Slash and Burn (7 page)

Sitting down, Huffman replaced the razor with his cigar. The ash miraculously still clung to the tip. He seemed amused by that. Behind him, the barrel-chested man exhaled deeply, a finger searching his face for damage. Huffman ignored him. ‘Just like our friend here, Larry Bolan is a handy tool. Without Trent, we don’t have Larry; it’s as simple as that.’

‘You still trust Larry to get the job done?’ Wallace asked. ‘After what’s just happened?’

‘I do.’ A smile grew. ‘In fact, what happened to him is just the motivation he needs.’ Huffman turned his head to regard the barrel-chested man again. ‘Plus, I’m bringing in some extra help. All I ask is that you keep to our agreement and have your people looking the other way. Otherwise you – and your family – will be surplus to requirements.’

The man nodded quickly.

‘Extra help?’ Wallace’s face turned sour. ‘How much is that going to cost us?’

‘Not a fraction of what it’ll cost if we don’t find Ballard.’ Huffman reached lazily for the ashtray on Wallace’s desk. He was inches short of it when the ash finally fell and landed on the prospectus Wallace had been studying prior to his arrival. Huffman smiled at Wallace’s frown. He tapped the folder and the stylised image on its cover. ‘Do you want to give up everything for the sake of a few bucks?’

Little Fork was a town in a state of re-emergence. Like a chrysalis, it was being transformed from within. It could turn out one of two ways: incredibly beautiful, or incredibly ugly.

The town had once been the abode of coal miners who worked the local pits. Their method was unusual, digging horizontally into the mountaintops in a way particular to this region. But the pits had died a generation ago, and Little Fork had barely resisted becoming an abandoned ghost town like so many others. Tourism had saved it. It was on the Kentucky Wild Rivers map, so had benefited from the holidaymakers swarming into the state in search of some white water action. At the end of the 1990s the population had barely reached two thousand, but now, a decade later, it was ten times that and growing. Hotels had sprung up, shopping malls, a multi-screen movie theatre, restaurants, and, to serve the growing population, huge tracts of land had been acquired in order to build new homes. In line with the magnitude of growth massive amounts of money could be made by those in a position to reap the bounty. And therein lay the ugly underbelly of Little Fork’s transformation. Because where there was big money to be made, there was always the potential for violence. And murder. And a man like Huffman wan’t averse to doling it out if anything got in his way.

Robert Huffman wasn’t a native of Little Fork, Kentucky. He had been born and raised elsewhere. He had arrived here three years ago, an investor in the growing town. He had thrown millions of dollars into Little Fork’s rejuvenation, but its return had already topped billions. He was sitting on a treasure trove and he certainly wasn’t going to lose it all because of one interfering bitch. Or his accomplices’ reluctance to spend a few bucks.

‘My people will be here tomorrow,’ he said, standing up and signifying that the meeting was over. To the barrel-chested man, he added, ‘They’ll be eager to get started, so make sure you keep out of their way. They don’t like your type.’

Chapter 10

First order of the day was to find somewhere safe to hide while we decided our plan of action. When we arrived from Florida, we’d booked rooms at a hotel at the airport. We couldn’t go back there: too obvious. Instead, we found a motel on the outskirts of Little Fork and I paid for a single room out of cash in my pocket. The small, greasy man who checked us in weighed up Kate, put two and two together and got his sums all wrong. He gave me a knowing look, then an exaggerated wink as I led Kate out.

‘He thought I was a hooker,’ Kate huffed as I unlocked the door to the room. She glanced down at her clothing, a small crease knitting her brows. ‘Do I look like a whore to you, Joe?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

She sniffed back a further complaint – probably at my ill-concealed lie – then pushed by me to go inside. There were a number of new motels and hotels in the area, but this one had been around for a while. It was just the kind of place you could rent by the hour. Our room was third along in a row of a dozen. I chose the place because it was off the beaten track, not for its star rating. It was small, little more than a box with a bathroom tacked on the side, but looked clean enough. The place would do for the few hours we’d be spending there.

