Whistle Pass (22 page)

“I have to go up there, Gabe. This won’t be over if I don’t. Whatever the real reason is why I’m here is at that old farm. Can you understand?”

Yeah. He understood, but that didn’t change anything. “What if they kill you?”

Oh, Christ! What if they did kill him?

Charlie’s hand swept down Gabe’s arm to his hand and rubbed his fingers. His voice stayed eerily calm.

“This isn’t just about the photograph. Even if Roger and Dora had it, I’d still be a threat to whatever their game is. They know I’ve got a weak spot now; a vulnerable spot they can hurt if I don’t play ball. I have to end this tonight.”

Gabe turned his head to look into Charlie’s eyes. “What weak spot?”

The fingers on Gabe’s neck pressed down. “You.”

His heart twirled then tripped and fell flat on the ice. Charlie was going to quite possibly risk his life for Gabe. Nuh-uh. Not this night. Not ever.

At least, not alone. “I’m going with you.”

Charlie’s fingers on his neck squeezed into his skin. “No. You’re staying here.”

Gabe pushed away from the pickup and brushed Charlie’s hand off him. “Mayor Black and some man from the power company brought you here to take care of some problem for them.”

Charlie’s hands jammed into his jeans pockets. His right eye narrowed.

“It’s true, Charlie. Lester overheard them talking, but they didn’t say what the problem is.”

Charlie sighed. “Dora, I ’spect. This pistol in my boot belongs to her. She wants me to kill Roger.”

Gabe’s knees crumpled. He tossed an arm over the tailgate for support. “Jesus, Charlie. Why would she want you to commit murder?”

“Some land her father owns that Roger wants to build that nuclear plant on. She said she’s afraid Roger will kill her father to get it built.”

“No! Charlie, no.” This wasn’t right. Charlie couldn’t have understood what she said. “Dora’s dad died several years ago. He used to own the building the mayor’s got his slot machines in. He was a farmer who retired to a tavern. When Roger came home from the war, he went to work as a bouncer for the old man.”

Charlie chuckled. “I’ll be damned.” He pulled a hand out of his jeans and tugged at his beard. “They wouldn’t know the truth if it crawled up their collective asses.” His eyes narrowed. “You stay here.”

“No.” Gabe grinned. This was an argument he could win. “You wouldn’t let me go in there by myself, and I’m not letting you go without me.”

Charlie snorted. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Neither do you.”
Touché. Parry. Thrust
. “You said you think you love me. I know I love you. You go, I go. End of discussion.”

“Lester!” Charlie shouted.

The big man clomped his way to them. “Yeah?”

Charlie didn’t take his eyes off Gabe. “Gabe’s coming with me. Just the head and faces. Just enough so we’re groggy.” He grinned again. “Don’t damage those luscious lips. I have every intention of kissing them when this is over.”

Gabe’s heart melted.

“Ooh,” Lester moaned. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Charlie transferred his gaze to Lester. “Don’t be too far behind.”

“I won’t be. You got my word. But if Perkins is up there, he’s mine. Deal?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

Gabe smiled but tensed every muscle in his body. He was about to get the shit beat out of him by one of his best friends. Vomit boiled in his belly and rose like mercury. A wall of hand slammed into his face. The blow spun him, puke blew out his mouth. Lester jerked him around and slapped him again. He fell to his knees.

A hand lifted his chin. Gabe stared into Charlie’s sorrowful eyes.

“I’m sorry, Gabe,” Charlie whispered. His fist drew back. “You’re not coming with me.”

Charlie’s punch to Gabe’s jaw drew closed the curtains of consciousness.

C
HARLIE
’
S
eyelids fluttered, he rolled his head around on his neck. Old Lester packed a punch that left him feeling like wet cardboard on a highway.

“You okay, Charlie?” Lester asked.

“Yeah. Tie me up. Who’s driving me up there?”

