Protector - Laurel Dewey [200]
“I’m not on fucking anything!” Chris snarled, his voice full of rage.
“Then what are coming down off of?”
“Oh, this is rich! A fucking alcoholic telling me—”
“It’s meth, isn’t it?” Jane yelled.
“What does it matter? If it’s Sunday, it’s meth, if it’s Monday, it’s coke—”
“You’re not thinking clearly!”
“Well, I’m thinking more clearly than you! You call me on the phone and that coal train passes while we’re talking. The fucking coal train, Jane! There’s only a few towns that a coal train still goes through. You gave yourself up and you didn’t even know it! So, who’s not thinking clearly here?”
“That train covers twenty or thirty miles. Why’d you choose Peachville?”
“I’d already been doing some research with my private consultant who explained the Department’s criteria for a good safe town. So I just plugged his info into the equation. It took a couple weeks to figure out but here I am!”
“What private consultant?” Jane asked warily.
Chris smiled broadly and let out a guttural snicker. “Who do you think was keeping company with your ol’ man all those weeks when you were incommunicado?” Jane felt as if the wind was knocked out of her. “After you left, Dale and me got even tighter than we were before.”
Jane felt sick. “Before? I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t think your own dad would sell you down the river? Think again!”
“I never told him where I was going!”
“Procedure, Jane. The Department has always had the same criteria for a good, safe town. It was the same for him when he was on the job as it is now. He gave you up, Jane. It was like talking to the magic genie. That coal train just sealed the coordinates down to a smaller area. The rest was all me. Me knowing you. Me knowing how you act and what to tell the good sheriff. You’re so fucking easy, Jane. Don’t you know that?”
Emily winced as Chris dug his forearm into her neck. “Jane . . .” Emily muttered.
“Shut up!” Chris yelled at Emily, squeezing her even tighter.
Jane saw that the sheriff and his deputy had quietly taken up strategic positions next to the tower. Dan followed suit. “You want to kill somebody?” Jane shouted, trying to divert Chris’ attention away from Emily. “Kill me!”
“No!” Emily screamed.
“Oh, fuck! I thought I already did that! I thought that was you under the blanket that night. Not Martha! Christ, I gave you so many chances to look good. I had that bum with the cigarette case I took from the house. Weyler would have gone for it. But you had to throw the wrench in it. Then there was good fuckin’ ‘Christian Ron!’ You know the trouble I went through to set up that asshole? He could have gone down for it and everything would have been sweet! But you stuck your fuckin’ nose in that one, too!”
“You would have been found out one way or the other!”
“Do you mean this little bitch here?” Chris tightened his grip around Emily’s neck. “Shit! I had all that worked out! I’d wait ’til the smoke cleared and you were away from her. Then I’d track her down in Cheyenne and take care of business!”
“Chris, listen to yourself! You’re not rational!”
“You try tweaking off meth and tell me how fucking rational you are!”
Jane had to buy time. “Is that how it all started? Getting high on meth? The Stovers?”
Chris was taken aback by Jane’s words. His surprise then quickly turned into hatred for Emily. He pushed the gun barrel with more force into her forehead, leaving a circular imprint in her skin. “I knew it! I knew your dad would open his fucking mouth!” he yelled at Emily.
“I figured it out, Chris! Emily didn’t know shit! Chris! Look at me!” Jane was desperate to distract Chris. “Why’d you do it?”