Thanks again everybody! Enjoy!
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Chapter 5
"It's never easy and you'll never know
What leaves you crying
And what makes you whole" Rob Thomas
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Bree couldn't feel her legs moving as she walked down the stairs. The tight metal rings around her wrists were the only tangible reminder that what had just taken place in the apartment was real. Her captor led her over to the Torino, and after unlocking the car, roughly shoved her into the passenger front seat. Closing her door, he glanced around the lot then walked around to the driver's side. He got in behind the wheel and turned the key, starting the powerful engine.
Bree's heart was racing. She was terrified, and couldn't stop thinking that she'd probably be dead very soon. She needed a lifeline to grab onto, something to keep her afloat from the sinking ship she was on. As much as she wished the more rational side of her would take over, it was too petrified with fear. Didn't they execute people for kidnapping? And what she saw happen to her brother wasn't just some minor crime either. My God, what's happening now that I'm not there? Are they going to kidnap him, too…or something worse?
The Torino backed up onto the street, then noisily headed out. Bree watched as the driver bent forward slightly and turned on the radio. Not the Motorola, which was clearly in view, but the music radio. Bree bristled at the audaciousness. Here was someone who had just participated in kidnapping two people, and was certainly not planning on driving her to the nearest police station, listening to ABBA. Bree was so incensed by the callous act, her willpower suddenly ignited. You can either let this overwhelm you, or you can find a way to fight back. Those men hadn't been after her. They'd wanted David, and definitely had him, so there were only two choices—either meekly go along with her captor and hope for the best, or try to escape. She could end up dead either way, but with nothing to lose, the latter seemed to be the better option.
"You're awful quiet over there," Lapentz said, conversationally.
"Where are you taking me?" Bree's tone surprised her. It was full of spite, not fear.
"Well, let's just say to a more scenic part of town. You'll like the view." The driver glanced over at Bree, giving her a partial smile.
Bree considered it anything but reassuring. Trying to calm her mind, she focused on formulating a plan. She glimpsed down at the Motorola, wishing the driver had turned it on. She could picture herself diving to the floorboard and trying to grab the mike. Yeah, that would work, with your hands behind your back! Looking at the door, she considered opening it and jumping out of the car. No, you'd definitely kill yourself that way. C'mon, think of something good! As she pushed her hands between the seat cushions to ease the pressure of the cuffs, she felt something in the crease that made her heart jump.
"So, you got a favorite band?" Lapentz asked.
"Huh?" Bree was caught off guard. "What'd you say?"
"Whose music do you like? You know, are you a rocker? A kicker?"
"Uh, does it really matter?" She didn't want to piss the guy off, but wasn't up to playing any games with him either.
"Just tryin' to make some conversation. Most people in your situation love to talk."
"And just what is my situation?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Bree regretted them. She probably didn't want an answer to that question as much as she thought.
"My, aren't we feisty? Just sit there and enjoy the ride. You'll find out soon enough."
Bree was starting to hate this guy. She was scared to death, and his flippant manner wasn't helping. If he were more violent or coldhearted, she could understand where her chances of survival lay. His friendly overtures were making it difficult to know what he was capable of, and giving her reason to hope, a feeling she wasn't sure she should hang on to.
Feeling up underneath the top seat cushion, Bree slowly worked at scraping the small piece of duct tape off with her fingernails. Attached between the sticky surface and the vinyl was a handcuff key. Dave had mentioned it when showing her the inside of the Torino. He'd taped it there years ago, he said, after reading a book on officer survival. He told her how, if he was ever handcuffed and transported in his own car, he'd have a way to get free. Bree was grateful, at that moment, for her brother's intuition.
After securing the key, Bree began the difficult job of trying to maneuver the tiny object into the even tinier keyhole in the bracelet. The fact that her wrists were sandwiched between her back and the seat cushion wasn't helping. There was also the extra burden of trying to keep her movements to a minimum so she wouldn't arouse the driver's suspicions. Finally, she felt the key nudge into its opening, and twisted it, not sure which direction would open the lock. Hearing a click, she immediately froze. Glancing sideways at her captor, it didn't seem like he had heard.
