21
The big man lifted her effortlessly in his arms, turned, and deposited Bailey on her feet on the floor behind him. He had a strange look on his face, smug almost, determined. Bailey just looked at him, wide-eyed, fumbling her gun in her hand.
Jenny was standing on the porch. She watched through the open door, her eyes mimicking Bailey's. Bailey shot the big man in front of her a wary look, then backed toward the door.
"What the fuck is goin' on, Bailey?" Jenny said it in a low voice. The big guy still stood at the stairs, looking up. Bailey noticed he held a dark object in his hand. Her gun. The .38 that had been snatched from the Jeep. It looked like a toy in the big man's hand, but he held it easily.
"That's a good question. I told you to run." Bailey brought her gun up to her shoulder, ready to shoot first and ask questions later.
"I did. I tried. Didn't get far." Jenny gestured. The Jeep was about thirty yards from where Bailey had parked it. A large black van blocked it from moving further down the drive. "He stopped me, asked if anybody was here. Then he walked off like he had something better to do. Hell, I don't even think he looked at me." Jenny touched her hair self-consciously. The whole reason for dying it had been to throw the man off balance, but he did not seem to care.
Bailey shook her head and stepped back into the house. Thumping footsteps were heard from overhead. Steve was finally growing enough of a set to see where she'd run off to. The big man, presumably Wight, pointed the .38 up the stairs, ready to fire as soon as the other man cleared the corner.
"Don't…" Bailey hissed in a whisper.
Wight looked at her, frowning slightly. "Gimme a good reason why I shouldn't."
Bailey just blinked at him. She honestly didn't know of even a bad reason not to kill the asshole upstairs who had killed the mother or a newborn. "It's not…right." She managed to say weakly.
"You think he's gonna not kill us all?" Wight shook his head. He turned his attention back to the stairs. "C'mon down here, you bastard. Let's finish this shit."
There was a guffaw of laughter from upstairs. "Fuckin' retard shoulda just left well enough alone!" Steve's voice called down.
Wight glanced at Bailey, then reached over with one meaty hand and pushed her shoulder, moving her from a direct line of sight at the top of the stairs. She was too stunned to do more than do what he directed at that point.
"Williams, you piece of shit!" Wight barked it out. He sounded choked with emotion. "If you didn't spend all your time bein' a fuckin' jackass, you'd see why she ran off! You fuckin' hit her, she came to me…remember that? You piece of shit…beatin' on a woman's low, even for a bitch like you!"
Bailey could not be sure she was hearing right at the point, because she would swear that Steve giggled.
"Aw…c'mon man. You know the bitch was askin' for it every time. What kinda whore gets herself knocked up over the weekend with some asshole stranger?" Steve called down in a strangely comical tone. As if he found the whole thing amusing beyond words. "The bitch is lucky I didn't make her lose that one too…hell, I wanted her to have the brat just so I could prove a fuckin' point to her!"
Bailey felt her hand tighten on her gun at the mention of the baby. She wondered what exactly Steve had in store for Caleb, but didn't dwell on it. She could figure it out if she really wanted to. She looked down at the gun in her hand, then at Wight. He stood dead center on the landing, not trying to hide. She waved a hand at him, and he cut his eyes in her direction. Without a word, Bailey tossed him her larger .45, and watched as he caught it deftly in one big hand without taking his attention from the stairwell.
Now Wight had both of her guns, and Bailey wished he'd use them just to shut Steve up. She couldn't believe she'd spent hours with him, alone, passed out, and she'd thought he was a hero. Now she didn't know what to believe.
Wight crept up onto the bottom step. For a big guy, he moved with surprising quietness. Bailey shared a look with Jenny, and they both looked toward the from yard at the same time as engine noise arose from the direction of the driveway. "Fuck…" Bailey hissed the word out. Glen. She'd forgotten about him. She backed away from Wight, hoping he could deal with the asshole upstairs, and ran across the porch, dragging a scared Jenny behind her.
Glen guided the truck around the parked vehicles, followed closely by a black sedan that belonged to Porter. Bailey waved a hand, flagging them down before they could go too far past the parked cars.
Mark was out of the truck before Glen could put it in park. "Bailey…Christ woman, you're gonna give me a heart attack, I'm gonna…"
"I'm all right." Bailey sounded exasperated as she evaded Mark's groping arms. He wanted to hold her, she knew that. She also knew that it was not time for comforting. There was still drama going on in the house.
Porter joined them. They stood in the driveway, and Bailey shook her head and grabbed Mark's hand, then Jenny's. "We're makin' prime targets outta ourselves out here." She grumbled as they came to a halt on the far side of Glen's truck.
"Bailey…wanna share what's goin' on?" Porter raised an eyebrow. Bailey flashed him a distracted smile.
"Well, the guy who killed Jamie is in the house…being held at bay by the guy we thought killed her." She stated it as plainly as she could.
"Wait…Wight is here?" Glen started to go in that direction. Bailey stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Yeah. But listen. He didn't kill her."
"What?" Glen's eyes widened. "But…all the…"
"Yeah, yeah." Bailey heard a shot ring out, followed by laughter. Porter and Glen both turned to the house, where they heard shouted conversation. Two voices. Bailey kept them from going toward the action. "Steve did it."
"Williams?" Mark shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing Bailey. He'd gotten her message loud and clear. She'd just get mad if he kept trying to convince himself she was all right.
"Dead on the money." Bailey sighed and ran a hand shakily through her hair. "It didn't make sense…but fuck, now it does. Now it does."
