Donovan Creed 11 - Because We Can! (11 page)

18.

YOU PROBABLY WANT to know what happened after Jill pulled her pants down and made her very persuasive argument in favor of saving the United States from a despicable reign of terror. I’d like to tell you, but some things are better left unsaid.

Take what you know about me, and believe the best or worst. The issue was pretty simple: be faithful to Callie or protect the United States from terrorism.

What would
you
have done? Would
you
agree to a last fling with an incredibly sexy person in order to catch a dangerous terrorist? Or would you say, “I’m in love, and being unfaithful even one time—for any reason—is too much to ask. Especially if it means hurting the person I adore.”

In a perfect world, people would always do the honorable thing. But which is more honorable: being faithful to my girlfriend or being faithful to my country?

It’s best you don’t know what happened next. Don’t you agree?

19.

I’M JUST FUCKING with you.

I’d never keep you in the dark. We’ve been together too many years for that. I’ll tell you what happened, as I always do, and take my chances on whether you like me more, or less, after knowing the details.

So Jill pulled her pants down…

…And I was very respectful, meaning I waited for her to remove her pants completely before responding. In the spirit of full disclosure, I will confirm she removed her panties, as well.

I can honestly say at that moment I had no intention of having sex with Jill, but neither was I insensitive to her feelings. In other words, I allowed her to remove her top, since that appeared to be her sincere wish.

I wasn’t completely without restraint. I said, “Feel free to keep your high heels on.”

With everyone out of the car except the two of us, there was plenty of room for Jill to lie down on the side seat, on her back, with her legs bent, spread wide apart.

“You make a great case for infidelity,” I said, “and you’ve given me the closest thing to a last fling I’ll ever have. But—”

“You can’t find it in your heart to make love to me?”

“No. But if it matters, a week ago I’d have been all over you like whiskers on a Robertson.”

“Will you watch me?”

“Uh…you don’t mean…?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Quick question before you start?”

“Go ahead.”

“From a woman’s point of view, if I watch you, would I be cheating?”

“No.”

“Can you give me a little more to go on?”

“You’re killing the mood here, Donovan. You know that, right?”

“Sorry.”

She sighs. “For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re home, and you look out the window and see a dog licking its pussy.”

“There’s a visual I wasn’t expecting.”

“The dog was going to lick it whether you watched or not, right?”

“Right.”

“So that’s not cheating. On the other hand, if you go outside and lick the dog’s pussy, that would be cheating.”

“Thanks for clearing that up.”

“May I continue?”

“Why not? I’m just in my home, looking out the window.”

I can understand how some among you might think that watching Jill pleasure herself is akin to cheating. But did I touch her?

No.

Did I encourage her?

No.

Am I
required
to discourage her?

That’s the question.

I thought of lots of examples why it wasn’t cheating to watch Jill murmur and moan and move around on the seat a few feet in front of me, pelvis gyrating, breasts undulating softly to the rhythmic rise and fall of her hips….

I thought about how the gift of eyesight is one of life’s greatest treasures, and one that should be enjoyed to the fullest extent. I mean, who among you could turn away from a gorgeous sunset, an adorable baby, or a litter of newborn puppies? If these glorious views were placed before you by the gods of chance, wouldn’t you be well within your rights to gaze and marvel at them?

Of course you would. So why should pussy be any different?

I’m not talking about viewing porn, or frequenting strip clubs. That’s proactive viewing. In other words, there’s a difference between chasing tornadoes and being home when a tornado strikes. If you’re chasing pussy, you’re cheating. I get that. But if pussy happens to strike less than five feet away, through no fault of your own, how can you be criticized for looking at it, any more than if a cute puppy suddenly came into view?

You love puppies, I love pussy. Which of us is worse?

You are.

Here’s why: If you were sitting in my limo and a cute puppy happened to pop out of Jill’s pants, you’d have your hands all over that pup within seconds. But when Jill’s pussy popped out I never touched it once.

So run and tell that, homeboy.

But don’t tell Callie, okay?

20.

Callie Carpenter
.