"Hey, could you turn the radio up?" Bree said, faking a smile. "I like this song."
"Oh, so you like the Stones? I've seen them in concert before." Lapentz happily turned up the volume.
As she finished unlocking the bracelet around her right wrist, Bree hesitantly took another look at the driver. He seemed young, maybe in his middle twenties, and more resembled a corporate attorney than someone who kidnapped people for a living. She wondered if he was some kind of hit man. Growing up along the east coast, she was raised on stories of mobsters. They were part of the culture and the type of people you tried hard to avoid. If these guys were indeed members of some crime syndicate, it upped the amount of danger she and David were in considerably.
Shifting around in her seat, Bree tried to give the impression she was just getting comfortable. With her back towards the door, she finally had some room to unlock the last bracelet. Lapentz watched her for a few seconds, then returned his attention to driving. They had left the urban landscape about ten minutes earlier, and were climbing along a highway that snaked through the foothills. Every now and then, as the road curved around a sharp bend, Bree could see the sparkling dots of street lights in the valley down below. Had circumstances been different, she would have thought the view was beautiful.
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Upon leaving his apartment, Starsky had been hustled down to the street and thrown into the back seat of the Oldsmobile. The hood who had groped him slid in behind and shoved the brunet's head down on the seat. For added measure, he stuck the gun into Starsky's side, advising him to keep down or his condition would go seriously downhill. The bigger thug got in the driver's seat and started the engine, then eased the sedan quietly out onto the street.
For a while, Starsky tried concentrating on where the Olds was going by counting turns or street lamps, mentally picturing where he was at, but within a few minutes he'd lost track. His attention turned back to why these creeps would want him. He could think of dozens of criminals who would cherish holding him defenseless. Retaliation was always a threat, one of the more unpleasant drawbacks to his job. Only this time, it wasn't just him being targeted; Bree had been drawn in, too.
Starsky thought about her, imagining all sorts of scenarios that could be happening, none vaguely hopeful. He could only guess what Bree was thinking about him: some protector—a big city cop that couldn't even protect his own sister, much less himself. Deciding to go on the offensive, he started to coil back his legs, preparing to launch them into his kidnapper's chest, but the goon reacted quickly to his movement, jamming the gun barrel hard enough into his rib cage to make Starsky flinch.
"Do something stupid like that again, and you're gonna find yourself riding in the trunk!" his captor ground out.
As his predicament grew more desperate, Starsky thought about his partner. Hutch would begin to worry about him around seven o'clock tomorrow morning, but that was hours away. He again thought of their last conversation, and how he'd overreacted. Hutch had years of practice reading his body language. He could tell the difference between Starsky having a stomach ache, hunger pains, or a bad day just by looking at him. Hutch's radar had clearly gone off earlier at the precinct, and he'd only been trying to help. And what'd ya get for your troubles? Me blowin' up at you. I'm sorry, Hutch. Feeling a surge of despair hit, Starsky closed both eyes, and in the dark interior of the sedan, let go of a tear knowing his captor wouldn't see.
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Bree finally got the second bracelet unlocked. She stuffed the handcuffs into a back pants pocket, fearing if they fell off the seat, the noise would ruin any potential plan. While she was trying to decide her next move, the Torino slowed and eased into a pull off along the highway. The driver maneuvered the car until the front wheels were only a few feet from the embankment. Bree couldn't tell how steep it was, but judging from the distance of the city lights below, it looked like a long way down. She felt relieved when the driver put the car in park. He turned off the engine, but started humming along to a song playing on the radio.
"Really a nice night, ain't it?" he said, as he rolled the window down, and stared out through the windshield.
"So, what're we doing here?" Bree asked nervously.
"Waitin' for a cab." Lapentz laughed softly to himself, then looked at Bree. "I should say, I'm waiting for a ride. Yours will be done shortly."
