Claudia Must Die (11 page)

“Well?”

“The camera ain’t working. Hasn’t for six months.” The deputy stood back. The sheriff was known for his temper. Everyone braced for the attack.

Surprisingly, the sheriff didn’t react. Hitching up his trousers by his belt, he then adjusted his gun and handcuffs and strode into the diner. At the counter, he ordered a cup of coffee. The sheriff decided to wait, to see what the state troopers found. He had done all he could do. Twins, Wally, A-Rabs, and One-legged Johnny—it was all too much.

***

In the gas station parking lot, Boyd and Otis heaved a sigh of relief. “We need to ditch this car,” stated Boyd.

Otis nodded crisply.

Boyd saw the perfect car in the employee parking section. Hopefully, the owner had just started his or her shift, giving the boys more time to get far away before the vehicle was reported stolen.

Boyd pointed to it. “That one. You get it, Otis, and meet me down the road. I want to ditch this one away from here.”

Stealthily, Otis made his way to the car. As far as Boyd saw, no one noticed. The camera on the building faced the customer parking section, not the employee parking.

Boyd pulled out of the lot, followed by Otis. They drove around some neighborhoods until Boyd found a nice home on one of the streets. The yard was maintained; the house sported a fresh coat of paint. No one would suspect this owner of stealing a car.
Maybe the cops won’t find it for days
, he hoped.

Ditching the car, they continued their journey to Loveland. They had three days until their deadline. Three days to save their family members—and themselves.

***

Francis pulled into a gas station four hours after they left Ohio. His arm was throbbing, although for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. It was just a flesh wound.

In the bathroom, he removed the bandage and checked that the injury wasn’t infected. It didn’t appear to be.
So why in the heck is it hurting so much?
Getting old wasn’t for sissies.

Back in the car, he popped the top off an Advil bottle and chased the pills down with stale coffee he had purchased in the station. Its bitterness made his entire face pucker. No amount of sugar would fix the drink, so he dumped the contents out the window, leaned back in the driver’s seat, and sighed.

“Why don’t you let me drive,” Claudia said. “You look like you need a rest, and don’t lie. I know your arm hurts.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. After getting out of the car, she marched over to the driver’s side, yanked the door open, and thrust her hand out for the keys.

Francis knew she was right, even if he didn’t trust her completely. They were behind schedule due to Parker’s mental breakdown. He hated being behind schedule.

Without a word, he dropped the keys into Claudia’s hand and made his way to the passenger side.

Claudia sat down and started to laugh. “How tall are you?” She reached for the gas pedal with her foot, but couldn’t touch it. Deftly, she adjusted the chair and steering wheel, the side mirrors and the rearview mirror.

Francis stayed mute. His body language suggested that he didn’t like her messing with his car, even if it wasn’t really his car.

“Sorry, but I have to reach the pedals or we aren’t going anywhere,” she apologized.

Francis grunted.

He had never allowed any woman to drive a car he was in—not even Ida, except for when he had taught her how to drive. Anyway, Ida was different; she wasn’t your typical woman. Even as a child, Ida had appreciated power and control.

From what Francis knew of Claudia, she didn’t understand those concepts. Why else would the woman marry the type of man she had married?

In contrast, Ida’s need for control had ensured that anyone she allowed close to her kept their wits about them as well. He wondered what Ida would have thought of Parker’s earlier escapade. Yes, Parker had lost control, yet she still maintained some sense of power. His cousin may have appreciated Parker’s passion and her commitment to Ida. If the situation was reversed, Francis knew for damn sure that Ida would have hunted her girlfriend’s killer down. Nothing would have stopped Ida.

What would Ida think of Claudia? From the moment Francis had heard Claudia’s story, he felt pity, but he didn’t think Ida would feel the same. She had always hated those who played the victim card. Ida wasn’t a total cold-hearted bitch, but she was damn close to one.

Both cousins had watched their mothers play the victim card throughout their lives. Their moms refused to take responsibility for their own mistakes: mainly marrying assholes. Nothing was their fault.

