Chapter 5
The last call of the afternoon came from an old friend . . . well, maybe not, but I knew the voice.
“Dr. Fleming, let me be brief and frank. I don’t want to have you killed, or your lovely lady. Actually, in some strange way, I have come to like you, or perhaps I should say respect your resourcefulness and ability to survive. We have accomplished our mission with the demise of your late friend, Mr. Macklin. Our business associates have duly noted the consequences of defying our authority. If you could arrange to depart suddenly, your existence would be assured. This is the last warning. Please consider your health and the health of your companion.”
“Thanks for your concern, Counselor. I will consider your advice, but tell your thugs and The Boss Lady that I don’t scare that easily.” I hung up.
It sounded all too Dirty Harry and it was the biggest lie I’d told in quite some time. I was scared . . . for myself, but even more for Sunny. I knew she wouldn’t walk out on her contract with the university and there was no way in hell I’d leave her here to face rabid dogs alone.
When she came that evening, we decided that we would get out of town as soon as possible. Her contract was up in June and that was three months away. She looked hard at me. The fear was etched around her eyes and although she tried to hide it, her teeth were clenched, the quivering jaw barely discernible.
She held me especially tight that night. We crawled into the v berth and explored each other with a new found urgency and passion. The sweat and the sweet sense of flesh melding on flesh was real. It filled us up, but so did the fear.
The next few days were pretty quiet. No more from Panko, Elmer, Ma, or any other of the players in this mad game. It had gotten cold, temperature in the mid-forties. I hung around the boat and ran the electric heater. I had even begun to relax a little . . . sleeping better, trying to plan a few upgrades to KAMALA before our trip south. When the time was up, I wanted to be absolutely sure there was nothing to keep Sunny and me from slipping the lines and getting the hell out of Norfolk. Once we settled, I fly in, pick up the old Saab and drive it to a place we’d chosen that was safe and warm. I didn’t know I wouldn’t need that airline ticket.
I was fooling around on the internet, looking at a new chart plotter when I heard someone thud onto the boat. I slid the hatch back to see Bill. He looked like a giant puffer fish, but his face was crimson and he was breathing in short, shallow bursts. I removed the boards and he stumbled below.
“I couldn’t tell you on the phone,” he gasped. “Sarah’s car was in the shop. She asked Sunny to borrow the Saab to run to the grocery for some steaks for dinner. I guess she got in, turned the key. There was an explosion. The car burst into flames. Sunny was standing nearby. The blast knocked her cold. Sarah was trapped. There was no one to get her out.”
He dropped his head to his chest and began to shake. I pulled out the Jameson and poured us both a half full glass. Bill is a big man, tough and somewhat jaded from all of the years dealing with the miscreants and low-lifes. Hazards of the trade. I knew Sarah had kept him whole -- protected his humanity in a way no one else could. Now she was gone. A part of his soul had been ripped out and cast into a bottomless abyss, never to surface again. I struggled for words, but nothing came. Then I forced the question.
“So, what about Sunny?”
“She’s okay, but they’re checking her at the hospital for any signs of a concussion or other injuries. She may even be at her apartment by now.”
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but it wouldn’t come. I knew this wasn’t over.
I let him sit. I watched him cry. Then I watched the rage begin to build and the venom begin to pump from his pores. He reached into his coat and pulled out the Glock 9 mil. He laid it on the table and leaned back into the cushion on the settee. He stared at it for a moment, then took a hit of the brown Irish. I felt something cold spiking up my spine. I guess it had arrived. I wasn’t even sure what it was, but it hung in the air like an unfulfilled demon, longing for mutilated flesh . . . and for rivers of blood. He took a deep breath, holstered the pistol under his arm and left. I didn’t know where he was going and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I went for Sunny as soon as I could. She was at her apartment. She was barely able to answer the door. They had given her a strong sedative. I couldn’t see any obvious signs of the blast, but her eyes were red and vacant in a way that haunted me. I had the Kel-Tec with me. I washed her face with a warm rag and put her to bed. Then I sat on the couch and clutched the pistol. I knew the door was locked and bolted, but that didn’t mean that nothing hideous and threatening could enter the apartment. It was cold . . . and maybe the thing was already here.
“We should have gone, should have known. The hell with the contract. Sarah would still be alive.” Those were the first words she said when she stirred.
“Well, we didn’t. So now we’ve got to make some hard choices. We could leave tonight. KAMALA is ready. A quick trip to provision, or we could even put that off until we get down the ICW a few miles. I think they’d leave us alone. Like Panko said, they’ve sent their message to the people that matter to them. They don’t have to kill anyone else to make their point. If we stay, we might be next.”
“I know I’m fucked up,” she said, “but I want those bastards to pay. They get me . . . okay, maybe even you, but Sarah? We’d become close . . . friends even. She wasn’t a part of this. It didn’t have to happen.”
“Think about what you’re saying, Sunny. Your blood or mine won’t make it right. She’s gone. Bill will take care of it. I’m sure of that. He’s the cop, not us. He’s driven. It was his wife. Think about it. When you come down, maybe you’ll feel different.”
“Screw that. I don’t doubt Bill, but I don’t doubt us either. You’re the Ghostcatcher. You’ve done it before. We can help, and those creeps can rot in hell while we watch.”
I didn’t like the tone . . . didn’t like the words. My Sunny has always been tough, but she’s also the ultimate voice of reason. She made sense when nothing else did. Ghostcatcher, my ass. Her erstwhile Sir Galahad was ready for retirement. Give me some peace, my lady, a little bit of sunshine, and I’ll get by. Scared? You’re damned right. But in this case, maybe she had a point. I reran that stuff from the Old Testament, “an eye for an eye . . .” Okay. Blood needed blood.
I stayed the night. I tried to sleep while she quivered and sobbed next to me. It made no difference what I said. This wasn’t going away. I was in, and fuck the bastards who had blown a very devoted professor, and one damned nice lady, to kingdom come. We’d get them . . . if they didn’t get us first.
Sunny made it to class the next morning. The circles under her eyes were damned near purple and suddenly she looked much older, but I knew she was a survivor -- my survivor -- and it was best that she be where she was supposed to be and do what she was supposed to do. That was teaching, and despite the skeptics, it was okay.