Deep Down Dead Page 7

  ‘Don’t.’ He stepped towards me, pulled me close, his arms tight around me as if shielding me from the world, just for a moment. That was the first time he held me. ‘You didn’t cause it. He did. You and her are both victims here.’

  A victim? Shit. I’d played that role for long enough. I felt the anger, the grief building inside me until it felt as if I could hardly breathe. Shoving my fists against his chest, I pushed him away. I wouldn’t be this broken, beaten girl for one minute longer. ‘I’m done being a victim.’

  He looked at me for a long moment.

  I held his gaze. ‘Teach me.’

  He frowned. ‘Teach you about what?’

  ‘Bounty hunting. I don’t want that fucker going free. I want to find him and take him to the cops. Get Sal some kind of justice.’

  JT was silent. Looked like he was considering it real hard.

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘Please. I need this.’

  He exhaled hard. ‘I can’t, Lori. You have to know that.’

  I shook my head. Couldn’t believe he was refusing me. ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  ‘I work alone.’

  I blinked back the tears. Wouldn’t let him see me cry. Hardened my tone as I said, ‘That’s too bad. I thought you were a better man than that.’

  I turned and walked away.

  Four days later I found him sitting on my stoop.

  I’d just gotten home from work. It was late; well, early – almost four in the morning – and I was dog-tired. Still, when he raised a bottle of bourbon in greeting, and gave me that lopsided smile of his, I nodded and invited him inside.

  JT sat down at my kitchen table as I fetched the glasses. The room felt smaller with him in it. Intimate. I put the glasses on the table and watched him pour the bourbon. Waited for him to speak first.

  He pushed one of the glasses towards me. ‘So how’ve you been?’

  How could I answer that? My husband had killed my best friend. It felt as if my world had imploded. ‘Angry. Tired. Wanting justice.’

  JT nodded. ‘That’s natural enough.’

  ‘I wasn’t looking for your reassurance.’

  ‘Well, I’m giving it anyways.’

  I looked at my glass. Took a gulp of the bourbon. Savoured the burn.

  ‘You’re back at work then?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘I’m guessing so.’

  Small talk didn’t suit JT. It wasn’t his style; it made him seem awkward, his manner forced. I was tired. Couldn’t be doing with it. So I drained my glass and looked at him straight. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to check in on you. Be sure you were okay.’

  Not to help me find Tommy and get some justice for Sal, then. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Lori, look—’

  ‘No, don’t.’ I pushed back my chair. Stood up and handed him the bottle of bourbon. ‘If you’re not going to train me, why bother coming back?’

  ‘You know I can’t train you.’

  I sighed. ‘Then leave.’

  He got to his feet. Stepped real close to me. The look on his face was real earnest.

  I felt my breath catch in my throat.

  That was the second time he held me. It felt different, and ended up differently too. I can’t remember which one of us kissed the other first, but I do know that it was me who took his hand and led him up the stairs.

  I should’ve known better.

  By the fifth time he showed up on my front porch, I knew I’d got feelings for him. I hadn’t meant to. Knew it would have been simpler if it was just about the sex, but it didn’t work out that way. Our history might have been short, but it was charged with pain and desire; a mixture as volatile as dynamite, and one doomed to blow up sometime, that was for sure.

  We were lying in bed when I asked him. My back pressed up against the warmth of his chest; his arms tight around me. ‘What’s going on here?’ I murmured.

  ‘How’d you mean?’

  I turned to face him. ‘With us.’

  He stayed silent a moment. His expression gave away nothing about what he was thinking. I wanted to know what was going on in his mind. Felt anxiety flutter in my chest.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said to the ceiling, ‘I should train you.’

  I hadn’t expected that. The fluttering in my chest became a fight. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because that’s what you want.’

  He was right; I did want that. But it wasn’t an answer to the question I’d just asked him. ‘What changed your mind?’

  He smiled. Kissed me on the tip of my nose. ‘You, Lori. You did.’

  I felt uneasy. Back-footed. ‘How do you figure on it working?’

  ‘Come stay with me. I’ll train you, and we’ll find Tommy. Then afterwards, I’ll go back to working alone.’