“Bullshit, Francis. They both had brains. They could have done something. Anything. Not just given up.” Ida used to insist.

Quitters. Ida had hated quitters. She didn’t win all of the time, but Francis knew she gave it her best each and every time. He looked out the window, watching the cornfields flash by.

Ida’s mom had been poor, so his cousin never received any new clothes when she was a child. All of Ida’s clothes had been hand-me-downs from the extended family. Not once had he heard Ida complain. She never sulked about her mom’s inability to manage or to make money.

Instead, she took over. By the age of fourteen, Ida worked a part-time job at the movie theater. She worked nights during the week, when the theater was dead, so she could study. Her shift ended well after midnight.

In the mornings, she delivered newspapers, getting up every morning, seven days a week, at 4:00 a.m. Ida’s newspaper customers loved her; not only was their paper right on time every morning, but it would be sitting right outside the door. Those with mail slots didn’t even have to open the door.

Every Christmas, Ida’s customers tipped her generously. Not once, though, had Francis seen Ida use the money to buy herself a new shirt. She had continued to wear the hand-me-downs from the family. Francis didn’t think Ida ever even had a pair of underwear or a bra that didn’t belong to someone else first. All of her money, after she paid her mother’s bills, went into her college fund.

Ida started her fund when she was seven. Every day, she had walked the neighborhood, looking for cans and bottles to recycle. She could detect a soda can one hundred feet away. On Saturday, she would exchange her loot for cash; all of the money went into her fund.

College was her one chance, and Ida knew it. No one would ever think of her as a victim.

Francis eyed Claudia out of the corner of his eye. She sat confidently behind the wheel. When she wasn’t afraid of Parker, Claudia exuded self-assurance.
How did she end up with Dennis?

Francis knew it took balls to steal more than a million dollars, leave your family, and survive for as long as Claudia had. And she had willingly joined up with him and Parker. At the time, Claudia probably didn’t realize how crazed Parker was, how eager to kill, but she still had to have known that neither would be happy to see her. Francis wasn’t sure he would have ever climbed into the backseat with strangers like Claudia had.

Was it courage or stupidity?
Francis conceded that there was a very fine line between the two. When a person succeeded, people expounded upon the person’s nerve. When a person failed, people mocked his or her foolishness.

The clicking sound brought Francis’s attention back to the car and to Claudia’s driving. She merged into the left-hand lane to allow a car to enter the highway. Francis casually looked as the car pulled alongside.

His heart leapt into his throat, although outwardly he showed no emotion.

“Don’t look this way,” he instructed.

The Hunted immediately started to turn to face him, but he nudged her chin, making her eyes remain focused on the road ahead.

“I said
don’t
.” He ran both hands up and down his legs. “The boys Parker tried to kill just pulled up next to us.”

Claudia’s hands tensed around the steering wheel.

“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure they haven’t spotted us
yet
. Casually slow down and get behind them.”

Claudia didn’t react.

“Please, Claudia. I know you’re probably panicking right about now, but I know you can do this.” He patted her thigh.

She took her foot off the gas and eased into the lane behind the assassins.

“Good, Claudia. You’re doing well.” Francis peeked into the backseat. “Parker’s still sound asleep.” He felt guilty about drugging her, but grateful that he had. “I want to see where they’re going.”

“Why are they following us?” Claudia tried to keep her voice level, but the words quavered in her throat.

“I don’t think they are. There’s no way they knew how long we stayed by the barn.”

“Then how do we keep running into them?” Fear and exasperation were evident in her voice.

“I think they have the same goal as us.” Francis jotted down the license plate number and sent a text.

Claudia watched him, curious. She was ninety-nine percent certain the boys were driving a stolen car, too. Hell, for all she knew, she herself was driving a stolen car. “Are you going to tell me what their goal is?”

Francis read the message on his cell. Stroking his chin, deep in thought, he answered, “To kill Dennis.”

“What? Why?”

“I told you that the first night. Your husband is holding their mom, sister, and cousin hostage. I’m guessing they’ve given up on killing you. Now they just want to rescue their family.” He rubbed his palms together. “And to save their own asses, I’m assuming.”

