Deceived (33 page)
Liz reached in her pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. A particularly impressive one. She held it out. Chris frowned, put his hand out. Liz dropped the ring in his hand.
He looked at it. Then said, “What’s this?”
“A diamond,” she said.
“I don’t want no diamond.”
“It’s worth over ten thousand dollars.”
“So you say. It doesn’t even look real.”
“It’s real.”
“What is it, some family ring?”
“Yes. It was my mother’s engagement ring.”
“Was it now? And you’re willing to part with it?”
“Go get it appraised.”
“Yeah, and you’ll be long gone.”
“Trust me,” Liz said.
“That’s gonna get me in a lot of trouble, I think. You know what else I think? I think you’re trying to con me.”
“I don’t care what you think.” Liz bent down to pick up the key. But Chris stepped on it with a black boot.
“Hold on there,” he said.
Liz straightened up. “What are you doing?”
“I want to know where this came from,” Chris said. “I don’t believe any engagement ring story. I’m thinking maybe there’s more of these.”
“Come on, you’ve got your payment. Let’s get on with it. I want you to torch my car and — ”
Chris backhanded Liz across the face. His knuckles felt like marbles on her flesh. She almost went down.
“That’s enough,” Chris said. “You’re going to do what I want from now on.”
Then he waved at his friend to come join him.
Gary bounded from the car like a golden retriever about to go for a walk.
Liz allowed herself a little sob, to set things up.
“You think you ever had me punked?” Chris said.
Gary was almost to them. Liz put her left hand on her cheek and said, “Please . . .” She reached behind her with the right, turning slightly so Chris would miss it.
“Don’t be so worried,” Chris said. “We know how to treat the ladies.” To Gary he said, “Don’t we know how to treat the ladies?”
Gary said, “I don’t know about you, tubby, but I got it goin’ on.”
Chris said, “Yeah, right. Watch and learn.”
They both looked at Liz. She brought the gun around and pointed it at Chris’s face and fired.
As Chris fell to the ground, Gary yelped like a dog. One quick, high-pitched
yap
, and then turned and ran.
Liz got him in the back. He went down.
He was crawling and crying when Liz finished him with one to the back of the head.
More fire needed now. Burn them up. Fire, always fire.
Flames erupted. In the trees. All of them, all on fire, flames licking the sky.
The fire had voice, telling her to put the gun in her mouth. It was the only way, the only way.
“No!”
Liz’s scream died in the sound of the river.
The flames disappeared with it, leaving her in silence.
9:30 a.m.
Sheriff’s Homicide Detective Kathy Moss stood at the front of the room. The gathered men and women of the sheriff’s department listened attentively as she held up the picture.
“This is Elizabeth Towne,” she said. “You know that her husband was killed in Pack Canyon. Supposedly an accident. But it wasn’t an accident. He was pushed. Pushed by his widow, who is waiting to collect a nice life insurance claim. But there’s more to it than that.”
A young deputy in the front row raised his hand. “Is there sex and violence involved?”
The others in the room laughed.
“Oh, she used sex all right,” Moss said. “She used it on a man named Theodore Gillespie. She had him wrapped up like an early Christmas present, to the point where he would do anything for her. And one of the things he did for her was help cover up the killing of another guy, a well-known heist man. A man who liked to call himself Bill.”
“Not too original,” said the young deputy.
“Which is exactly why it works, Einstein,” Moss said. “Our little lady Liz Towne used a knife on this one.”
“Sweet,” the young deputy said.
“It gets sweeter,” Moss said. “She got this Theodore Gillespie to help her take the body to a little park out there in Malibu Canyon, and then she used the knife again. On Gillespie. After she killed him, she doused him and his car with gas and set the whole thing on fire. Oh yes, she is a sweet one, she is.”
Silence in the room.
Moss gestured toward a square-jawed man leaning against the wall. “This is Special Agent Victor Voltaire, FBI. He’s going to take it from here.”
The heads turned to Agent Voltaire. “It’s not that hard,” he said. “She has crossed state lines. She is a fugitive. But we know the make and model of her car, and the license plate — ”
No!