I MUST BE slipping
, Callie thinks, as she turns her car around and heads back to Kathleen’s house.

In a million years she wouldn’t have thought Kathleen would call Creed after being warned. Is the bitch really that stupid?

When Callie left Kathleen’s house less than 20 minutes ago, Kathleen was pretty docile. But as she thought about Callie’s visit, and what transpired, she must have gotten all worked up. The more she thought about it, the angrier—and braver—she became. She probably decided to tell Creed the whole story, and trusted him to protect her from Callie’s wrath.

On the way back to Kathleen’s house, Callie takes a moment to consider the consequences. With Kathleen dead, Addie will be placed in foster care. That’s not such a bad thing. Callie and Creed will do the research and find the best foster parents in the state.

But no. Addie deserves better.

Adoption’s better.

Callie will make sure Addie gets adopted. She’ll also set up a trust for Addie’s education, medical expenses, and anything else she could ever want or need.

Problem solved.

Callie speeds up. She needs to get there before Kathleen leaves to fetch Addie from her friend’s house.

Ten minutes later, at the edge of Kathleen’s neighborhood, Callie parks her car, dons a hooded warm up jacket, and jogs to the house behind Kathleen’s. She cuts through the yard and makes her way to Kathleen’s garage, to the window she unlocked during her previous visit. She climbs inside, then calls Kathleen.

“Hello?”

“It’s Callie.”

“What do you want?”

“Are you still home?”

“No. I’m on my way to pick up Addie.”

What a lying bitch! Her car’s right here in the garage!

“Where are you, specifically?” Callie says. “I can meet you somewhere.”

“I have to go.”

She hangs up, and Callie hears her rushing through the house, toward the door that leads to the garage. Callie stuffs her phone in her back pocket, gets into position beside the door. When Kathleen rushes out, Callie grabs her by the arm and flings her to the floor. Kathleen screams, tries to scramble to her feet, but Callie gets a knee in her chest, and a thumb and forefinger on her throat.

Kathleen wants to speak, but can’t. Her eyes are wide, pleading.

Callie says, “You knew what would happen. You’ve orphaned your daughter.”

21.

THERE’S NOTHING CALLIE would like more than to tie this bitch up, strip her naked, and skin her alive. She’d give anything to make Kathleen suffer a long, slow death.

But Creed would know. He’d inspect her corpse and know she’d been tortured.

Moments ago she and Creed were talking about how one of the most humiliating things you can do to a cop is pull his pants down in public and write a message on his ass.

Assuming you don’t want to physically harm him.

That’s the difference, of course. Callie
does
intend to harm Kathleen. But can she torture her and somehow shift the blame?

Decker might be a good scapegoat. He obviously has some sort of connection to Creed. If he knows about Creed’s ancestors, he surely knows about Kathleen.

What if Callie tortures Kathleen and writes BWC on her ass with a grease pen? Would Creed buy it?

Would Kathleen even
have
a grease pen?

Of course she would. She’s a school teacher.

But there’s a problem. Decker hasn’t killed any civilians yet, so the crime wouldn’t fit the pattern. Because of that, if Kathleen’s death involves torture, Creed might suspect Callie. Much as she hates the idea, she needs to kill Kathleen quickly, and stage a robbery. A rape would be better, but where’s a girl going to find a penis when she needs one?

She releases her grip on Kathleen’s throat long enough to hear her blubbering something about her baby, but mostly she’s trying to wriggle free of Callie’s grip. That’s not going to happen. Callie has years of fighting experience, and Kathleen’s a frumpy school teacher.

“I warned you,” Callie says. “I
warned
you!”

“
Please
!” Kathleen says. “We had a deal!”

“We did. But you fucked me over.”

“It wasn’t
me
! It was—”

Callie grips Kathleen’s head with both hands and smashes it against the floor. It feels so good she does it again. And again and again till the back of Kathleen’s head bursts like a ripe mellon.

On the floor, three feet away, Kathleen’s cell phone rings.

The dial lights up. Callie sees a photo of Addie, who’s trying to call her mom. Was, in fact, dialing her mom’s number the very moment she was being murdered.

