Dead Man Falls (34 page)

Pollock dropped his arm and his pretense. "In here. Nothing to get worked up over."

Oh, I begged to differ. Abducting my mother was more than plenty to get me worked up over. And if he’d even so much as threatened to hurt her, he was a dead man.

We all filed through the outer room and into the main office. Pollock strutted to the front of the desk, but Jerry and I stopped just inside the doorway.

My first glimpse of Lucille was from the back, her back ramrod stiff and her pink head bobbing from side to side.

Loud warning bells clanged about the time I noticed the loops of rope behind the chair. He’d tied her up! I glanced over to be sure that Jerry still had Pollock in his sights then ran to my mother. "You sorry son of a--"

"Now, now, Jolene," Pollock said. "There’s no need for that. I’m the one who spouts foul language, not you. I am a son of a bitch though. You got that one right."

I knelt beside the chair to assess the situation. Was she hurt?

Mother’s feet were loose to tap on the floor--and were doing so energetically--but her hands were tied at the wrist with nylon cord--a red and white braid rather than yellow, for whatever that was worth.

I gave her a quick smile and started working the knots of cord loose. There might have been some moisture in her eyes, but I didn’t look long enough to know for sure. It wouldn’t have helped my composure any to know my mother was crying.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Pollock said, tapping me on the shoulder.

I jerked around and saw a pocket knife, almost identical to the one found near Russell Clements. "But do us all a favor and wait a few minutes. I really wanted to talk to you two without being interrupted." He winked again. "Lucille will forgive me."

I snatched the knife. "You tied my mother to a chair and put a gag in her mouth! So you could talk to us? Are you nuts?"

He leaned his head back and laughed, exposing straight white teeth. "Yeah, some say I am. Wouldn’t have done it if she’d have just shut up. Kind of got backed into a corner on that one."

Yeah, I bet. I pulled out a blade and began hacking away at the cord near her wrists. That didn’t work so well, so I used the tip of the blade to pry at a one of the knots. It seemed to be loosening fairly easy, but there were about fifteen to go. And, yes, I realize I could have un-gagged her and I could have been hurrying a little more. But I knew as well as anybody what was going to happen once she was loose. And it would not be pretty.

"Consider yourself under arrest, Mr. Pollock," Jerry said, stepping closer to me and Mother.

"Too much paperwork," I said, picking away at the rope. "Why don’t I just rip out his kidneys, stuff them in his ears and then dump him in the lake? No one will ever know."

Pollock cackled like a hoarse hyena. He kept it up until he’d laughed himself into a coughing fit. After he regained control, he leaned a hip on the edge of the desk, propped his forearm on this thigh and swung his leg in an arrogant cocky pose I remembered only too well. "That’s what I always liked about you, Jolene. Passion!" He laughed again. "And what a tease you were. The verbal foreplay was fun for a while, wasn’t it? I think you even liked me touching you. Got the old blood to pumping, didn’t it? Sure did mine."

He had to die. No two ways about it. And I wouldn’t need the pistol on my hip either. Nope, I’d do it with my bare hands. And furthermore, I’d enjoy it. Yes, I saw a justifiable homicide in my immediate future.

He grinned, a wild light in his eyes. "Always stood just a little closer than I needed to, didn’t I? A nudge of my hips that might or might not have been intentional, a finger along your rib cage that made you suck in your breath…" He shook his head, still grinning. "What an arrogant prick I was. Ah, but the memories..."

I sat there in the floor, in shock, staring at him, appalled at his confessions, yet mesmerized by them all the same. Jerry and Mother must have been experiencing the same sort of dazed disbelief because no one said a word--except Pollock.

"In retrospect, the kiss was a bad decision," he said, shaking his head. "But seeing you sitting right there, in my chair." He turned and nodded behind the desk. "Beauty, youth, passion, desire for power, even your smile, it all came together and, well, I honestly forgot anyone else was around. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was already too late." He graced us with a generous and twinkling smile. "I did manage to stop myself with only a little peck. Pretty good save, if you ask me."

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Too many thoughts--most of them intensely evil and ultimately homicidal--collided in my head all at once.

