Part Two
Dan Cassidy stared out the window of his motel room and contemplated the faint city lights in the distance. He almost laughed; Morro Coyo was nowhere near to being a city. It was too quiet here—the stillness setting him on edge. Chaotic dreams usually forced him awake by this time of the morning, but tonight he had a reason not to sleep. He pulled his wrist up, tipping the watch to read its dial from the moonlight drifting in from the window. It was after two, and Lewis and Hardy were late. The adrenaline that pumped through him earlier had faded, leaving him light-headed and cold.
Dan limped away from the window to the bag beside the dresser. With a quiet click of the latch, he opened it and took out his pistol. It was slim and sleek, almost an afterthought. A soft sigh from the bed had him turning around and stuffing it into his waistband, pulling his jacket around to cover.
"Dan…Dan? Where are you going?"
"Shh, Sarah, go back to sleep."
"Do you know what time it is? Jed will be here in a few hours."
"Something woke me and I can't get back to sleep. I was going for a walk to work out the kinks in my leg. I'll be back in no time. Maybe I'll call Jed and tell him we'll look at the house a little later, okay?"
Sarah sat up in bed, pulling her long hair away from her face. "I can run the water in the tub, get it hot enough to soak your calf."
Her eyes were voluminous in the dark—brimming with pity. God, he hated that. "No, I'm good; I just need to walk some. You get back to sleep, honey, I'll…"
A faint knock on the door. He and Sarah traded looks while she put on her robe.
Dan slivered open the door and leaned into the small space, his voice low, "Get lost, Jed. I'll meet you later."
"Who is it, Dan?"
Cassidy ignored Sarah and eased the door open an inch more. "Are you crazy or drunk or what? Why'd you come here? I told you I'd meet you."
"I couldn't wait…understand? He got away."
Dan choked off the curse as heard the swish of a robe beside him. "Who got away? What's going on, Dan?"
Sarah glanced from him to Jed Lewis then back again. "Oh no. Tell me you didn't." Her scathing look had him shifting his weight from one leg to another. Not waiting for an answer, she clasped her robe tighter about her waist and swept into the bathroom.
Dan stepped back, listening to the bathroom door slam. "You're an idiot, Jed."
"She was bound to find out sooner or later anyway."
"Get out of here; wait for me in the car."
Lewis glanced in the direction of the bathroom door. "What are we gonna do…about her?"
"Just get out!" He pushed the door closed and stood, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. Waiting for some semblance of control, no matter how slippery.
When Sarah came out, he saw the wild fear on her face, something he'd seen too many times before over the last few years. "It had to be this way, Sarah. It had to be."
"All your promises…for this. To come all this way…to kill a man."
"He's not a man. Scott Lancer hasn't got the right to be called a…"
"Dan, I'm done listening. I've listened for these past three long years and I watched you in that military hospital. I watched you and I told myself—made myself believe—that when you got out, you'd be so grateful just to walk, you'd forget all of this. That it wouldn't be hard for us to start over and build a new life."
Sarah had a beautiful, expressive face. He could read every emotion. The anger that had been building and threatening to erupt faded away. In its stead were flickers of understanding and sorrow…and sympathy. It made him less a man somehow to have his wife pity him. His own anger grew.
"What kind of life can we have, Sarah, if we build it on the graves of good men?"
"Give it up, Dan. For my sake, because you love me and I love you. Give it up, because we both deserve better…please."
"Sarah, listen to me, try to understand. I said we'd come out here, buy a house and settle down. Forget the past. And we will. Just as soon as I clean the slate. The only time I ever lied to you was the day I told you why we were coming to Morro Coyo. Can't you trust me this one last time?"
She whirled around to face the dresser, leaning on it. "I don't want you to murder Scott Lancer. Is that clear, Dan? I want you to give this thing up, here, tonight, now. Do it for us, Dan, for us."
"Not for us, Sarah, for you. I have to believe what I'm doing is right. And until it's done, we don't even exist."
Sarah turned around and her gaze lifted, eyes cool. "Dan…when you kill Scott Lancer, you'll be killing us, too."
~#~#~#~
Pain stabbed his chest and back with every footfall. Scott took a deep, steadying breath and continued his slow jog. He circled a small clearing and was in the foothills before stopping to rest again. Checking out the surroundings in the darkness, he could see a small pond half-hidden by brush and trees, and the stripe of back road off in the faraway distance. He made his way towards the water.
A large boulder afforded some necessary protection and he crept behind it. Soaked in sweat despite the damp night air, he'd been walking and running for a few hours now. The pad of handkerchief he dipped in the pond and pushed against the hole in his shoulder was tacky with blood; he didn't have anything for the one in the back.