Lester wrapped rope around Charlie’s forearms and knotted it.
Charlie nodded approval at the magician’s illusion. Sideshow magicians
allowed local cops to add a final set of handcuffs to a series of them on the magician’s wrists. That last set sat on the forearms. Once the magician removed his trick cuffs, he simply slid the last set, the ones he didn’t have a key or slip button for, down his arms and off his hands—magic.

“One of my cousins. Edgar will be in the back of the truck with you. He’ll have his flare gun if it all goes to hell in a handbag before we can get there. The signal flare might stall them just long enough.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be in too big a hurry. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to get killed up there, but there’s got to be a reason why this whole charade’s taking place. Perkins could have put a bullet in my brain and dumped me in the river anytime Dora and Roger wanted him to.”

“The more involved, the more to lose.”

Charlie stared at the big man. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know these men that are here. They’re the ones who keep complaining about the Fourth Street gambling. Most are family men, good men at heart. Hook ’em into a murder, and they won’t have a choice but to keep their mouths shut and do what they’re told. Easy enough to expand the gambling when the objectors clam up about it. Maybe some like Captain Tom would even have to bend over and put some machines in their businesses. With one man dead, nothing would prevent another from getting killed. Nobody’d want to be that next corpse.”

Charlie curled a lip in admiration. Lester was big and had a brain to match. “How is it you’re not the sheriff?”

“Pfft.” Lester looked at the ground. “One man can’t change much. I don’t have the smarts for the job, anyways.”

Charlie grabbed Lester’s arm and turned him to face the throng of men idly watching. Tom and his band immediately straightened and stood tall.

“You’re not alone. These men just need a leader they know won’t turn their back on them. You’re a fair man, Lester. You judge folks by
their heart and their soul. Can’t ask for more than that.” Charlie climbed
over the side of the pickup into the bed. “As for smarts, men don’t willingly follow idiots. Especially me. And I’d follow you barefoot to hell and back.” He turned toward Edgar. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He sat with his back against the cab.

Lester slapped the side of the truck. “You be careful up there. I got a feeling I’d never hear the end of it from Cathy if Gabe’s fella got himself killed. And I’ll think about the sheriff job.”

The pickup lurched forward.

Chapter 22

L
IMP
tree branches and untrimmed nests of berry bushes scratched at the truck crawling along the dirt path. The pickup slowed, bumped over a half-buried log, then eased its way back to turtle speed. The darkness hung as heavy as the dank dampness dripping from the overgrowth. Forest musk of decaying wood, pine, berries, ferns, and wildflowers tugged at Charlie’s senses, soothing the minor nerve that hadn’t gotten the message he was headed into danger and he needed every bit of calm he could muster.

The beast inside him stirred, stretched, and waggled its claws in preparation of the fight for survival.

Charlie looked at the treetops tickling the sky… and smiled. If this was the one he didn’t walk away from, he couldn’t think of a better place to die. He kept his gaze on the few stars.

“Tell me about this place, Edgar.”

“Same family owned it from the time the first cabin was built.
Tough folks. Poachers, fish thieves, and the like. They’d rob commercial
fishing lines on the river and sell the catch as their own. Around here, that could get a man killed. The Milfords didn’t mind killing back if you got one of theirs. They turned to making shine during Prohibition. In the thirties, revenuers raided the place, and that was the end of the Milfords. The ones who didn’t die in the gunfight or go to jail drifted away. Dora Black’s daddy took the place over and used it as a hunting cabin. Roger still does. Only one truck path in, but there’s hunting trails all over the place.”

Charlie swung his gaze to Edgar. “Dora owns it?”

Edgar nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Charlie returned to watching the stars. Roger and Dora could have a hell of a greeting planned for him.

“The Milford place is over the next rise,” a voice called out from the cab.

“Punch me in the nose, Edgar.”

“Huh? Why would I do that? Maybe you can’t see them, but you got some marks on you from Lester.”

Charlie turned his head toward the old man. “But no blood. Roger’s not stupid.”

Edgar sighed a stream of vapor that immediately disappeared in the chilly air. “Close your eyes. I can’t do it with you watching me.”

