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Part 1
The pre-dawn mist hovered over the river as the tall beauty made her way to where she tied the small rowboat. Hiking her brown harness boots onto the five foot post she took another look around. It would be daylight soon. She reached into her faded Jeans pocket, searching for the band to pull the dark brown, golden glinted tresses back away from her face. Keeping her hair long was a choice she never regretted but she did hate it when it crept into her crystal blue eyes. So, she pulled it back at every opportunity. That done, she snapped the chestnut leather jacket that once belonged to her father against the cool air and looked back at her companion. It promised to be a very long morning.
Alex tucked the last of the gear into the small rowboat and motioned her smaller charge into the boat. He looked to be all of 145 pounds soaking wet and wearing lots of clothes, she mused. Maybe if he stood on his tippie toes he would be all of 5'9".The nearly 6 foot Detectives silently shook her head. His well worn SportsCoat was clean and pressed and matched his slacks and shoes quite nicely.
It was five long year since Anna's murder. Five years without a reflection in the mirror of her soul. Five years with no one to complete her sentences. Alex missed her twin beyond anything she thought possible. Now, for the first time since her father died trying to stop a jewelry store heist, twelve years ago, she didn't feel helpless. Mickey Lawton finally drew the short straw. Alexandra Abigail Stoner was assigned to keep THIS witness alive. Detective First Class Alex Stoner. Daddy would have liked that. And Anna? Well, Anna would have smiled that quiet smile of hers and said: "You go girl. Kick some bad-guy butt for me." Alex smiled.
"Something funny here, Detective Stoner? Because if there is I musta missed it. And, just askin' but wouldn't it be easier to row DOWN this river? I mean, I'm no expert, Lord knows, but this is damn hard work. No offense, Detective."
Alex turned her head just enough to roll her eyes skyward without offending Mr Stanley P. Wheaton, witness of the hour.
"None taken. Nothing funny either. Just remembering something pleasant. A rarity for me, I'm afraid, Mr......"
"Enough. I can't take this formality in a bleedin' rowboat. It's Stanley. OK? Not Mr. Wheaton. Not Wheaton. Just Stanley. And I'm sorry to be such a pain. I guess I'm just city boy at heart. Like the water, for instance. I always thought the water in rivers and oceans was a pretty blue. This stuff is a horrid combination of mucky brown, puke yellow and slime green. And that smell. It smells like something died here."
"It did. It does. Things live and die here every day, Stanley. Let's just pick up the pace a bit so you aren't one of them. Okay?"
He searched her face for a sign. Some tiny indication she was joking. Nothing. Not a crease in her brow or an upward lift of her lip. No, she definitely was not kidding. He rowed faster.
"Sorry. I'll do whatever you ask. Just tell me and I'll do it. But this is not an average day for me." He looked again at the area around him and made a small sound that to Alex sounded irritatingly like a whine. " Everything seems to be going the other way, Detective. Wouldn't it be easier..."
Alex snatched the oar out of his too soft hands. "Yes, Stanley. Of course it would be EASIER to row DOWN the river. Unfortunately where we are going is UP THE RIVER. It may not be the easiest route but may I point out your head?"
"My head?"
"Yes, the one that still sits atop your shoulders."
"Point well taken, Detective. I guess I'm just scared and, well, like I said, I'm a city boy. This is like rowing down the Amazon for a guy like me."
"UP the Amazon, Wheaton. UP the Amazon."
They laughed. It wasn't that funny, really. But they laughed anyway. They needed to laugh or the fear would take hold. The terrifying reality of the situation would overwhelm them, if they let it. So, instead they laughed."
"I can't believe I agreed to this. My God,, this is a damn wilderness. And this rowing looked a lot easier is the movies. Right. That's me: Drive In Movie manager and bookkeeper. Mr. Good Guy, right? Maybe. More likely Mr. Dumb Ass. I just HAD to stay late that night and catch up didn't I? Well, look where it got me. Eye witness to two cold blooded murders. Great. Just flippin' great."
Alex sighed as the little man whined on.
"Something funny, Detective? Because I like a good joke. Hell, I AM a good joke."
She chuckled softly. "Just thinking Wheaton. I still have a few memories that evoke a smile or two. It's only another hour or so of rowing. think you can make it?"
"You mean I have a choice?"
"There is always a choice, Mr. Wheaton. Unfortunately, in this case the choices are not wonderful."
What remained unsaid spoke volumes. Alex knew more about this than Stanley P. Wheaton. Lots more.
Somewhere in Colorado, in the past six months two other witnesses of crimes by the same defendant were murdered while in police custody. Now, Alex moved into place because the chief of detectives felt she was one detective beyond bribery. She was dedicated to justice -- period. It also helped her motivation that the first known victim of the man in question was her twin sister: Anna.
No one was told where Alex will keep Stanley. Not even the chief. Alex owned a cabin in a remote area, accessible only by the river. No roads at all. None within thirty miles of the place. Alex liked it that way. So did Anna. She bought the cabin nearly a decade ago with her sister. They told no one. It was their secret. Their special place where they could escape the world. They only got to go there, together, twice before Anna was murdered. She would take Stanley there. The only communication with the outside world was the new, unlisted cell phone she bought earlier the day they left. Only the chief knew the phone number. And even he didn't know it yet.............................
