Riles felt another chill, that came, not from outside but from inside himself.
He kept thinking how cold Hannah was. How smart.
“We'll tell them it’s a social call,” Riles said, turning for the barn door.
Sharp followed. “Whose house should we visit first?”
“Were Mary’s parents home when we released her?”
“I understood they had a few hours left to drive before they reached Maple.”
“Then we go to Mary's,” Riles said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At Mary Dammon’s house, in her bedroom where she first made love to Charles Gallagher, Mary sat on her bed beside Charlie. He was naked and asleep under the covers. She'd had trouble getting him inside the house and then even more trouble getting his clothes off. It was only now, finally, after running a portable electric heater on him for an hour, that he began to feel warm. She had already bandaged his chest wound. Gently she brushed his hair as she gazed at his handsome face. She wished that he would wake up soon so that she could tell him how much she loved him.
“I do, you know,” she whispered. “Even though I almost got you killed.”
Charlie opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
“Did you say something?” he croaked.
“Oh, Charlie!” she cried, burying her face in his chest.
He groaned. “That hurts.”
She remembered his injury. “Sorry. How are you feeling?”
He was sleepy. “Good. Where am I?”
“My bedroom. You’re safe now.”
“From what?”
She took his hand and leaned close. “Do you remember what happened last night?”
He thought for a moment. “No.”
“What is the last thing you remember?”
“We were at the Crossroads. You were there. You said you were sorry.”
She smiled through her tears. “You said you were sorry, too. Do you remember?”
He yawned. “Yes.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Yes.” He yawned loudly. “I love you, Mary.”
Then his eyes closed. He was snoring again. She kissed him on the forehead. “I love you more than I realized, Charlie.”
Mary stood and quietly left the bedroom.
Hannah was sitting in Mary's living room in fresh warm clothes. She lifted her hand and there was a revolver in it. The one Mary had thrown into the bushes after killing Hannah.
“Oh,” Mary said, freezing.
Hannah waved the gun. “Sit down.”
Mary sat in a chair across from her. She was beyond shock.
“How?” Mary gasped.
Hannah did not smile. “Blanks. In Harvey's, just before Charlie turned up, you let it slip that you knew how many shots Dick had fired. I knew then that you knew I was the killer. I knew you’d go for my gun when you had the chance. When we stopped at Charlie’s truck, before we went back out to the farm, I loaded it with blanks. I had bought the blanks before, to show Dick.” She cocked the hammer. “But I have live rounds with me now in case you’re wondering.”
Mary swallowed. “I was not wondering.”
Hannah glanced around. “When do your parents get home?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“I don’t know.”
Hannah considered. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t be here long. What are you looking at?”
“A ghost. Why the big emotional display at the farm?”
Hannah was reflective. “To see if you could be moved.” She held her eye. “To see if you cared.”
“Why should I care about a murderer?”
Hannah drew in a ragged breath. “You shot me, Mary. How could you do that to me?”
“I enjoyed it. Give me the gun and I'll shoot you again.”
Hannah's expression darkened. “I'm going to kill you, both of you. You must know.”
“Then I'll be the one who fled the scene because of her guilt?”
“Yes. I have it all planned. When you vanish, the cops will stop hassling me.”
“I'm not going anywhere. You’re going to have to shoot me here. And I'm sure I’ll bleed a lot. I'll make a point of it before I die. My parents really are on their way home. You won't be able to clean up the mess before they arrive. No one, especially the cops, will think I left town because of guilt.” Mary paused. “So you see you don't have it all planned after all.”
Hannah sat up. “I can make you move.”
Mary shook her head. “Nope. Even if you threaten to shoot Charlie, I won't budge from this chair. Go ahead he's in the bedroom. Put the gun to his head and threaten me. Better yet put the barrel of your gun in my mouth like they do on TV and try to scare me big time.”
Hannah was bitter. “I only wanted your love. Was that too much to ask?”
“Yeah. You're gay and I'm not. Killing your brother didn't change that. Also, before you get started, don't try pulling that poor lonely homosexual routine on me. You did not murder your brother because you're gay. I know lots of wonderful well-balanced lesbians. You killed him because you’re a loon. It's as simple as that.”
Hannah had tears. “And why did you try to kill me?”
“Stupid question. You deserved it.”
