Slash and Burn (28 page)

‘Except for one thing, Joe Hunter. You ever do anything like that again and I swear to God I’ll kill you myself.’

I’d have responded, except her words were as soft as her touch. I sighed wearily. It had been a long few days since we’d met on the Gulf Coast. My eyes began to close. Not so much fatigue as relief at seeing her alive. Maybe my eyes stayed shut a little too long.

‘That’s it!’ Harvey became animated beside me. ‘Pull over now. I’m taking over. Before you do what Huffman couldn’t and kill the lot of us.’

I brought the Windstar to a halt and we all shifted position. Harvey drove and Rink took shotgun. I was wedged between the two women in the back. It wasn’t a bad place to find myself. Between them they had my shirt undone and they fussed with the wound in my shoulder. I fell asleep with a smile on my lips.

The next time I woke up, I was back at the cabin. Everything was dark and still. My head was a little fuzzy and I thought that at some point someone must have fed me a bucketful of painkillers. My left side was numb, and reaching tentatively with my good hand, I found my shoulder compressed by expertly administered bandages. Sitting up, I found I was on the single bed in the cabin. There was a light on in the bathroom but the door was closed. It sounded empty and I guessed the light had been left on to add some ambient glow without the harsh overhead light waking me. A low buzz of conversation came from outside.

I was naked but for my boxer shorts. I found my jeans and tugged them on, twice falling back on to the bed before I managed to button them up.

My steps were unsteady as I negotiated the room. Opening the door, I saw my friends sitting in a loose group down by the lakeside. They heard the door and all turned to look at me. They had got a fire going and it looked like they were enjoying a late dinner. My stomach did a flip at the greasy smell of burgers and I had to push down the urge to vomit.

Kate and Imogen were so alike in the flickering light from the fire that it took me a second or two to differentiate them. Making matters worse was the fact that Kate was dressed in some of the spare clothing Imogen had brought with her. Kate helped by standing up and moving my way. Imogen, Rink and Harvey watched her approach me, then discreetly returned to their own conversation.

‘You’re supposed to be sleeping,’ Kate said softly.

‘You know me, Kate; I never do plan on doing much sleeping. I’ll be OK before long.’

‘You’ve been shot, Joe. You’re weak and the rest will do you good.’

‘I’ve been shot before. Much worse than this.’

Kate placed a hand on my chest. She traced an old wound just to the left of my sternum. This wasn’t a bullet wound but a scar left by a knife that had come very close to ending my life. Tubal Cain – the serial killer who kidnapped my brother last year – had almost killed me, but I’d killed him instead. The other bullet wound I referred to was hidden beneath these latest bandages.

‘Back to bed, tough guy,’ Kate said, pressing me back into the room.

‘There are things to be done . . .’

‘Yes, Joe, there are.’ Her eyes met mine and even in the dimness I saw her pupils dilate. She pushed me even harder and I stumbled backwards. Kate followed me into the room, pushing until my knees met the bed and I was forced to sit down. Kate stood over me. There were tears in her eyes, and she slowly shook her head.

‘At first I thought that you were going to hurt my sister,’ Kate said sadly. ‘And I hated you for that.’

‘It was only a trick . . .’

‘I know that now. You risked your life for me and Imogen and you got shot. But at the time . . . God! I don’t know! I hated you as much as I hated any of them.’

‘But now you know the truth do you still hate me?’

‘A little.’

‘A little?’

‘I hate you for making me hate you,’ she said. Then she laughed at the absurdity of her statement.

‘I shouldn’t have left you alone at that motel.’

‘No, you shouldn’t have. You should’ve stayed. You know that’s what I wanted, don’t you?’

‘I did,’ I said. ‘But there were other things on my mind.’

‘Rink explained to me about your ex-wife. That it was your wedding anniversary. You must have loved her a great deal, Joe.’

‘I did.’

‘You haven’t fully let go yet, have you?’

‘It wasn’t my idea to divorce.’

‘Rink said that Diane remarried, that she has a new husband.’