..................."Chief? It's Alex. Just listen, okay?"
Alexandra couldn't take any chances and she knew it. Otherwise, she would never be so curt with Chief Bartoni. He was more than a great chief of detectives. He was a good friend. But two witnesses were dead, killed while in custody and she was determined Mr. Stanley P. Wheaton would not be number three.
"Go ahead Alex. I take it this is not a secure line." Michael Bartoni was remembering the promise he'd made to Alex's father when she and her twin sister, Anna, were only sixteen. He wondered if this really qualified as "looking after my girls".
"A cell phone is never a secure line. You know that, chief. You're worrying again. Put down the donut and listen."
She smiled thinking of how the chief always nibbled when he worried, and he worried about her a lot. She knew that he took the promise he made to her dad very seriously. It tore him apart, losing his best friend and partner all in one fell swoop. Then, five years ago, Anna was murdered by Mickey Lawton. Bastard even did it himself. Bragged about it. No witnesses. He knew there wouldn't be. After that, Chief Bartoni watched her like a hawk. It was only in the past year he came to see how good a cop Alex was. It helped knowing he was there. It wasn't the same as Anna, but it helped.
Alex could feel Stanley P. Wheaton watching her every move as she rowed the small boat up the river. She couldn't help wondering where this frightened little man was finding the courage to stand up to Mickey Lawton. No matter. She already experienced enough in life to know he must have his reasons and she could not possibly care less what they were. Her job was to keep him alive until he could testify and then it would be up to the law. Well, sort of, she gritted silently. The law, Alex thought, and the godsbedamned lawyers with their dumbass little loopholes. If people in biblical times thought it was something to see a camel pass through the eye of a needle they ought to get a gander at the murderers, rapists and sundry other monsters and demons who slip through loopholes so small it takes a whole team of paralegals just to find the things. The irritated half sigh, half groan was more audible than the detective intended.
"You all right, Detective?" Stanley could not keep the fear from his trembling, baritone.
Noting the stand of trees that signaled the end of the rowing, Alex grinned. She could already see Mr. Wheaton's expression when he learned of the long hike that lay ahead of them.
"Oh," Alex lilted. "I suspect I am a bit more 'all right' than you will be when I tell you we're about ready to park this boat."
Stanley reminded himself not to stand up, so excited was he. "Thank God. I thought we would never get there."
Alex stepped into cold water up to her knees and pulled the boat onto shore before smirking at the waiting witness. While Stanley P. Wheaton fumbled onto the grass, gingerly trying not to get his shoes wet, Detective Stoner dragged the small rowboat behind a clump of trees and covered it with the carefully selected cloth. Alex was no dummy. She even took the trouble to purchase the tarp at the Army/Navy store, years before. At the time she didn't considered its ability to HIDE the boat would ever be so critical a matter. Satisfied the small craft was safely out of sight, she turned to her charge.
Stanley was lifting and resetting his feet, noting with disgust the dampness seeping into his shoes. He made a quick scan of the area and returned his gaze to his pretty guardian. "So where's the house? I don't see it."
"Nope. Not likely you will either, standing four inches from shore. Keep looking for a 'house' and you never will see it." Alex rolled her baby blues skyward, muttered something about it forever being her lot to protect morons and grabbed the gear. "You joining me or you want to just stand here till Lawson's goons blow your ass off?"
Alexandra barely moved forward five strides but the city boy found himself practically running to catch up.
"Geesh. I thought you said earlier it was only a couple hours to the hou...cabin," Wheaton whined.
"Nope," smirked the tall woman. "Said it was only a couple more hours ROWING. Not my fault you assumed. Got a good three hour's hike ahead of us," she looked at the man struggling to keep up. In truth she never let him out of her sight, but she liked him working up a sweat for a change. So far, she had done all the work and he did all the whining, she remarked to herself.
"Three HOURS?" Poor Stanley looked like he wanted to cry but knew he dared not. Alex chuckled softly.
"Well, three if we hustle." Detective Stoner couldn't help the laugh that escaped her soft mouth. This guy was a riot. One would think, she reasoned to herself, he would be all but running his short legs off to get to a safe place. Safe as possible with that prick Mickey Lawton out to get him. "Look, Stanley. Let's just get to the cabin. I promise to listen to you moan and groan once we get there. How's that?"
The slightest hint of a smile braved its way onto the man's face. "Why is it, do you suppose, I doubt that will happen? You listening, I mean." He pulled long strides from his legs as he managed to stay closer to his rapidly moving protector.
Glancing over her left shoulder, Alex grinned at the sight. Wheaton was actually keeping up. Sort of. "Oh I'll listen, Stanley. I make a point of keeping my promises." Then, to herself, she added: 'I ain't' sayin' how long I'll listen but I will listen.'
