Authors: Eric Pete

Crushed Ice (22 page)

BOOK: Crushed Ice

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Chapter 46

Arriving back in Dallas, it was all over the news, just as my informant had said. Rather than wire transfers, she preferred cold, hard cash, so I delivered her finder's fee to her Mail Boxes Etc. location as requested.

As far as the media story spun, the poor blind girl who'd been kidnapped had surfaced alive, much to the Metroplex's joy. A great big Texas-sized “Yee-haw” was called for. But every good fairy tale needs a monster.

A friend named Chris Davis, who Collette thought was a good, kind man, became more belligerent and unstable as time went on. This worried Collette, even scared her. She tried calling it off, but he refused, threatening her with bodily harm if she did. After breaking in her apartment and trashing the place, he kidnapped her, holding her for days at a place she couldn't identify. When he left her alone for a moment, she ran for it, succeeding in hitchhiking back home, where she notified the authorities. She was lucky enough to escape with her life, especially since this same person was wanted in connection with the murder of a businessman in the elevator of his apartment complex.

Someone had provided a sketch that was a pretty good likeness of me, too, so law enforcement was asking for leads. I'll be damned. After years of operating in the shadows, I'd made Crime Stoppers. That meant I had to operate around Dallas, the one place I was becoming comfortable as myself, in one of many guises.

No matter, for am I not Proteus, wearer of many forms?

I say that as if I weren't wounded by Collette, but I was. Emotions were my enemy, and had gained the upper hand throughout this entire escapade. Probably from day one, when I was stupid enough to get too close to her. Now, like the moth drawn to the flame, I had to enter it. Face whatever was there.

And see if my wings were fireproof.

After the initial interviews and meeting with the detectives, Collette claimed to simply want her privacy back, and retreated from the public view. She never even gave them my real name, nor mentioned New Mexico. Too many questions, and she was bound to give the wrong answer eventually, which might poke holes in her tale. As well as she'd done me, she still wasn't a pro.

Due to her disability and the media attention, Dallas PD assigned someone to look after her, as I was still on the loose. Despite my anger and conflicted feelings of love and betrayal, I waited patiently over the next several weeks before getting a message in Braille into Collette's hands.

That was the easy part.

The difficult part was figuring which buttons to push on the woman I thought I knew, without winding up on death row for a murder that ironically was self-defense.

For all the wrong I'd done, it would be fitting.

I waited in Bob Jones Park in Southlake, a small town northwest of Dallas, after dark. Saw the lights of the taxi cab as it drove slowly down the wooded trail, the driver no doubt listening to Collette's instructions and wondering if she were crazy. They'd driven from the developed portion of land onto what was essentially a nature preserve. One with only a bare minimum of signage visible for the hikers that ventured out this way.

The cab came to a stop. I could hear the loud voice of the cabbie, probably warning her against getting out . . . especially in her condition. She ignored him and exited the cab, a plume of faint road dust hovering before its headlights.

“Truth, are you here?” she called out. She wore a light-colored sweater and jeans, looking just as beautiful I recalled. A woman I would have died for, now wanting me to meet that very end.

“Yes,” I answered, stepping from out the brush, where I'd been waiting for hours, never quite sure if she would show. The park was named for a freed slave, and heaven knows a slave could hide in here without being found if he chose. If this was a setup on Collette's part, further betrayal not out of the question, I might have a chance to be that rabbit once again, like I was in T or C.

Still inside his car, and with the engine running, the cabbie probably didn't hear me answer. Collette leaned into the open door, thanking him before she shut it. Still not fully exposing myself, I watched her open her collapsible white cane with that customary snap I'd come to know. Fully extended, it seemed to glow by the eerie starlight overhead tonight. Afraid to drive further into the woods, the cabbie instead backed up to return from whence he came.

Besides my location, my instructions in Braille were to have the cab leave for thirty minutes before coming back for her. She'd followed them up to this point, so maybe some trust still existed. With the cab sufficiently backed away, I approached her. My night vision was returning after the bright headlights disappeared.

“Didn't know if you'd come,” I said with a pause, briefly imagining the joy I'd felt back when the two of us were together alone at Elephant Butte back in T or C. I wanted to reach out and take her hand; to put it to my face and introduce myself to her again.

To start anew.

Hi, my name is Truth, and there's a long story behind it. What's yours?

“Why this place?” she asked, swatting at a bug that had landed on her. A large airliner from DFW Airport flew overhead, its engines roaring as it climbed to the heavens.

“Good fishing,” I joked. In a move she couldn't have anticipated, I removed a revolver from under my bright red jacket. “Here. I have a gun. Catch, it's loaded” I said, pitching it underhanded toward her on a hunch.