Hannah stood and pointed the revolver down at her. “I pull this trigger and a bullet goes in your heart. Like that, you no longer exist on this planet. You know I'm fully capable of doing it. I’m not bluffing.”
Mary sighed, and she was terribly afraid. But she knew she couldn’t show the fear. “Even if you put a bullet in my heart, it won't make room in there for you,” Mary said.
Hannah was having trouble breathing. “What will make room?”
“Go to the police. Take the blame for what happened. Then talk your dad into getting me into Stanford.” Mary paused. “Then maybe I’ll love you.”
“Now is not the time to mock me.”
Mary softened. “I know.”
Hannah spread her hands. “What can I do? I can't go to jail. For Christsakes I hate having to hang out in my own bedroom. I have to kill you both.”
“No. Put the gun down, leave town. I won’t tell the cops the real story.”
“But they’ll hunt me down.”
“But they won't find you,” Mary said. “Not you.”
Hannah shook her dangerous head. “You'll talk. Eventually you'll talk.”
“I promise I won't.”
Hannah shouted. “God! How can you expect me to trust you when you tried to kill me an hour ago?”
The front doorbell rang. Hannah whirled. “Don't answer it!” she gasped.
Mary was able to peer out the window from where she sat.
“It's the detectives,” she said. “They must have heard your voice. I have to answer it or they’ll get suspicious.”
“No,” Hannah snapped.
Mary stood. “We have no choice.” She stepped toward the door. Hannah grabbed her by the hair and rammed the barrel of the revolver into her neck. She was stronger than Mary would have imagined.
“Say the wrong thing and I shoot them both and then you. Understand?”
Mary nodded. “I'll be cool.”
Hannah released her. “Get them to leave quickly.”
Mary answered the door. Sharp and Riles didn’t look as if they’d gone to bed yet. Mary could relate, and then some. She forced a bright smile.
“Why Lieutenant Sharp and Lieutenant Riles. What a pleasant surprise.” She opened the storm door. “Please come in.”
The detectives entered the house and looked around.
Hannah was back in her chair, her revolver and gun hand concealed under a People magazine.
“Hi, officers,” Hannah said sweetly.
“Hello,” Sharp said.
“Are your parents home yet?” Riles asked Mary.
“No. In a couple of hours.” She gestured to the sofa beside her vacated chair. “Would you like some coffee? I have a fresh pot in the
kitchen.”
“Yes, please,” Sharp said.
Mary turned to Riles. “Does he speak for you?”
Riles nodded, clearly suspicious. “We take it black.”
Mary disappeared into the kitchen. She thought of disappearing out the back door. But she didn’t want to leave the cops with crazy Hannah, and Charlie was still asleep in the bedroom. Fortunately she really did have a pot of coffee brewed. She poured four cups, one for each of them, and returned to the living room with a tray. Hannah was charming the police; they must have wondered at the improvement in her disposition. Riles in particular seemed alert to danger. He never picked up his coffee cup, but kept his hands close to his coat, to his weapon.
“What have you girls been up to since we saw you last?” he asked.
They both forced grins. For different reasons.
“Nothing,” Hannah said.
“Just plotting to assassinate the president,” Mary said.
Hannah giggled. “Mary! Don't tell them anything they don't need to know.”
Mary also chuckled. “But I want them to know that we're not as sweet as we look.”
At her last comment Riles moved his hand closer to his coat. There was no doubt that he was studying Hannah closely. She was not wearing the People magazine over her hand very well. Hannah sensed his scrutiny and began to fidget.
“What do you guys want?” she asked finally.
“Since we saw you last we’ve been out to an old deserted farm,” Riles said. “It's out toward Whistler. The place is terribly run down with a stone well out front. Do you girls know the place?”
Mary nodded. “I know it.”
Hannah hesitated. “I'm not sure I've been there. Why did you two go out there?”
Riles acted casual. “We were looking for Charlie.”
A shadow crossed Hannah's face.
Mary prayed Riles understood what that meant.
Hannah took a deep breath. “I see. Did you find him?”
Riles was tense. “No. But we found some interesting things.”
Hannah's eyes narrowed. “Oh? What?”
The detective was not given an opportunity to explain.
Charlie walked into the room right then.
