With all Jack had been through in the past seven years the last thing in the world she wanted to hit him with when he returned was a troublesome suitor who, as luck would have it, happened to be a part-time cop. She could visualize how Croop would portray her in his version of events.
The thought crossed her mind that she should confide in Miles about what was happening. But she dreaded the thought of having to admit she had been so foolish as to let Croop into her life.
She knew she had to deal with Croop, and soon. She expected Jack to make an appearance any day and she didn’t want Croop spoiling whatever chance she and Jack might have for a reconciliation.
That she had to deal with Croop was a certainty;
how
she was going to do it remained a mystery.
6
With Jack’s release scheduled for the following day Callie made the decision to confront Croop face to face. Appealing to his sense of decency had so far met with no more success than her repeated demands but maybe seeing him in person she could convince him it was in his own best interest to listen to reason.
She got his number from the phone directory and was about to punch in the numbers when the phone rang in her hand. It was him. She took a deep breath. “I want to see you.”
“Finally, you’re being reasonable,” Croop said.
She detested the cockiness in his voice. “I need to talk,” she said, striving for an authoritative tone. “Nothing more.”
“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
“Thornhill Road, same place as last time. Meet me there.”
“It’ll have to be tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
Damn,
she thought
. By then Jack will probably be here.
“All right. Ten tomorrow morning.”
“I look forward to it.”
Soon after she rang off Miles walked into the living room. “Everythin’ all right?” he asked as he watched her putting the cordless phone back in it’s cradle.
She nodded in the affirmative, rose from her chair, and left the room. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
* *
She arrived at the Thornhill Road location early to give herself time to slow her breathing, get her emotions under control. When she saw Croop’s vehicle in her rearview mirror she got out of the pickup and waited, leaning against the rear fender. She was trembling, a combination of anger and nervousness. She had no clear concept of what this meeting would involve. Another plea for sympathy and understanding was most likely to be unproductive, but what else was left to her?
Croop came to a stop behind the pickup and slowly emerged from his car. She was surprised to see he was in his Colville Police Department uniform, complete with .45 caliber Heckler & Koch on his hip. There was a hint of swagger as he approached her.
“Hello, baby,” he said.
“Don’t call me that,” Callie said. She wanted to sound in control but her demand came out more as a plea.
Croop smiled. “So … you wanted to meet.”
Callie willed herself to calm down. She had rehearsed what she wanted to say. “Look, John, I’m just looking to … I’m asking you to be a friend. I need you to stop calling me. There’s never going to be anything between us, you must know that. Can you please just accept it and move on?”
Croop shrugged. “Well, seeing as how you put it that way, why not?”
For a fraction of a second her hopes rose. Could it be that simple?
“On one condition,” Croop added.
She should have known nothing could be that easy. “Which is?” she asked, dreading his reply.
“One more tussle in the sheets.”
Callie shook her head in disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s up to you,” he responded. “One little toss and it’s the last you hear from me. Guaranteed.”
Callie had not the tiniest bit of confidence that Croop was sincere. It was very plain that she was going to have an ongoing problem with him. Something major had to happen to change that. But what?
Croop crossed his arms across his chest, confidently awaiting her response. “Okay, then,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Well, I’m sure Jack will be very interested to hear what you’ve been up to. When do you expect him exactly?”
His arrogant and self-assured attitude ignited something deep and primitive in Callie. A solution to her problem flittered through her brain. “Where?” she said.
Croop almost laughed at how easy it was to control her. “Fairmont’s good. Why mess with a good thing?”
She felt an almost irrepressible urge to puke. “Fine. I’ll follow you.”
“No, we’ll take my car.”
This was a problem but she knew Croop was in no frame of mind to negotiate. While she grappled with this dilemma Croop stepped in front of her, pressing his body hard against her. He put his lips to her neck, under her ear, at the same time placing his hand between her legs.
Callie’s response, the sudden reactivation of long dormant skills, was swift and precise. She placed her right hand on Croop’s chest and pushed hard, at the same time slipping the gun from his holster with her left hand.
In less time than it took to draw a breath Croop was staring, unbelieving, at his own gun pointed at his chest. “What the hell are you doing?” he stammered as he stumbled back.
It was a good question. One for which she had no good answer.
“I asked you to leave me alone,” Callie muttered, her voice strangely quiet and calm. “I begged you. But you don’t listen. You never listen.”
