Dark Witness (37 page)

I knew he had come back for me, and I knew that he could see the inferno from the store, and I knew the way Billy thought. If the house was engulfed in flames that meant I was gone. If he didn't think that, he never would have left. I also know that whatever happened in that store was righteous. Maybe not by the law's standards but certainly by Duncan's own. I didn't have Pea to guide me, but I knew what Duncan's thing was. I looked up the bible verse about an eye for an eye.

Matthew 5:38

You have heard that it was said, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth

I believe that was what happened. Duncan had tried to do something awful to Billy, Duncan had done something awful to me, and Billy had come back and done something awful to him. But then I read the rest.

Mathew 5:39

But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.…

The old Billy would have turned his cheek; the Billy who came out of the truck with me, who saw me almost die from poison, who believed me dead in a fire, that Billy couldn't turn the other cheek. He did what he had to. Since I'm done with what happened in that house, I set the report aside, pick up my dress, and put it on.

I pull up the zipper and as I look in the mirror to make sure everything looks right, I realize that we came full circle. Gjergy Isai came to kill Billy because someone he loved had been killed at the hands of Billy's grandfather. Billy had taken a life for my life. I guess he was more Albanian than even he knew. Blood feud was his to embrace and all the innate goodness that was in him could not resist the burn of vengeance. And that brings me to another thing I heard from the Bible. Vengeance is mine sayeth the lord. It's a bummer people keep forgetting that. If only the lord had done his thing, Billy and I would never have had to run from this place we love, his sister would be alive. 'If only' are huge words, but they don't belong in my head today.

I smooth my dress. It looks good. I am home. I am safe and today I am happy. I open the door of my bedroom and there are Archer and Josie waiting for me. Archer is smiling. I want to tell him to stop. I don't recognize him when he does that. Then I can't help it. I smile, too.

"Ready?" Josie asks.

I nod. I am ready. Archer takes Josie's hand and they go out the door while I take the flowers off the hall table and tie them to Max's old pink leash. I put my cheek against his head and feel his tongue flick out to lick my cheek.

"Go for a walk?" I whisper and he gets to his feet. He is so old. It is so hard for him to stand, but he does it for all of us. I think he is smiling, too.

We walk out the door, down the brick walk and go past the little gate. Josie and Archer are holding hands. Max and I follow behind, and I think I have never seen anything more beautiful than Josie Bates in her simple white dress. She is mistress of her universe, sure about herself, unaware of her beauty, comfortable in her strength, content now that her family is together.

We cross The Strand, step onto the warm sand and head to the shore. The beach is nearly deserted. The sun hangs low but even in December it is a bright ball in the ever-blue sky. When we are almost there, Archer and Josie pause. They wait for me to go ahead with Max. I stop to hug Archer, and then I linger in Josie's embrace. I want to say something profound. I can't think of anything profound. I'm just a kid so I say:

"Thank you for finding me."

She hugs me tighter. I know she will always hold onto me, but I also know she will let me go when it is my time. Today she lets me go because we have to get on with things. Max and I walk on. Josie holds Archer's arm and now they walk behind me and Max. I feel them melting into one another. They are more one person than any two people I have ever seen. There is no music for this small processional except for the sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore.

I lift my head and look at the people waiting for us. Faye and Burt, Josie's volleyball friends, cops Archer used to work with, a smattering of lawyers and judges. Stephen Kyle and his girls and Amelia have come from Hawaii. They have brought Josie's mom who doesn't know this tall beautiful bride. She is smiling at Josie like she knows something good is happening.

When we get to where we're going, I stand aside. Max plants his rear in the sand. We all watch Josie and Archer stop in front of the minister and face one another. They are holding hands. The minister invites them to recite the vows they have written. I don't listen. I know what they are saying: simple words about honoring and respecting one another. Love is private and they will talk about that later. Nobody needs to hear talk about love anyway, because everyone feels how much of it there is between them.

I raise my face just a little to feel the sun on my cheeks. I look out over the sparkling blue ocean. I hear the waves lapping at the shore and see the water tumbling toward us and dancing away again. It is so bright and so warm and I think how much Billy would have loved this day. He would have taken my hand and I would have let him. He might have even kissed me, and I would have let him. He would expect me to say something dry or sharp, but I wouldn't be able to because there would be a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. That's how it would be if he were here. But he isn't, so I close my eyes because he wouldn't want me to waste tears. I swallow that lump in my throat. In my heart, I hear Billy talk to me. He says:

"It's okay, dude. It's okay."

***

Read on for More Thrills.

The Mentor is next

5.0 out of 5.0 stars

"These pages turn themselves"

5.0 out of 5.0 stars

"Finished this book at 3:30 in the morning!"

Excerpt from
 The Mentor

by

Rebecca Forster

Prologue

"Girlfriend, it is time to go!"

She talked to herself, gripped the edge of her chair and looked around the empty office. Deserted desks, silent phones, blinds closed in front and something going on behind the emergency exit to the alley were making her jumpy. Outside wasn't going to be much better than in, but outside, in front, she'd see that boyfriend of hers coming. She would jump in that car and they would hightail it out of downtown before he had time to stop – if he ever came, of course.

She looked at her watch, the sixth time since she'd heard the last skittery noises in that alley, twice since she first heard voices. Barely ten minutes had passed and now the urgent whispers were starting again. That's when she decided; outside was where she wanted to go.