Bree thought for a moment, trying to imagine the worst possible development. "You're going to run the car off the cliff— with me in it—"
"Hey, you're one smart chick!" Lapentz reached into his jacket and retrieved a pack of cigarettes. He shoved in the cigarette lighter, and lit a smoke once it popped out. Taking a deep drag, he looked back over to Bree. "Seems a shame, though. This is a nice car. Wouldn't mind owning it myself."
Bree couldn't have despised him more. She was grateful, in a way, for that hate because it kept her mind on trying to save herself. Well, if the car does go off the cliff, maybe I can get out before it crashes. Staring at the door, she wasn't so sure of that plan. The doors were not only big, they were heavy. Yeah, keep those ideas comin', Bree. One of them eventually has to be good.
Her anxiety suddenly rose as the driver turned off the radio and stepped outside, taking the keys with him. She looked over her shoulder, thinking whoever he was waiting for had arrived, but saw nothing. The man slowly walked over towards the drop off, then stopped, the lighted end of his cigarette moving up and then down. As he took in the view, Bree used the opportunity to look for one more item her brother had shown her.
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Back at his cottage, Hutch took a break from reading and glanced at the clock. It had been almost an hour since he last called Starsky. He redialed the number, but the phone rang unanswered. Frustrated, he slammed the receiver down. I guess they must have gone out somewhere after dinner. With nothing better to do, and not ready for bed yet, he decided to take a drive down to the beach.
He wasn't too surprised when, twenty minutes later, he found himself turning onto Starsky's street. As he'd almost expected, the Torino was gone, so he pulled in the driveway and sat for a few moments, wondering whether to wait for Starsky and Bree to return or just leave. He pulled out his pocket watch, and using the street lighting to read, discovered it was almost ten o'clock. Hutch wondered if they had gone over to Huggy's. Not wanting to make an unnecessary trip, he turned on the police radio and called Dispatch, asking to be put through to the bar.
"This is the Bear, and you've reached The Pits, home of Huggy's hits."
"Huggy, it's Hutch. Is Starsky over there?"
"Well, it's the dynamic duo's blond bomb. Sorry, my man, but Curly's not here."
Disappointed, Hutch asked, "Was he there earlier by chance?"
"Haven't seen him or that cute sister of his all evening. Why? Somethin' going on?"
"No, just thought he might be over there. Thanks, Hug."
"No problem. Hey, if he does show up, you want him to give you a ring?"
"Nah, that's okay—I'll catch him tomorrow. 'Night, Hug."
"All right, my man. Later."
Hutch let out a frustrated sigh. He knew the two siblings could be anywhere, but trying to find them, even in the red tomato, would be almost impossible unless he had a general idea of where to start. Faced between aimlessly driving around or getting a few hours of sleep, Hutch backed out of Starsky's driveway and steered the LTD back home.
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The Oldsmobile pulled up in front of a vacant warehouse along a deserted section at the city docks. Vinetti turned off the motor and glanced back at Suko in the back seat.
"We gonna blindfold him before we take him in?" he asked.
Suko handed him Starsky's Beretta. "Here, put this somewhere, and hand me that rag and the light."
Vinetti opened up the glove box, taking out a red checkered bandana and an old plastic flashlight. He tossed the automatic inside and gave the other items to Suko. Starsky watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye.
"Okay, cop, gonna give ya something to wear for awhile." Suko folded up the bandana into a long band, then tied it securely around Starsky's eyes. He opened his door, and stepped out, joined quickly by Vinetti. Grabbing the detective, they pulled him out of the car and led him into the metal paneled building. Once inside, the group walked halfway across the empty warehouse, coming to a set of stairs leading down into a smaller basement area. Vinetti took the lead, helping guide Starsky down the steps while Suko lighted the way with the flashlight.
When he reached the bottom step, Vinetti flicked on a light switch. They walked along a short hallway to its end where it branched into two separate rooms. The one on the right resembled a regular office, with a desk, chair and a few file cabinets. Opening the metal door to the one on the left, Vinetti quickly inspected its interior. The old store room was bare except for a crude light fixture hanging from the ceiling. Two adjoining concrete walls made up half of the room's perimeter. A third wall, composed of drywall, separated the small room entirely from the bathroom next door. The floor was finished cement, pierced by a small drain in one of the back corners. The interior felt cold and damp, and a musty odor of stale air permeated throughout.