Nearly stumbling over a protruding tree root, the tenderfoot muttered to himself. 'Yeah, I'll just bet. How long you gonna listen Ms. I'm too tough to kill? Two minutes?' Without warning, the man chuckled to himself. 'I wish,' he mentally confessed.
Great, thought Alex. Just great. Please tell me this little jerk isn't starting with the fantasies.
The next two hours were relatively devoid of human conversation. That is, unless you count the occasional grunt, moan, whine or curse word. Stanley was too busy trying to keep up and Alex was mentally sorting every sound, every unfamiliar tree or log. Twice she put her hand out to halt Mr. City, born and bred, to check out something that didn't seem quite right to her. Finding all was still in order, she motioned with a tilt of the head and they were off again.
"That's it, just over the next rise." The detective informed a travel weary tenderfoot.
"Huh? But it's only been just over two hours. You said Three and only if we hustle." Stanley checked and rechecked his five hundred dollar watch. It was completely out of sync with the rest of him and had been a gift from his employer.
Alex grinned. "It ain't broke. Your fancy schmancy watch works fine, Wheaton. I lied about the time it was gonna take. Thought it would make you feel better when I let you stop; which we will do once we are inside and not one moment before."
The exhausted man nodded. "No problem, detective. I didn't think we were gonna grab a log and have a weenie roast. And I'm glad the watch isn't busted. My boss gave it to me and......" He nearly fell into a tall oak as Alex snatched the watch off his arm. "Shit! You could have just asked me what time it was!"
Blue eyes narrowed to slits and a strong jaw clenched and unclenched several times. Tossing the expensive timepiece to the ground, Alexandra Abigail Stoner very nearly spat at her witness. "You stupid son of a bitch! You don't have the brains of a delapitated amoebae." Bringing the heel of her harness boot down onto the watch, she glared at the idiot she was assigned to protect for the next three days.
"What the hell are you doing, detective? That is an expensive watch and it was a gift for years of loyal service." Stanley was stunned.
"Was an expensive watch. Men like Mickey Lawton don't give gifts for loyalty you little pip-squeak. Haven't you learned anything from what you saw? Bastard's probably been fucking tracking us."
Wheaton gasped as the gravity of his mistake hit home. "God. I am so sorry. I didn't even think....God."
Thumbing through the costly debris, Alex pulled a plastic bag from her coat. Using a nearby twig she scooted everything, including some dirt and leaves, into the baggie and zipped it shut. "Well, looks like we might have lucked out on this one. I don't see anything," she stood. "Won't know fer sure till I can check it with the glass in the cabin. You got any other GIFTS I should know about, Wheaton?"
The color started to return to his face. "No. Nothing. That was it."
"Mind if I ask when Mickey gave you that little gem?"
"Last week. Why? Does it matter?"
Alex considered what he just said. "Last week. That would be after you witnessed the murders but before you came to us. Right?"
"The day after, as a matter of fact." Stanley answered her question.
"Shit." Alex brushed her pants off and lifted the back pack. Moving with even more speed and determination that before in the direction of that next rise, she said it again. "Shit."
Shit!" Alex spat out as she stomped toward the cabin she and her sister Anna bought so long ago. The detective needed to put some distance, even a few feet, between herself and the man she was protecting. "Little idiot," she muttered to herself. "I ought to kill him myself and be fucking done with it."
"I heard that," rasped the gasping man struggling to match her long strides.
Alex stopped. Taking in a deep breath and carefully considering what would be safe to say at this point, she closed her tired eyes. It was less than a day since she officially took the job of protecting this eye witness, but it was starting to feel like a month. A long month. One with 50 days. At least. Her mouth opened but no words tumbled out. This made the detective smile. "Al, old girl, I do believe you're learning."
"You talking to me?" asked Wheaton.
Blue eyes rolled toward the tops of the surrounding pines. Realizing anything she gave voice to now would be regretted later, or at least apologized for, she shook her head and remained silent. Snatching the stumbling movie manager by the back of his britches, she kept him from falling face first into a rattler. Squinting her eyes to an angry slit, she dared him to speak. He got the message and they moved on in silent understanding. She was silent and he understood he scewed up, made his first serious mistake. He pissed off Detective Alexandra Abigail Stoner. He only hoped he would live to tell about it.
Tears sprang to her blue eyes as she came over the last rise and beheld the cabin anew. She didn't wipe them away. Truth be told, she barely noticed them; so caught up was she in the vision before her. Alex didn't come here as often as she'd like and each time she did it made her feel the loss all over again. Damn it. Why had she loaned her car to Anna that day? OK, sure, Anna's was in the shop but she could have used the rental. Right? Oh yeah, like they ever did that. No. She knew loaning Anna the car wasn't the reason she was dead. That cowardice bastard Mickey Lawton was to blame. He bragged all over the state how he blew Alex Stoner to smithereens. Then when it came out that it was Officer Anna Stoner who was killed in her sister's Mustang convertible, Lawton never missed a beat. He sent a note to the slain woman's mother and sister by private courier. The three dozen roses that accompanied it went directly to the garbage can out back. They didn't even want the fragrance/stench in their modest home. The words in the note still held the ability the make the powerful woman's fists clench in impotent rage.