“ — and we know the direction she’s heading. We have ordered checkpoints — ”
“No!” Liz screamed. She gripped the gun. She would shoot them before they stopped her. Her head felt fuzzy. The gun felt smooth.
She looked at it, and the gun turned into a bottle, a nearly empty bottle, and she realized it was night and she was in the backseat of her car. Her head felt like two halves of a tomato.
Between the two halves was this crazy dream.
She was sweaty and hung over. Asleep in her car. Where? She couldn’t remember.
But the dream had reminded her she had better keep moving.
Thank you
,
dream. Thank you for that much.
Maybe there was fate, and it was on her side. That’s what it was. The whole thing is fate, and you fight it, and if you do it respects you and gives you a break.
I’m close now. Close. Yes. Keep moving. Yes.
She started the car. Where was she? Off the highway, yes, on a dirt road. It’s a wonder what you find when you’re desperate and drunk.
She drove randomly. Then remembered, back the other way. Back to the road. Find a bathroom, coffee, a breakfast burrito.
Now that you’ve done it again
,
two more times
,
does it scare you?
Scared of what?
Divine retribution.
No
,
I am not scared of that.
Are you scared that you will never be able to stop thinking about these
things?
No
,
I am not scared of that.
Are you scared they will find you out because you get careless?
No
,
no
,
no! I am not scared of anything now. Stop it
,
stop it
,
I don’t
want to hear.
The car she bought with the lives of two men was a junker. It smelled like grease and old clothes. It smelled like death. Death in a small town.
Are you scared you’ ll end up like them back there?
No
,
I am not scared of that and stop it
,
shut up
,
stop it.
They are making the connection back there
,
aren’t they?
No.
They are linking up all the evidence. They are finding blood in your
house
,
and the blood will tell them you are the one.
Are you scared?
Yes
,
but I won’t let it stop me. I won’t let them take me. They’ve been
trying to take me all my life. I won’t let them take me.
10:16 a.m.
Mac waited for Rocky out back. By the crocuses. Or crocuses-to-be. If they came up at all, maybe it would be a sign of some kind.
But he couldn’t wait for them. He needed something now, and Rocky said she had it.
He heard a car on the gravel of the church lot. A few moments later, she was there. And she was beautiful.
He made coffee and they sat at the kitchen table. Rocky had a shoulder bag with her, took out some papers and spread them on the table. “Are you ready?” she said.
“What’ve you got?”
“An address for a Rose Summerville. Last known. It’s about ten years old.”
“Liz’s mother?”
“I’m guessing. I looked up the address on Google Earth and got a trailer park. I tried to find a phone number, got nothing. I could make some calls, but I think going local would be better.”
“Actually going there?”
“It’s faster,” Rocky said. “You can get more accomplished with face time. All it takes is money.”
“I can scrape up a little.”
“You don’t have to go. This might lead to nothing.”
“You kidding? I’m there.”
“What about your parole?”
Mac nodded. “Then it
better
lead to something.”
Mac heard the sound of a car outside. Near the church. Could be anybody, but that vibe kicked in, that something-was-wrong vibe. He got up quickly, went to the front window and looked out.
And saw Gordon Slezak getting lazily out of his car.
“He’s here,” Mac said, in a voice almost outside himself. “Slezak.”
Rocky was next to him in a moment. “He’s got nothing.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mac said. “I don’t want you involved.”
“But I am. Can you stall him?”
“Stall him?”
“Just for a minute.”
Steps came up to the front door. Then a knock.
Mac looked behind him, saw Rocky throwing the papers in her shoulder bag, then fishing for something.
Another knock. “Hey, Daniel,” Slezak said. “Let’s have a talk.”
Mac looked at the door. Back at Rocky. Now she was heading to his bedroom. She nodded at him before disappearing.
Mac opened the door.
“It’s really disappointing,” Slezak said. His face was flushed as he breezed past Mac.
Mac closed the door.