Callie feels a pang of remorse because Kathleen’s death means Miranda Rodriguez—the mother of Creed’s child—gets to live.

Which means she and Callie will be working together in a few short months.

Shit
!

None of this would have happened if Kathleen hadn’t called Creed. Why the fuck did she call him? They had a deal.

She stands and strips, enters Kathleen’s house, takes a quick but thorough shower, picks out one of Kathleen’s frumpy outfits, puts it on, and spends 15 minutes staging the crime scene. She puts her own bloody clothes in a plastic kitchen bag, climbs out the garage window, and walks to her car.

As she unlocks the car door it suddenly hits her.

Kathleen’s cell phone will show she accepted a call from Callie’s phone!

The phone call will have bounced off the nearest cell tower, and the cell phone record will place Callie right smack in the middle of the crime scene. The cops wouldn’t know, of course, because her phone’s encrypted. But Creed and his geeks would know.

How could she be so stupid?

More importantly, how can she fix it?

For starters, she needs to gain possession of Kathleen’s cell phone. The cops could still obtain the records, but that will take time. And Callie only needs a few hours to locate and blow up the cell tower.

She hurries back to Kathleen’s garage, but finds an empty spot where Kathleen’s phone should be. She doesn’t go crazy, searching all through the garage and house like some maniac. She doesn’t do that because she knows she never touched the phone. And because she saw it a few minutes ago while staging the crime scene.

She’s well aware someone took it.

But who?

Her own cell phone rings.

She pulls it from her back pocket, checks the screen, recognizes the caller.

It’s Kathleen.

She glances at Kathleen’s body.

The caller’s clearly not Kathleen. But it
is
her cell phone.

Callie answers.

“Miss Carpenter, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“Who
is
this?”

“Ryan Decker.”

“What do you want?”

“Right down to business. I like that.”

“Like you said, you caught me at a bad time.”

“Very well, I’ll get straight to the point. I want you to join my urban army.”

“In return for?”

“Keeping your secret.”

“About?”

“Meeting with Kathleen today. And killing her just now.”

Callie frowns. “Call me back in ten minutes.”

Decker says, “You’re hanging
up
on me? Seriously?”

22.

CALLIE HANGS UP on Decker and searches the garage till she finds the pinhole camera. She rips it out, shoves it in her pocket. She’d like to search the house, but knows her time is limited. The lady keeping Addie will eventually show up, or have a neighbor check to see if Kathleen’s home.

Callie goes to the kitchen, searches the drawers till she finds an indelible marker. It’s not a grease pen, but it’ll get the job done. She carefully approaches Kathleen’s corpse, taking great pains not to step in the pooled blood.

Kathleen’s lying on her back.

That’s good because Callie can unbutton her jeans and pull her pants and panties to her knees. But it’s also bad news, because she’s been dead long enough that the coroner will be able to tell she was turned over long after the murder.

Wait. Could that work to her advantage? Maybe it’ll convince the cops there was more than one perpetrator, or that the crime scene was contaminated by a second person thirty minutes after Kathleen’s death. It might create loose ends that could send the investigation in a number of different directions.

Another good thing is the blood has pooled around Kathleen’s head, and not so much beneath her torso. By working slowly and carefully, Callie should be able to flip her onto her stomach without getting blood on her own clothes—meaning the clothes she stole from Kathleen.

She pulls Kathleen’s pants and panties down to her ankles and stares at her crotch for a full minute, especially the area Creed calls her vertical smile. What she’s thinking, Creed’s been here. He’s spent many happy hours in this bronze-tufted triangle, and liked it. And because he enjoyed it so much, Kathleen’s dead.

And there’s a video somewhere that proves Callie killed her.

And Ryan Decker has it.

She stares at Kathleen’s crotch some more and starts fuming. It’s all she can do not to mutilate her. Of course Kathleen would be stupid enough not to notice the hidden cameras, and of course Decker saw and recorded everything. The meeting this afternoon, her threats, their kissing…

Is Callie slipping? Should she have thought to check for cameras?