‘There’s only one bed,’ she announced. ‘Where the hell are
you
going to sleep?’

‘Didn’t plan on sleeping,’ I said, as I tucked the Magnum under the mattress for safe keeping.

Kate tilted one hip to the side and threw back her shoulders. Bit the tip of her tongue. ‘We’ve only just met, Mr Hunter. I hope that jerk at the front counter hasn’t given you any ideas?’

I didn’t answer. Just stood there looking. Damn it if she didn’t look great.

Kate came towards me and laid her hand on my arm. I could feel her warm fingers through the material of my jacket. Her eyes were sparkling. She’d just survived a terrifying ordeal, realised her life had been at risk, and it had been me who’d saved her. She was glad to be alive. I could see that she wanted to share the feeling. I’d seen this response to life and death situations before; it was generally misguided. On tiptoes she reached up and kissed me on the lips.

When I didn’t return the kiss, she retreated. I saw colour creep into her cheeks. I’d tried to save her from embarrassment later on down the line, but all I’d done was embarrass her now.

‘We had to keep up appearances, Kate. I registered us as a couple. It would’ve looked odd if I’d then asked for separate rooms. But don’t worry, once the door’s closed we can drop the charade.’

‘Charade?’

‘This,’ I said, touching a finger to my lips. ‘There’s no need.’

Her face lit up with humour. But it was an act. She was humiliated and wanted to cover the shame.

‘It was only a kiss, Joe,’ she said. ‘Don’t read anything into it. It was just to say thanks.’

I lifted a hand. ‘There’s no need.’

‘Yes, you’ve already made that clear.’ The playfulness fell off her like a discarded cloak. She sat down on the protesting bed, flung down her purse, and looked at me with fire in her eyes. ‘It would do you good to lighten up and have a little fun, Joe. Instead of being so goddamn uptight all the time.’

Her comment took me back. Uptight?

‘I’m trying to keep us alive, Kate.’

‘Who’d want to live if they were as wound up as you are?’ she snapped.

Dumbfounded, I turned slowly away. ‘I’d best go and move the Dodge. Keep the door locked until I come back, OK?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, flicking me a salute. Then she stood quickly and walked to the bathroom. The door slammed. I could hear her muttering to herself right through the door.

What the hell is eating her? I wondered. I’d tried saying the honourable thing and for some reason it had backfired on me. It was so much like my married life that it actually brought a nostalgic smile to my face. Then I recalled what day it was and the smile slipped away.

I stepped out into a biting wind.

The motel was anonymous enough, but, as Kate had earlier pointed out, the Dodge Ram with its customised paint job would bring the bad guys down on us in no time. I fired it up then drove a mile through town to another motel. I parked the Dodge under some trees so that it was blocked from the highway – making it look like we’d attempted to conceal the vehicle – but not so well hidden that it wouldn’t be discovered. It was better for us if the bad guys wasted time staking out that motel than searching for us at ours. Then I headed back to the first motel on foot. On the way, I stopped off at a convenience store and purchased some snacks and juice. At the last second I added a large bar of chocolate to my groceries – a peace offering for Kate.

Out of the shop I found myself an empty doorway. Pulling out my cell phone, I rang my friend Rink.

‘What the hell have you said to Kate to piss her off so much?’ he asked me.

‘She’s already called you, then?’

‘Yup,’ Rink said in his anomalous Arkansas drawl. ‘Passed me details of a vehicle you want me to look at. Then she started in on me about you. What’s got her all bowed up?’

‘Beats me. I was just being my normal self.’

‘Right. Nuff said.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Cool as ice is OK, but not all the time, Hunter.’

‘I’m not always like that.’

‘No, sometimes you’re in a foul mood.’ He chuckled. ‘She’s a fine-looking woman, don’t you think?’

‘For a cop?’

‘Ah, she told you, then? Didn’t think it would matter, buddy. Not seeing as who she is.’

‘Can’t believe she’s Jake Piers’ little sister.’