  I’d been talking about the thing between us, the sex and the feelings, and where the hell was it leading, if it was leading to any place at all. But now he was offering me the chance to find Tommy, to get Sal justice. I couldn’t ignore it. And him asking me to go stay with him, that had to be a good thing, a step forward. So I said, ‘Deal.’

  And tried not to think on what would happen afterwards.

  I was a quick study. I did all that JT instructed, and followed his teaching exactly. I learnt how to investigate a person; how to profile them, finding their behaviour patterns and their weaknesses, and using that knowledge to gain the advantage. I read up on the law, discovered what I had to do to bring someone in legally, and watched how JT applied those rules in the field. But most challenging of all, I had to toughen up. Get match fit. Make myself so familiar with the tools – cuffs, taser, gun – they felt like they were part of me. I learnt how to defend myself, how to stand my ground, and when to close in on the target.

  I moved into JT’s cabin. Kept practising hard, pushing myself until I thought I might die from exhaustion. And, in a way, I kind of did. In fact, Jennifer Lorelli Ford died right then. I changed my name by deed poll, created a new identity all of my own; not Thomas Ford’s wife, not my parents’ daughter, just me. I dropped the Jennifer, legally shortened my middle name to the one I’d always preferred using, and picked one of the most common family names in America. From then on I was Lori Anderson, Bounty Hunter.

  I memorised JT’s rules, and all that he taught me about the business, the law, and the tracking techniques he used. But, although I had my new name, and with his help was quickly building myself a new life, there was something else I needed before I could properly move on.

  We kept hunting for Tommy. The bail bond forfeiture period might have long since expired, but this had gotten personal for the both of us. Tommy couldn’t be allowed to get away with what he’d done to Sal, he just couldn’t. Still, finding him proved far harder than I’d hoped. So I went out on other jobs with JT, kept training until my target shooting was near perfect; and when I felt the burn on those long runs JT was so fond of, instead of wanting to give up I’d grit my teeth and push on through the pain.

  Somewhere along the line, things changed.

  Me and JT, us working together, was only ever meant to be a temporary deal. He’d told me that right from the get-go, and I listened, surely I did. I told myself not to get comfortable. Knew that what we had – the work, the sex – was just for now and there were no guarantees for the future. But that didn’t save me from falling real hard.

  It wasn’t smart, not at all, and I knew it. As the weeks blurred into months, and JT said nothing more about our arrangement being time limited, I started to believe, to hope, that we could have a future.

  Like I said, not smart.

  It took us near on five months to get a firm lead. One of the dirtbags Tommy oftentimes partnered with was spotted by a contact of JT’s visiting some lodge out in a real remote area of country. JT felt certain he’d have something on Tommy. We just needed to make him talk.

  We g
eared up for a fast pick-up: double-checking our go-bags, keeping our rigs stowed in the trucks instead of hanging on their nails in the kit room, and then we waited. JT’s contact would call us just as soon as the douche returned to the lodge.

  Two days later, we got the call. It was late, near on midnight, and I’d just told JT that I didn’t want what we had, whatever you might call it, to end; I wanted our temporary deal to become more permanent.

  When the cell phone rang, I could tell JT was relieved. Not that he’d said as much, but I saw it in his expression. He didn’t respond to what I’d told him, instead he nodded towards the cell and said, ‘It’s time. Saddle up, kiddo.’

  We took both trucks. I followed JT from the cabin, along the winding forest road and out on to the freeway. I tried not to feel mad at him for not responding to my honesty. Hated how insecure not knowing what he thought made me feel. I knew I had to focus on the job, on this douche who might have information on Tommy’s whereabouts, and that I had to put my personal feelings aside. JT had told me how dangerous it was to let feelings cloud your judgement, that when emotions took over things oftentimes turned bad. I’d listened, and nodded in the right places, but I’d never really understood. Right then, though, I got it; JT stayed unattached and remote so he’d never be unfocused. I thought back to him not answering me, and wondered at what little hope I had.

