Chapter Twelve

The Death Knock

 

 

 

Tally stared out his kitchen window, watching the mist curling around the dormant flowerbeds in the gray of first light. The house was silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional ticks in the ducts when the heat kicked on. He wished he could do that, simply lie dormant in the garden like a crocus bud waiting for spring. Waiting for everything to be all right again.

Nothing was ever going to be all right again. He had to face that head-on. Be the adult in the room, because maybe Haru’s family had done some cruddy things, but the current situation wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. He wiped at the tears sneaking down his cheeks again and wished at least that he could stop crying. Yes, his heart was broken. Didn’t matter. He had a community to look after, a business to run, a family to see to and, damn it, he needed to try to make Haru as happy as he could since he’d chosen to stay. Maybe not entirely chosen…

A beep came from near his right elbow. The world might have become a gray, difficult place, but at least there was coffee.

The kids would be up soon. Breakfast. Getting them dressed. Jackson would be going to kindergarten next fall. That was something they should talk about. Refuge in normal things. Small things. It was possible. He would make it possible.

Tally was just reaching for the big mixing bowl to start pancakes when his phone rang. He frowned at the name on the screen. “Melissa? Everything all right?”

“Good morning, Tally.” Melissa’s voice was brisk and clipped. Professional. “The handprint on Ed’s canister wasn’t yours, but you knew that. And it wasn’t Ed’s.”

Tally sagged against the counter in relief. Finally, a physical piece of evidence that led to someone other than him. “That’s good to hear. Thank you. I understand if you can’t tell me any more yet.”

“Tally.” Melissa’s voice had gone soft, sharp as razors. “It’s clan.”

“Oh, no.” Tally pulled a stool out from the center island so he could sit. “Whose is it?”

“It’s Alan Jones’.”

“Alan?” Tally nearly dropped his phone, little scenelets playing through his mind. Alan’s reaction to his presence at the cake tasting. The increasingly desperate pleas to the council for his proposed expansion. The…wait. “How do you know it’s Alan’s? He’s never been arrested that I know of.”

“We have his prints on file from a DUI a few years back. I didn’t bother you with it since it was a first offense and just a fine in the end.” Melissa hesitated. “How do you want to handle this, Urusar Bastille?”

“Let’s keep it clan for now. All we know is that his handprint is on a canister. Ed could’ve been doing work for him, I suppose. There could be an everyday explanation.”

“All right. I’m in the car headed to Best Bakery now. They don’t usually have much of a morning rush, so probably a good time to catch him. I’ll keep you informed.”

“Thank you, Melissa. I appreciate the heads-up and your forbearance during this investigation.”

“Forbearance. Good word there. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

Tally hung up, tapping his phone against his thigh. Why Ed, of all people? What possible argument between him and Alan could have become so heated that Alan had killed him? Or was that first murder an accident? Even so, the lab tech certainly wasn’t. What if Alan…?

“Oh Gods. Holy shit.”

Tally jerked up and snatched his keys from the hook, stomped into boots and raced for the garage. Early morning the bakery would be empty or nearly so, the street likewise. It was clan business, so Melissa would be going alone. Gods. Melissa.

He hit the return call as he reached his car, but she didn’t pick up. Damn it, damn it, damn it. She’d probably been calling en route to the bakery. Still, Tally had to try, juggling the phone between ear and shoulder as he started the engine and backed out into the driveway.

“Melissa, wait for me. Please. Do not go in there alone with that deer. Alan… I don’t think he’s… I think he’s desperate. Wait for me.”

At the first stop sign at the end of the drive, he texted a similar message. Then at the first stoplight in town, he called Haru. He didn’t pick up either, but that wasn’t shocking. Tally hadn’t heard him come up the steps until two in the morning.

“Haru, I’m on my way to Best Bakery, the place Alan Jones owns. I need someone to know that, just in case. It was Alan’s handprint on the pesticide canister. Melissa’s gone to confront him and I’m worried that she’s done it alone, on clan business. I’ll call you when I know more.”

