Death and Deceit (22 page)

Ricardo slammed the cupboard door. “No damn food in there.” Then he
appeared in front of her standing no more than a foot or two away. He then walked to Jessie’s bed. She swallowed dryly. His impressive frame was intimidating, frightening. When he sat, the mattress bounced, sending particles of dust dancing in a thin sun ray that crossed the cabin. He reached across Jessie and grasped the whiskey bottle from the bed stand. He gulped a mouthful then returned it to the stand. His eyes glared into hers. The same brown eyes she’d once thought were so handsome and interesting were now cunning and fierce. His jaw clenched and he wore the look of a hunter, untamed and dangerous.

“Hell, girl. I don’t need this friggin’ whiskey. What am I thinking? You look a
little wild this morning but you still look mighty inviting.” He touched her face with his fingertips and traced along her jaw line past her throat and onto her breasts. His fingers made tiny circles on the material covering her nipples. His breathing grew stronger and he lunged for her, gripping her in his arms. Finding her mouth, he sealed his over hers and kissed her roughly.

Jessie fell back on the bed, Ricardo on top of her. His hands were everywhere,
groping at her breasts, sliding down her front, between her thighs, pressing her legs apart. The force of him almost smothered her, and his whiskey breath was even worse. His hands pressed against her inner thighs and panic swelled inside her, like a rush from a giant ocean wave.

He left her lips and concentrated on working his zipper. He was now straddling her and she found some relief from his weight. Enough relief to give her brain a chance to think. This would be her only chance because he was almost ready now to enter her, to violate her, and she feared he would brainwash her into being his sole possession — forever.

He yanked down roughly on her pants and raised himself above her. For a brief
instant she met his eyes and stared into the depth of a devil’s soul. She could not speak. Her throat constricted and the room spun around her. She looked away; a musty smell clogging her nostrils. Was it the smell of fear? Her breathing quickened and she fought for air, but it didn’t stop her from thinking. Any moment now he’d be inside her, and she was totally helpless to do anything about the situation.

Then, instead he bent over her and began caressing her with his tongue, preparing
the entrance for his arrival. His head was buried between her legs, and Jessie tried feverishly to keep her perspective. She turned away straining her neck to the far right. Her eyes rested on the whiskey bottle. If only he’d drink it, she thought. How she’d like to pour it down his throat. How she...how she could use it, she thought again.

The damp cloth slid off her wrist, as she reached her right arm out to curl her fingers around the neck of the half-filled bottle. Flexing her fingers for a good grip, thoughts of failure flooded her brain. If it didn’t work, if she just didn’t have enough strength, or if he should catch her in the process, it would make matters worse. She had seen his temper before, felt his wrath when he was angry. But how much worse could things get? He was going to rape her. That was about as bad as she could think of, except maybe if he ended up killing her. She thought of Kent’s explanation of concentration and focus to maintain balance and control in his karate. Enough negative thoughts...it was time to focus. Her fingers squeezed. She lifted the bottle quickly then slammed down, driving it into the back of Ricardo’s head.

The crunching sound gave her strength to move, and she bent her knees and
watched him topple off the bed and slide like a snake to the floor. The bottle hadn’t broken but she loosened her grip and let it roll away, liquid trickling out of the long-necked opening in a slow, gurgling way. In a frantic attempt to dress, she yanked up her
pants and made a dive for the pillow on his cot. Deftly, she slid her arm beneath the pillow and gripped the handle of the revolver. It was cold and foreign to her. But she recalled holding it before...the other time, when she couldn’t shoot it, when she gave in to him and lost control. She couldn’t lose control this time, she mustn’t. With the gun trembling in her hand she ran for the cabin door, not daring to look back to see if Ricardo had recovered. She could almost feel him at her heels but was too terrified to turn around and look to see if it was true.

A blast of sunlight struck her face and she raced across the yard, bearing right and
heading for a stand of tall trees in which to hide. Nausea swept through her and she swallowed repeatedly, forcing the bile to return to her stomach. Panic overtook her now.
She couldn’t think what to do next.