‘Yes. Simon. He’s a decent man.’

‘So don’t you think it’s time to let her go?’

I couldn’t answer. Despite everything there’d always be a place in my heart for my ex-wife.

Kate sat on the edge of the bed. She laid her palm flat on my stomach. She looked incredibly beautiful with the light from the bathroom playing on her skin. ‘If you had stayed, things would have been very different.’

‘I know and I’m sorry. It must’ve been awful for you.’

‘It was.’

‘It’s crazy,’ I said, ‘but everything that’s happened since then is because I left you there alone. Makes you wonder about fate, doesn’t it?’

Kate eyed me. ‘Fate seems to have its own way of sorting out the order of things. If you hadn’t gone out when you did, we wouldn’t have got this opportunity to get to know each other all over again.’

‘You still want to know me?’ I leaned up and took one of her hands in mine.

‘Now that we’ve got Imogen back safe and sound, I want that more than anything in the world.’

‘Me too.’

I pulled her down beside me and we held each other. Kate kissed me; this time I didn’t pull away.

Chapter 39

Huffman had returned to the living room of his ranch. He was sitting in his wing-backed chair, silently contemplating his next strategy. He held Imogen Ballard’s camera in his cupped palms, watching on the small screen as Trent and Larry Bolan beat the sheriff of Little Fork to death. Jim Aitken watched the proceedings, holding his gun levelled at the sheriff’s chest so that he couldn’t fight back. Not that he’d be able to, not against the Bolans. The horrendous beating culminated in Trent ripping off one of the man’s ears. The microphone had picked up Imogen Ballard’s sob. She’d tried to restrain herself but failed. Then the picture swept across the forest and came to a halt on a single figure standing watching the proceedings. The picture zoomed in.

‘She didn’t even get my good side,’ Huffman grunted. But there was no mistaking his face. It didn’t help matters that he’d lifted a hand and waved at her: pretty incriminating evidence. At that the picture disintegrated into a series of flashes and broken pixels as Imogen fled in panic. He could hear her ragged cries and the pounding of her feet.

A film like this could send him to prison in a heartbeat. There would be copies, despite what Joe Hunter said. It was even more important now that he kill both sisters and their champion. In reality, the sisters had become inconsequential to the feared killer named Quicksilver. He would kill them and that would be that, but with Joe Hunter things would be different. Hunter had embarrassed him in front of the other syndicate enforcers; he would be made to suffer first.

He’d allowed Wicker the pleasure of hacking Desmond Molloy to pieces, but Huffman decided that he personally would take Hunter to the slaughterhouse. Unlike Molloy, Hunter would still be alive when Huffman started cutting.

Huffman turned off the camera.

Larry Bolan was sitting in silence at the far end of the room, lost in his own thoughts. Huffman lifted the camera. ‘This is more damaging to you than it is to me,’ he told the giant man. ‘I’m surprised that you didn’t want it back as much as I did.’

‘I’ve never been concerned about the woman or what she filmed,’ Larry said. ‘What was she going to do, post it on the internet? I’ve seen more zombie and cannibal shit on YouTube than you can shake a stick at. People don’t take any of that stuff seriously. They’d have just put it down to another pile of crap that someone staged.’

‘She could’ve put it into the hands of law enforcement. They’d have taken it seriously enough, particularly when the sheriff failed to turn up for work.’

‘We had that covered, boss,’ Larry explained. ‘He’d have looked like he’d run off with his new woman after stealing money from Judge Wallace.’

Aitken had set that up. He exchanged a filing cabinet drawer from the sheriff’s office with the one in Wallace’s. There would have been no reason for Devaney’s fingerprints to turn up there unless he had broken into the judge’s office.

Huffman agreed that the disappearance of the sheriff could be covered by that scenario, but not when there was accompanying footage of the man being beaten to death with him as the overseer. But he let it go. He had the original footage back and copies meant very little without the original. It was as Larry pointed out: these days even an amateur with the most basic computer program could stage a convincing hoax. His lawyers would pull that kind of evidence to pieces.