The streets were empty enough that Tally ignored the next two red lights, guilt gnawing at him all the way, vying for prominence with his worry. When he pulled up across the street from the bakery, he spotted the squad car out front. The empty squad car.

Damn it, Melissa.

He slammed the car door and hurried across the street, nearly taking himself out since he’d neglected to tie his bootlaces. There was someone in the store, thank Gods. Tally could make out the shape of one of the delivery drivers by the uniform. His relief evaporated the moment he opened the door to the bakery.

Melissa lay crumpled by the pastry case in an ever-widening pool of blood. The delivery driver from Midwest Flour stood several feet away, frozen in horror. His head snapped up when the bell jangled.

“He shot her,” the young man whispered, though Tally wasn’t sure he actually saw him. “He just shot her dead.”

“Did you call the police?” Tally asked, trying his best to keep his voice gentle while he wanted to scream. Tally didn’t have to check. He could smell death from across the room. Too late, oh Gods, Melissa. I’m so sorry.

The driver nodded. “They’re coming.”

“Who shot her…?” Tally squinted to read the driver’s name tag. “Toby. Who was it?”

“Mr. Jones. I just… I can’t…”

“Toby.” Tally let his voice sharpen before Toby could drift into shock again. “Where is he now? Mr. Jones?”

“He… He…” Toby swallowed hard and leaned against the counter where the register sat. “He ran out the back. I saw…his car… He drove like he was on fire down Harris Street.”

Running away? Trying to hide? Alan had killed and killed and killed again. His grievance with Ed didn’t make sense, but everything after was done to cover his tracks. Melissa had come in, he must have known she’d figured it out and that she’d come on clan business…

“No. Oh…no.” Tally gripped the doorframe for balance as a terrible thought hit him. “Toby, tell the police there’s a good chance Alan’s headed for the Bastille place. His problem is really with me, I think. I have to go.”

Because Alan was coming after him. Because he wasn’t there and Haru and the kids were. No. Fuck, no. That rabid deer was not going to hurt his family.

The drive back home was a blur. Tally disregarded every traffic rule and pushed the Bentley hard in his frantic bid to reach the house in time. How far ahead of him was Alan? Why hadn’t he seen him and his rusty blue Cadillac yet? As a guilty afterthought, he hoped Alan’s wife Jean was all right. Why hadn’t she been at the bakery that morning?

There. Up ahead, just turning onto the long drive to the house, Tally spotted a flash of powder blue. He accelerated to an insanely unsafe speed on the country road and took the second drive entrance to cut Alan off from the house. He knew the terrain and his car was considerably more powerful. This would work to get him between his family and the horror coming toward them.

Barely. Alan was coming up the hill when Tally skidded around the last corner and heaved the wheel around to put his car across the drive. Alan screeched to a stop and stared at him while Tally got out of the car. The paralysis only lasted a moment before Alan reached for something on the seat beside him and calmly got out of the car.

“You just won’t go down, will you, Urusar Bastille?” The smallest tremor shook Alan’s hand as he leveled a pistol at Tally. “This really shouldn’t have been so hard, and you should be in jail for murder.”

“Whatever your issue with me, I won’t let you hurt my family.” Tally realized how stupid that was when he said it. If Alan shot him, he couldn’t defend them anymore, could he? “Leave them out of it.”

“Whatever my issue?” Alan snorted, one foot pawing at the ground like a buck getting ready to charge. “You’re not stupid. Not that stupid. You cancel contracts, take business away, won’t let me expand like I need to. Your favoritism for your predator friends and your cronies and the humans needs to end, Bastille. We’re going to end it today.”

“If you shoot me, the police will know who did it. Someone saw you shoot Melissa, you know.”

“More loose ends. Not that it’s that important anymore. I could always say Melissa threatened me and I panicked. Even if I go to jail, I’ll have done my duty to the community and removed the bullying snakes who’ve been in power too long.” Alan waved the gun at him. “And I’m not going to shoot you. We’re getting in your car and you’re going to put it in the garage.”