Mrs. Stoner and Alexandra,
It is with deep regret I send these roses. I am sorry for your loss. It must be very difficult having police officers in the family. They are forever being killed, are they not? Unless I am very much mistaken that would be two down and one to go for the Stoner family. Perhaps Alexandra would like to rethink her career choice now? At the very least, Alexandra, I would imagine you are reconsidering digging up old bones. Again, please accept my sorrow at Anna's being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sincerely,
Mickey Lawton
"Bastard." Alex muttered to herself for the trillionth time. No one but the chief and a few close friends and family knew Anna wasn't even supposed to be in that car at the time or that she kept Alex's appointment at the gym that morning. Only the killer could have known that. Lawton wanted the remaining Stoners to know he was responsible. Worse. He wanted them to know he wasn't finished.
"That the cabin?" Stanley P. Wheaton's question jerked Alex from her momentary lapse.
"Yeah, that's it. Wait," the detective's brow crinkled and her head nodded to one side as if she were giving something serious thought. Wheaton didn't care. He was sore, tired, irritable and hungry. He started to move past her and into the open area that was the most direct route to the large log cabin. A large, strong hand snatched him back. "I said WAIT!" Alex slammed his butt into the dirt beside her.
"Some protector you are," muttered the man whose pride was injured far more than his derriere.
"Shut up, you idiot. Don't you smell that?"
Stanley crinkled his face as he sniffed loudly at the air. "Smells nice, like my grampa's fire place. What's wrong with that, if I may be so bold without getting smacked yet again."
"Bold I can handle, just try doing it a little more quietly. This may be your day to die but it sure as hell ain't mine."
"But....."
"It smells like your grampa's fireplace for a very good reason, Wheaton. There is a fire burning."
"So?"
"Gods, man. Do you take lessons or are you just naturally stupid?"
"Hey!" complained the city boy.
"Stanley, think about it man. There is a fire in the fireplace of a cabin no one is supposed to be in or know the location of...." she raised her left brow for emphasis.
"Oh," came the moaned response.
"And up till a short time ago you were sending out a damned homing beacon to the man who most wants you dead, I'll pert near bet."
The eye witness dropped his weary head into dirt-smudged, sweaty hands. "Oh God. I'm gonna die out here aren't I?"
Slim fingers clamped over his mouth. "No, Wheaton. No, you are not gonna die out here. And neither am I. Now do as I say and tie something around that mouth of yours if you can't keep it shut. Whoever it is doesn't know we're here yet and I'd like to keep it that way."
Stanley removed his bandanna and tied it around his mouth. Alex grinned and shook her head to keep from laughing at the sight. "Hah phfoou u noooo?"
The detective snorted softly at the question. "We aren't dead yet. That's how I know," she whispered. Pressing his body low to the ground she showed him how to crawl beside her until they were outside the very large log cabin with the huge front porch. Alex remembered building their dream porch with her sister many summers ago. One of the few times they came there together. The tall beauty motioned for Stanley to stay put as she moved toward the window. Alex knew the window would give her a fairly wide view of the living area and reasoned it was her best chance of seeing who was inside. Once on the ground beneath it she looked around cautiously and listened intently. Being somewhat assured of her temporary safety she pulled herself up to peer inside. The look on her face as she crawled back toward Wheaton left the man more than a little puzzled. Has she lost her mind, he wondered? What in tarnation could be humorous about this situation?
"Stay here," Alex instructed Stanley.
"No problem," he assured her.
The tall detective duck walked past the partially uncovered window, then stood to her full height before carefully, and completely without sound, moving to the doorway. Wheaton was impressed. Even on the wooden porch he heard nary a single footstep. Then, she silently lifted the latch, stepped back and kicked the door in with a loud thud. This was followed by the crashing sound as it hit the wall and bounced halfway shut again.
"What the...." a small figure hunched near the roaring fire leapt to her full 5'4" stature, reaching for a poker the whole while.
Poor Stanley knew he was a goner now for sure. The tall detective began to laugh. LAUGH! Wheaton tried to burrow into the ground beneath him.
"You planning to hit me with that or use it to tickle me to death?" Detective Alexandra Stoner smiled. It nearly took the hiding witness' breath away.
"ALEX!!" came the enthusiastic and melodic cry from within the cabin walls.
Suddenly the tall Police Officer found herself with an armful of what most the world called "the blonde bombshell." Planting her feet firmly, she knew it was too late to stop the launch.
"Rhonnie, don't....." Alex laughed again. "You never did listen to me, did you?"
"Nope," the woman smirked as she hugged Detective Stoner around the neck and waist.
Stanley kept shaking his head to see if it rattled. Was that the same woman who only minutes before nearly bit his head off for wearing a watch? OK. So the watch might have been bugged. He didn't know that. And who was that little blonde now attached to his detective? Why did she look familiar, even from this distance?
