of love and comfort into her ear, but it took a few minutes more before she actually heard them. And then she was crying into his chest.

Chapter Forty-Three

Des Moines, Iowa

April

Chip sat in a wheelchair in his hospital room waiting for the hospitalist to discharge him. He didn’t need the chair, but it was hospital policy—all patients were taken to patient pick-up in a wheelchair, whether they could walk or not. Out the window of his room he could see a flower bed with yellow tulips. Spring had finally come to Iowa. It was late by Eastern standards. Back in Baltimore flowers and trees would be in full bloom, and it was Cherry Blossom Festival time in DC. He missed those early springs, but not much else about his former life. What he had missed in the past two weeks was Turners Bend. He missed Callie and Runt and his friends. Most of all he missed Jane. She was coming to retrieve him from Mercy Memorial and drive him home. The doctor arrived with papers in hand.

“Morning, Mr. Collingsworth. Here are your discharge orders and your prescriptions. I’ve faxed your PT plan to the clinic in Ames. You’ll need rehab twice a week until you have better mobility in your right arm. I’m sorry to tell you your dreams of becoming a major league baseball pitcher are over, but you should eventually be able to do most things. You shouldn’t have any trouble keyboarding.” He handed the papers to Chip. “By the way, my wife read
The Cranium Killer
and
Brain Freeze
. She wanted me to tell you I’m not unlike Dr. Goodman. Those were her words, not unlike.”

“And in my dreams I’m not unlike Ernest Hemingway,” said Chip. Both men laughed.

A pert candy striper with a name tag that read Emily wheeled Chip down to the door. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, and she reminded him of Ingrid. He said a silent prayer than her innocence wouldn’t be marred like Ingrid’s had been. He recalled Jane had used that “us” word again when talking about Ingrid’s need for emotional healing. He wanted to help Ingrid. She was beginning to feel like a daughter to him.

“Could we wait outside? I haven’t had any fresh air for two weeks.”

Emily pushed the wheelchair outside and locked the brake. He sat basking in the mid-afternoon sun, letting its heat warm his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scents of spring. He heard a vehicle approach and opened his eyes expecting to see Jane’s truck. Instead it was Jim in Turners Bend’s squad car. His heart sank as Jim hopped out and opened the back door on the passenger side of the police car.

“Jane called and asked me to fetch you home. She had an emergency call, something about a breach calf out at Hjalmer Gustafson’s place.”

“Thanks, Jim, seems like Hjalmer has a lot of calving problems.” He got into the car and felt like a caged criminal as he looked through the barrier between the front and back seats.

“Sorry about that, Chip. Police regulation, you know, no one can ride up front with an officer. I’ll have you home in no time.”

As soon as they cleared the Des Moines city limits and headed north on I-35, Jim turned on the lights and sped toward Ames. He exited the freeway and headed west to Turners Bend. When he turned off the highway and approached the town, he switched on the sirens. Instead of continuing through town and out to Chip’s farm, he pulled into a spot outside the Bun.

“Bet you haven’t had a decent cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll in weeks. Let’s make a quick stop before I take you home,” Jim said.

“Look at all these vehicles; the café must be really busy today.”

Jim held the Bun’s door open for Chip, and as he entered, the patrons stood and clapped. Chip saw a banner running above the counter. It read: Thanks to Iver and Chip, Turners Bend’s own Super Heroes. Chip could tell Bernice had gone all out in decorating the Bun. He had never seen tablecloths on the tables before, and real daffodils, not artificial ones, were in bud vases on every table.

He was overcome, the back of his throat filled up and his eyes stung as person after person shook his hand or patted him on the back. Ingrid wove her way through the crowd and gave him a long hug, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Cinnamon rolls on the house,” said Bernice, as she passed through the tables with a huge tray of hot rolls.

“Hey, where’s Iver?” Chip had just noticed his crime-fighting partner was missing from the festivities.

“He and Chief Fredrickson were both here before you arrived, but they had to leave for an emergency. Seems a truck on the way from Perry to the poultry processing plant in Ames overturned out on State Highway 17. Lots of chickens broke out of jail, and it’s a real mess with feathers flying all over the place,” said Bernice.

“Wish I was there to see the two of them running around like chickens with their heads cut off,” said Chip.

Suddenly he was very tired and felt weak. He sat for a while, drank a cup of coffee and ate a roll, then asked Jim to take him home. As they drove up his long driveway, he saw Jane’s truck and his weariness floated away.

Jim opened the car door for him. “Looks like you have company,” he said. “So I’ll just get back to my public safety duties. Nice to have you home, Chip.”

The back door of his house opened and Runt came barreling out. The dog barked and raced around him. Chip knelt down and Runt gave him a thorough face washing. Jane stood on the step, holding Callie and laughing, as Runt plowed Chip over onto the damp grass.

“What a welcome home, first all the people at the Bun, then Runt and best of all you,” he said, as Jane took his hand and eased him off the ground, being careful of his injuries. “I thought you were off delivering a calf.”

“I was, but I finished in time to stage a little surprise for you. Come into the house.”

As he passed through the door, Chip heard the strains of Gershwin and spied the bottle of sparkling cider on the table, along with a bag of microwave popcorn. He also noticed her hair was down and she was wearing a close-fitting shirt, the one he remembered so well from the first time they made love.