Suko and Vinetti walked inside with their captive. Speaking to Starsky, Suko said, "Welcome to your new home. Sorry for not giving you the grand tour, but you'll be seeing enough of it later on. We're gonna take off right now, so make yourself comfy. When I come back though, I want to see that blindfold still on your head. Is that clear?"
Starsky didn't answer. Suko looked over at Vinetti. "Think the asshole heard me?"
"I dunno. Maybe he got stupid all of a sudden."
"Well, I think he's just pissed at us—ya know, we did kinda ruin his evening. Probably had a hot night planned with that bitch."
Starsky suddenly lunged towards Suko, thrusting his knee up in the general direction of the hood's groin. He missed, but still caught Suko hard along the front of his hip. Caught off guard, Vinetti quickly recovered—grabbing hold of Starsky with both hands and slamming him with his back up against the wall. He wrapped one gigantic hand around Starsky's neck, effectively pinning him to the concrete. Suko rubbed his side, trying to ease the pain. Looking at Vinetti for some sympathy, the only response he got from the man was an unimpressed head shake followed by a dirty smirk.
"That's okay, cop," Suko said, still nursing the injury. "That's gonna cost ya. I'll keep it in mind while I'm takin' care of that bitch!"
Starsky tried lunging for Suko again, but Vinetti clamped down harder on his throat, making him gasp for air. Eying Vinetti, Suko said incredulously, "Boy, he's just full of piss ain't he? Give 'im a little taste of what he's got comin'."
Sensing an impending blow, Starsky still didn't have a chance to prepare himself before Vinetti's massive fist impacted into his gut. The hit made the air burst out of his lungs like from a punctured car tire—if there had been anything in his stomach, he would have lost it.
Vinetti released his hold, letting Starsky's body fold and collapse to the floor. He finished the assault by aiming a hard kick into Starsky's unprotected abdomen. Knowing Rothman was expecting the detective to be in good shape when he arrived in the morning, Vinetti reluctantly stopped.
Suko looked down at Starsky, satisfied at Vinetti's work. "Like I said, asshole, that blindfold better be on your head when I get back."
With that, both men left the bound detective gasping for air on the cold floor.
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Bree watched the driver carefully as she brought an arm from behind her and slowly leaned forward. She felt underneath the dashboard, and back behind the glove box, hoping to locate a plastic panel that covered a hidden compartment. Feeling the latch button, she slid it over, grateful to hear the panel pop open. Bree peered back outside, and saw her captor still in the same spot, taking another hit off his cigarette. Bending forward a little more, she stuck her hand inside the compartment. The feel of cold metal made her heart leap. She quickly took hold of the automatic and sat back in the car seat.
Living in the Starsky household, Bree and her brothers were educated thoroughly in the use of handguns. Pop had insisted all of them know how to handle a firearm, mainly for their safety since guns were permanent fixtures inside the home. While Bree never liked their lethal significance, she did enjoy the outings with her brothers to the shooting range. Normally, outshooting Nicky wasn't a problem, but she was never as good as Davey, only once tying him in score.
Now as Bree sat in the Torino, holding the firearm in her hand, she tried to focus on the basics of shooting it. She wasn't yet ready to think about aiming it at a living person and pulling the trigger—but Pop's instructions came floating back to her. Never, ever jerk the trigger—your shots will go all over the place. Take a deep breath and pull back the trigger, slow and steady. Don't anticipate the recoil. And always keep your target lined up in the sights…
Bree swallowed hard. As much as she hated the man standing outside, she didn't know if she could shoot him. The automatic was loaded with eight rounds, one already chambered next to the firing pin. David had mentioned that, when he showed her the compartment. As Bree contemplated her decision, she thought about David, and to what lengths she would go to help him. If that took shooting someone, or even killing them, then she had to find the courage to do it. She looked back at the driver, picturing him as a paper target instead of a human being. The callous thought turned her stomach. This is for you, David. Bree reached down and slowly began to pull on the door handle.
