Erica Spindler - Dead Run

Liar! Dirty, fucking liar. “Did she?” Rick managed to say. “I wonder why?”

“Maybe for the same reason she asked you to meet her here.”

“I didn’t say that she did.”

A flush spread up the other man’s cheeks. Val drew his Colt Python revolver and aimed it at Rick. “I think you had better move away from the body.”

Rick did, careful not to step in blood and contaminate the scene. He wondered if Val knew about the tape. And if he did know, whether he had already found it. He prayed he hadn’t.

“Why don’t you call this in, Val? Get a crew out ASAP.” He folded his arms across his chest and met the other man’s gaze. “There’s nowhere I have to be.”

Val stared blankly at him a moment, then slowly shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You and I are going down to headquarters. We need to have a little chat.”

“I think not. I prefer to be right here when the evidence crew arrives. Just want to make sure the evidence isn’t contaminated. You know crime-scene procedure, Lieutenant. Leaving a murder scene unattended constitutes a serious breach.”

“If I were you, I’d be a little less concerned with my duty and more concerned with your own ass.”

“Meaning?”

Val narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t look good for you, does it, Rick? Finding you this way? With her?”

“Where’s the weapon? Where’s the blood?” Rick held out his hands, palms up. “My hands are red, from where I tried to stop her bleeding. But the way she was killed, it should be all over me.

“Her gun’s on the counter,” Rick continued. “Judging by the trail of blood, it looks as if she dragged herself across the floor in an attempt to retrieve it. That’s why her arm’s hitched up like that, she tried to pull herself up, one drawer at a time.” His voice cracked. “She didn’t make it.”

Val didn’t even blink. “Your point?”

“My point, old friend, is that I didn’t kill her. She went for her gun after her attacker left, probably before I arrived.

“Her killer could have exited this door,” Rick continued, motioning the rear door, “then made his way around to the front. If wearing something like a-” he eyed the other man with feigned ingenuousness “-like a rubber rain slicker, he could step out into the rain and by the time he made it around the house, he’d be clean. The rain would have washed away the evidence of his deed. That make sense to you, Val?”

Val crossed to where Carla lay. He stepped over her, retrieved and pocketed her pistol. “Poor deluded Rick. He hasn’t been the same since his kid died. Such a tragedy. It breaks my heart. It really does.”

Rick struggled to keep his fury in check. He couldn’t give Val anything to use against him. He tried another tack. “Remember that time we lifted your dad’s pellet gun and decided every streetlight in town was big game? Remember how indignant we were when the cops showed up?” Rick shook his head. “Twelve years old and we thought we shouldn’t have to answer to anybody.”

“A couple of smart-asses.” A smile tugged at the corners of Val’s mouth. “The way we talked to that cop, today a kid like that’d make my blood boil.”

“Your old man kicked your ass.”

“What about yours? You couldn’t ride your bike for a week.”

“We were going to conquer the world, Val. When I think of the way we used to strut, it’s a wonder anybody put up with us. Cocksure punks, that’s what we were. And then we discovered girls.”

“Yee-ha.”

“What happened to us, Val? We were best friends. We would have died for each other.” Rick lowered his voice to a soft plea. “When did it all change? When did we begin taking it all so seriously?”

Val’s smile faded. “I’m tired, Rick. So fucking tired of it all. This game stinks.”

“So let’s stop playing.” He looked his old friend dead in the eyes, aching for what had been-and regretting what must be. His friend was going down. And he had to be the one to do it. “Let’s stop taking it all so seriously, let’s be the boys we used to be. Cocksure punks out to save the world.”

Val hesitated; his hand shook slightly. “You can’t go back, Rick. We both know that.”

“You can,” Rick murmured, pressing his advantage. “I’ll help you. Talk to me, Val. I’m here for you, buddy.”

For a second, Rick saw the boy he had known and loved in Val’s eyes. The kid who had been so eager to prove himself to the world, to be the people’s champion, a hero.

In the next moment, that boy was gone. In his place was a man Rick didn’t recognize. “Screw that. We’re going to take a little ride.”

He meant to kill him. And there was nobody to stop him.

“Don’t do this, Val,” Rick implored. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but I’ll help you. You talk to me and I’ll see to it that-”

“Cut the cop bullshit! You think I don’t know the way it works? I’ve been a cop my whole life!” He motioned with his gun. “Now, shut the fuck up and get your hands behind your head. We’re going for a little ride.”

Wednesday, November 21

6:20 p.m.

Rick made his way to Val’s sedan, parked around the corner from Carla’s cottage. Val followed closely, the barrel of the revolver pressed to the small of Rick’s back.

Rick frantically scanned the area, looking for a witness to confirm his version of this nightmare, for details that would later help him create an accurate timetable of events-in case he managed to escape with his life. He came up with little. Except for several parked cars and a mangy-looking dog barking at them from Carla’s neighbor’s porch, the street was deserted.

“You going to kill me, Val?” Rick asked.

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” He pressed the gun more snugly against his back. “Although I suspect before this is all over you’ll wish you were dead.”

“Now who’s being melodramatic?”

“Just honest, my friend.”

Rick laughed at that. Valentine Lopez and honesty had parted company a long time ago. They reached the vehicle and stopped. “Why’d you park way over here? The way it’s raining, I would have thought the open space right in front of Carla’s would have been a better choice. But that’s right, you didn’t want anybody to know you were here.”

“Shut up.” Keeping the gun trained on him, Val yanked open the front passenger side door, reached inside and retrieved his cuffs. “Turn around.”

Rick complied. “You really think cuffs are necessary? If I ran, who would bring you down?”

The other man snapped the cuffs on roughly, then shoved him against the car. He yanked open the rear door. “Get in.”

Rick did, and moments later Val pulled away from the curb. Using the radio, he called dispatch, informed them he was bringing in murder suspect Rick Wells for questioning. He ended the call, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Murder suspect? How do you figure?”

Val made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Patience. It will all be revealed to you soon. And after it is, I suspect you’re going to wish I had killed you.”

Dammit, he needed that tape. “Playing it close to the vest, Val? Afraid I’m going to punch holes in your little plot?”

Val looked over his shoulder and smiled, the curving of his lips as cold as ice. He held a finger to his lips. “Just a little farther. And if you play nice, I won’t beat the shit out of you for resisting.”

Rick faced Val across the interrogation-room table. The other man had refused to say another word until they reached police headquarters, though Rick had continued to try to goad him. Once at headquarters he’d spoken. In a singsong voice he had given Rick the option of coming peacefully with him or being cuffed and dragged in.