“How do you know they’ve given up on killing me?” She glanced at him quickly.

Francis remembered their faces when they had seen Parker’s determination and distress.

“Don’t know. Just a hunch.”

“Something tells me your hunches are pretty accurate.” The surety in her voice sounded like sarcasm.

Francis shrugged.

“So what’s our plan?”

“Follow them, but don’t let them know we are here.” A road sign flashed by. “The next exit isn’t for twenty miles. Pull back, so they can’t see us and get suspicious.” He leaned over to read the mileage on the car. “In thirteen miles, speed up some, to catch up.”

“What about—” Claudia nodded to the backseat.

“I’m hoping the pills and shock will keep her quiet for a while longer.”

Claudia eased off the gas, her eyes on the rearview mirror, watching Parker. Fritz had his head up on the seat, next to the student’s.

No one spoke for a few minutes.

“Parker really loved Ida, didn’t she?”

Francis pulled his head away from leaning against his window and swiveled for a good look at Claudia, stunned that she had finally asked the question. “Yes.”

Claudia nodded. “You know, I picked her because I thought she wasn’t capable of love.”

“How did you determine that?”

“I thought someone who lived such a lonely life couldn’t love. I followed her and broke into her place—well, you know that. I just assumed.” She reached for the Coke she purchased at the station and took a long drink. “Or…‌it was what I wanted to believe. I convinced myself that it wouldn’t matter. That Parker didn’t matter.” Her cheeks puffed out and she let out a slow breath.

“I was wrong,” she continued. “If only I could convince her how sorry I am.” Claudia took another slug of her Coke. “Now all this is happening.” She banged one hand against the steering wheel. “So many lives are at stake. All I did was send one piece of mail to my mother with Parker’s address and now—”

“You tried to control your fate, and it bit you in the ass. ‘For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’”

“What?” Claudia looked down at the mileage and pressed down on the gas pedal.

“Newton.”

“Newton? You mean the guy who got bonked on the head with an apple.” Claudia scanned the horizon for the assassin’s car.

“Yes, that Newton.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Francis?” Her nerves were frazzled, or she wouldn’t have been so brazen.

“You tried to free yourself by pushing Parker into the picture, but she pulled you back in. When things push against each other, they apply forces upon the other.”

Claudia drummed her fingers angrily upon the steering wheel. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” she muttered.

“Things never happen the way you want them to. You can’t control fate.”

“So I was fated to marry Dennis?”

“No. You made that choice. But once you did, a new fate was set in motion.”

“Then everything was predetermined?” Claudia couldn’t mask her irritation.

Francis flicked a speck of dust off his collar, unperturbed. “Not necessarily. Each time we make a choice, we alter our fate just a bit. All of the choices you made led you to this point.”

“So fate led me to these cornfields in the middle of nowhere to chase two assassins who are after my murdering husband?”

“Essentially.”

“What if I pulled over, got out of the car, and just walked away. Away from you. Away from them.” She gestured to the car in front, which was in her sights now. “And away from Parker.”

“You would be making a new choice, and your fate would await you.”

“What about Parker? How did she make a choice?”

Francis rolled his window down and lit his cigar. “Where did you run into her?”

“Starbucks on Newbury Street.”

“Parker chose to go into that Starbucks.”

“So that’s it. Parker wandered into a Starbucks and, bam, her girlfriend is dead and now she’s been drugged and shot.”

“Yes.”

“That’s fucked up, Francis.”

“Which part? Fate? Or you making a choice that affected Parker’s fate?” He placed his Zippo into the change holder, and took up his bottle of water from the cup holder.

Claudia seethed. Why didn’t Francis understand? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Okay, smarty-pants. What choice did you make to end up here?”

“I loved my cousin.”

“That’s not a choice. She’s your family.”

“Do you love your husband, then? He’s your family now.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“My husband is an evil man. I didn’t know that when I married him.”

Francis chuckled. “How did you think he made all his money in Loveland, Colorado?”