“What…why?”

“Just do it. If you want to save your foreign husband.”

Tally did as he said, sliding carefully back into his Bentley with Alan in the seat behind him with the gun to Tally’s head. The police might be on their way. If he did things slowly enough, he might survive.

“Drive to the garage. If I even get a hint that you’re going uktena, I’ll blow your brains out and leave you here for your Jap otter to find.”

The reasonable way Alan spoke chilled Tally to the core. He swallowed hard as he started the car and drove toward the garage. It was still too early for the kids to be up. He hoped. His best chance was to keep following instructions because Haru might not love him, but the thought of anyone finding him with his head blown apart? Anyone would be traumatized and at least Haru might be…a little attached to him by now, in some respects.

If only the house was smaller or the garage door opener wasn’t so quiet and efficient. Not that Tally wanted anyone to come out here while Alan had a loaded gun. But at least it would be some indication of where he was when the police arrived. Alan instructed him to close the garage door and get out of the car. Ah. That makes sense. He’ll shoot me in here and it will be a while before anyone finds me.

Part of Tally was horrified that he could think through this sanely, the part that wasn’t screaming in frustrated fear. What Alan did next puzzled him, though. He put a notepad and pen on the workbench at the house side of the garage and slid them toward Tally.

“You’re going to write a little note. Keep it short and simple. You’re sorry about killing Ed and the lab tech and you can’t live with the guilt anymore. Then you’re going to sign it.”

“I…” Tally stared at him. “I’m not going to shoot myself for you. And forensics can tell that I didn’t.”

Alan gave him a tight, humorless smile. “Don’t worry about that part, Bastille. Write.”

If he’d been within reach, Tally might have tackled him. Alan stayed well back, though, gun trained on Tally every moment. Time. Right. I’m buying time.

So he wrote a note that Haru wouldn’t believe he’d written willingly.

 

My dearest Tislit—

 

I regret to inform you that I was the one who murdered Ed and the lab tech. I’m unable to live with the crushing guilt of killing by uktena poisoning. It’s so easy, though, and I was so angry. I will miss our long mornings in bed together.

 

All regrets—

Tally

 

Alan motioned for the notepad and Tally slid it over, hoping the deer’s attention would waver for a second. It didn’t. He managed reading while keeping his aim and an eye on Tally quite well. Alan nodded and slid the notepad back.

“Now tear off the page and put it in your pocket.”

Tally bent over the notepad to do as he’d been instructed. There was a shuffle behind him and his heart jackhammered as he turned just in time to see Alan there and a tire iron coming at his head. He tried to get an arm up to block it. Too late. The metal connected with Tally’s head just as he heard something that worried him more.

“Get away from my husband.”

 

“Walk away, otter.”

Haru frowned at Jones-san. Something had obviously gone very wrong at the bakery. Tally hadn’t gotten back up after the blow, and that worried them more. A pool of blood grew around his head.

The gun looked real. Too real. The gun pointed at them made them want to otter out. To defend their territory. But the human in Haru knew better, even if they’d never encountered a man bent on murder before.

Could anyone just buy a gun here? Just walk in and buy it?

“You should’ve stayed in the house.” Jones-san kept the muzzle on Haru. He sounded so calm.

“I wondered why my husband had not come inside for breakfast.”

“I see. The good little Satislit looking after their Argaze.”

“Yes,” Haru answered flatly. They wanted to check on Tally, but movement meant danger. Where was Melissa?

“If you had stayed inside, this would’ve been much easier.”

“I doubt it.”

Jones-san sighed. “Hmm. Possibly. But I’ve done my duty.”

“By trying to kill your Urusar?” Haru huffed, then checked their nails to portray a calm they did not feel. Though it would suck to break one in a tussle—they’d just had them done.

“Certain lijun should never be in power. You of all people should understand.”

Haru held their head higher. “You are talking about my Argaze, Jones-san.”

