Skin Dancer (38 page)

They were halfway down the stairs when Rachel heard footsteps in the foyer. She pressed Jake against the wall. “Stay here.”

“No.” He tried to hold her.

“Stay here!” She eased away from him. She'd tied her dog bite with strips of Frankie's clothes. The pressure helped, but each step was painful. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she looked for the hand rake, but it was gone.

She slipped past the dining room and the kitchen. At the foyer, where she had a clear view of the parlor, she stopped. Dilson was tied in a straight–backed chair. Frankie sat on the edge of the sofa, watching him. She held a tape recorder and the rake.

“Tell the truth, Harvey. I want to record it in your own words.”

“Fuck you.”

“That's not a nice way to speak to me.” She swung the rake and dug it into his knee.

Harvey's scream echoed in the house. Rachel pressed herself against the wall. She had to find a weapon. She couldn't take Frankie alone. Jake was in no position to help her. She had to have something.

She moved silently past the parlor and into the kitchen. From a rack she took a meat cleaver, and from a butcher's block she picked up a carving knife. A gun would have been much better, but she didn't have time to look for one.

Dilson's scream echoed through the house. “Okay, okay. I killed your father and hid his body in the old Minola mine shaft.” Dilson was gasping as he talked. Rachel didn't want to imagine what Frankie was doing to him.

She went back toward the parlor. Dilson's voice continued the litany of his sins. Whatever Frankie had done, she'd loosened his tongue. Once he finished confessing, Frankie would kill him.

At the doorway of the parlor, Rachel stopped. Frankie was speaking softly, and Dilson's voice was filled with pain and fear. He spoke with urgency.

Rachel sank to the floor. Frankie and the senator sat knee to knee. She held a pistol pointed at Dilson's crotch and the tape recorded spinning in her lap.

“Is that everything?” Frankie asked.

“It was an accident. Once it was done, I had to hide it. My career would have been ruined.”

“Yes, an accident.” Frankie stood up. “I understand.” She turned and pointed the gun at Dilson's forehead. “I understand so well, Harvey. And I'm sure you understand why I'm going to kill you. I'd hoped to make it last a long time, but my agenda has changed.”

Rachel had to act. She launched herself from a crouched position, hitting Frankie hard at the hips. They tumbled to the floor, the gun skidding away on the hardwood.

Rachel rolled, and just in time. The tines of the hand rake dug into the floor only inches from her face. Frankie knocked the knife and cleaver from her hand, sending them sliding across the room.

Rachel looked up into Frankie's cold blue eyes. “I told you not to interfere,” Frankie said. “You should have stayed upstairs with Jake.”

“I can't let you kill him.” Rachel chanced a look at Dilson. He was working frantically at his bonds, leaning forward, reaching toward his ankles with his hands.

“He's a dead man, Rachel. Let him die. It'll be a kindness.”

“I can't!” Rachel rolled to her stomach and sprang up, her leg on fire with pain. She balanced and swung a kick that caught Frankie in the shoulder.

Instead of falling, Frankie spun. “Good move,” she said. “Now get out of my way and let me finish Harvey.”

“Stop her! Stop her!” Dilson was trying to walk the chair out of the room.

The old bastard had tried to kill her, but Rachel had taken a vow. As Frankie lunged at him again, the rake held high, Rachel stepped in her path. They struggled, hand to hand, bodies straining. They were equally matched, but Frankie wasn't injured. She jammed her leg behind Rachel's knee and brought the deputy down. Rachel hit hard, the wind knocked from her lungs.

“I think this has gone far enough.” Frankie retrieved the gun from the floor. “I'm sorry, Rachel. I can't let you interfere any more. Harvey and I have to finish our conversation.” She pointed it at the deputy.

Rachel caught her breath and eased into a sitting position. Now that the moment of death was upon her, she felt a strange calm. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dilson reach for something at his ankle. His fingers clamped around something and he brought it up in one smooth motion. The barrel of the gun was short and black.

“Frankie!” She threw herself forward, knocking Frankie out of the way of the bullet just in time. They tumbled on the floor as the gunshot echoed in the huge house.

“You goddamn fool!” Dilson cursed. “I had her.”

Frankie vaulted to her feet. She swung the gun directly at Rachel. In a split second, she shifted it at Dilson. The shot exploded in the house. A red hole appeared at Dilson's hairline.

Rachel shifted to her feet. She started forward, but Frankie turned the gun on her. “Don't,” she said. “Don't even think about it.” She went to the senator.

“Harvey?”

He tried to talk but couldn't.

“Harvey, can you hear me?”

Blood seeped down Dilson's forehead, a single line moving along the furrows in his skin.

Frankie kept the gun pointed at Rachel. “Can you see the irony of this?” She laughed. “It's too good. He's alive. Sort of.”

In the distance the sound of sirens came thin and weak. “They'll kill you,” Rachel said.

Frankie shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Give yourself up!”

Frankie shook her head. “It's not in my nature.”

They both looked up when Jake stumbled into the room. He carried a chair leg as a weapon, but he was barely able to hold it. He looked from Dilson to Rachel and then fell.