“Yes, very disappointing to have the sheriff’s office be so lax,” Slezak said. “So put your hands behind your back.”
“Gordon . . .”
“Don’t call me Gordon. Ever. Do you understand?”
“I know about your son,” Mac said.
Slezak’s eyes stilled for a moment. Lights out. Then quickly flashed with rage. “You are not worth the dirt under his fingernails. You know nothing, are nothing.”
“I was a Marine, too.”
With one step, Slezak was to him. And drove his fist into Mac’s midsection.
Mac doubled over.
“I’ll kill you,” Slezak said. “I will make sure you go back inside, and I’ll make sure it’s done there. You don’t deserve to be alive. You should be the dead one. Now you get on the floor facedown.”
Mac, hands on his stomach, stood and faced him. He would not let Slezak hit him again.
Slezak looked over Mac’s shoulder. Mac turned. Rocky was in the doorway.
“Who are you?” Slezak said.
Rocky said, “You’ve just committed a criminal act, Sir.”
Mac watched as Slezak fought for control. He could almost see the demons poking his face from inside.
“Nice try,” Slezak said, his voice coldly efficient now. He looked like he wanted to pull his gun and shoot them both and be done with it. He did have a rim of sweat on his forehead. His face was slightly flushed as he turned and left the way he had come in.
Mac waited until the car drove out of the lot before turning back to Rocky.
“Now you’re on his bad list,” Mac said.
“He can’t do anything to me,” she said. “Or you either.”
“He can do plenty.”
“You could have used more makeup,” she said.
He looked at her and thought she had a slight smile on her face. “What are you talking about?”
She went to the table in the corner of the living room, the one by the TV. And there she picked up something Mac hadn’t noticed before. A pair of sunglasses.
“Also, be aware,” she said, “that the camera adds ten pounds.”
“Camera?”
“Let’s get this to your lawyer,” Rocky said. “You may be able to buy a little time after all.”
1:35 p.m.
One more leg, Liz thought.
“One more leg,” she said aloud.
The car was moving. It would make it. It would make it to Jackson.
Make it
,
car.
She saw Mama then, as clear as anything. She was in the distance, on the road, waving at her.
Come home
,
daughter.
Big surprise
,
Mama. You’ ll get a big surprise when you see your daughter
and see what she has.
You’ ll be happy, and that’ ll make up for all the bad things they did
to you.
I’ ll go see Old Dane and set it up
,
I’ ll set it up for me forever
,
and then
you’ ll see
,
then you’ ll —
Liz screamed.
It was not her mother. It was Arty.
She jammed the brakes.
Behind her, the sound of tires, an angry horn, a shouted curse.
She fought for breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Arty wasn’t there.
2:55 p.m.
In Tito Sanchez’s office on Burbank, Rocky played the sunglasses video on her computer. Mac thought it unfolded exactly like all those hidden-camera-reveals-undercover-reporters used in sting operations. It not only made Slezak look guilty, but also it made it look like he was born to play the part.
Some of his expressions, on pause, even made him look crazy.
Maybe he was.
Sanchez sat back and said, “Wow.”
“What can you do with it?” Mac said.
“I’m not sure,” Sanchez said. “Get it to the Department of Corrections.”
“ASAP?”
“I’ll make some calls.”
“I need it to be immediate,” Mac said.
“Why?”
“I’ve got to leave town for a few days.”
The lawyer shook his head. “You can’t do that.”
“I know. But I’m doing it.”
“But — ”
“You can stall Moss if she has any questions.”
“I can’t lie to her.”
“Did I say lie? And you can stop Slezak. Get a temporary restraining order or something, right?”
“Well, I can try — ”
Mac shook his hand. “I got faith in you.”
“You hardly know me.”
“You’re a friend of Jon’s. That’s good enough for me.”
Sanchez ran his hand through his hair. “I hope it’s good enough for the both of us,” he said. “I still advise you not to skip out.”
“Noted,” Mac said. “See you in a few days.”
4:38 p.m.
Los Angeles to Houston.