As the dome light came on in the Torino, it illuminated the parking area, startling Lapentz. He spun around, simultaneously reaching for the firearm tucked inside his jacket. Bree was also surprised by the light, but kept her concentration focused on the driver, along with the sights on the automatic.
"Stop, or I'll shoot!" Bree yelled, trying to sound in charge. She had managed to stand and wedge herself between the open door and the windshield post. By placing her arms across the front edge of the roof, and leaning forward a little, she adopted a firm shooting stance.
Lapentz was stunned. He tried to process the overwhelming reality that his prisoner had somehow freed herself, obtained a gun and now held him at a disadvantage. "What the fuck do you think you're doin'?" was all he could manage to say.
"Don't move! I want you to toss me the car keys!" Bree mentally cringed—oh that sounded intelligent!
"I ain't gonna give you shit!" Lapentz said hotly, quickly trying to size up his opponent's position.
Bree began to panic. She had thought he would have instantly complied, but he wasn't scaring easy. "Look, I know how to use this. Give me the keys or I'm gonna shoot!" she said, tightening her grip on the automatic.
Lapentz knew he couldn't stall too much longer. He raised one hand in a gesture of surrender and reached into his pants pocket with the other to withdraw the set of keys. Holding them up for the woman to see, he readied himself for action.
"Just toss 'em in through the window." Seeing the driver cooperating, Bree started to think about her next move.
"Sure, anything you say." In one fluid motion, Lapentz reared back like a pitcher at the World Series and flung the keys at Bree, while simultaneously pulling his firearm out of its holster. The keys' trajectory was off target and they flew high over the Torino, but Lapentz intended a truer aim with the gun as he pointed it at her and fired.
Bree saw him draw and, hearing the gunshot, instinctively flinched, prematurely squeezing the trigger. She immediately knew her shot had gone high, but not letting the mistake shake her, she brought the gun back on target and took careful aim.
Lapentz saw a flash from the passenger side windshield and heard Bree's gunshot erupt right after he fired. Having no cover, he squatted down and grabbed his revolver with both hands, planning to make the next bullet count.
Bree's second shot exploded from the automatic.
In response, Lapentz quickly fired twice. The bullets struck the car, putting a couple of inch-wide holes in the windshield, but not before Lapentz heard Bree's bullet whiz by, perilously close to his head.
The gunshots' impact caused the Torino to shudder. The movement distracted Bree and she fought to force everything out of her mind, concentrating only on the two thin ridges of metal sights along the barrel.
Lapentz had to move. He needed something between him and the other shooter besides air. He turned around, intending to seek cover by diving down behind the embankment's dirt edge.
Bree slowly squeezed the trigger. The recoil flash was blinding, but cleared instantly. A millisecond later, she heard a strange thump and the echo of the shot cut short. The driver let out a grunt and she saw him fall and disappear into the bushes. Suddenly, headlights and the sound of a car screeching up behind the Torino sent her scrambling for cover in the foliage behind her, unsure whether the car's occupants were there to help or hurt her.
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As the last dry heave left his stomach, Starsky rolled over onto his knees. His muscles still ached enough that he had to rest his head on the floor to ease the tension. The despised blindfold only added to his sense of helplessness, but he was not about to give the hood another excuse to rearrange his internal organs by trying to take it off. Rubbing his forehead on the floor, Starsky discovered he could slip the cloth off of his eyes just enough to see underneath. Tipping his head back, he took a cursory look at his surroundings. The room was dark, almost shadow less; the only illumination coming from a sliver of light seeping in from a gap underneath the door's bottom edge.
Starsky shuffled backwards on his knees until he encountered a wall. Planting his feet, he scooted his back up the wall until he was standing then used it to guide him as he walked the room's perimeter. It wasn't very big, at most about ten by twelve feet. Locating the door, he tried the handle, but it was locked. At the last corner, Starsky stopped and slid back down to the floor, frustrated at not discovering anything useful.