Croop held out his hands, palms displayed, like he was trying to stop traffic. “Listen, Callie … I get it … okay? I’m out of here. Don’t do something stupid.” There was an undisguised fear in his voice now. Gone was the arrogant bully of a moment before. He was in big trouble and he knew it.
“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” she whispered.
There was no disguising the crazed look in Callie’s eyes. Croop could see she was building up to killing him.
He made a grab for the gun.
What he got was two bullets dead center in his chest. The force of the slugs knocked him a few steps backwards but he was still on his feet. He looked confused as he stumbled forward, finally falling to his knees, and ultimately collapsing face down on the road.
Callie stared at Croop’s corpse for several long moments. There was no mistaking the stillness of death.
Oh my god,
she thought
, what have I done
?
What she had done was kill a cop. And it didn’t matter that he was a part-timer or that he was a scumbag - he was still a cop.
She couldn’t even begin to process the trouble she was in. Her first inclination was to run. Just get in the pickup and drive away as fast as she could. But it didn’t take long to see the absurdity of such a move. She, of all people, knew how easy it would be for Jessup or the state cops to piece together what had happened here.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the downward spiral her life was about to take.
There was only one thing to do and she had to do it quickly.
She took hold of Croop’s arms and dragged him off the road, around his car to the passenger side. It wasn’t easy. She was not the physically powerful woman she once had been, and Croop was not a small man. Somehow she managed to heft him into the back seat.
When done she leaned against the car, running her fingers through her hair, fretfully massaging her temples. She had to clear her mind, to reason out what to do next.
The shell casings
.
She scoured the ground until she found both spent shells and put them in the front pocket of her jeans. There was blood on the road where Croop had fallen but a few handfuls of dirt from the roadside covered them. A little scuffling of her boots obliterated the drag marks. She tossed Croop’s gun and hat into the backseat beside his body.
She got behind the wheel of Croop’s car. If she could get the car and it’s grisly contents out of sight before someone happened along and then make her way back to the pickup fast enough, maybe – just maybe - she could distance herself from all that had happened here. Her plan, if it could be called that, seemed to offer an impossibly remote chance of success but she was in no frame of mind to think of anything better.
There was only one spot nearby where she might be able to hide a car. It was a small copse of trees in a little valley at the most remote corner of a farm just up the road.
Get to that little grove
, she thought.
Then hike back to the pickup. Do these two things without being seen.
She could do this.
All she needed was a little luck.
7
If the shots Callie had fired had happened a little later in the year they probably wouldn’t have drawn anyone’s attention. But in this part of Maine hunting season was ten days off. If you were foolish enough to try getting the season off to an early start there were plenty of people who would report you for it.
Mitch Fuller was just finishing his mid-morning coffee when he heard the two shots that ended John Croop’s life. Soon after, he placed a call to the Colville Police Department.
Madge took the call and passed it along to Fordham. Jessup was out of the office on another matter.
“Officer Fordham.”
“This is Mitch Fuller, out on Thornhill Road.”
“Yes, Mr. Fuller. What can I do for you?”
“I just heard a couple shots near my place. Sounds like somebody’s getting a head start on hunting season. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Okay, thank you, sir. We’ll look into it.”
“Anything important?” Madge asked.
“Probably not. Gonna take a run out to Thornhill Road. Mitch Fuller reported hearing gunshots. Anything urgent comes up before the Chief comes in, give Croop a call.”
“The Chief already called him last night to confirm he should come in this afternoon. Friday night and all.”
“Okay then. Later.”
“Be careful out there.”
“Always am,” Fordham responded. He donned his hat, grabbed the keys to his department cruiser and strode out.
As fate would have it the little valley with the grove of trees that Callie had in mind for hiding Croop and his car just happened to be located on Mitch Fuller’s land. The road Callie took was located on the southernmost border of his property which meant, for the most part, it remained out of Fuller’s sight. But his curiosity had been aroused by the shots he’d heard. He was pretty sure they had originated from somewhere southwest of his home and that could very well mean whoever fired them was either on his property or damn close to it. He decided that rather than wait for Fordham to show up he’d take a little look around on his own. He got in his pickup and, within two minutes, had spotted a car on the road separating his farm from the old Crandall place, and going like hell, too.
He took chase.
Callie spotted Mitch Fuller’s truck beating a path in her direction.
Oh,
Jesus
, she groaned.
Shit, shit, shit
. She was nearly frantic. What the hell was she going to do now? There seemed little point in stopping to confront Fuller so she kept her foot hard to the gas pedal. A moment later she slid to a stop in the little grove of trees that had been her destination and waited for Fuller to reach her. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do when he got to her.
