AN: Welcome to the penultimate chapter. I was going to make this the last one, but it was starting to run pretty darn long and thought you folks might like to know the resolution of the last cliffy sooner rather than later. Anyway, enjoy!
It's not going to hit me... No way is it going to hit me... Holy shit, it's going to hit me!
Kiff dropped her bike and the medic bag, and dove out of the driveway, landing painfully on an elbow. She flipped over just in time to see the green Subaru pull to a loud stop on top of her Schwinn, the metal and rubber quickly becoming a twisted piece of debris beneath the SUV's tires.
She scrambled to her feet and took off like a rabbit. The wagon quickly backed out of the driveway and was in immediate pursuit. Kiff tried as she ran to think of some kind of plan, anything besides getting away, getting anywhere, run. The good news was that as a pedestrian, there were places she could go that a vehicle couldn't. The bad news was that eventually, she'd have to cross a street or another alley, and she wasn't going to find a nook to slip into before the SUV caught up with her.
It was necessity that finally broke into her panic. So focused had she been on moving her feet that she barely noticed the green beast boring down on her again until it was about to crush her between its grill and the fender of a parked Mercedes. She leapt onto the hood of the Mercedes and rolled off the opposite fender as the SUV slammed on its breaks, only soon enough to lessen the dent it made in the Mercedes.
Kiff was running again immediately. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw one figure jump out of the passenger side and start a foot chase while the car drove off around the corner, presumably to cut her off somewhere. She thought dimly about what Tru had said about EMS workers dying in auto accidents. Woman didn't know the half of it.
Actually... she did know, didn't she?
Kiff ducked into a narrow side street, the lumbering footfalls behind her starting to couple with the gasping of a man who didn't do much running. Thank God for the decline of American fitness. Her gratitude was cut short however, when she was about to emerge from the side street onto the greater thoroughfare and the SUV materialized in her path. Her sneakers skidded in a rain puddle in her effort to stop before she could break her nose on the Subaru's siding.
Gasping for breath, she backed away from the car. A clicking sound at her back made her turn. There at the other end of the pavement was Mike R., red-faced and sweating, with a handgun trained on her. His thumb was on the hammer.
She backed up again until she was equidistant from Mike and the car, shaking her head in disbelief as she went.
"Mike..."
Mike R. set his jaw as thought bracing himself for the blow of his life, and tensed his extended arm.
Suddenly, a loud growling noise echoed through the street like the roar of a dragon, and there was an addition to the stand-off. A Harley hog emerged from a secluded driveway, carrying two men. One of them was a middle-aged leather-clad road warrior who pulled the bike to a stop some three feet from where Kiff was standing. The other was a little guy with half a goatee who was looking directly at Kiff with wide, excited eyes.
"Come on!" he yelled at Kiff.
Kiff didn't need to be told twice. She jumped onto the motorcycle behind the little guy and they were in motion before her second foot even left the ground. Loathe to let her escape after all their efforts to find her, Mike R. and the SUV made their respective moves. Mike fired the colt, but by the time he found the presence of mind to do so, the targets had vacated the area. The bullet shattered the windshield of the oncoming Subaru, finally coming to a stop high in the right side of Don's chest. This left him distracted enough that he forgot to hit the break before the car hit Mike R.
Mike bounced off the hood and fell backwards, cracking his skull on the pavement. He lay there unmoving. Don staggered out of the wagon and peered blearily through the steam from the radiator. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the trio on the bike zipping over the driveway where he had first tried to run over Kiff, and the beefy fellow leaning down to snatch Kiff's discarded medic bag as they went by.
Tuesday 5:09pm
Tru was getting cold. And dizzy. And weak. And her leg continued to bleed, seeping through the saturated canvas bandage like a leaky faucet. All she wanted to do was give into the dark curtains that threatened to descend on her consciousness, becoming more and more insistent by the second, and sleep. But she couldn't. She had to get out of here. She had to find a way.
Since Don and Mike had left, she had screamed into the tape over her mouth, trying to alert someone, anyone. She went on for about an hour until her voice finally gave out. She then renewed her efforts to wiggle out of the tape. Don however had made sure this time that she couldn't escape, and her efforts only increased her heart rate and made her bleed faster.
Soon, it was all she could do to lie on the floor, sweating and shivering at the same time, and trying to stay awake despite the weights that seemed to hang from her eyelids.
And then, she couldn't even do that.
'Sorry, Kiff,' she thought as the darkness finally pulled her under. 'I'm really sorry.'
Tuesday 5:10 pm
After making several trips through town and using a different route each time (Kiff could only assume it was to make sure they weren't being tailed), Mr. Leatherneck cruised into the alley behind the morgue and pulled the Harley to a stop. Kiff jumped off and regarded the pair dizzily.
"Screwdriver, that was awesome, man!" the little guy enthused.