Alex carefully put her strong arms around the blonde's waist and carried her inside with a few long strides. Setting her down near the stone hearth, blue eyes searched jade green. "Rhonnie, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Hawaii doing a photo shoot? Or was it a movie? Sorry. I forget."
Straightening her jeans and shifting things back in place inside her sweater, the smaller woman chuckled. "Me too, most of the time. This was to be a movie. I quit. Fired my agent. All hell broke loose and I decided to use Anna's gift. You don't mind, do you?"
"Never. Well, almost never. I'm working Rhonnie and it isn't safe here for you right now. Sorry I scared you. Couldn't resist."
"You never could resist making me jump, Alligail." Before the stern-faced Detective could respond, her friend continued. "What do you mean, not safe for ME? How did you know it was me? And who is that mud-covered man?"
"I'm working, Rhonnie. Protecting a murder witness for a few days till we can get him before the Grand Jury. You're still the only person I know who wears a black fedora, not to mention the hot pink back pack with Wonder Woman on it. Gods. How old is that thing anyway? What mud-covered man?"
"That mud-covered man, in the doorway." Rhonnie nodded toward the still open door.
"My God in heaven! You're Rhonda Reynolds!" breathed an awestruck Stanley.
"Yes, she is. Now shut up and get in here before Lawton's men know she's here." Alex jerked the little man through the doorway, closing and bolting the door back. Then she got the large timber and slid it into place as well. "You can close your mouth now, Wheaton. She won't bite."
"Even if I pay extra?" he quipped. It was not a smart thing to do.
Nose to nose, Alex growled: "What did you just say, little dead man?"
The swallow was louder than the door thump only minutes before. Rhonnie had to turn to keep from laughing in his smudged face.
"Still my champion, eh Alex?" Jade searched crystal blue.
"Yep," was the only reply.
Stanley could feel his heart reaching for his throat when something drifted into his nostrils and got his attention. So surprising and overpowering was the attack to his senses that he completely forgot the tall brunette glaring down at him. "That smells incredible! What is it? Where's it coming from?"
If Wheaton's words had not already stopped the detective, the sizzling sound would have been more than enough.
"Oh crud!" cried Rhonnie, darting toward the fireplace.
"What!?" was all Alex said as she quickly drew the weapon from it's place snugly in the holster inside her jacket.
Rolling gorgeous green eyes, "Really Alex! I know it may not be the burgers of a king but I don't think it will kill you."
Stanley P. Wheaton gathered all the courage he could find and.....laughed. In less than a heartbeat he felt the hot, angry breath of his protective custodian in his face.
"Something funny, little mud-covered, quivering man? Hmmmm?" The snicker from across the room made the detective spin around and glare at the drop dead gorgeous woman stirring the black kettle hanging over the still sputtering fire. "Rhonda Renee Reynolds, you would not be laughing at me, now would you?"
"Moi? Laugh at the same woman who once tossed me into a frozen lake, clothes and all? Not me. Nope. Huh-uh. Me...I'm just tending my rabbit stew."
Blue eyes perked up. "Rabbit stew? How long have you been here, Rhon? When did you have time to get a rabbit? OH, let me guess. Miss, I travel the world and have money to burn bought a rabbit on the way in."
"Pah. You always did underestimate me, Ms. Tough as Nails but don't tell the witness I sleep in Woodstock PJ's. And," she winked at Stanley nearly making the poor man faint dead away, " I don't mean the concert."
"HEY!" Alex complained. "That was ages ago. I don't sleep in those any more."
Rhonnie opened green eyes that twinkled, "Really? And what, pray tell, do you sleep in now?"
Wheaton was now sitting, cross-legged on the floor near the fire, and watching the scene much like a tennis match. It beat hell out of the trip it took to get there. But he was definitely beginning to think it had been worth it.
Dark tresses fell alongside golden blonde as Alex leaned over Rhonnie from behind, peering into the boiling pot. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
The warm breath eased across her ear and neck making the world famous model turned movie star shiver. "As a matter of fact," she practically whispered just as the kettle boiled over again, hissing it's demand for her immediate and full attention. "Crud. Crud, crud, crud."
Now it was the detective's turn to snicker. "Crud? You say crud now? What happened to the potty mouth I knew and loved?"
"I got class."
"Oh yeah, I can see that." Alexandra swatted the patched behind of the well-worn, faded jeans and smirked.
"HEY!" Rhonda deftly moved aside in mock complaint. "You hungry or not?"
Alex couldn't resist. She knew it was risky but she did it anyway. Waggling dark brows at the small beauty, she smiled: "Oh yeah." Licking her lips suggestively, "I'm hungry all right."
Crinkling her brow, Rhonda wondered but said nothing of her curiosity. "The bowls are in the sink. I washed 'em."
"Mmm," replied the learned officer.
"Stanley? You hungry or sleepy?" asked Rhonda.
The witness half smiled from his warm spot only two feet away. "Both, to be honest and right now it's a crap shoot which will win out. But that smells positively divine. Is it really rabbit stew? I've never eaten rabbit before."
"It is and thanks. I hope you like it."
"Oh, he will. Stanley my man, forget all you have ever heard or believed of supermodels. This one eats. And she cooks like an angel sent directly from the pearly kitchen."