"I was a kid, you pervert," I spat. "Furthermore, I remember things a little differently." I had so much to say, so many statements to refute, so many vile names to call him, but where to start? "Why Rhonda?" I said, frowning as the words slipped out.

"Rhonda?"

I frowned. Had I said that? And why? Of all the things running through my head, why ask him about Rhonda Davenport? I knew why. Because as bad as he’d been to me, he’d been much worse to Rhonda and it had literally ruined her life. "Why?"

"She was there and needy." He shrugged. "These things happen."

My nostrils flared and a flush of anger swept through me as I came out of my stupor. As ridiculous as it might be, what he did to Rhonda--and how he felt about it--angered me more than what he’d done to me. At least he admitted being attracted to me. He hadn’t said a word about that with Rhonda, just that she was there and needy. And exactly what did that mean? The slimy, disgusting bastard…

Mother had apparently come out of her shock and was mumbling against her gag. I turned so I could keep an eye on Pollock and began working on the rope again. The sooner we got out of there the better.

"You knew Rhonda was carrying your child," Jerry said evenly. "And paid Calvin Holt to take her away."

"No on both counts," Pollock said, shaking his head and still perched on the edge of the desk. "Didn’t know a thing about her being pregnant until Nadine brought it up during the divorce. Don’t know anything about the Holt boy."

Jerry said, "If I’d known what all you--"

"Nothing you could have done, kid." Pollock waved his hand in dismissal. "That girl was so screwed up she made me seem normal. Believe it or not, I actually got involved with her because I felt sorry for her. What a bastard, huh?"

I pulled apart the last knot, then unwound the cord from around Mother and tossed it aside. Hoping she didn’t leap from the chair and knock me down, I stood and walked around behind her to remove the cloth gag. The knots were small and tight so I had no choice but to use Pollock’s pocket knife. "Notice nobody’s arguing with you, Willie," I said. "I think we all agree you are indeed the scum of the earth."

"Well, that's why I'm here--to find her and make it up to her. She still live around here?"

I glanced at Pollock, trying to see if he was serious. He looked sincere, but it's hard to tell with pathological liars.

"Rhonda lived in Redwater Falls. Or did, until she was murdered, probably sometime Sunday," Jerry said. "She was killed after Calvin Holt and before Red White."

Pollock stopped swinging his leg and hopped off the desk, the creases in his face deepening. "Red? Dead? Somebody killed Red? He's dead? Are you sure?"

"Red White of Abilene," Jerry confirmed. "Drove an old white Ford truck."

"Best friend you ever had," I added, quoting the words on the photo from the box. "I got the box--and the pictures."

Pollock stared for a moment, his jaw hanging open. "He drove up Friday morning to check out the addresses I’d given him, just to make sure they were all current." He turned his back to us and faced the window. "We were supposed to meet tonight at the hotel."

Either he was an exceptionally good actor or he really hadn't known about the murders.

"All of them. Dead." He turned back toward us. "Damn, but this sounds bad. What’s going on here?"

Jerry gave him the encapsulated version while I removed Mother’s gag. To my great surprise, Mother did not make a dive for Pollock, nor did she screech at the top of her lungs. She rubbed her mouth vigorously, then said, "You certainly took your good old sweet time about getting here, and you surely didn’t get in any hurry with those ropes either." She drew another ragged breath, shot to her feet and squared her shoulders. "I’ve had enough of this mess," she announced. "I’m going home."

Pollock grabbed a key ring off the desk and held it out. "Here, Lucille, take the Caddy. I’m really sorry about tying you up. Another bad decision, I’m afraid."

Lucille did not hesitate. She marched over to him, gave him a double dose of the evil eye, balled her fist up and punched him in the gut. As he doubled over, she snatched the keys from his hand and marched out the door.

I was not the least bit shocked at my mother’s behavior. I was, however, highly grateful that she did not have her purse--and the Glock--with her, otherwise, I feared the temptation would have been entirely too much for her and she would have either shot or bludgeoned him to death. Personally, I was good with it either way.

While Pollock moaned and hacked, I motioned to Jerry that I was going to escort Mother to the car. She had a few seconds’ head start on me so this was not nearly as easy as it sounded. The woman speedwalks the mall for fun. So, yes, the forty-year-old was having a heck of a time catching up with the seventy-year-old.