"So explain it." Porter's voice was all business as they all eyed Bailey expectantly.
"Ok…this is what I think. It wasn't Wight that Jamie got tangled up with. It was Williams."
"But…she only ever talked about Wi…" Jenny stopped herself. "Wait. No. She never actually said she was going to find her boyfriend. She just kept saying she needed to talk to Paul to get him to forgive her. I guess I just figured…"
"We all figured." Bailey held up a hand to stop a question from Glen. "Lemme talk it out. Jamie and Williams were together, Wight was her friend. He mighta wanted to be more than a friend, but Williams didn't like it. Williams was the one beating on her…and for some reason Wight got stuck with the blame. She wanted to go to Wight cuz he was helping her. Not hurting her. Those two are gonna kill each other…" Bailey stepped toward the house at another gunshot.
"Just…hold up there, Coop." Porter stepped in front of her. "Let's make this semi-official, all right? Follow me." He led the way toward the house, stepping in as if he belonged there.
Wight was sitting now instead of standing. The front of his shirt was darkened with blood. It looked as if he'd been shot in the shoulder. He waved his gun toward the stairs. "I think I got the fucker, but I don't know for sure…"
Porter cursed and went up the stairs, leaving the big man to the others who had followed him in. On the floor at the upper landing, a body of a large man lay prone on the floor. Porter used his foot to roll the man onto his back. One icy blue eye stared up at him. The other was gone in a wash of gore and blood. Wight had shot him in the head, and taken a fair chunk of it in the process.
The man…Williams apparently…had fallen on his rifle. Porter kicked it away from the body out of habit. He sighed and tucked his gun away, heading back down the stairs. "He's dead."
The announcement was met with unsurprised silence. Bailey had ripped Wight's shirt apart and was cleaning his wound, trying to gauge the damage. Jenny was hugging her arms around herself, seemingly in shock.
"Ok. I think you'll live, large one. Now fill us in. What the hell is going on here?" Bailey spoke softly. Wight smiled at her sadly.
"You…I…" He swallowed. Now that it was over, Williams was dead, he could allow himself a bit of shock. He couldn't believe he'd actually done it.
"Start at the beginning." Bailey said reassuringly.
"Ok." Wight repeated and sighed. "I met Jamie a few years back. She lived next door to me. Her and that fu…Williams. I could hear what was going on over there…you'd have to be deaf not to. So I kinda took her under my wing, tried to talk her into leavin' his ass and…hidin' from him, I guess. Hell…" Wight sighed again. He was near tears. Bailey found it to be oddly touching. "Heard 'em goin' at it one night, so I went over there. Couldn't take it anymore…we got into it, scuffled. Cops showed up. Williams went out a back window, fuckin' coward he is. The cops didn't believe I wasn't the one who hurt Jamie…they arrested me."
"Explains why she didn't want to press charges." Glen muttered from the living room.
"I helped her get away. Once. Fucker found her and brought her back, but it took a while to figure out where they were. I tried to help her…to get her away again. She was pregnant then, see. He wasn't beatin' on her…said he was saving it for the baby to show her he meant what he said about her belongin' to him. So…we drugged him. Didn't wanna kill him, thought that if she hid long enough, she'd get away."
"It didn't work that way." Bailey said, wrapping Wight's torn shirt around his shoulder.
"No." Wight gave her hand a grateful pat. "I knew they were stayin' here. Jamie told me. I finally got into town the day before she had the kid. Knew Williams was here lookin' for her…" He blinked thoughtfully a few times. "I was too late…he found out about this place, but he found out about the pond. He knew we were gonna meet there to talk about stuff…"
"He got there first." Bailey urged him on.
"Yeah." Wight rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Fuck. It was too late. She was dead. He was gone. I knew he wouldn't go far, not when he was still wantin' to kill that baby. So I hung around, waiting to see if he'd show up." Wight gave her a crooked smile. "Sorry about clubbing you. I thought…hell, I thought you were helpin' him. Diggin' around out there in the dark…"
"It's my job." Bailey said with a shrug.
"Yeah." Wight winced as he tried to move. Bailey held him still with a hand on his arm. "I knew he'd pin it on me again. Hell, he had enough against me already, it was just a matter of time. I'd take the fall for it…" He paused for a moment. "I loved her. I'm a fuckin' idiot and I fell in love with her. So if she was gone, I'd do the time for it…if I took him down first. Seemed like a good trade to me."
"I don't think we're going to have to worry about you going anywhere. Especially jail." Porter spoke up. He'd been silent through the entire explanation. "We've got his attempt on Bailey's life, we've got your testimony…"
"My corroboration." Bailey said with a smirk. "He told me. Williams said he killed her. Cuz she belonged to him. Sore loser."
"I don't think we're going to have to fight to hard to get the truth exposed here." Porter adjusted the jacket his was wearing. "Now…we'll get more answers later. Right now I think we should get Mister Wight to the hospital. And maybe get a few crime techs here to get rid of the body upstairs."
They all nodded. Wight climbed into Porter's sedan without argument, his face a bit pale. Glen offered Jenny a ride back to the office to collect her things. It was over. Truly over.
Bailey and Mark stood there for a few moments. Mark thought she just needed to gather her thoughts. Bailey smiled and took his hand. "I think I'm ready for that hug now, Mark."
He gave her a half-smile and obliged her, taking her into his arms, holding her tight, feeling helpless to protect her. Of course, Bailey didn't need protection…she had handled things on her own for a long time. He would just have to get used to it. They held onto each other in the cool midday sun for a long while, neither one wanting to let go.