Watching the interplay between the two women as the model filled the oversized bowls with steaming morsels, Wheaton couldn't help but wonder what their story was. Clearly, he thought, they have know each other nearly forever. The heat from the bowl Alex handed him penetrated his palms and he quickly set it on the stone hearth beside him. "Thanks, Alex."
"Welcome," muttered the blue eyed detective as she took her own bowl and Rhonnie's to the old sofa. Watching until the blonde settled in and tucked her naked feet beneath her, Alex handed the bowl over.
Warm green eyes smiled into cool blue ones. "Thanks Alex. And the rabbits are fresh. I got em on my way up. I knew there would be plenty of herbs and veggies from Anni....I mean from the garden. And I was pretty sure there would be a surplus of canned goods. So I figured a few rabbits would be perfect. Hope you like it."
"It's great, Little Bit. Just like always. Better maybe. Can't believe you got even better but I think ya did. Mmmm. But, why three rabbits? You thought it would be just you, right?" Alex looked up from her bowl toward evasive orbs.
"Um, Detective?" Stanley was finished with his own large bowl and now could barely hold his eyes open.
"Oh. Right. OK, here's the deal Stanley. You can go into the room right over there and lie down. Get some sleep but do not open the curtains and do not close the door. Got me?"
"No problem. I think I could almost sleep standing up against the wall at this point."
Alex smiled.
"Well, I said I was a city boy. I wasn't lying. This has to be my hardest day in years. Maybe ever. And you did most of the work. Detective?" Alex questioned.
"Yeah?" Alex asked.
"Thank you for putting your life on the line to save my sorry ass." He looked from one woman to the other. "And I'm really sorry your friend got involved."
Alex winced, knowing he was right and Rhonnie was involved now. No way she could leave tonight and morning would be way too risky. By then, Lawton's men would be covering the woods and the river too, most likely. Hell, Alex thought silently, they're probably out there now. "It's okay, Wheaton. Get some sleep while you can. I have a feeling you're gonna need it." She hoped she was wrong but knew she wasn't.
The eyewitness groaned his goodnights and made his way to the bedroom quietly. He was asleep almost before his body met the firm mattress and long before he thought of discarding his shoes.
Alex followed him to make sure the room was secure and smiled as the exhausted man began to snore, loudly. She already checked for security from outside without anyone even noticing, so this was just habit. Still, she did her usual sweep and double-checked the windows. All was secure. On her way out of the room she paused to remove Stanley's shoes and pulled the heavy quilt over his soundly sleeping form. As the efficient and professional detective slowly backed toward the door she felt something.
"Sorry," whispered Rhonda. "I like to watch you work."
"Oh. No problem," whispered Alex. "Didn't do anything yet."
"Sure you did. And that was sweet, Alex. You really are the same as ever aren't you?" Rhonnie was talking softly as they returned to the sofa.
"No, Rhon. I'm not the same at all. But it's nice that you think so."
Rhonnie sprinkled golden warmth as she smiled directly at her long time friend, "I do. I probably always will."
"Thanks. Little Bit? How did you know I would be here? You did, didn't you? That's why you got the extra rabbits. Dreams again?" Alex questioned.
"More like impressions, Al. They come when I' wide awake now. Does it still bother you? We don't have to talk about it." Rhon shifted uncomfortably.
Without thinking, Alex reached over and put her large hand on the smaller one resting on Rhonda's knee. "No. It's okay Rhonnie. I know you couldn't have done anything to stop what happened. Even if you phoned the moment you woke with the dream it would have been too late. We all have to stop beating ourselves up. It's been five years. Anna is gone and none of us was to blame. Only one person can wear that hat and Mr. Mickey Lawton will wish he never touched my sister. I swear that, Rhonnie. I swear it."
Soft hands caressed larger ones. "Thank you, Al. I needed to hear that. I miss you. I miss you so much."
Leaning in slightly, Al whispered "Do you? Because I wondered, you know? I mean I haven't heard from you in so long and then here you are."
"Sorry.."
"No! I was never so glad to see anything in my life as when I saw that damn Fedora and Wonder Woman Back Pack."
"Really?" asked Rhonda.
Hot breath draped itself across the models ear, "Oh yeah. Really."
"Alex, I.....what the....."
Suddenly the small blonde found herself on the floor with one fast moving, trembling detective atop her. Alex was reaching into the back of her waistband and pressing her cheek against her friend's lips. "Shhh baby. Don't move."
Holding her tall friend's body in place above her, keeping her from losing balance, Rhonnie sighed. "Al, not that I'm complaining mind you, but what are you doing?"
Pulling the large handgun free, Alex slid the barrel back till it clicked and grinned at the model. "You're not huh? Just my luck. I finally get you where I want you and there's a goon squad outside." The cruel irony of the situation was not lost on the detective.
"You finally what? Alex did you just say......oh my god. They're out there?"
"Yep. Two at least. Damn fools lit a cigarette, thank the gods. Rhon, honey, I need you to do something for me without questions or arguments. Can you do that? Please."