By starlight, I watched her panic as the notion of it accidentally going off surely ran through her head. She let go of her walking stick. I watched her face track the wayward motion of the heavy object tossed to her.

Then I watched her catch it in both hands, cradling it before bringing it into her body. Much like San Antonio Jackson or Andre Martin would do with a football if either still had a future in the NFL.

She could see.

The final betrayal, one I didn't want to believe despite all I'd learned up to this point.

Collette could fucking see.

“Damn,” I muttered, wanting anything but the truth right now. “You . . . you lied to me.”

“Rather funny coming from you,” she spat, staring me down with unyielding eyes. She righted the revolver, taking aim dead. Even in the dark, the bright red of my jacket was a tempting bull's-eye in the remaining field of black I wore.

“Is that why you lied to the police? Wanted to kill me yourself? That is what you want to do, right? That's why I brought the gun for you. I lied to you. Betrayed you. Now you can finish it.”

“And . . . you . . . deserve . . . to . . . die, you bastard!” Collette said, baring her teeth as she bordered on hyperventilating. “You took away the one person in the world that meant something to me!”

“I'm sorry for that, Collette,” I said, pained as I came to realize that despite the momentary fantasy of the past few months, I never had a chance. As angered as I'd been up to this point, the fact that she wanted me dead no longer mattered.

“No, you're not. Don't ever say that!” I heard the hammer click back as Collette prepared to exact her revenge.

“How'd you know? At least tell me that.”

“Your voice. I'll never forget your voice. It's like a bell ringing in my head every time you speak. You were there when it happened. You were there when Myron blew himself up. You knew. You . . . killed . . . my husband!”

“He did it to himself, Collette. He was cheating on you. I . . . didn't know he'dâ”

“Blow himself up and try to kill me too? What kind of monster are you?”

One that loves you no matter what you think of me.”

“Love? Is that what made you fuck Sophia?
Love for me?
” Collette shot at my feet, clearly coming to terms with what she was going to do. “It sickened me to do the things I did with you. Don't you dare talk to me about love!”

“How long have you been able to see? It couldn't have been this entire time. I saw you. I saw your hospital records.”

“Long enough. It was gradual. Long enough to see your lying face all those times in the bookstore.”

“And you never said anything. Hell, you even slept with me. You kept up this charade for what? For revenge?”

“Hell yes. Wouldn't you? Besides, I wasn't one hundred percent certain the voice I heard was yours. Not until he told me.”

“Who?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“A man,” she replied, sniffling. “I don't know his name. He told me everything about you. Told me how you'd set up Myron. Said you were a manipulator and a liar and that I should be careful .”

“And this led you to set all this up? A stranger? To have Sophia get inside my head then steal from me? To make me think you were dead too? Did you know what that did to me?”

“Fuck you! I wanted to hurt you because you deserve to be hurt! To die on the inside just like I had! You took more from me than my sight, Truth! You are the devil, and there's no cost that I'm not willing to pay!” she screamed, waving the gun at me for emphasis. Distraught, she'd crossed that line, a line I was used to, having pushed many people over it in my life. There was no going back. Only one of us would be leaving here tonight.

“Collette, in spite of all this, I know some part of you loves me too. I do. But I don't blame you for what you must do. I just wanted to make up for things somehow.” I closed my eyes, realizing that she was right.

I didn't know how to love.

“He said you were good at getting inside people's heads. And not to let you,” she rambled. She wiped her eyes again, quickly resuming her aim. I wasn't going anywhere. I owed this much to her.

“Who is this man you keep talking about?”

“I told you I don't know his name. He approached me one day after you started coming around. I never saw him again, until that day back in New Mexico. You were watching him on TV while I pretended to be asleep. I recognized him then. He was talking about Penny Antnee and signing him.”

Jason. He'd betrayed me eight ways till Sunday.

And he'd have the last laugh with me out of the way.

“That man was right to warn you about me. I played with you because I could,” I muttered, giving Collette what she needed rather than what I needed. “Let's get this over with. Do it! Pull the fucking trigger!” I urged.

Collette aimed again as I held my breath, readying myself. But try as she may, she couldn't do it. She was as conflicted as I. I slowly extended my hand to tell her it was all right. Despite what I'd put her through, she wasn't a killer. But I had become one for her, wrongfully thinking myself her avenging angel.

Words were forming in my mouth when a shot rang out. It struck me in the chest, rupturing the fabric of my jacket and dropping me to my knees in searing pain.