Charlie did as instructed. The blow stung fast and hard, like a cloud of hornets that found one spot to plant their stingers. His nose heated and ran. He swiped a hand across the base and opened his eyes to the blood-smeared fingers. Quickly, he wiped his hand clean on his right cheek and licked the copper-tasting blood around his lips.

He stared at Edgar. “Listen to me. They’re going to try and kill me. Whoever’s at this place isn’t going to let you and that flare gun stick around to see it. When we stop, drop the gun over the side of the truck. I may need it.”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed in concern and apparent confusion. “What about the gun in your boot?”

“They’ll find it.” Charlie smiled. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“House is coming up. Three man are walking out,” the driver called.

“Put the hood on me, Edgar. Showtime.” He wiped his brain clean. Any thoughts, any indication he had anything planned, might bring about his immediate death, and he needed to buy just a little bit of time. Gabe’s face came to the forefront. Closing his eyes, he inhaled. A remembrance of Aqua Velva toyed with his bloody nostrils.

Edgar slid the hood over Charlie’s head. “Good luck, soldier.”

“Drag his ass out of there!” a surly voice snarled as the truck stopped.

“Perkins and two men I don’t recognize,” Edgar whispered. “No sign of the mayor.”

Hands tugged at Charlie, pulled him over the side of the truck, and slammed him to ground hard as concrete.

“Get the hell out of here and forget you were ever here, or I swear I’ll kill both of you and throw your dead asses in the river.”

The engine roared. A tire spun. The pickup clanked and bumped its way out of hearing range.

A foot stomped Charlie’s belly. He rolled to his side and went fetal. “Gack.” A kick to the ribs. “Ooph!”

“Stop it! Get away from him.” The new voice Charlie knew all too well. Roger.

“He’s got something in his boot.”

“Well, then take it out of his boot, Howard. Don’t beat him to death,” Roger ordered.

Howard
. Police Chief Perkins. Charlie tightened his muscles, pulling his arms against the ropes to ensure the cop would believe his arms were secure and he was defenseless. His jeans leg was yanked upward, the pistol jerked from his boot.

“He’s got a gun,” Perkins growled.

“Give it to me.” Seconds passed. Roger screamed his rage. “This is Dora’s pistol. The bitch gave him her gun!”

The hood ripped over Charlie’s face. Canvas scraped his skin. He looked into Roger’s fierce eyes.

“You weren’t thinking about killing me, were you, Charlie?” Roger stood. “Get him on his feet.”

The two men he didn’t know pulled him off the ground.

Roger patted Charlie’s cheek. His eyes almost showed sincerity. Almost. “I’m sorry. I really am. You deserved better than this.” He grabbed Charlie’s arm and turned him, pulling him along beside him.

Charlie looked over his shoulder to see where the lane was, where the flare gun would be. Three leaning fence posts without fence marked the spot.

“Bring out the Kraut.” Roger kept the pace steady until they stood in the center of a clearing. There they stopped.

Kraut?
Charlie scanned the area. A ramshackle one-story house rested to his left. A barn, nearly collapsed on itself, sat thirty yards or so from his position. Trees bordered his right. To his left, shrouded in darkness, was the lane. What was missing were Perkins and the two men. He looked around, but they had vanished. Charlie glanced at Roger.
Shit
.

Roger was decked out in army fatigues.

Skree! Bang!
Charlie spun toward the barn.
Skree!
A shower of sparks branched light into the clearing.
Bang!

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
A bevy of sparks, red, yellow, white, skittered across the ground.

“Machine guns, Charlie!” Roger shouted. “Mortars!”
Skree! Bang!
“An ambush, Charlie. Jesus Christ! Where are they, Charlie? Which way should we run? Save us, Charlie!”

A wave of gray smoke ballooned out of the trees, deflated to the ground, and slithered across it. Explosions. Gunfire… screams. Bangs of guns echoed in his ears. The stench of gunpowder tore at his mind, shredded it.