He thought about Hutch and the seemingly impossibility that his partner would be able to find him locked up in a basement, out in the middle of God-knows-where. But Hutch had pulled off miracles like that before, rescued him in the nick of time, just before he could have died. Good guys always seemed to have those moments; it's what kept them winning over the bad guys. Yeah, but just how long could a good guy's luck hold out?
He let his mind wander, but there weren't many places it could go. He would think about Bree, then about Hutch, and then the pain and discomfort radiating through his body would make it hard to focus on anything except the desolate reality—the quiet surroundings and emptiness in the room only intensifying it. Taking a deep breath, Starsky focused on emptying his mind. When disturbing thoughts tried to enter, he'd swat them away, like pesky mosquitoes. But this strategy didn't work for long—there were just too many bugs.
As time passed, the cramping in his muscles and numbness in his hands forced him to reposition his arms. The maneuver helped ease the pinching of the handcuffs, but made his shoulders feel worse. Frustrated, he banged his head against the wall only to hit the same spot he'd injured earlier at the apartment. Now thoroughly miserable, he shifted until he could rest one side of his face against the wall, hoping the coolness would relieve the aching in his head.
He couldn't help wondering about Bree—hoping she was still alive—fearing she probably wasn't. It wasn't fair. How could she suddenly reappear in his life, and then, because of him, be just as quickly taken away? You didn't learn anything from what happened to Terri, did you?
God—was his job worth the sacrifices anymore? Even Nicky had asked him the same thing. Perhaps this time there wouldn't be any second chances and he'd have to pay the consequences of his career choice. When the two gorillas came back, they were probably going to kill him, or bring the higher-up that obviously wanted him out of circulation. Maybe nothing bad would happen until then, but that wasn't much of a consolation—not when all he could do was wait in fear, in a dark room, blindfolded and at the mercy of some lunatic.
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As Bree stumbled into the brush, she just barely missed being illuminated by the arriving sedan's headlights. She regained her balance and ran a few more feet, but then tripped over a rock. As her hands opened up trying to break her fall, the firearm fell to the ground, clinking noisily into the dark terrain. Bree combed around on the ground, but fearing she was still not far enough away, abandoned searching for the gun and dashed further into the thick foliage.
"What the fuck is goin' on here?" Suko said, looking over at Vinetti. As the two had driven the last few hundred yards to meet Lapentz, both heard the sound of gunshots echoing along the hillside. The only thing they saw now was the Torino with an opened passenger door, but no sign of either Lapentz or the girl anywhere. Infuriated Suko asked, "You see anything?"
Vinetti pulled his firearm out of his jacket, and before exiting the Olds, looked over at Suko. "No, but cover me—ain't no tellin' what's happened."
Both men cautiously got out. Suko walked towards the more open area on the driver's side of the Torino, while Vinetti checked out the car's interior from the passenger side. Seeing the two bullet holes in the windshield, he called out, "Su! Look it!"
Suko came over to the car and inspected the damage. "What the hell? Did Eddie shoot the bitch?"
"I don't think so. There ain't no blood." Vinetti looked closer at the passenger seat and noticed a glint of metal between the seat cushions. "Well, this explains a lot," he said, picking up the handcuff key and showing it to Suko.
"Oh, that's just fuckin' great!" Suko wondered what Rothman's reaction to this fiasco would be. "Eddie! Where the hell are you?" he yelled.
A faint groan came from the edge of the pull off. Suko and Vinetti rushed over to the source of the sound and in the faint moonlight saw Lapentz sprawled face down on the ground. Suko holstered his gun and bent down to check on him.
"Hey! You hear me? What happened?" Getting no response, Suko grabbed the man's shoulder and began to turn him over.
Lapentz suddenly became very awake. "Ow, shit! That fuckin' hurts!" he screamed.
Startled, Suko asked, "What? You hurt somewhere?"
Embarrassed, Lapentz replied, "That fuckin' bitch shot me in the ass!"