As I struggled to breathe, unable to recover, another person joined us. He was walking down the dirt trail taken by the cab earlier, his freshly discharged gun still centered on me. She hadn't lost the Dallas PD cop assigned to watch over her.

He took another shot, knocking me into the dirt. I blanked out for a second, coming to in more searing agony than before and wishing I were already dead.

It was the police officer who'd taken the report of her break-in that day. I tried to will myself to move, hunching up on my arms as I tried to drag myself to safety.

“No!” Collette screamed, second thoughts I imagine at seeing her darkest desire fulfilled. I took some solace in that as I absorbed a brutal kick in my side that sent me rolling over. Spitting up dirt, I looked into the officer's eyes as he stood over me.

“Thank you,” I said, wheezing and gasping to get the words out for my executioner. That was just before he took a final shot at point blank range then, with his foot, rolled me over into the shallow, damp drop-off just within the woodline.

As the two forms standing above me darkened, went blurry then faded away, my last thought was about how proud my mom would have been.

My command performance.

Cue the applause as the curtain closes.

Goodbye, Collette. I hope I've given you in death what I couldn't give you in life: closure.

Chapter 47

“Wake up,” he said for the second time as he slapped my face. As my eyes focused, I expected to see perhaps what the devil looked like. Instead, I saw the man who'd just shot me.

Repeatedly.

The sun was coming up over his shoulder, giving him an unlikely halo.

I tried to speak, unaware of how long I'd been unconscious or how badly I'd been hurt. I could taste the dried blood in my mouth. Officer Kane got me to sit up and gave me an ice cold bottled water from his backpack. I tried to drink too fast and wound up choking and spitting up.

“Easy, easy,” he said as I cleared my parched throat of the excess water. I was surprised he'd returned. As thorough as he'd been, I very well could have died if left out here alone much longer.

“Is . . . she?”

“Yeah. She's back home, man. Couldn't come back sooner because she was too torn up over all this.”

“Torn up? Over me?”

“Well . . . maybe,” he reluctantly admitted. “But she's okay with it now.”

“What . . . did . . . you tell her?” I inquired, wincing in pain with each breath.

“That I needed to go back and dispose of the body. Make sure you weren't found. I told her it was for her own good, which is why I pulled the trigger when she couldn't.”

“You like her, don't you?” I said, forcing a smile as he removed the bright red jacket I wore, exposing the Kevlar vest beneath. I was sure to have a few broken ribs, especially from that last shot he took to my sternum.

“Yeah. I'm feelin' her style.”

“How could you not? She's special. In spite of the mess I've put her through.”

“You still sure about all this?” he asked while assisting me with the removal of my vest. While it was bulletproof, I certainly wasn't. I grimaced as it separated from my tender skin. Deep, deep bruises were evident.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” I answered. “You know I didn't kidnap her, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted, still eyeing me suspiciously. “And I know that dead man on the elevator over in Uptown was self defense. She told me last night. Otherwise I might not be helping you out right about now.” I declined to tell him about Loup Garou, not wanting his code to protect and serve to be blemished any further by the games people play.

“You want a ride? I can't take you far, butâ”

“Nah, I'll walk. The fresh air will do me some good,” I said, hobbling along behind him as I gingerly touched the war wounds covering most of my torso.

“This is it?”

“Yup,” I said, shaking his hand as we came to a clearing where he'd left his police cruiser.

“If I see you again . . .”

“I know. You'll have to do your job. I understand. Now go on. Get outta here.”

I'd approached and met with Officer Kane a few weeks earlier, after finding out which members of Dallas PD were assigned to Collette. He was one of the rare ones to volunteer. Then when I saw his face, I recognized him from the fake break-in at her place. He was the one who chose to stay behind to write the report while the others left. An emotional attachment, he had. An attachment I exploited to hatch this scheme.

Simple.

Collette would get what she needed to move on with her life.

If it were as I feared, I figured she wasn't a good enough shot to aim for my head. I wore the red jacket, thinking that if she really did pull the trigger, it would give her a nice bright target in the dark, especially if her vision wasn't back to one hundred percent. It was a major risk using real bullets, but Officer Kane knew what he was doing. He'd come through where she'd failed.

And in the end, he'd get the girl. That is, if his heart was true and his game was tight. The sum I'd deposited into an offshore account in his name would make for a nice honeymoon gift one day, if I saw the future correctly for them.

Who knows? Maybe I could try my hand at manipulation as cupid for them; to create, rather than destroy.

Appreciating the irony, I chuckled to myself before the rib pain almost brought me to tears.

For Truth was stranger than fiction.

BOOK: Crushed Ice

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