“Quite right. Your Em’halafi. You sure about that? Problem is—” Jones-san coughed, his breath ragged.

The air was definitely getting foul in the garage. Were there vents? The last thing they needed was it getting into the house.

“Predators like them don’t care about the rest of the clan. It’s bad enough the Bastilles gave humans jobs and contracts, those greedy uktena kept the lands and the businesses to themselves.”

“Tally shares his wealth.” Which was true.

“Then he should’ve approved the bakery expansion!”

“Your business is struggling, Jones-san. The proposal sloppy. You have not bothered to ask why your sales are slumping.”

“Sloppy? An Uruma has no business looking at financial proposals. Did you just call me sloppy, you pansy?”

Luckily it was not the first time that particular word had been thrown at Haru, otherwise it could’ve knocked them for a loop. Instead, they used the hot coal of anger it invoked inside them to center their rage on the one person who deserved it.

“You are forgetting something, Jones-san.”

“What?”

“I am a predator too.” Haru hit the garage opener. The protests were immediate, but no shots fired because Jones-san was looking at the garage door with worry. He really should’ve taken the warning to heart and paid better attention.

It was like hitting a wall. Hard, unforgiving, until momentum carried the two of them forward. Together they rolled in a writhing mass of shouts and hits. The gun went off. Another punch hit Haru, harder than the last. Rocks dug into their back as they hit the drive, the crunch of gravel deafening against the roar of pain. Heavy weight crushed them into the drive. Breathing hurt. The gun was now angled over their shoulder, Haru’s hand firmly on Jones-san’s wrist, desperately holding onto it.

One wrong move and that gun would have a permanent effect on their life.

Haru bit down on Jones-san’s wrist, sinking their teeth in and ignoring the blood as it spilled into their mouth. The screams, the angry vile words thrown at them were almost harder to ignore.

“Stupid Jap! Messing up everything.”

No.

“Don’t you know your place, Satislit? Or are you defective, you little cunt? That’s what you are, aren’t you. Bastille’s little hole to fuck? How much did he pay for you? Rumor says quite a bit.”

No.

“That money should’ve gone toward the growth fund for the clan. Not some little otter with no teeth. Urusar Bastille deserves everything coming to him.”

A growl escaped Haru.

“Oh, don’t like your match being disrespected? Whoever saw such a fucked-up family? Just wait until we toss those pups of yours— Ahhhh!”

Haru shook their head, hit Jones-san’s elbow and brought up their knee. More screams, threats, but Jones-san’s hand opened. The gun fell, the soft crunch almost a relief. But they couldn’t stop. Vigilance always. Haru kicked again, threw an elbow in, getting an “Ooophf” from the stupid deer.

Vomit went everywhere. All over Haru. Guess they got a good hit in?

A push sent Jones-san back, stumbling. Haru rolled up and threw another punch.

The snap as his head went back was so loud it echoed through the garage. Blood spurted from Jones-san’s nose in a great torrent. He alternated between wheezing and gagging. Haru growled again, then got a solid kick in the bastard’s stomach. It sent him to the ground, Jones-san’s moans almost satisfactory. Jerk shouldn’t have scared Haru so fucking much.

Or threatened what was theirs.

Aches made themselves known through a tidal wave of pain erupting all over. Haru swayed as they went over to the gun. What were they supposed to do with it?

The answer came in the sound of sirens breaking through the fog in Haru’s head. It hurt too much to move. Something wasn’t right. They’d taken plenty of punches in their days. They didn’t burn like this. Didn’t feel so heavy. Haru glanced down. There was something in all the vomit.

Two cars fishtailed to a halt on the drive, spewing gravel everywhere, nearly scaring Haru to death. Deputies jumped out of their cars with guns drawn.

“On the ground!”

“We said on the ground!”

Haru dropped—a little too hard—they hadn’t gotten their hands under themself like they should’ve. The fuzz in their head buzzed, but the officers were still shouting. They flattened themself as much as possible. Guns. Why had they come out with guns?