“So much for the rescue,” Frankie said. She walked toward the hallway.

Rachel followed her. “I can't let you leave.”

“You can't stop me, Rachel. Take care of Brutus, he's really very gentle. And when you see Mel Ortiz, tell him I'll be back.”

“Mel?”

“He knew. He didn't pursue the investigation because he knew it was Dilson. Dilson who arranged his plum job here in Criss County. He also knows more about your mother's death. Think about that picture. Who took it? Who saw your mother after she left you and before she died.” She gave it three seconds before she spoke again. “Mel took Junie to the hunting camp where she overdosed. That's why he took you in.”

Rachel felt the stab of betrayal.

“Not a good feeling, eh?” Frankie asked. The sound of the sirens grew louder. “I have to go, but I'll be in touch.”

“Stop!” Rachel started after her.

Frankie turned back. “Dammit, I don't want to hurt you, Rachel, but you just won't quit.” She aimed the gun and fired once. Rachel felt the pain tear through her shoulder. Frankie fired a second time.

Dilson slumped in the chair.

Frankie disappeared around the corner. There was the sound of the back door slamming and a vehicle starting.

 

Rachel, her arm in a sling, opened her cottage door and stepped inside. Brutus met her with a big sloppy kiss.

She picked up the mail from the floor where the mailman had shoved it through the slot. She needed something to eat and a drink. It had been another long day at the office with a stolen automobile and a high school bomb threat that ended up as a practical joke.

The telephone rang, and she answered it on the way to the kitchen to rummage through the refrigerator.

“Jake,” she said, glad to hear his voice. “I've missed you. How are things going in the big city?”

He'd transferred to the State Game and Fish offices in Rapid City while his injuries healed. Rachel believed he'd stay there. Though she'd never mentioned what Frankie had said about Mel, Jake had heard it. He'd severed his ties to his father, and so had she. Junie Redmond had died of her addiction, and while Mel wasn't responsible, he had been involved. 

“I wanted to let you know I'm changing jobs,” Jake said. “I'm consulting on a statehouse committee on environmental issues. I'll be helping to write legislation to preserve the wilderness in Criss County. I've decided not to run for sheriff. Politics aren't for me. That was my dad's dream.”

“I'm glad for you.” She meant it, too. “Will you be over this way any time soon?”

“No, I don't think so, Rachel. Not yet.” He inhaled. “The reason I called is to tell you that Richard Jones publicly testified today that the four–lane isn't necessary. The road has been cancelled. The Sioux sacred grounds won't be disturbed. Adam was here, and he's very pleased.”

“That's wonderful news. I'm sure you'll be celebrating this evening. I wish I could be there.” She was reaching out to Jake as he'd held out a hand to her for so many years.

“I wish that, too. Maybe soon.” He cleared his throat. “Derek was here. He's on Richard's payroll, and Richard has offered to pay for the heavy equipment Derek and WAR destroyed. Richard's intervention will go a long way when Derek is sentenced. Lucky for Derek that after everything Harvey Dilson did came to light, the onus of public opinion swung to the late Senator. Derek got lost in the shuffle.”

“And Justine?”

“I think she and Richard will be announcing an engagement soon. They show all the symptoms of being in love.”

“Poor Derek, I think he truly loved Justine. I guess not everybody gets a happy ending.” Rachel hadn't meant to sound so bleak but the words had slipped out before she could stop them. “Hey, I sound like a sad sack.” She rifled through her mail. It was hard to make small talk with Jake with all that stood between them.

“What you did for Frankie's dad, the cemetery plot and all of that. It was a nice thing, Rachel. And the story in the newspaper was great. I'm glad you cleared Dub's name of abandoning his family.”

“Frankie left the money and instructions. All I did was see that it was done.” She'd found the small cemetery Frankie had specified with a view of the open range. “Hey, let's look to the future. When you're back in Criss County, we'll grab a burger at Lulu's. I'd like to see you.”

“Maybe when you get back from your training tour at the FBI academy. Congratulations, Rachel. You're one hell of a detective.”

“You've got a date,” she said.

She replaced the phone and turned the coffeepot on as she continued through the mail. She stopped at the envelope that bore a Buenos Aires postmark. She didn't know anyone in Argentina.

She tore open the envelope and a picture fell on the table. Picking it up, her heart started to beat faster.

Frankie sat on a beautiful black stallion, a Paso Fino. The horse's long, flowing mane matched Frankie's hair. She waved, and in the background cattle grazed peacefully on hills that sloped in sunshine. The landscape looked a lot like South Dakota, but Rachel knew better.

She flipped the picture over and read the back. “There are many local legends here. And much injustice. I'll be busy for a while, but then I'll be home for a visit. Love, Frankie.”

 

Carolyn Haines is the author of dozens of books in a number of genres. The 11th book in the Sarah Booth Delaney Mississippi Delta Mystery series, Bones of a Feather, was released by St. Martin's Minotaur in June. She is the 2010 recipient of the Harper Lee Award and the 2009 Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence. While most of her books are set in the South, Haines has a recurring fantasy of living for a summer in South Dakota. More information can be obtained at
www.carolynhaines.com