Suko and Vinetti looked at each other. Vinetti groaned and, frustrated, stomped back to the Torino, leaving Suko to debate with himself on how to handle Lapentz.
"Can you get up?" Suko asked sharply.
"Yeah, I think so. Give me a hand," Lapentz pleaded.
Tucking his shoulder under Lapentz's arm, Suko helped him over to the rear of the Torino. Pushing him face down on the trunk, he inspected the bullet wound, aided by the Oldsmobile's headlights. Vinetti walked over from the passenger side, giving Lapentz a disgusted sneer.
"Why're you lookin' at me like that? I'm the one who's shot here," he whined.
"Shut the fuck up before I finish what that bitch started!" Vinetti spat out.
Suko pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket and folded it up into a palm-sized pad. Handing it to Lapentz, he said, "Here, hold this on it. It's not that bad, but the bullet will have to be cut out."
Raising himself off of the trunk, Lapentz sheepishly glanced at Suko and took the bandage, gently placing it against his wound.
Suko folded his arms, getting Lapentz's attention. "So? What the hell happened?"
"I dunno." Lapentz replied. "We got here. I got outta the car to take a smoke. Next thing I know, the light comes on inside, and she's got a gun."
"She's got a gun? How the hell'd she get a gun?" Suko said, his fury almost palpable.
"How the fuck do I know? Must've been one hidden in the car."
Vinetti reached up and shoved the handcuff key in Lapentz's face. "Yeah, well that wasn't the only thing." Lapentz stared in disbelief at the object.
"So where's the bitch? Did ya shoot her?" Suko asked.
"I'm not sure. I know I hit something—the windshield, I think."
"Great. Just fuckin' great." Suko surveyed the dark and hostile-looking hillside and released a frustrated sigh. "We can't waste time tryin' to find her. Let's take care of the car and get back to the warehouse. It's gonna be light in just a couple of hours anyway."
"What about me?" Lapentz chimed in.
Suko gave him an unsympathetic frown. "Don't worry, we'll get your ass taken care of. You got the car keys?"
"I, ah…threw the keys over there, somewhere" he said, pointing towards the thick overgrowth of foliage along the pull off.
"You did what?" Suko looked at Vinetti who was dragging a hand across his face. Turning back to Lapentz, he said, "Get your ass in the car, now! Lou, you too."
After all three had gotten in the Olds, Suko put the car in low gear and nosed it into the Torino's rear. Giving the engine some gas, he tried to push the Ford forward, but the locked transmission wasn't letting it slide easily. Suko backed off a little, and tried again. The collision was firm enough to jerk the Torino forward, making the front end dip down and the rear wheels lift off the ground. Repeating the maneuver, Suko hit one of the Ford's rear tires, finally sending the car over the cliff.
He then backed up and pulled out onto the highway, heading the Oldsmobile downhill towards the city.
Still concerned about his wound, Lapentz asked, "So, we goin' somewhere to get me fixed up?"
Vinetti growled at Suko, saying, "Just pull over right here. I'm gonna shut his mouth once and for all."
"Hey! Sorry I asked! I'll just sit back here and bleed to death." Lapentz was never sure when Vinetti was being deadly serious or not.
"I'm not takin' any more chances tonight," Suko said, then turned to Vinetti. "I'm droppin' you off at the warehouse. Sit on that cop until I get back from taking Junior here over to Doc's."
"Fine. Just stop at a hamburger joint somewhere first—a drive in's fine. I'm starved," Vinetti said, tired of suppressing the rumbling in his stomach.
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Bree had stayed hidden behind a rock outcrop until she heard the sedan start up and ram into her brother's car. She poked her head out, saddened to see her brother's prize possession slowly plunge out of sight down the hillside. It was the only reason why she was glad he wasn't there right now. She watched the headlights of the sedan turn around and head back towards town. Shaken, she made her way back over to the pull off, and looked in vain for the firearm she had dropped. As she walked up to the embankment, she could barely see the reflection of metal from the wrecked Ford below. Looking behind her at the highway, she wondered how long it would take to walk back to civilization.