The look in Alex's eyes frightened Rhonda. "OK, Al. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. We can argue later, K?" She winked, hoping to lighten what she knew was a horrible moment for her overly responsible friend.
Alex smiled, then grew stone serious. "Rhon, I want you to crawl, and I do mean crawl, into the bedroom and reach up from the floor and wake Stanley. I don't care how you do it but do NOT stand up. Got me?"
"Yes. What else?" asked a frightened superstar.
"Once he stirs, drag him onto the floor with you. Don't let him stand up."
"Gotcha. Then what?"
"Then pull the mattress off the bed and onto the two of you. Can you do that hon?"
"Consider it done. Never thought I'd hear you ask me to get into bed with Stanley though," came the struggling attempt at levity.
"Under the bed, love. Under it. And Rhonnie?"
"Yes Alex?" frightened green eyes looked deeply into concerned blue.
"No matter what you hear, do not come out until I say to come out. And even then don't come out unless I use the secret words, OK?"
"Al, you haven't used the secret code ...."
"Promise me."
"I promise." Rhonda knew in that instant her vision was about to happen and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Shit, she thought. Not again.
Rhonnie felt her heart pounding against the floor as she crawled toward the room where Wheaton slept. It took every ounce of restraint she could muster not to look back in the direction of her life-long friend. Sliding through the open doorway and alongside the bed, the model whispered as loudly as she believed the situation allowed.
"Stanley. Wake up Wheaton." Reaching up from the floor she grasped the waistband of the sleeping man's pants and began to edge him off the bed. The snoring never lost its rhythm. "Stanley, damn it, I said wake up." With this, the blonde spitfire braced her feet against the railing near the floor and, in one long grunt, tugged the sleeping form onto the cold, hard floor...and her.
Startled, sleepy eyes opened into smiling, slightly embarrassed green. "Well, hello. Wouldn't we be more comfortable ON the bed?"
Rhonda rolled jade eyes at the man's total failure to catch a clue. "I don't know about comfortable, Stanley. But dead is a definite possibility. Now help me drag this mmmmmmmattress," she groaned at the unhandy way she was being forced to accomplish the task at hand. Having to do all this from the floor meant using mostly upper body strength and it was not her best feature.
"You want the mattress on the floor? Why?" asked a still groggy and quite bewildered movie manager.
"Alex said pull it onto and over us while we crawl under the edge of the bed." She watched the words forming in his mouth. "No questions, Stanley. Just stay on the floor, grab that handle and tug."
The witness was not only a city boy, he was a clumsy, Jello for muscles, city boy and Rhonda knew he was very lucky to be in this situation with her and not her tall friend. With one enormous final, pull the king sized mattress slid off the edge of the bed forming a make-shift cave and swallowing the two tuggers in darkness. Rhonnie strained to hear any sounds coming from beyond the room that might indicate to her what was happening. She blinked her eyes not so much against the darkness as against the memory of her earlier vision.
Alex stood with her back to the bedroom door. She reset both handguns and returned them to their respective resting places, one in the shoulder holster and the other inside her belt about mid-back. Quietly she strode to the closet next to the kitchen and opened the heavy wooden door. She removed the weighted, ammo-loaded vest and put it on over her shirt. Next she did a quick examination of the powerful cross-bow, placed there after her last visit to the cabin. Tossing the quiver over her shoulder she made a show of moving to the front door, grabbing the bright orange cap on the way out. Looking to all the world like a hunter about to sack a deer, Alex exited the cabin just as the cell phone chirped.
"Anyone ever tell you that your timing is lousy lover?" asked the smirking detective. "No. I won't be home tonight. Well, cook your own dinner. I plan to do my own cooking here in a little while. Yep, I'm about to bag me a big un'. Yeah yeah. I'm always careful. Yeah. I'm wearing the goddamn orange hat so back the hell off. Go cook some dinner. I'll see you soon. I love you too." Alex was clearly irritated as she used her entire arm to flip the phone shut.
The beautiful brunette turned to move deeper into the woods and in the direction of the small lake when a megawatt light descended from the suddenly noisy heavens. The artificial sun began a slow sweep of the surrounding area but not before the volley of bullets began. There was no time to do anything but empty the crossbow in the direction of the rapid bursts of light, duck for cover and curse.
"I thought this was MY witness, goddamnit. Shit!" Hitting the ground with another round of choice profanity, Alex scrambled to find cover while pulling both weapons. It was too late.
Three gunmen emerged from hiding on the west side of the cabin. One held what looked like a portable torpedo bay. Aiming it into the sky, he shouted: "Bye bye birdie!" The sky exploded into pieces of flame and metal.
One of the remaining two men placed the barrel of the large handgun at the detective's temple and sneered. "Be sure to tell Anna, Mickey says hey."
It was hard to tell for certain which gun went off first. Maybe it didn't matter. Alex slumped into a pool of her own blood across the lifeless body of the heartless killer the law could never seem to touch.
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!"
"No. No. No. No. No," whimpered the blonde bombshell over and over into the mattress, determined to keep her word.