‘Me neither. He was one ugly son of a bitch,’ Rink said. ‘I guess he got all the ugly genes and there was none left by the time Kate came along.’

‘She’s beautiful,’ I agreed.

My silence afterwards was perhaps a beat too long.

‘You got a thing for her, Hunter?’

‘No.’

He laughed at my blatant lie. ‘She likes you, buddy. There’d be nothin’ wrong if you felt the same. You don’t have to stay a monk the rest of your life.’

‘I can’t let things distract me, Rink. You know that. I start paying attention to her pretty face, I miss the gun pointing at her head.’

‘Things getting out of hand up there?’

I told him what had happened at Imogen’s house and on the drive back to town. Four men dead already and we still had no idea who we were fighting or what had become of Imogen.

‘You want me to come up?’

‘Not yet. You need to be in Tampa. If you fail to show up at court, the judge might throw the case out.’

Rink was tied up with the trial of Rupert Heavey. He had spent a month gathering evidence that showed Heavey was a key player in the acquisition and supply of underage girls to the porn movie industry. There was a suggestion that Heavey tried the girls out himself. Rink’s good work had closed down Heavey’s outfit, and was set to put the sick-minded bastard behind bars. We couldn’t jeopardise the trial with a no-show of the key witness.

‘I’m hopin’ that I’ll be called to the stand tomorrow. Soon as I’m done I’ll head up your way.’

‘I’ll keep you posted. Don’t know where we’ll be this time tomorrow. If you can get me the name of the owner of the Dodge, it could lead us anywhere.’

‘OK, leave it with me.’

‘Thanks, Rink.’

‘No problem, man. You keep safe, y’hear? An’ take care of that pretty face of Kate’s.’

‘I get the message, Rink. It’s OK to look when there are no guns pointing at her, right?’

‘There’s hope for you yet.’

I hung up and lifted my sack of groceries. When I set off walking again things seemed a little better. Rink was right – as usual. It did no harm to appreciate Kate for the beautiful woman she was. I was a free spirit now. It was two years since my divorce from Diane, so I wasn’t beholden to her any more. The problem was, it was also eighteen years to the day since we’d married. Something like that takes some getting over.

I was mulling that thought over when I heard the roar of an engine. Instinct made me snatch at the SIG beneath my shirt-tails and I came close to drawing and firing at the clutch of men on the back of the pick-up truck. Instead I merely hung my head and concentrated on keeping hold of my grocery sack. Anyone who’d looked me in the face was already dead. I doubted any of the men on the back of the pick-up would see anything more than a guy on his way home from the store.

As they passed I took a look at the men on the back. They were young hot-bloods. If they weren’t hunting me through the woods they’d likely be sitting round swilling beer and heckling the local cops. The two inside were older, but they had the same look as their younger friends, only a little more grizzled and world-weary. Not one of them looked my way.

The thought of following the vehicle to wherever they were heading skipped through my mind, but the feasibility of following on foot was laughable. The image they portrayed, I guessed that they were familiar faces in town, so I decided to wait. I could always ask around later.

Then I saw the two dark SUVs coming towards me.

The first SUV was banged and scraped all along the side: the one I’d barged out of the way when breaching their roadblock.

The second of the vehicles would still contain the blood and brain matter of the two I’d shot and I wondered who was so desperate that they’d drive such a vehicle back. Of course, there was at least one man who didn’t have a ride: the big guy I’d pistol-whipped, then stolen his truck.

The second SUV was slowing as it neared me. The man had never seen my face, so I wasn’t concerned that he was slowing down because he’d recognised me. Maybe he was simply looking for someone to vent his frustration on. Adjusting my bag of groceries, I quickly dipped a hand under my jacket and pulled free the SIG. Concealing the weapon behind the bag, I continued walking.

The SUV was almost parallel with me now. It was now travelling at a crawl and the driver had sent it over the central markings so that it headed directly for me. My pulse picked up exponentially. My finger tightened on the trigger.