Screwdriver, as he was apparently called, blushed a little.
"Ah, it was nothing. Hey Miss, are you all right?"
"They... They just... They tried to kill me!" Kiff stammered.
"Yep," said the little guy. "Good thing we showed up, huh?"
Kiff forced herself to breathe slowly in an effort to tame her thundering heart.
"Who are you?"
"Harrison Davies, and the pleasure's all mine."
"Davies..? Like Tru Davies?"
At the mention of the name, Harrison suddenly looked a lot less cocky.
"Tru? Have you seen her? Please tell me you've seen her!"
"No, but –"
"Harrison! What in God's name are you doing here?"
All eyes turned to a stocky, bearded fellow in a white lab coat and wrinkled necktie who'd just emerged from the morgue's back door. He looked pretty incensed for a frumpy guy, Kiff thought.
"What do you mean? You asked me to watch out for her," Harrison said, indicating Kiff.
"He did?" said Kiff.
"Well, actually he asked his aunt Bea, who asked her gardener, who asked his pastor, who asked me. And he shouldn't yell at me after all the work that went into this errand."
"Harrison, I don't usually launder my phone calls! I did it in case Jack was tapping my phone line. He specifically said that Tru was dead if I contacted you. It kind of defeats the purpose if you come roaring up on a Harley with... Who is that?"
Harrison sheepishly cleared his throat.
"Davis, this is... Well, this is Kiff."
Davis threw up his hands.
"Oh, God! Why don't I just paint a bull's eye on my forehead? Why don't I start catering for Tru's funeral right now? Why don't I –"
"Davis, you're spitting. Calm down and tell me what happened to my sister! And what's Jack got to do with this?"
"Who's Jack?" Kiff asked numbly.
"He's this psycho who wants you dead because you already..." Davis cut himself off, realizing just in time that his tantrum was carrying over to the wrong person. He swallowed back his panic and continued more quietly. "He's in on it. He had Tru kidnapped to keep her and me from interfering in your murder."
Kiff had a sudden urge to sit on the ground and put her head between her knees. That feeling passed rather quickly however, when bells began to ring in her head.
"You're her boss," Kiff realized out loud. "You're the guy who came looking for her at the station today."
Davis didn't know why that was important, but he could see in her face that it was.
"Yes."
Kiff went on haltingly. "If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?"
Davis frowned, searching Kiff's dark eyes.
"Not if it isn't mine to tell," he finally said.
Kiff looked away, unsure of how to proceed. Well, either she believed it all or she didn't.
"I think I know where she is."
Davis blinked. "What?"
"Then what are we doing in this stinkin' alley? Let's get the cops and –"
"I already tried," Kiff interrupted Harrison. "They're all convinced she's in midtown someplace. I hope to God they find her, but I've got lots of reasons to think she's out in the boondocks."
"Fine! Then we'll go ourselves and storm the –"
"No," Kiff cut him off again. "Somebody has to make sure this Jack guy thinks I'm still in town. And since you're the ones he's already watching... I think I should go alone."
Harrison spluttered for a bit before he could speak through his incredulity.
"Are you mad, woman? Correct me if I'm wrong here, but aren't you the one they wanted dead in the first place? I don't think you waltzing solo into their lair is a good idea!"
"He's right," Davis said, less than happy to admit it. "If anyone goes, it'll be me."
"You?" Harrison scoffed. "Why you?"
"She's MY employee."
"And she's MY sister!"
"And she's not there because of either of you, is she???"
Davis and Harrison both looked at Kiff in surprise. The always soft- spoken girl had raised her voice to a bellow in her frustration. Noting that, she reined in her nerves and pressed on.
"You said he keeps checking on you. What happens when he checks back again and you're not here? Please. Please, just help me get there."
Davis and Harrison exchanged a long look. Finally, seeing the reason in her words, they looked back to Kiff.
"I don't have a car," Harrison admitted.
"I lent mine to my mother," said Davis.
"You mean she took it back, right?"
"Shut up, Harrison!"
"I'll take you, Miss."
Davis frowned at the man on the idling motorcycle, who had been watching the whole exchange with quiet amusement.
"Pardon me, have we been introduced?"
Tuesday 5:19 pm
Jack didn't understand it. He'd made it so easy for them. He'd gotten Tru out of the way, he'd gotten Davis out of the way, he'd gotten the cops out of the way. He'd done everything short of off the kid himself. How in the hell had two of his pawns managed to wind up hospitalized and in comas while she was still alive?
Davis hadn't done anything. Of that he was sure. The man hadn't left his building all day and the tracer Jack had put on his office phone showed only one call to a Mrs. Beatrice Mulgrew. No, Tru was the resourceful one, and Jack had once again underestimated her.
Well. He wasn't to be underestimated either. As he'd told Don, always have a plan B. And Jack always took his own advice.
