Chuck Logan - Vapor Trail

The gun barrel wavered off his chest, and Drew started to rise in his chair. The gun snapped back. “Sit,” Annie commanded. Drew sat.

“It was you, last night,” Drew said. “The woman up the hill, the teacher. You-”

“Oh, she was easy. Now Gloria, that was hard,” Annie said.

But as Harry always says, if you never take the long shots, you never win big.

So she bets it all that Gloria will be home. And it’s just like she has Harry’s lucky arm with the three 7s hugging her. Gloria opens the door and sees bedraggled Annie all beat up from ducking through the bushes.

“Help. This guy jumped me.”

Barge past her, going into the apartment. Track dirt, shed bits of shrubs. Feigning shock, mumbling after the phone, compassionate Gloria tags along, does not notice the latex gloves. Wrong turn into the bedroom, return with the pillow. One hand stays in the pack on the Ruger, but the silencer is back at the storm sewer.

More shock, stumbling into the bathroom-then the one moment of cruelty. Face-to-face.

Harry sends his love, bitch!

One beat, two. Let it sink in. Then the gun comes out. Shove the pillow in her face to muffle the scream of protest, the sound of the shot. Make sure the angle of the barrel is credible for a suicide, jam it in, and. .Gloria’s dead, open eyes watch her enjoy a cool shower on a hot night.

Take the time now to be careful. Arrange the pistol just so in the lifeless hand. Scuff her up with the dirty clothes and shoes, leave them strewn on the bathroom floor. Even thought to bring a small branch to gouge her shin and knee. Then a moment of quiet celebration in the bedroom, slow tour of Gloria’s closet to find a fresh change of clothes. Leave the pack in the closet; Angel’s cheap wig, the bodysuit, medals, the Saints jacket.

One last touch. Send the world’s first wireless suicide note. To her weightlifting buddy. The cop. His address is right in her queue. Message him on Gloria’s Palm Pilot. A trained detective, and he comes running because he sees a dead woman’s name printed on his gadget.

No one sees her go in or out. Perfect. Gloria Russell is the Saint. Harry’s theory comes true. All she has to do is leave the.38 along with the Ruger.

But here it is, in her hand.

Annie stared at Drew, almost fondly. “Like I told you, I can’t stop. Just like I couldn’t resist coming over this morning because you were the last name on my list.”

Drew balled his fists, desperate and angry, getting ready to fight. “You’re crazy, really fucking crazy.”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” Annie yelled. Her hand began to shake now, and Drew half rose, gathering himself.

“Crazy. .” he said again, but he looked past Annie. She extended her arm, pointing the gun at his face, but she turned slightly and saw Laurie standing naked and dripping in the bathroom doorway.

“Daddy, I’m scared ,” Laurie sobbed.

Annie looked back and forth between them. She couldn’t stop the shaking.

“Go back in the bathroom, honey,” Drew said, finally finding his voice. He steadied, gathering himself. “Listen to Daddy.”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” Annie shouted.

Laurie screamed and ran to the bathroom. When Laurie slammed the door, Annie jerked around at the sound. Drew made his move, coming over the table. Annie swung back and yanked the trigger. Drew’s momentum carried him forward into her as the gun went off.

The loudness of the explosion shocked her. She was used to the silenced Ruger. She watched Drew’s eyes go wide, then he toppled against her, and they both rolled to the floor. Annie was up quick. Drew lay facedown, leaking blood.

Annie staggered to get her balance. She blinked her eyes and swallowed to clear her hearing. Now what? She pushed through the door and entered the bathroom with the pistol hanging in her hand.

“I’m trying to help you,” she explained. She reached out to grab Laurie by the shoulders, to reassure her. Laurie twisted away like a wet fifty-pound wildcat and screamed, “I WANT MY DADDY!”

“DON’T SAY THAT, GODDAMMIT!” Annie screamed back and grabbed at the girl to restrain her.

Broker and Janey sat on the deck sipping coffee and watching the clouds roll in. A grumble in the distance prompted Janey to turn her head. “Was that thunder?” she said.

“I think it was,” Broker said. He could feel a cool shadow insinuate into the air, compressing the humidity like a spring.

Their eyes met, and they laughed, just as they’d laughed last night when they couldn’t get past mild petting. Janey had slept in the guest room.

After a few beats, Janey said, “Well, look at us; so much for weak moments.”

Broker shrugged and said, “Maybe weak moments are like straight-leg jeans; you gotta be young to be comfortable in them. We’re pretty much padded with baggage, you and me.” He briefly revisited his “weak moment” last year with Jolene Sommer, which had been pretty awful.

“I guess Drew doesn’t let it bother him,” Janey said.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Broker said.

“Maybe it’s his men’s group. . we go to this Unitarian church sometimes, and they have. . don’t laugh,” Janey said, seeing the smile curl at the corner of his lips.

Broker held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Hey, I can dig it. I was in this big men’s group once. Cut my hair short, wore green all the time, ate shitty food, and slept in the woods. No drumming, though, and no campfires.”

“Very funny. What I mean is, Drew and these guys get very involved in discussing their evaporating testosterone or something. . their vigor. I think getting older scares him.”

A long muted crackle snaked across the sky. If his daughter were here, Broker would tell her that, far away, a thunder lizard was uncoiling his spiked ozone tail.

“I don’t know. Sometimes a marriage comes down to basic triage. When things get ugly and bloody, you have to figure where you’re headed-to emergency or the morgue,” Broker said.

“Now there’s a quaint-” Janey stopped in midsentence as two phones rang at the same time in the kitchen: the house phone and her cell phone on the table. “That’s. . weird,” she said.

They got up and went to their respective phones.

Broker picked up and heard the familiar voice start in, “It’s Jeff; first of all, everything’s all right so don’t worry, you hear me?”

The caller was Tom Jeffords, the Cook County sheriff. His neighbor on Lake Superior’s north shore.

“What the hell? Is it the folks?” Broker said, bracing himself.

“No, it’s Kit,” Jeff said.

Instant Tilt-a-Whirl in his chest. “Kit?”

“She’s all right. She’s fine. It’s just that she turned up in a motel room in Langdon, North Dakota, with a baby-sitter who had instructions to call me today.”

Broker sat down as the edges of his vision came tunneling in. “Where the hell is her mother?” His voice shook between incredulity and real anger.

“Nina left her with this baby-sitter yesterday. Just the instructions to call. No other message,” Jeff said. “I called the Cavalier County Sheriff’s Department, and they’ve got deputies on it up the wazoo. Nothing to worry about. She’s fine, so stay cool.”

“Where the hell is Langdon?” Broker said, trying to stay cool.

“Up in the northeast corner in the middle of nowhere. Grand Forks is the nearest air link. Take these numbers.”

Broker wrote down the numbers for the Cavalier County Sheriff’s Department. And the Best Western where Kit was found. He listened while Jeff counseled him not to bother his parents until he had Kit in hand. Jeff said call anytime; he was there night or day. They said good-bye.