The door had barely closed behind her when it flew open again and a crazed, bloody Ricardo staggered into the yard. He stopped as if to get his bearings, rubbed his left hand into the back of his head for a moment then squinted at the rising sun. He looked about, turning left then right, as if considering which way she might have gone.

In the trees, standing stiff and straight behind a large wide fir, Jessie trembled uncontrollably. She feared dropping the gun in her shaking fists and held all the tighter just in case.

“You can’t hide from me, Jessica,” Ricardo roared. “I see you there.”

The timbre in his voice sent her pulse racing. She gulped and swallowed. Damn.
Did he see her? Or was he bluffing? Jessie pressed her back into the tree trunk not daring to move. She had hoped that if he did recover from the blow on the head, he might look for her on the other side of the house giving her the opportunity to escape farther into the woods. Her plan was no longer than that. All she knew was that she was out of his grasp and intended to stay that way.

“So, there you are.” Ricardo appeared like a spectre in front of her, standing no more than twenty-five or thirty feet away. With his hand outstretched, his voice was calm and demanding. “Give me the gun.” When she made no movement, he took a step towards her. “I’m not mad at you for hitting me with the bottle. I understand that you’re not ready to love me yet.” He moved closer, step by step. “Come on, Jessica. I’m tired of chasing after you. Don’t make me lose my patience.”

Jessie’s hands trembled more than ever. She wanted to pull the trigger, to have it
over with. But as hard as she tried, his eyes held her captive and he edged closer, slowly gaining control. With both arms extended to their full reach and the gun pointed at him,
she shouted, “Stay back. Or I’ll...I’ll shoot if you don’t.”

Ricardo’s laugh echoed through the trees. “Oh, Jessica, don’t you remember? We’ve done this before, at the motel. Your hands shook so bad you couldn’t pull the trigger. Remember now?”

His mocking smile turned Jessie’s stomach to jelly. He was so confident, yet so
sick. But he was right too. She had the gun in the motel and she couldn’t fire it. If she didn’t this time, it might be too late to ever get out of his grip. She squeezed the trigger, staring straight into his eyes. But the trembling returned worse than before. His face relaxed, and she realized that he knew she didn’t have the guts.

“Jessica,” he demanded, his voice echoing through the still, morning air. “Drop the gun.”

A noise in the bush behind Ricardo distracted him. Jessie heard it too. It sounded like something falling — a rock maybe, or a small animal jumping and skittering away to safety. How she felt like that. Like a scared animal wishing to just run and run. Ricardo averted his eyes from hers and turned to the sound of the noise.

In that instant of release, the eye contact broken, Jessie found the strength she’d been craving. Her fingers tightened on the trigger and the gun went off. Its explosion echoed and re-echoed through her head.

Ricardo heard the explosion as a force burned into his chest. He gasped, trying desperately to suck air into his failing lungs. He knew the symptoms of a collapsed lung. The pain in his chest now was excruciating. He tried to focus and caught sight of Jessie’s eyes. Their eyes held for a split second, and his terror linked with the terror and disbelief showing in her face.
Ricardo turned ice-cold and felt his legs crumple beneath him. He did not feel the impact upon hitting the earth. He felt only a jarring numbness as he shook spasmodically. His ears filled with a drumming beat like African bongos, and darkness washed over him.

The revolver’s recoil stunned Jessie. She caught her balance in a hazy way, while her stomach seized in a long, chilling shudder ending in her throat with a gut-wrenching need to vomit. A warm numbness gushed through her, and she gulped air in long breaths and waited for her heart to slow down its thumping patter. The pounding of it took away her hearing and made her dizzy. She was only faintly aware that Liz was now standing by her side.

Jessie’s knees buckled and she collapsed into Liz’s reaching arms. Together they
fell to the ground, throwing up debris from the forest floor. The sun streaks, reaching down between the trees, caught the dust-laden air the women had disturbed and held it in full view while the particles sprinkled back to earth.