TBC...
Thanks again, everybody. See you at the finale!
It's not going to hit me... No way is it going to hit me... Holy shit, it's going to hit me!
Kiff dropped her bike and the medic bag, and dove out of the driveway, landing painfully on an elbow. She flipped over just in time to see the green Subaru pull to a loud stop on top of her Schwinn, the metal and rubber quickly becoming a twisted piece of debris beneath the SUV's tires.
She scrambled to her feet and took off like a rabbit. The wagon quickly backed out of the driveway and was in immediate pursuit. Kiff tried as she ran to think of some kind of plan, anything besides getting away, getting anywhere, run. The good news was that as a pedestrian, there were places she could go that a vehicle couldn't. The bad news was that eventually, she'd have to cross a street or another alley, and she wasn't going to find a nook to slip into before the SUV caught up with her.
It was necessity that finally broke into her panic. So focused had she been on moving her feet that she barely noticed the green beast boring down on her again until it was about to crush her between its grill and the fender of a parked Mercedes. She leapt onto the hood of the Mercedes and rolled off the opposite fender as the SUV slammed on its breaks, only soon enough to lessen the dent it made in the Mercedes.
Kiff was running again immediately. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw one figure jump out of the passenger side and start a foot chase while the car drove off around the corner, presumably to cut her off somewhere. She thought dimly about what Tru had said about EMS workers dying in auto accidents. Woman didn't know the half of it.
Actually... she did know, didn't she?
Kiff ducked into a narrow side street, the lumbering footfalls behind her starting to couple with the gasping of a man who didn't do much running. Thank God for the decline of American fitness. Her gratitude was cut short however, when she was about to emerge from the side street onto the greater thoroughfare and the SUV materialized in her path. Her sneakers skidded in a rain puddle in her effort to stop before she could break her nose on the Subaru's siding.
Gasping for breath, she backed away from the car. A clicking sound at her back made her turn. There at the other end of the pavement was Mike R., red-faced and sweating, with a handgun trained on her. His thumb was on the hammer.
She backed up again until she was equidistant from Mike and the car, shaking her head in disbelief as she went.
"Mike..."
Mike R. set his jaw as thought bracing himself for the blow of his life, and tensed his extended arm.
Suddenly, a loud growling noise echoed through the street like the roar of a dragon, and there was an addition to the stand-off. A Harley hog emerged from a secluded driveway, carrying two men. One of them was a middle-aged leather-clad road warrior who pulled the bike to a stop some three feet from where Kiff was standing. The other was a little guy with half a goatee who was looking directly at Kiff with wide, excited eyes.
"Come on!" he yelled at Kiff.
Kiff didn't need to be told twice. She jumped onto the motorcycle behind the little guy and they were in motion before her second foot even left the ground. Loathe to let her escape after all their efforts to find her, Mike R. and the SUV made their respective moves. Mike fired the colt, but by the time he found the presence of mind to do so, the targets had vacated the area. The bullet shattered the windshield of the oncoming Subaru, finally coming to a stop high in the right side of Don's chest. This left him distracted enough that he forgot to hit the break before the car hit Mike R.
Mike bounced off the hood and fell backwards, cracking his skull on the pavement. He lay there unmoving. Don staggered out of the wagon and peered blearily through the steam from the radiator. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the trio on the bike zipping over the driveway where he had first tried to run over Kiff, and the beefy fellow leaning down to snatch Kiff's discarded medic bag as they went by.
Tuesday 5:09pm
Tru was getting cold. And dizzy. And weak. And her leg continued to bleed, seeping through the saturated canvas bandage like a leaky faucet. All she wanted to do was give into the dark curtains that threatened to descend on her consciousness, becoming more and more insistent by the second, and sleep. But she couldn't. She had to get out of here. She had to find a way.
Since Don and Mike had left, she had screamed into the tape over her mouth, trying to alert someone, anyone. She went on for about an hour until her voice finally gave out. She then renewed her efforts to wiggle out of the tape. Don however had made sure this time that she couldn't escape, and her efforts only increased her heart rate and made her bleed faster.
Soon, it was all she could do to lie on the floor, sweating and shivering at the same time, and trying to stay awake despite the weights that seemed to hang from her eyelids.
And then, she couldn't even do that.
'Sorry, Kiff,' she thought as the darkness finally pulled her under. 'I'm really sorry.'
Tuesday 5:10 pm
After making several trips through town and using a different route each time (Kiff could only assume it was to make sure they weren't being tailed), Mr. Leatherneck cruised into the alley behind the morgue and pulled the Harley to a stop. Kiff jumped off and regarded the pair dizzily.
"Screwdriver, that was awesome, man!" the little guy enthused.
Screwdriver, as he was apparently called, blushed a little.