It didn’t take long. Before she had been able to formulate any kind of plan Fuller had pulled to a stop ten yards behind her. She watched in her rearview mirror as Fuller got out of his truck and cautiously approached her. Her heart sank even lower when she saw he was pointing a twelve gauge shotgun in her general direction.
“You in the car,” he called out. “What the hell you think you’re doin’?”
Callie slowly emerged from Croop’s vehicle, her hands in clear sight. “Mitch,” she called out in answer, “it’s Callie. Callie Parmenter.”
“Callie?” Fuller lowered the shotgun. “Geez, girl, what’s goin’ on?”
Callie walked toward Fuller with her only thought to keep him from seeing Croop’s body folded up in the back seat of his car. “Mitch … there’s been a problem … um, I don’t uh …”
“You alright, Callie?” Fuller was bewildered and it showed. “Say, ain’t this John Croop’s car?” He continued past Callie and peered through the driver’s side window.
Callie stood nervously behind Fuller and watched as his mind grappled with the sight of Croop’s bloodied corpse. “Oh, Lord,” he groaned. “What … what the hell happened here?”
Without any more thought than she had given to shooting Croop, Callie snatched Fuller’s shotgun from his grip. As he watched in horror she brought the shotgun barrel up and pointed it at his chest.
Fuller turned as white as a bed sheet and raised his arms skyward.
“You shouldn’t have looked in the car, Mitch,” Callie mumbled. “You should have minded your own business.”
“Listen … whatever happened here,” Fuller choked, “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Let’s---”
“Be quiet. Don’t talk.”
Fuller swallowed a large lump in his throat. “Callie … I called the police when I heard them shots. Fordham is on his way out here right now.”
Callie had known Mitch Fuller for twenty years. Had known his late wife and his three kids, too. He was a decent enough guy as far as she knew. But he now stood in the way of her freedom; he was a problem that needed to be eliminated.
She pulled back the hammer on the twelve gauge.
“Callie, what are you doing?” Fuller stammered. “Please …” He backed away from her with a stricken look on his face.
At that moment they heard a vehicle turning off Thornhill Road, then bumping along the rough driveway up to Fuller’s farm.
Fordham.
Protected in the gulley as they were, they remained out of sight.
“If you make a sound,” Callie threatened, “I’ll kill you. Then I’ll have to kill RJ, too.”
Fuller had absolutely no idea what had gotten into this woman’s head but he didn’t doubt for a second that her threat was real. He nodded solemnly, held his breath, and recited a silent prayer.
A quick look confirmed Fuller’s truck was gone but Fordham knocked on the front door anyway and called out, “Mr. Fuller, you there? Officer Fordham here… Mr. Fuller?”
Fordham tried the door. Locked. He walked around back. He saw nothing unusual and certainly no signs of trouble. He got back in his cruiser and drove back onto the main road. Once there he drove the quarter mile or so until he was opposite the blue pickup. Miles Wilson’s rig if he wasn’t mistaken. He got out, walked across the road, and glanced inside the cab. Everything appeared normal enough. It was a little odd that the vehicle had been left out here with the keys in it but it certainly wasn’t breaking any laws that he knew of. He got back in his vehicle and drove back to town.
By the time Fordham got to the office, Jessup had arrived.
“How’d it go out there?” Jessup asked. “Madge tells me Mitch Fuller reported hearing some shots out by his place.”
“Didn’t see anybody out there. Mitch wasn’t home when I stopped in to talk to him.”
Jessup looked surprised at this. “That’s a little strange. By the way, you heard anything from Croop?” he asked.
“No,” Fordham answered. “Why?”
“I talked to him yesterday to confirm he was supposed to come in around noon today. He hasn’t showed up and Madge says he’s not answering his phone. You want to stop over to his place and see if eveything’s okay?”
“Sure, Chief.” Fordham did a one eighty, left the office, and drove off.
Madge stood at the door to Jessup’s office. “It’s almost one o’clock, Chief. Mind if I grab some lunch?”
“No, you go ahead.” Jessup sat back in his chair, propped his feet up on his desk, and lit a smoke.
Not long after that, Fordham called. “No sign of Croop or his car, Chief,” he reported.
Jessup took a contemplative pull on his cigarette. “What the hell?” he muttered. Croop was generally a pretty reliable guy.
No sooner had he hung up the phone than Jack Parmenter arrived to report his wife was missing.