Quietly she eased her desk drawer out and got her purse. Keeping her eye on the closed, locked, and bolted back door she hunkered down and checked the wall clock. Eight-thirteen. Slowly she raised her wrist. It was eight-fifteen by her watch. On alert under the overhead lights that made everyone feel sickly, she froze and listened hard. Suddenly there was silence.
Oh, Lord above.

Holding her purse close, she sidestepped across the floor and pushed through the little gate that separated the IRS workers from a generally crazed public. How a little swinging gate was going to protect any of them was beyond her. But now that gate was her ticket to freedom. She backed through it, bumped up against the door, groped with her free hand and pushed the lever. It opened only to slam shut and lock behind her as she stumbled out into the surprisingly cool night.

"Hey. Hey."

She shrieked, spun around and dropped her purse. Oh, God! A drunken bum had touched her. She shivered and snatched up her purse. Shaking, she clutched it to her breast, never taking her eyes off his milky right eye and the left that looked everywhere except at her. When he shuffled on, her shoulders slumped. Her looks-like-silk rayon dress was damp under the arms. It had been a bum, back there behind the building; a stupid bum scaring the living daylights out of her. How goddamn stupid could she be? Now she was stuck out here in the dark, alone on an all-but-deserted street. She was a sitting duck. She was beginning to hate her boyfriend, her job and Los Angeles in that order. She was starting to cry as she prayed in her head.
Sweet Jesus please let it be eight-thirty.
She cocked her wrist to check the time once more but, to her amazement, her watch was gone.

In that split second of surprise, she heard the deafening explosion behind her and felt the hot-cold sear of flame at her back. Her looks-like-silk-rayon dress melted against skin that was already curling away from the bone. In a blink she was caught in a maelstrom of wood and glass; suddenly she was starring in a heavy-metal music video, a big budget disaster movie without benefit of lights and cameras. And, in that seemingly endless second before a shard of glass pierced her throat and another took off half her scalp, there was time to consider something else. Her watch wasn't the only thing that was missing—so was her hand.

Someone pushed him, kind of slapped him on the back. He turned all the way around when that happened. He heard the roar of the explosion at the same time and half lost his balance because the earth bucked beneath him. He held his hands up against the wave of junk that rolled his way and squinted at the blaze of fire leaping out of the building a block behind. When he could, he looked to see who had tried to get his attention—like anyone needed to tell him that all hell had broken loose—but no one was there.

At his feet there was a hand with nobody attached. Lord above, this was it: fire, brimstone, and body parts. The dead were rising; the world was ending. Falling to his knees, clasping his hands over his chest, the drunken bum raised his face and waited for the ground to open and spew forth wrathful spirits from its evil molten bowels. Lord in heaven. When none of that happened he focused his milky white eye on a Chevy Camaro blowing down the street, the driver at the wheel looking damned surprised. That's when he heard the squeal of tires behind him and looked to see a pickup cutting through the night like a bat out of hell.

Damn right.

Hell.

Officer Readmore belched and reached inside his car for the radio. Half the restaurant had followed him to check out what was happening.

He looked cool, so no one could tell, but Jimmy Readmore was thrilled at the sight of the fire a mile away. He was sick of this beat. L.A. downtown from two to midnight was shit work. Readmore wished he knew what he'd done, or who he'd ticked off, to pull this kind of duty. Whoever it was still wanted him punished because the dispatcher was telling him to stay put even though half the city's fire units were on the scene.

Frustrated, he chased everyone back to their cold meals, got in his car and convinced himself that he really had better things to do anyway. Still, as he patrolled the streets, he thought about the fire. Could be a gas explosion or a bum's fire crackling out of control. Messy stuff that. There'd be bodies. Nothing worse than a burned bum. So, a bored Jimmy Readmore was chuckling about his alliteration when he noticed a blue pickup heading for the 405. Jimmy wouldn't normally have given the truck a second look, but something had run afoul of his antennae. Nothing major. Just enough to make him do a double take on the truck that was so conscientiously following the speed limit even though there wasn't another car in sight and half a city block was on fire not more than a mile away.

He turned on the lights and gave the siren a once-over. The truck picked up speed for an instant, and then pulled over before Readmore could get too excited. He took inventory as he rolled up politely behind it.

Blue Chevy pickup.

California plates. Riverside dealership.

A bumper sticker:
Take Back America.
The guy was a Republican. Otherwise the truck was real, real clean. His eyes flickered to the back window. This big boy had been to the Grand Canyon. There was a gun rack in the cab but no gun. The bed was covered.

Holding his flashlight high as he approached, Officer Jimmy Readmore's boredom blew away with the cool breeze. He shined his mighty light on the driver and smiled at the handsome blond boy behind the wheel. The kid couldn't meet his eye. Jimmy bent down and scoped the passenger sitting on the other side. Same hair and eyes only this guy was fleshier. Had to be the kid's dad. He didn't have any problem focusing. Dad looked Jimmy Readmore right in the eye.

"Evening, sir. Son. Think I could get you to step out here?"

Jimmy smiled his best public-servant smile. He stepped away as the older man opened the passenger door and got out of the truck.

Officer Readmore moved back toward the truck bed, letting his eyes flicker away long enough to check it out. He lifted a corner of the bed cover.

That was his second mistake.

His first was stopping them at all.

"Turn it off."

"No." She breathed the word out along with a cloud of smoke.