"Ah, it was nothing. Hey Miss, are you all right?"
"They... They just... They tried to kill me!" Kiff stammered.
"Yep," said the little guy. "Good thing we showed up, huh?"
Kiff forced herself to breathe slowly in an effort to tame her thundering heart.
"Who are you?"
"Harrison Davies, and the pleasure's all mine."
"Davies..? Like Tru Davies?"
At the mention of the name, Harrison suddenly looked a lot less cocky.
"Tru? Have you seen her? Please tell me you've seen her!"
"No, but –"
"Harrison! What in God's name are you doing here?"
All eyes turned to a stocky, bearded fellow in a white lab coat and wrinkled necktie who'd just emerged from the morgue's back door. He looked pretty incensed for a frumpy guy, Kiff thought.
"What do you mean? You asked me to watch out for her," Harrison said, indicating Kiff.
"He did?" said Kiff.
"Well, actually he asked his aunt Bea, who asked her gardener, who asked his pastor, who asked me. And he shouldn't yell at me after all the work that went into this errand."
"Harrison, I don't usually launder my phone calls! I did it in case Jack was tapping my phone line. He specifically said that Tru was dead if I contacted you. It kind of defeats the purpose if you come roaring up on a Harley with... Who is that?"
Harrison sheepishly cleared his throat.
"Davis, this is... Well, this is Kiff."
Davis threw up his hands.
"Oh, God! Why don't I just paint a bull's eye on my forehead? Why don't I start catering for Tru's funeral right now? Why don't I –"
"Davis, you're spitting. Calm down and tell me what happened to my sister! And what's Jack got to do with this?"
"Who's Jack?" Kiff asked numbly.
"He's this psycho who wants you dead because you already..." Davis cut himself off, realizing just in time that his tantrum was carrying over to the wrong person. He swallowed back his panic and continued more quietly. "He's in on it. He had Tru kidnapped to keep her and me from interfering in your murder."
Kiff had a sudden urge to sit on the ground and put her head between her knees. That feeling passed rather quickly however, when bells began to ring in her head.
"You're her boss," Kiff realized out loud. "You're the guy who came looking for her at the station today."
Davis didn't know why that was important, but he could see in her face that it was.
"Yes."
Kiff went on haltingly. "If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?"
Davis frowned, searching Kiff's dark eyes.
"Not if it isn't mine to tell," he finally said.
Kiff looked away, unsure of how to proceed. Well, either she believed it all or she didn't.
"I think I know where she is."
Davis blinked. "What?"
"Then what are we doing in this stinkin' alley? Let's get the cops and –"
"I already tried," Kiff interrupted Harrison. "They're all convinced she's in midtown someplace. I hope to God they find her, but I've got lots of reasons to think she's out in the boondocks."
"Fine! Then we'll go ourselves and storm the –"
"No," Kiff cut him off again. "Somebody has to make sure this Jack guy thinks I'm still in town. And since you're the ones he's already watching... I think I should go alone."
Harrison spluttered for a bit before he could speak through his incredulity.
"Are you mad, woman? Correct me if I'm wrong here, but aren't you the one they wanted dead in the first place? I don't think you waltzing solo into their lair is a good idea!"
"He's right," Davis said, less than happy to admit it. "If anyone goes, it'll be me."
"You?" Harrison scoffed. "Why you?"
"She's MY employee."
"And she's MY sister!"
"And she's not there because of either of you, is she???"
Davis and Harrison both looked at Kiff in surprise. The always soft- spoken girl had raised her voice to a bellow in her frustration. Noting that, she reined in her nerves and pressed on.
"You said he keeps checking on you. What happens when he checks back again and you're not here? Please. Please, just help me get there."
Davis and Harrison exchanged a long look. Finally, seeing the reason in her words, they looked back to Kiff.
"I don't have a car," Harrison admitted.
"I lent mine to my mother," said Davis.
"You mean she took it back, right?"
"Shut up, Harrison!"
"I'll take you, Miss."
Davis frowned at the man on the idling motorcycle, who had been watching the whole exchange with quiet amusement.
"Pardon me, have we been introduced?"
Tuesday 5:19 pm
Jack didn't understand it. He'd made it so easy for them. He'd gotten Tru out of the way, he'd gotten Davis out of the way, he'd gotten the cops out of the way. He'd done everything short of off the kid himself. How in the hell had two of his pawns managed to wind up hospitalized and in comas while she was still alive?
Davis hadn't done anything. Of that he was sure. The man hadn't left his building all day and the tracer Jack had put on his office phone showed only one call to a Mrs. Beatrice Mulgrew. No, Tru was the resourceful one, and Jack had once again underestimated her.
Well. He wasn't to be underestimated either. As he'd told Don, always have a plan B. And Jack always took his own advice.
TBC...
Thanks again, everybody. See you at the finale!