Huffman put all thoughts of the video away, shelving it as a minor problem to be dealt with later. ‘You still want Joe Hunter, Larry?’

‘I want him so bad I can taste it.’

‘I want him too,’ said Huffman. ‘But we needn’t be enemies over this.’

Larry straightened, causing the chair to creak ominously.

‘Since when did we become enemies, boss?’

‘Since you shot down my helicopter.’ Huffman sat back, folding his hands on his stomach.

‘You knew about that?’

‘The pilot got a call off before it went down,’ Huffman explained. ‘He said there was a giant man with a Magnum. Who do you think that sounds like, Larry?’

‘But you still asked me back, even though I killed your men?’

‘I did, Larry. I understood your motivation. You wanted to be the one to kill Joe Hunter. If killing the others was your way of getting him, so be it.’

Larry stood up. He towered in the shadows of the room, his head almost scraping the ceiling. ‘I killed more than those punks.’

‘Aitken and Wallace? Yes, I guessed that as well. Aitken’s head had been twisted off his shoulders and Wallace had taken a swan dive from the top floor of the restaurant: I didn’t think that was Joe Hunter’s style.’

‘So where does that leave us?’

‘It should leave us as enemies. But, like I said, I don’t want things to be that way between us.’

Larry laughed. ‘Those other assholes you brought in might not have realised that you’re using them, but I’m not stupid. They’re getting killed one by one. When do you plan for me to die?’

‘I’m planning nothing of the sort. The only thing I want is Joe Hunter. He’s embarrassed me, Larry.’

‘Embarrassed you? The motherfucker murdered my little brother!’

‘I want to kill him
personally
.’

Larry shook his head. ‘He’s mine.’

Huffman stood up, as languid as a cat stretching. Larry tensed. Huffman waved him down. ‘Relax, Larry. I want to kill him, but I don’t mind having you along for the ride. We can do this together, but I take the credit.’

‘I rip him to pieces but anyone asks and I tell them it was you?’ Larry’s mouth turned downward as he contemplated Huffman’s offer. It was a win-win scenario if ever he’d seen one. He’d get his revenge, but he didn’t take the fallout for the man’s murder. ‘What’s not to like about that?’

‘No one must ever know the truth, Larry.’

‘Who am I going to tell?’

‘It will mean killing the others.’

‘Grade and Wicker? I don’t mind doing them.’

‘I mean those Hunter has working with him. Someone was out there with a sniper rifle, could even have been two of them judging by the angles of the shots that dropped Souza and Burton. The women will have to die, too.’

‘We’ll kill them all.’

‘But we keep Hunter for last.’

‘Whenever.’ Larry nodded towards the floor. ‘What about your people downstairs?’

Huffman pondered for the briefest of moments. ‘They’ll tell anyone exactly what I tell them to say.’

‘Whatever.’

Huffman reached out a hand.

Larry eyed him quizzically.

‘What’s wrong, Larry? Don’t we have a deal?’

‘We have a deal,’ Larry told him. ‘I’m just checking where the hell you’ve got that damn razor.’

Huffman grinned. ‘That’s why I like you, Larry. Did I ever tell you that you were my favourite?’

‘Yeah, boss, you did.’

They shook on their renewed partnership.

Chapter 40

Pilot Point was deserted as we hit the road in the early hours of the morning. Rink and Harvey were with me in the Windstar, taking up the front seats. Between their large bodies there was little view through the front windscreen. Imogen and Kate were in the back with me, both lost in their own thoughts. Kate had her head on my good shoulder and her soft floral scent made me light-headed. It conjured memories of how we’d spent the last few hours together.

We were heading for DFW Airport to put the women on a plane to Rink’s office in Tampa. Rink had organised protection from a couple of ex-cops he occasionally employed. McTeer and Velasquez were good guys I’d shared a beer with on a couple of occasions. They’d agreed to chaperone the sisters on the return flight, then cover them back in Florida. We were meeting them in a couple of hours, then doing a return journey to take Huffman in his lair.