Jessie raised her head just in time to see Ricardo crashing to the ground. He had
staggered forward, his hand clutching his chest. For a second, his eyes look straight through her. Then they rolled back in his head and his facial expression turned to stone. He slumped forward, veering, then dropped face down. When the air cleared, both Liz and Jessie sat like stone statues staring at the downed man. The woodland turned eerily silent. Then the sound of something scuttling away broke the quiet.

CHAPTER NINE

After Liz had disappeared from view, Kent paced on the hilltop. He glanced at his watch a dozen times then tried his phone again. Still no service. It had been close to three hours since he’d expected police intervention. It was almost a half hour since Liz had gone down the hill. He’d watched her shadowy figure and thought she might repeat their earlier visit by peeking in the window at the back of the house. Instead she went around the left side of the building.

When the sun lit up the valley, he could see the cabin clearer. The roof seemed to be covered with a light limish green moss, and the shingles on the house looked a dirty grey. The cabin tended to slope to one side, as if a sill were rotting underneath. It had not looked too bad inside according to Liz. She’d described the inside as
liveable
during their conversation, while they’d trekked back to the car earlier that morning.

Finally, Kent stopped pacing and made up his mind to go down the hill. For all he knew, for some reason or another, the police might not arrive. Maybe they got lost and the cabin they had in mind wasn’t the same one. It might be up to him to save Jessie before the sicko moved on, taking her farther away from him. It had to stop here. He felt that he was losing all control and that Ricardo would steal Jessie away forever.

From the ridge of the hill, Kent’s eyes had caught a movement below. Squinting into the sunlight he’d seen someone run across the yard from the front of the building. It looked female but because of the sun’s glow and the distance, he hadn’t been sure who it was he saw. Was it Jessie? It sort of looked like her. Or was it Liz trying to hide? Maybe Alvarez had spotted her. Damn. He’d told her to wait. Suddenly another figure crossed the yard. It had to be Alvarez because this figure was very tall. But he walked slowly, almost cautiously. Kent then started down the hill, hurrying, not worrying if he might be seen. Something was going on below and he would have to get involved. If Alvarez was after Liz, then Jessie was alone. If he could sneak in and somehow get the handcuffs off....

Kent was halfway down the hill watching his footing carefully, when he was jarred by a ringing shot echoing in the clear morning air. He broke into a run, stumbling down the hill. The steepness pushed and pulled his legs in uncontrollable revolutions of his alternating feet. When he reached the back of the cabin he pressed against the siding and edged his way around the left corner of the building. Slowly and quietly he made his way to the front entrance. At the open doorway he peered inside, but it was empty. A sun ray played across a whiskey bottle on the floor, but no Jessie.

Kent drew a long breath of exasperation, as he realized it might have been Jessie
who he’d seen crossing the yard, with Alvarez behind her. And the shot? His mind balked from thinking of that. Someone might be down, and he didn’t think with the cop’s experience that it would be him. He decided to take a closer look inside the cabin. He glanced towards the bed with the handcuffs still dangling from it. Thoughts of Jessie tied there sickened him. Her last hours had been spent in agony. But how did she get loose? And did she run then? Did he pursue her and shoot?

Kent peered out the window across from the cot then walked closer. Jessie sat on the ground with Liz next to her, patting her shoulder. His breath escaped in thankful relief. They were okay, but where was...?

Glancing beyond the women, Kent saw Alvarez on his stomach. He was inching
his way forward towards them. No! Towards something in the dirt. Kent sprang from the cabin and streaked around the corner. There was no time to spare.

Ricardo’s hand lay on top of the gun. Then Kent’s foot was on top of both. One kick sent the gun hurling upward, landing somewhere in the bush. Kent grabbed Ricardo’s shoulders and flopped him over, pinning him to the ground. He raised his fist to put Ricardo out but stopped in mid air. Blood gushed from Ricardo’s chest and seeped down the side of his mouth. His eyes were closed and he looked to have passed out.