No.

There was no reason to suspect this mundane school teacher had been targeted by Decker, or anyone else. And Callie knew nothing about Decker till this morning.

It just happened.

She keeps her cool, figures she’ll deal with Decker when he calls, and do all she can in the meantime to mitigate her mistakes. She starts by flipping Kathleen facedown, so she can write BWC on her ass.

Except that…when she flips her over she sees…
Kathleen already has BWC written on her ass
!

With a grease pen.

But how?

Callie thinks a minute. Kathleen died on her back. Decker couldn’t have turned her over to write on her ass after the fact. If he had, Kathleen’s forehead and face would have been smeared with blood.

And they weren’t.

He wrote BWC on her ass
before
she died. Which means he was in Kathleen’s house when Callie killed her. He must have paid Kathleen a visit after Callie left the first time. Then wrote on her ass and forced her to call Creed, hoping Callie would come back to kill her.

Decker set them up. Orchestrated the whole thing. Delivered Kathleen to her death. Not that it matters now, but Kathleen may have intended to stick to their deal, which means Decker’s a formidable foe. He tricked Callie, used her, and now he owns her.

Callie’s phone rings.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Decker says. “And I’ve lost my video feed to Kathleen’s garage. Any idea how that happened?”

“Why did you write BWC on her ass?”

“You found that? Good for you. I did it to prove I’m willing to take credit for her death if I have to. And I will, if you agree to work with me.”

“What would I have to do?”

“Two things. First, agree to never help find or kill me. Second, convince Creed to accept my demands.”

Callie pauses. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you know I could use this against you in so many ways.”

“Why aren’t you?”

Decker laughs. “After seeing you naked on camera just now, it was extremely hard not to demand sex.”

“Why didn’t you? I would have done it.”

“I know. But please don’t say that again, because I find you stunningly attractive, and it’s already eating me alive. Not taking advantage of you is something I’ll probably regret for a long time.”

“Well, if it means anything, I appreciate it. Very much.”

He pauses. “It means a lot, Miss Carpenter. Please know I have the utmost respect for you and Mr. Creed, and have no desire to blackmail you or harm your chances for happiness. For me this is about the money, nothing more.”

“Since you broached the subject, how much are you demanding?”

“Don’t laugh. A billion dollars.”

“That seems awfully high for a guy who writes graffiti on people’s asses.”

“I agree. Which is why I need your help getting Creed to say yes.”

“Creed will do what he thinks is right.”

“Of course. But if he happens to ask your advice?”

“I’ll tell him to pay the money.”

“Good girl. And the other part?”

“I’m in. You have my word. I won’t help them find or kill you.”

“Good.”

“What’s your backup plan?”

“If Creed says no, I’ll have to take my case to the public. Unfortunately, lives will have to be lost before the media takes me seriously.”

“Of course. So. What happens now?”

“After you leave, my people will hustle over to Kathleen’s garage and clean the crime scene.”

“And the body?”

“—Will never be found.”

“And her cell phone?”

“—Is already in your rental car.”

“And the cell tower records?”

“Hopefully you can do something about that. But the tower itself will be gone by midnight.”

“And the videos you made of me and Kathleen?”

“I hope you’ll understand why I need to keep those.”

“Insurance.”

“Exactly. If something happens to me, the tapes will go public around the world. But please believe that will never happen unless you go back on your word.”

“I believe you.”

“Thanks. That also means a lot to me.”

Callie finds Kathleen’s cell phone in the console of her rental car. She removes the battery, puts it in her handbag, and checks into a different hotel, using a name and ID Creed has never heard of. She changes clothes, leaves the hotel, drives a few miles, tosses the clothes she borrowed from Kathleen into a dumpster. Then she drives back to the hotel, goes to her room, orders room service. While waiting for her dinner to arrive, she puts the battery back in Kathleen’s phone and investigates the contents. Sees the photos of Addie she expected to find. Checks the text messages, finds nothing strange or unusual. She hooks the phone up to her computer, runs a scan on the deleted photos, and sees something that turns her world upside down.