By the time I made it to Pollock’s car, she had adjusted the seat and started the engine. I said a few words, which I intended to be both apologetic and comforting. She did not reply, just buckled her seat belt, slammed the car door shut and peeled out of the parking lot.

"Like it was all
my
fault,
Mother!
" I called--okay, yelled--after her. I needed to let off a little steam anyway.

Continuing on in the same vein, I stomped back up to the school, muttering all the way, and feeling about thirteen years old.

I was just about to walk sullenly--typical middle school behavior, I might add--through the door when I heard a siren. I spun around and saw two Bowman County sheriff’s vehicles screeching to a stop beside Jerry’s car. The Harper men had arrived to save the day--about twenty minutes too late. I took a deep breath and marched right back out to the parking lot to update the delinquent deputies.

It took about three words, specifically "Lucille went home," to make the elder Harper disappear, but his son hung around for a more detailed accounting of what we’d found in the school. I gave it to him, but it only made him look more confused.

Leroy scratched his head then hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. "Pollock’s not the killer then?"

"No, Leroy, he’s not. I wish I could come up with even a little doubt, but I can’t. Lying scum bag that he is, I think he’s telling the truth about that." Now, it was my turn to frown. "Why were you so late? We could have been killed, you know."

"No choice, Jolene. Came across a wreck out on the highway. Bad one. Pop drove up and stopped too. But it was all he could do not to race off over here to see about your mother." He glanced up at the school. "Good, here comes Jerry. Need to tell him what just happened."

Jerry had holstered his gun, and he and Pollock were walking side by side toward us.

"Yep, that’s Pollock. If it weren’t for that white hair, he’d look just like always. Still got that banty rooster cock walk, don’t he?"

Oh, indeed.

When they reached us, Leroy gave the former principal a squinty glare, then motioned Jerry aside for a private chat. This, of course, left me with Willie the Worm, and I did not want to chat. He did.

"For what it’s worth, Jolene, I deserve everything you’ve thought about doing to me." He chuckled a little. "Probably a little different than what I’ve thought about doing to you, but you’re right in thinking I’ve got debts to pay."

"I’m pretty sure there are statutes of limitations on these things, old guy. My guess is you’re in more trouble for assaulting my mother at this point."

"You know I didn’t hurt her, but I had to do something. She kept going on and on about what she would have done to me if she’d known I was, um, enamored with you. Tell you the truth, I thought she might make good on her threats and it made me a little squeamish. Tied her up for self-defense." He grinned and winked. "She didn’t really mind. It gives her something exciting to talk about at the Dairy Queen."

I mentally recited my "don’t give him a reaction" mantra," but I suspect my flaring nostrils, gritted teeth and wrinkled brow betrayed my true feelings.

He cackled and coughed. "Holding grudges is bad for your health, Jolene. Just look at me. Carrying around guilt isn’t too good either. That’s why I’m clearing the air--why I sent you the box. Wanted to get it done before it’s too late. My time’s about up. I’m dying."

Yeah, right. "I always figured you for a crime of passion victim--caught in bed with somebody else's wife."

He laughed again, but not too hard, and he rubbed his stomach a little where he’d been punched. "Came close a time or two."

Two hundred times, most likely.

"Would that have made you feel better? The pervert getting his due with his pants down?"

Yeah, pretty much. "It would make me feel better if I thought you were truly sorry for all the horrible things you’ve done, but you’re not. You’re proud of the wreckage you’ve left behind, you've been bragging about it ever since we walked in."

"Bragging? Girl, I've been confessing," he said, smoothing his white hair back on the sides. "I know what a jerk I was." Then, with a sly wink, he added, "But I still have some fond memories. No harm in that."

I scowled at him. "You are now and have always been an ass."

"But I’m a charming one." He grinned. "And I’ll still be smiling, thinking of you, when they put me in my grave."

"I can help you out with that last part. Today."

He cackled again then slapped his hand across his chest as if he were saying the Pledge of Allegiance. "Congestive heart failure," he said ominously. "Doctors say it could be anytime." He flashed his pearly whites and gave me a lascivious grin and a lecherous wink. "Tell you what, you grant me my dying wish and you might get yours."