“Hands on your head! On your head!”

Haru did as asked. Pain shot through their left side. Jones-san groaned but complied as well. Tally’s breathing changed, meaning he was now awake and had some kind of level of alertness.

“Identify yourself!”

Really? Weren’t these the same men and women who were with them at the lake? The officers should know them. Shouldn’t Deputy Kincaid be here?

“I am.” Huff. English was not working quite right for them. “Haru Bastille.”

“And who is with you?”

“Alan Jones.” Huff. “The man who attacked us.” This time Haru didn’t bother to keep from rolling their eyes. “And Tally Bastille.”

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” one of the men ordered, then said, “Check for weapons.”

Squawking sounded over the radio. The deputy in charge squinted, tilting his head to the side as he listened. The deputies frowned at Haru and Tally simultaneously. Never a good sign. Their stances stiffened and they both leveled their guns with more urgency than before. The squawks weren’t making sense, though. The deputies frowned in unison.

Creepy.

“Please. Let me.” Huff. Huff. “Check on my Ar-Ha-husband.”

Deputy Frowning flicked his gun once then holstered it, the rest following suit.

“I can get up?” Haru eyed the policeman warily.

“Yes,” the deputy said with a grumble.

Don’t sound so disappointed.

The second deputy approached Jones-san, talking and saying things. The deer shouted back, but the officer kept his gun out. The one watching Haru motioned for them to get up, though his attention was more on Jones-san.

Haru stood, but everything wobbled. “His gun.”

The deputy squinted at Haru. “Sir—”

“Jones-san’s gun.” Haru pointed.

“Oh!” The deputy motioned for Haru to back away, which they did readily. “Sir, you sure you’re all right?”

“My husband, he’s bleeding.”

“I think you are too. Dispatch, we need two ambulances. I repeat. Two ambulances.”

“What?” Haru shook their head and went over to Tally. His eyes were open—wide and wet. “You with us again?”

“Haru. W-what did you do?”

“Do not worry, Argaze. The deputies have Jones-san. We are safe. The children are safe.”

The hot flare went through Haru’s chest again. Sitting might be easier. They slid down next to Tally and moved his head to their lap, listening to him breathe. The sirens from the cops were replaced by another set, this time by those of an ambulance pulling up.

“Is there anyone else on the premises?” the deputy asked as he waved the paramedics toward them.

“Our children, and a few of the Bastille siblings.” Haru bet Lahi had the kids and were holed up somewhere. The others? Who knew. They came and went. One more thing Haru needed to get a handle on.

“Ginny, Tom, check in with the family.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two young deputies went to the front door, knocking, just as the paramedics came around to Tally and Haru.

“Mr. Bastille, can you tell us what happened?”

Haru did the best they could, saying Tally was surprised by Alan and had been hit. Haru finding their husband because of the noise as they’d opened the garage door. Only a little fudging, but it was the closest they could get to the truth considering. As the pretty young brunette was listening to Tally’s chest, she looked at Haru with a frown.

“Melissa.” Huff. Huff. “Deputy Kincaid. Where?”

“Oh, sir.” The girl faltered.

“What happened?” Haru pushed, holding Tally’s head a little tighter.

“She was declared dead at the scene.”

“No.” That was…was…too much. Alan deserved a fate worse than death.

“Shhhh, my Satislit. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay,” Tally crooned softly, lazily petting Haru’s hand.

A wet snort escaped them. “The injured should look after themselves, not others.”

“We should get him in the ambulance,” the paramedic said.

“It’s not for me, my Em’halafi. You need to let this young woman take a look at you, Haru.” Tally shook his head, or tried to, groaning and stopping. “No, no ambulance for me. Lahi, have Lahi call the Blue Hollys.”

“Sir—”

“No ambulance,” Tally hissed out.

It took a moment for the young woman to recover, but she did. The paramedic reached for her bag, but Tally grabbed her hand.

“No, Haru. It’s my husband’s blood. Not Alan’s. Haru’s blood.”