He sat down in the remaining living room chair. He had a sheet wrapped around him and nothing else on. Mary still thought he looked cute, even with the huge white bandage on his bare chest. He glanced around at everyone as if he was only half awake. Then he blinked in Hannah’s direction and his vision cleared. He lifted his arm and pointed.
“Hey,” he said. “I just remembered. She shot me.”
Riles went for his gun. Hannah was quicker. Riles froze, catching Hannah's eye, and slowly brought down his hand. Hannah stood and covered the four of them with the revolver. Charlie blinked again but now he was showing no sign of falling back asleep.
“Wow,” Charlie said.
“No one move,” Hannah snapped.
“I’d do what she says,” Mary said carefully.
Riles stared at Hannah as he spoke. “You have a gun but you have nowhere to go. There's no point in making the situation worse than it is. Now I am going to slowly stand and put out my hand and you’re going to slowly give me the gun. OK?”
Hannah shook her head tightly. “Move an inch and I'll shoot.”
Sharp glanced at his partner and shook his head slightly. Yet Riles had eyes for Hannah only. He was the hero type, Mary thought. He might be a dead hero in a couple of minutes. Any of them could die in that span of time, even her beloved Charlie.
Mary knew what she had to do next but she was afraid. Her false bravado of a few minutes ago was gone. She couldn’t stop thinking what it would be like to take a bullet in the gut. How her intestines would explode with gross matter, how the blood would gush out and soak her parents' carpet. Her mother and father might come home to find her that way. Their beloved daughter, their dead daughter.
Yet Mary knew she had to pay for what she'd done in the last twelve hours. Pay, big time, to God, for bringing Charlie back from beneath the earth. She knew she owed these officers as well for risking their lives to discover the truth. They were brave men, both of them, and she couldn’t let them be victims of this madness that she had indirectly started. She watched as Riles ignored Hannah’s warning and started to stand.
“No,” Mary said firmly. “Let me.”
Riles looked at her. “No.”
Mary stood. “Let me.”
Riles hesitated then nodded.
Hannah turned the gun on her. “Stay.”
Mary took a step forward. “Dick is dead. Charlie almost died. You pretended to be dead. I guess it's my turn now, Hannah. What's it going to be for me?”
Hannah was a nervous breakdown happening in a five-second span.
Hannah shook her head frantically. “Don't make me do it.”
Mary’s eyes moistened. She could feel how close death was.
“I don't want to die,” Mary said. “I want to go to college. I want to love Charlie. I want to do all kinds of stuff. I know you want to do that stuff, too, and that you wanted to do some of it with me.”
Hannah was in pain. The gun shook.
“But that's impossible now, isn't it?” Hannah asked.
Mary nodded and took another step. “Yeah. Everything got messed up. But Lieutenant Riles is right, if you shoot any of us it won't help. Everything will just be more messed up.” Mary stopped. “But you know that, Hannah. Let's forget the bullshit.” She held out her hand. “Will you give me the gun or not?”
Hannah wet her lips. “You know I love you?”
“Yes. I know, you told me.”
Hannah wept quietly. “Then you know I can't shoot you.”
Mary shook her head. “You fooled me at the barn. Honestly I never know what you're going to do next.”
Hannah lowered the gun for a moment. Then she whipped it up and pressed the barrel to her left temple. She was shaking like someone hooked up to an open wire but her finger was tight around the trigger.
“Like you said, I’m screwed,” she whispered. “I have to do it.”
Mary was sad. “Are you sure?”
Hannah breathed. “Yeah. It’s the only way.”
Mary sniffed. “Can I kiss you goodbye?”
Hannah brightened. A faint flash. Not enough.
“Would you?” she asked.
Mary smiled. She stepped forward. “Yeah.”
Hannah smiled. She actually closed her eyes and leaned forward.
Mary kissed her on the lips.
Then she slowly reached up and pulled the gun down.
Hannah let her. It was enough after all.
Hannah opened her eyes and stared into Mary’s.
“It was worth it,” she said softly.
Mary was touched. Relieved. “Really?”
Hannah nodded and dropped the gun to the floor.
“I’ll talk to the cops, I’ll take the blame for everything. I’ll talk to my dad, I’ll get you into Stanford.”
Mary hugged her. “Hannah.”
“Wow,” Charlie muttered. “What a day.”
Riles and Sharp had to agree. What a night.
Christopher Pike, Execution of Innocence
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends