CHAPTER 28

From my perch in the back of an ambulance, I could see Peterson along with Ranger Rick and several officers. A group of paramedics hovered around Peterson, evaluating several nasty-looking dog bites. One of his hands was handcuffed to the stretcher. I’d rather see it cuffed to an electric chair but the stretcher was a start.

“Jasper got some pretty good bites in,” Rodney said in a low voice. According to him, when he arrived on the scene Jasper had Peterson pinned against the Crown Vic. Apparently when Peterson stumbled and fell, he suffered a compound fracture to his leg. He dragged himself to the car with Jasper biting his ass every inch of the way. “I hope he’s current on his rabies shot.”

“Peterson or the dog? I wouldn’t want Jasper to catch anything.” I watched a paramedic wrap a bandage around Peterson’s nasty-looking calf.

Another set of paramedics were examining the gash over Tatum’s eye and debating the use of glue or stitches. Jasper sat at the foot of the stretcher, whining for Tatum’s attention.

I had said very little since we were rescued, other than to wave off the ice pack a paramedic kept trying to put on my bruised cheek. The paramedics took my silence as a sign of shock. Maybe they were right. There was no other way for Peterson to have known where I was except through Claire.

“Mr. Moran, we really need to put some ice on your cheek. Your eye’s going to swell shut.” There she was again, standing in front of me armed with an ice pack.

I shook my head then shook off the blanket they had wrapped around my shoulders. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, but it was 115 degrees and steam was literally rising from my wet clothes.

“You really need to keep that on. You could be in shock.” She was thick in the middle and wore gold-rimmed glasses.

“I could be, but I’m not.”

“He’s pretty stubborn.” Rodney smiled apologetically. He then nodded toward Tatum. “Why don’t you go check on the boy and give us an update in a minute or two.” He smiled again and the paramedic took her cue to leave us alone.

She nodded, then headed over to her coworkers. Rodney hiked up his jeans like he did when he was about to get serious.

I saved him the trouble. “Claire sent him here to kill me.” The words were fire in my throat, exploding like an inferno off my tongue.

“You’re sure?”

I nodded. “She was the only one other than Rhonda and Burke who knew we were coming here.”

He hiked his pants up again. He twisted his lips into knots then finally spoke. “Rick and I were on our way to question her when I got Tatum’s call.”

“I want to talk to her first.”

We looked at one another, him not believing what I had just said and me meaning each word to the fullest.

“Gypsy—I don’t think I can do that. I mean … come on, man. You know I can’t allow that. Especially now.”

“No, it’s especially now that I need to talk to her.” I pushed my hands through my wet hair, hoping it might clear my head. Maybe it would straighten the thoughts as well as the tangles. “I just want to know why she sent Peterson. I don’t care about the case. I just want to know why.”

“Gypsy…” He shook his head slowly and for a moment I felt sorry for him. I understood the position I was putting him in and my heart was heavy with the burden.

“Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. Y’all can come in right behind me and handcuff her right there, I don’t care. Just give me ten minutes, Rodney. Please. I’m begging you for this and begging doesn’t come easy for me.”

He kicked at the dry dirt with the toe of his boot. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His face was contorted, bearing a pain I was responsible for. “Dammit, Gypsy.”

I took a deep breath and forced a slight smile. “If you’re worried about her finishing the job—”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. It’s just I know you’re still sweet on her and sometimes that can cloud a man’s judgment.”

“The woman sent someone to kill me, Rodney. I’m crazy about her but I’m not a fool.”

He kicked at more dirt, then sighed heavily. “Go. But when we’re finished here, we’re coming to arrest her.”

I hopped out of the ambulance and headed over to Tatum.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” he said, his puppy-dog eyes turning to me for help.

“You’re going. You probably need a few stitches over your eye.”

One of the paramedics, a woman with butt-length black hair pulled back in a ponytail, nodded her agreement. “I’d say you don’t have a choice.”

I combed his wet hair down with my hand. “Look … I’ve got to go take care of something. I’m going to send Rhonda to pick up your grandpa and bring him to the hospital, okay?”

He nodded but I could see the fear in his eyes. I hated leaving him. Damn Claire.

*   *   *

“Mamma wants us to go to the prom. She says you’re only seventeen once and she doesn’t want me to miss out on anything, I guess,” Claire said. She was lying beside me, gently drawing hearts with her finger on my bare chest. We were in the Kinleys’ den, naked on a blanket on the floor in front of a crackling fire in the rock fireplace. Her parents were at the Cattleman’s Club.

“The prom? Seriously?” I chuckled at the thought of me in a tux.

She giggled and it made me laugh again. “Yes, the prom.”

I softly kissed the top of her head. “Are you missing out on anything?”

She gazed up, then kissed me. I pulled her on top of me. At the moment I entered her, all my dreams and thoughts of the world outside Wink, Texas, evaporated. Thoughts of anything past the four walls of the Kinleys’ den exploded into oblivion. The only thing that mattered at that moment in time was Claire and me.

We moved together slowly, savoring each stroke, our bodies and souls melding together into one. The red-yellow glow of the fire glimmered against her bare skin as shimmering beads of sweat rolled over her breasts. I ran my hands over the small of her back, gripping her ass, directing her movement like a conductor. The moans from both of us became louder as the movements became quicker. With one final thrust, we seemed to each hold our breath, suspending the moment for a while in another universe.

Just as her body went limp and she started to fall forward, she was jerked backward and flung off of me.

“Daddy, no!” She screamed as I felt the pointed toe of a size 12 Justin boot driven deep into my side.

I scrambled up, clutching my side, wondering how many ribs he’d cracked with one kick.

“You sorry-ass sonofabitch,” Kinley growled with the ferocity of a grizzly. He connected with an uppercut that lifted me off the ground, sending me backward into the wall. “You’re a sorry piece of shit just like your daddy!” He drove his knee into my gut, taking away the breath I was already fighting for.

Claire was hysterical, screaming for her father to stop, desperately trying to pull away from her mother. Her mother had her wrapped in the blanket we had made love on, covering her nakedness and her own shame.

Kinley grabbed the back of my hair, driving my head face-first into his lifted knee. Blood gushed from my nose and mouth. His massive fist landed hard against my jaw.

“Carroll, stop! You’re going to kill him!” Dana Kinley screamed, her voice as full of the fear I felt. She let go of Claire and moved toward her husband.

I grabbed at the wall, clutching at the designer draperies, ready to vomit at the amount of blood, my blood, that had sprayed the fabric. I wanted to apologize to her mother and tell her I had money saved and I would buy her new drapes but the ringing in my head overshadowed the guilt. I dropped to the ground in a heap. Blood had begun to seep into the fibers of the carpet. I heard the unmistakable click-click of a gun being cocked and braced myself for the bullet.

“Touch him again and I’ll shoot.”

“Claire, don’t be ridiculous,” Kinley said. “Put the gun down.”

“I swear to God, Daddy … move away from him or I’ll shoot.”

“Claire … please,” her mother said. She sounded a little shocked and a whole lot confused.

No one dared move for what seemed like an eternity. Claire was naked as the day she was born, standing ten feet away from her father with a gun pointed straight at his head. The look in her eyes was jarring, passion and rage rolled into one. I had no doubt she’d pull the trigger. No matter how much she loved him, at that moment her father was the enemy. She’d kill him in the wink of an eye.

“Claire…” He slowly reached his hand toward her. He was filled now with more caution than fury. “Give me the gun.”

“Move away from Gypsy. You taught me to shoot and you know I can drop you.”

“Claire, sweetie…” He took a step toward her. “We can talk about this.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. Gypsy’s a part of my life. You’re going to accept that. I’ll kill for him, Daddy. Even you.”

*   *   *

I thought about the old man as I drove past his house to Claire’s. I imagined him feeble and needy as I lightly touched the faded scar permanently engraved on my upper lip. I’ve often wondered if she was really capable of murder. Now I knew she was. Claire was used to getting what she wanted and back then, at that moment, I was what she wanted.

Her truck was in the driveway. I parked behind it, then took the steps leading to the porch by twos. “Claire!” I yelled as I banged on the door. “Claire, open the door.”

A full minute had passed, then the panic set in. What if the tearful “I love you” she had said earlier was a suicide declaration? What if it was her own life she wanted to end and not mine?

I kicked the door open and when I saw her, I had my answer. The look on her face was sheer surprise. Not the good “it’s just what I wanted for my birthday” surprise, but the “you were supposed to be dead” surprise.

“Gypsy…” She recovered quickly and ran to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Oh, thank God, you came. I don’t know what time he’s going to be here and … you’re wet.” She pulled away, then lightly touched my swollen eye. “What happened?”

I grabbed her hands in mine. “What the hell do you think happened, Claire?”

“I … I don’t know what you mean.” She pulled away, then turned and quickly went into the family room. “Let me fix you a drink. Black Label, right?”

I caught up to her in front of the wet bar, grabbed her arm, and spun her around to face me. “Claire—your brother-in-law tried to kill me.”

She looked at my hand clutching her arm before ever looking directly at me. I didn’t turn her loose.

“How’d he know where I was, Claire?”

She shook loose but stood her ground. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Gypsy.”

“I don’t like almost being killed!” I was yelling now. “You fucking sent someone to kill me, Claire!”

Her eyes flashed over with rage. She slapped my face with enough force to knock me sideways. She came at me again but I grabbed her wrist. “I was going to help you, Claire! I wasn’t going to let you go down for this.” I let go of her wrist and pushed her away for her own safety.

“You knew the Ranger was going to question me. Obviously you had already talked to him.”

“Of course I talked to him. He was at the sheriff’s office last night. Claire—this isn’t about you! You fucking tried to have me killed!” I moved toward her but she moved behind the bar. My blood was on fire with a fury I had never known. I swung my arms across the bar, sending bottles and glasses shattering against one another. She screamed and ducked, covering her head with her arms. “You sent your gorilla out there to kill me, Claire! I had a twelve-year-old boy with me—did you ever think what was going to happen to him? And what about those girls? Can you even fathom what they’re being forced to do?”

“Stop it! Stop it!”

“I can’t forgive you this time, Claire.”

“Gypsy—please—listen to me.” She was stepping over the shards of glass, moving toward me. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

“So having me killed was the answer?”

“No, Gypsy—you’ve got it all wrong.” She touched my cheek where the sting from her slap was still fresh. “It was Mark. He was here when we talked on the phone. He overheard me say you were at the sinkholes. He left right after—I had no idea where he was going. You’ve got to believe me, Gypsy.” Tears cascaded down her face. She lightly touched my cheek again, gently touched my swollen eye. “Did he do this? Baby, I’m so sorry.”

I held her hand against my face for a long moment, then for the first time since I had laid eyes on her so many years ago, I felt nothing. I felt no pity, no anger, no love. Peterson didn’t overhear her say I was at the sinkholes. Because she never said it. I was the one who had said it. I gently brushed her hand down and walked away.

“Gypsy…” She followed me into the foyer then stopped, her feet frozen to the slate floor.

Rodney and Ranger Rick were at the door. Rodney had his handcuffs out and opened.

“Gypsy…” she said again. Her voice grew faint as I went out the door, down the steps, and got into the van.

I turned the van around and never looked back.