Scott was used to running, at least several days of the week—it helped to clear his mind. Johnny chided him about it, saying nothing ever good came from running, but it put him in good stead here. Still, he felt like he couldn't take another step. An overwhelming tiredness threatened to pull him down.
Just a few short hours ago he was sitting in Murdoch's study then…Dan Cassidy. Memories spiked, bringing with them a greasy wave of nausea.
A cloud of gas marking the zone was like a harbor fog blowing into the target area. Within minutes, the open expanse of the village was full of whirling rotor blades and green fuselages. Scott surveyed the village below, making slow swaths around the lingering smoke. He could see Dan already jockeying his bird into position. "Seven-niner-zero, drop looks clear. Over."
"Roger, zero-six-zero. Beginning drop."
Scott continued to make paths around the zone. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off-kilter. He nudged the intercom. "Chief, do you see anything?"
There was silence from the back of the helicopter then a loud squawk. "We got a problem, Lieutenant. I don't see nothing out there."
"That's what I was afraid of," Scott yelled, not bothering to use the intercom. He punched the radio. "Seven-niner-zero, abort drop. Repeat, abort drop. Something's wrong."
Scott started at the snap of a twig. The sky had lightened with thin slivers of white making their way across the horizon. He hunkered down behind the rock, renewed pain bringing tears to his eyes. Hearing nothing, he peered out and saw the bouncing headlights of two cars. No one would be on the back road unless it was family, or Lancer employees. Murdoch and Johnny were still away and Teresa…he swallowed hard. He hoped Teresa was still at the house -- safe.
The headlights steadied then stopped. Dismayed, Scott glanced around him. His footprints were all over this section of trail along with his blood, and he had no weapons to defend himself. He watched three smaller lights bob back and forth in slow, wide arcs. It was almost dawn now and his pursuers were too close. He had to move on.
~#~#~#~
Teresa yawned a jaw-cracking yawn and thumped down the hallway, holding her boots in one hand, an iPod in the other. Even the Black-Eyed Peas couldn't take the sleep out of her eyes. Her head bounced to the beat as she passed Scott's closed door then paused. Older brothers could be such a pain, as she was finding out. Scott and Johnny had set ground rules once they got settled. The number one rule: knock first. But sometimes it was just so much fun seeing them scramble around when she didn't. This time she settled on bypassing the door altogether; Scott was working hard--he needed the rest. Besides, it was more than likely he and Cipriano had already left since she was a little late getting up this morning. Thank God for the summer break.
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs long enough to draw one boot on, then continued on to the kitchen, hitching and clacking on the tiled floor. Maria threw her a look of disapproval. Teresa took out her ear buds and gave the woman her sunniest of smiles. "Morning, Maria."
The housekeeper arched an eyebrow. "Plan on sleeping the entire day away, chica?" She placed a steaming bowl of oatmeal on the table.
Teresa dropped into a chair and pulled on the second boot. She needed to find another tract. "Have you seen Scott this morning?"
Maria pulled up and looked thoughtful. "Not this morning." She shook her head and turned to the counter. "That one is not good for keeping regular hours."
Walking to the kitchen window, Teresa pulled back the curtains and looked out. The Jeep Compass was gone. It didn't look like Scott was sleeping after all. He and Cipriano must have already left for town.
~#~#~#~
Scott slumped down behind a fallen log and pulled aside his collar. The makeshift dressing was gone--lost somewhere along the way and the wound was angry-looking. At least the bleeding had stopped for the most part. His arm, growing numb from holding it across his belly, was eased out from his open shirt. Threads of feeling returned, sending jolts to his already throbbing head.
He leaned back and looked around through bleary eyes, trying to figure out his location. Thoughts were getting too muddled in his mind, and he just needed to rest…
Strong rotor vibration fed into the cockpit, and the 'copter jumped and twitched under his hands like a bucking bronco. Scott countered the downward motion by pulling on the collective. Instead of changing the pitch and slowing the bird down, the craft settled even faster.
He glanced to Dan's hawk and could see its gunner through the open cargo doors, a horrified expression on the man's face. Nine-zero's fifty-caliber guns opened up, their booms immediately upping the level of chaos in the air.
His co-pilot screamed out the altitude and speed. "Four hundred…eighty-five percent."
Scott gasped awake, reaching for the controls. Only his hand clutched at fistfuls of air. He ran the same hand through his hair and waited long moments for his heart to slow down. It was mid-day and he was in trouble. Deep trouble. Using the log as a brace, he rose on legs that felt like rubber and changed directions, heading for the road.
TBC