Up The River
By Sam Ruskin
Chapter 3
Shit!” Alex spat out as she stomped toward the
cabin she and her sister Anna bought so long ago. The detective needed to put
some distance, even a few feet, between herself and the man she was protecting.
“Little idiot,” she muttered to herself. “I ought to kill him myself and be
fucking done with it.”
“I heard that,” rasped the gasping man struggling
to match her long strides.
Alex stopped. Taking in a deep breath and
carefully considering what would be safe to say at this point, she closed her
tired eyes. It was less than a day since she officially took the job of
protecting this eye witness, but it was starting to feel like a month. A long
month. One with 50 days. At least. Her mouth opened but no words tumbled out.
This made the detective smile. “Al, old girl, I do believe you’re learning.”
“You talking to me?” asked Wheaton.
Blue eyes rolled toward the tops of the surrounding pines. Realizing
anything she gave voice to now would be regretted later, or at least apologized
for, she shook her head and remained silent. Snatching the stumbling movie
manager by the back of his britches, she kept him from falling face first into
a rattler. Squinting her eyes to an angry slit, she dared him to speak. He got
the message and they moved on in silent understanding. She was silent and he
understood he had made his first serious mistake. He had pissed off Detective
Alexandra Abigail Stoner. He only hoped he would live to tell about it.
Tears sprang to her blue eyes as she came over the last rise and beheld
the cabin anew. She didn’t wipe them away. Truth be told, she barely noticed
them; so caught up was she in the vision before her. Alex didn’t come here as
often as she’d like and each time she did it made her feel the loss all over
again. Damn it. Why had she loaned her car to Anna that day? OK, sure, Anna’s
was in the shop but she could have used the rental. Right? Oh yeah, like they
ever did that. No. She knew loaning Anna the car wasn’t the reason she was
dead. That cowardice bastard Mickey Lawton was to blame. He bragged all over
the state how he blew Alex Stoner to smithereens. Then when it came out that it
was Officer Anna Stoner who was killed in her sister’s Mustang convertible,
Lawton never missed a beat. He sent a note to the slain woman’s mother and
sister by private courier. The three dozen roses that accompanied it went
directly to the garbage can out back. They didn’t even want the fragrance in
their modest home. The words in the
note still held the ability the make the powerful woman’s fists clench in
impotent rage.
Mrs. Stoner and Alexandra,
It is with deep regret I send these roses. I am sorry for
your loss. It must be very difficult having police officers in the family. They
are forever being killed, are they not?
Unless I am very much mistaken that would be two down and one to go for
the Stoner family. Perhaps Alexandra would like to rethink her career choice
now? At the very least, Alexandra, I would imagine you are reconsidering
digging up old bones. Again, please accept my sorrow at Anna’s being in the
wrong place at the wrong time.
Sincerely,
Mickey Lawton
“Bastard.” Alex muttered to herself for the trillionth time. No one but
the chief and a few close friends and family knew Anna wasn’t suppose to be in
that car at the time or that she had kept Alex’s appointment at the gym that
morning. Only the killer could have known that. Lawton wanted the remaining
Stoners to know he was responsible. Worse. He wanted them to know he wasn’t
finished.
“That the cabin?” Stanley P. Wheaton’s question jerked Alex from her
momentary lapse.
“Yeah, that’s it. Wait,” the detective’s brow crinkled and her head
nodded to one side as if she were giving something serious thought. Wheaton
didn’t care. He was sore, tired, irritable and hungry. He started to move past
her and into the open area that was the most direct route to the large log
cabin. A large, strong hand snatched him back. “I said WAIT!” Alex slammed his
butt into the dirt beside her.
“Some protector you are,” muttered the man whose pride was injured far
more than his derriere.
“Shut up, you idiot. Don’t you smell that?”
Stanley crinkled his face as he sniffed loudly at the air. “Smells nice,
like my grampa’s fire place. What’s wrong with that, if I may be so bold
without getting smacked yet again.”
“Bold I can handle, just try doing it a little more quietly. This may be
your day to die but it sure as hell ain’t mine.”
“But.....”
“It smells like your grampa’s fireplace for a very good reason, Wheaton.
There is a fire burning.”
“So?”
“Gods, man. Do you take lessons or are you just naturally stupid?”
“Hey!” complained the city boy.
“Stanley, think about it man. There is a fire in the fireplace of a cabin
no one is supposed to be in or know the location of....” she raised her left
brow for emphasis.
“Oh,” came the moaned response.
“And up till a short time ago you were sending out a damned homing beacon
to the man who most wants you dead, I’ll pert near bet.”
The eye witness dropped his weary head into dirt-smudged, sweaty hands.