  The journey took a while. We’d been travelling a couple of hours, maybe a little longer, when JT took a sharp turn off the freeway. I followed. After a few miles, I saw JT’s brake lights flare, and watched him turn across the road and on to a gravel track. I stopped on the road, pulling in tight against the trees, and killing my lights. Stared through the gloom at the sign beside the track: Big Mo’s Fishing Shack.

  In the distance, I spotted a line of wooden lodges, evenly spaced around a large lake. I knew the type of place Mo’s would likely be: a hunting getaway, the type city folk use when they need a weekend of shooting up shit, catching fish and drinking beer. What with it being out of season, all the lodges looked empty, aside from the one sitting furthest from the highway. That one had a light on inside.

  I watched the lights on JT’s truck go dark as he crawled it closer towards the lodge. My heart thumped in my chest, and I felt almost dizzy from the adrenaline. I was JT’s back-up, I had to be sure the douche didn’t get away. I got out of my car and sprinted along the gravel track.

  The moon was full and high that night, and for that I was thankful. By its light, I watched JT park up by the occupied lodge, get out, and approach it on foot, fast.

  I ran quicker, counting down the seconds since JT had disappeared inside: five, ten, fifteen. It felt like a lifetime. Given what he knew of the douche’s previous form, he’d have taken a covert approach, searching each room by stealth. JT always told me that surprise could beat firepower eight times out of ten.

  After twenty-five seconds, I reached the lodge. I stopped, listening hard.

  Silence.

  I crept around back. Stayed alert, knew the drill. JT always said there was a whole lot more chance of capturing a target if you had someone guarding the exit.

  So I stood in the bushes bordering the lodge’s yard. Waiting. Behind me, I could hear the water from the lake lapping against the bank. The highway, a way off to my right, was empty. On the other side of the lodge, trees stretched out into the distance. I wondered if there were bears.

  That’s when I heard him.

  A couple of thuds against the frame of the small window on the far left of the lodge, and the douche had gotten it wide enough to crawl through. He eased himself out, feet first, and slid down on to the dirt. He hadn’t seen me waiting in the scrub.

  As I watched him scramble to his feet, I reached into my holster and drew my Wesson Commander Classic Bobtail. I didn’t want to think on how he’d gotten clear of JT. Heart pounding, I stepped out of the scrub, into the moonlit yard. ‘Stop, you’re surrounded.’

  He froze.

  I felt crazy sick. Knew all the bad things this douche had been into, all the evil he was capable of. I couldn’t let him escape. ‘Now raise your hands and turn around real slow.’

  The douche turned. He squinted at me, all confused.

  ‘I said raise your hands where I can see them.’

  He didn’t raise his hands; he laughed. ‘What the hell you doing?’

  I exhaled hard, as if I’d taken a roundhouse kick to the chest. Felt dizzy. Told myself to hold it together. I had to; the douche was Tommy.

  I pointed my gun square at his chest and forced myself to meet his gaze. ‘I’m taking you to jail.’

  He shook his head. Started walking towards me. ‘Don’t point that thing at me, you ain’t gonna use it.’

  ‘I will,’ I said, hating the way my voice trembled, fighting the urge to run. ‘You gotta pay for what you did to Sal.’

  He stopped, but kept grinning, as if me holding a gun on him was no big deal. Shook his head. ‘Jesus. You still bleating over that two-bit prick tease? Shit, woman, you—’

  ‘Don’t call her that.’ I kept the gun pointed at him, tried to ignore that it was shaking. Told myself I could do this, it was what I’d been training for. I had to bring Tommy in, for Sal, and for me. I dug my heels into the dirt. Held my ground.

  He laughed again. ‘You won’t shoot me. I’m your husband.’

  I glanced toward the lodge, wondered where the hell JT had gotten to. ‘We’re getting a divorce.’

  Tommy’s grin faded. ‘We ain’t. You’re mine, and you gonna stay that way, y’hear? Some little whore bleeding out on our floor ain’t doing nothing to change that.’

  I felt the rage building inside me. He didn’t give a damn about what he’d done. ‘She was a sweet kid who didn’t—’

  Tommy stepped towards me. ‘Shit, woman. You saying I’m a liar?’

  I glanced again towards the lodge; still no sign of JT. I felt the panic rising in my chest. I didn’t have long; if Tommy reached me I’d be in real trouble, unless I could get him cuffed. I had to think fast, plan my next move as I was talking. ‘Yes, I am. You’ve been lying to me almost our whole marriage. I’ve seen the photos, I know what you really did at the casinos.’

  He frowned. Looked deflated, suddenly less threatening. It reminded me of how he’d looked after Ethan’s death, as if the life had been sucked clear out of him. ‘Well, shit. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true.’ His tone was softer, sadder. ‘You’re the one helping that goddamn bounty hunter?’

  ‘Yes I am.’ There was too much pride in my voice, and you know what folks say about that. I reached back to unclip my cuffs from my rig. Lowered my gun a fraction. ‘And now I’m taking you to—’

  ‘Dumb fucking bitch.’ He reached behind him, pulled a gun from the waistband of his pants, swung it towards me. ‘You’re going to—’

  I didn’t think, just pure reacted. Dropping the cuffs, I raised my gun and pulled the trigger. Kept pulling it until every bullet was spent.

  Tommy dropped to the ground, his body jerking as each bullet hit. I knew he was dead, he had to be, but I still expected him to put a hand out to break his fall. He didn’t. Just lay there, blood seeping out on to the dirt.

  I kept the gun pointed right at him, shaking.

  ‘Put the gun down, Lori.’

  I heard what JT said, but I couldn’t move, felt frozen.

  Footsteps. Then his voice again. Closer. ‘Lori?’

  I felt JT’s hand on my arm. Flinched.

  ‘It’s okay. Give me the gun.’

  I let him take it. Noticed he’d gotten his own weapon, a Glock, in his other hand, along with a pair of cuffs. A voice in my head, which sounded nothing like my own, told me that he may as well put the cuffs away. Dead men don’t struggle.

  I stared at Tommy, lying all crumbled like a bloodied rag in the dirt, his fingers still curled around his gun. The same gun he’d killed Sal with, the one he’d have shot me with too.

  I started to shake, couldn
’t help it. I’d killed a man. Not any man, my husband. And yet, although my body was reacting, inside I felt nothing. I was numb, like it wasn’t real.

  JT took hold of my shoulders, turned me towards him. ‘You’re in shock. It’ll pass.’

  But I wasn’t. Tommy dying, that wasn’t the kind of justice I’d been looking for. Death had been too easy for him. I’d wanted to follow JT’s rules, to take Tommy to the cops, and for him to do his time.

  ‘Lori, you hear me?’

  I looked into JT’s eyes. Couldn’t find the words to explain. Nodded.

  After that, JT didn’t say anything. He took command of the situation – damage control I guess you’d call it. I didn’t argue. It was my fault he’d been put in this situation, the least I could do was not bitch about it.

  After we’d removed any traces of our being at the lodge, he carried Tommy’s body through the trees. I followed with the shovel. I don’t know how long we walked, but when JT put Tommy down I started to dig.

  He took the shovel from me. ‘Let me.’

  I watched JT dig the hole, deep down in the earth, a place to bury my husband’s body. I wanted to feel something: fear, relief, regret, anything. But I didn’t. Sal was still gone. Tommy being dead hadn’t made a damn difference.

  I helped JT roll Tommy into the hole. He fell awkwardly on to the damp soil, his arm twisted behind him, his neck bent back. I felt glad. He didn’t deserve comfort, not even in his final resting place. He’d gunned down Sal as she tried to help me, like she was nothing, an inconvenience. I kicked at the mound of dirt, pushing it into the hole. Then I turned away, shivered, cold to my bones despite the mugginess of the night.

  JT shovelled the earth over Tommy’s body.

  When he’d finished, the soil packed down beneath our feet and a scattering of leaves pushed over the spot, JT turned to me. ‘I shouldn’t have let him get away from me. He got in a lucky punch as I got my cuffs out, dazed me a while.’

  I shook my head. ‘Don’t you do that. This wasn’t your fault. When Sal died, you told me I wasn’t to blame and you were right. But this tonight, it’s on me.’