“Oh God. I’m gonna die out here aren’t I?”
Slim fingers clamped over his mouth. “No, Wheaton. No, you are not gonna
die out here. And neither am I. Now do as I say and tie something around that
mouth of yours if you can’t keep it shut. Whoever it is doesn’t know we’re here
yet and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Stanley removed his bandanna and tied it around his mouth. Alex grinned
and shook her head to keep from laughing at the sight. “Hah phfoou u noooo?”
The detective snorted softly at the question. “We aren’t dead yet. That’s
how I know,” she whispered. Pressing his body low to the ground she showed him
how to crawl beside her until they were outside the very large log cabin with
the huge front porch. Alex remembered
building their dream porch with her sister many summers ago. One of the few times they came there together. The tall beauty motioned for Stanley to stay
put as she moved toward the window. Alex knew the window would give her a
fairly wide view of the living area and reasoned it was her best chance of
seeing who was inside. Once on the ground beneath it she looked around
cautiously and listened intently. Being somewhat assured of her temporary
safety she pulled herself up to peer inside. The look on her face as she
crawled back toward Wheaton left the man more than a little puzzled. Had she
lost her mind, he wondered? What in tarnation could be funny about this
situation?
“Stay here,” Alex instructed Stanley.
“No problem,” he assured her.
The tall detective duck walked past the partially uncovered window, then
stood to her full height before carefully, and completely without sound, moving
to the doorway. Wheaton was impressed. Even on the wooden porch he heard nary a
single footstep. Then, she silently lifted the latch, stepped back and kicked
the door in with a loud thud. This was
followed by the crashing sound as it hit the wall and bounced halfway
shut again.
“What the....” a small figure hunched near the roaring fire leapt to her
full 5’4” stature, reaching for a poker the whole while.
Poor Stanley knew he was a goner now for sure. The tall detective began
to laugh. LAUGH! Wheaton tried to burrow into the ground beneath him.
“You planning to hit me with that or use it to tickle me to death?”
Detective Alexandra Stoner smiled. It nearly took the hiding witness’ breath
away.
“ALEX!!” came the enthusiastic and melodic cry from within the cabin
walls.
Suddenly the tall Police Officer found herself with an armful of what
most the world called “the blonde bombshell.” Planting her feet firmly, she
knew it was too late to stop the launch.
“Rhonnie, don’t.....” Alex laughed again. “You never did listen to me,
did you?”
“Nope,” the woman smirked as she hugged Detective Stoner around the neck
and waist.
Stanley kept shaking his head to see if it rattled. Was that the same
woman who only minutes before nearly
bit his head off for wearing a watch? OK. So the watch might have been bugged.
He didn’t know that. And who was that little blonde the detective now had
attached to her person? Why did she look familiar, even from this distance?
Alex carefully put her strong arms around the blonde’s waist and carried
her inside with a few long strides. Setting her down near the stone hearth,
blue eyes searched jade green. “Rhonnie, what are you doing here? I thought you
were in Hawaii doing a photo shoot? Or was it a movie? Sorry. I forget.”
Straightening her jeans and shifting things back in place inside her
sweater, the smaller woman chuckled. “Me too, most of the time. This was to be
a movie. I quit. Fired my agent. All hell broke loose and I decided to use
Anna’s gift. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Never. Well, almost never. I’m working Rhonnie and it isn’t safe here
for you right now. Sorry I scared you. Couldn’t resist.”
“You never could resist making me jump, Alligail.” Before the stern-faced
Detective could respond, her friend continued. “What do you mean, not safe for
ME? How did you know it was me? And who is that mud-covered man?”
“I’m working, Rhonnie. Protecting a murder witness for a few days till we
can get him before the Grand Jury. You’re still the only person I know who
wears a black fedora, not to mention the hot pink backpack with Wonder Woman on
it. Gods. How old is that thing anyway? What mud-covered man?”
“That mud-covered man, in the doorway.” Rhonnie nodded toward the still
open door.
“My God in heaven! You’re Rhonda Reynolds!” breathed an awestruck
Stanley.
“Yes, she is. Now shut up and get in here before Lawton’s men know she’s
here.” Alex jerked the little man through the doorway, closing and bolting the
door back. Then she went and got the large timber and slid it into place as
well. “You can close your mouth now, Wheaton. She won’t bite.”
“Even if I pay extra?” he quipped. It was not a smart thing to do.
Nose to nose, Alex growled: “What did you just say, little dead man?”
The swallow was louder than the door thump only minutes before. Rhonnie
had to turn to keep from laughing in his smudged face.
“Still my champion, eh Alex?” Jade searched crystal blue.
“Yep,” was the only reply.