"Jesus," muttered Wheaton. "You looked like something out of a Stephen King movie. What was that all about?"
A small hand slapped itself across the mouth of one Stanley P. Wheaton. "I get visions. Now shut the hell up while I try and figure out what to do...if there's anything TO do." Even in the blackness the man could tell she was crying.
"You don't watch movies much, do ya?" The lips moved against the soft restraint.
"I said....shut.....up," Rhonda gritted as anger edged its way alongside terror. "I'm about to lose someone I love more than you could ever know, little man. It's not the first time, either. So unless you want to meet your maker underneath a heavy, smelly, musty, god forsaken mattress..... SHUT Up."
Stanley considered what the small beauty just said. Then he considered the probable outcome and decided his options stunk like a cornered polecat. "Change something," he mumbled.
"I said shut u......what did you just say?" Green eyes had gone so wide in amazement that even in the darkness the movie manager could see them.
"Change something. Anything. Some small detail in the vision. Change it."
Rhonnie's brain started running scenarios rapid fire and mentally comparing each with the horror in her vision. No. There was nothing she could do. Alex was in the other room. She promised to stay put no matter what. With hot tears stinging her swollen eyes she peeked from around the fallen mattress. Her friend was just reaching the heavy closet door. Wait a minute. What was is Alex had said earlier? Even if she had called right away.............
"That's it!"
"Huh?" whispered the befuddled witness.
"Don't move. No matter what happens, do not move a hair on your head." Without waiting for a responding promise, Rhonda Renee Reynolds swallowed hard, prayed to the deity she often doubted and broke her promise. Sliding her body out from beneath the burdensome bedding she called softly, "Alex?"
Blue eyes froze in wide horror as Detective Stoner fearfully peered around the heavy closet door. "I told you....You promised...What..." Alex never saw Rhonda to break a promise in all the years she knew her.
"Alex, toss me the phone."
"Huh?" The tall woman was very nearly speechless wondering how the hell Rhonda even knew there WAS a phone.
"Come on, Al. At least I'll be able to call for help that way....IF I need to, I mean." Shit, Rhonda thought. Now she thinks I don't trust her to protect me.
"Oh. Good idea. Here ya go, sexy." Alex was relieved by the simple logic of the request. Quietly she reached into her back pocket, removed the small cellular phone and tossed it toward the mattress. "And git back under that thing 'fore I kick that cute behind a yers." She punctuated the tense moment with a wink and returned to the closet to retrieve her cross-bow.
Rhonda slid back into place and Alex kept casting glances toward the room that held her witness, and more. She knew she had to do something to keep Lawton's hired goons from doing what they came to do.
The model turned actress clung to the small appliance in her surprisingly small hand. What if it didn't work?
"Please God, not Alex. I'll believe in you again. Honest I will. Please, ask anything of me. I'll do it. Just not Alex." Rhonda tried to plead and bargain with a lord she was no longer even convinced could hear her.
Out of the blackness and uncomfortably close to her neck came the breathy whisper. "You and Detective Stoner must have been friends a very long time for you to be so worried. You seem very close. Are you?"
Alex removed the weighted, ammo-loaded vest and put it on over her shirt. Next she did a quick examination of the powerful cross-bow, placed there after her last visit to the cabin. Tossing the quiver over her shoulder she made a show of moving to the front door. The laughing face of a 9 year old blonde skittered across her mind. The tall officer shook her mind clear, grabbing the bright orange cap on the way out the front door. Looking to all the world like a hunter about to sack a deer, Alex exited the cabin just as the cell phone chirped.
"Huh?" Rhonda stared at the sounding instrument in her small hand. "Oh My God!" she quietly gasped. "It worked." Flipping the phone open quickly Rhonnie spoke into the mouthpiece.
"Who is this?"
"Rhonda? What are you doing on this line? Where's Alex?"
"Chief?" Rhonnie recognized the voice of an old friend.
"Rhonnie, is she all right?"
"Chief, whatever you had planned, DON'T DO IT!"
"I don't know what you're talking about young lady..."
"Chief Bartoni, I've had another vision. If you send in that chopper there's gonna be a blood bath and Alex will die. I'm begging you. Believe me. I know you had someone follow her. I also know you think you're protecting her... and Stanley. Please. Just trust Alex, chief. Call off the plan before it's too late. Please...." Rhonnie paused to draw a quick breath, fully prepared to continue.
"Hold on there, Little Bit. I believe you. If you need me just punch any of the speed dial numbers. They're all set to my toy here."
Rhonnie breathed a slow, deep breath just as Alex tossed two mud soaked goons through the door. They were wearing handcuffs and looking none too happy. The blonde grinned at the brunette who winked and smiled back in her direction.
"You can come on out for now Wheaton. These two are just the opening act. Lawton is toying with us. The real fire power is still out there somewhere. It's not like him to do this. I don't know why he didn't just pull out all the stops and blow us all to Jupiter and back."
Rhonda looked at the two muck covered men who lay in a heap practically at her feet. "Um.
"Oh yeah," the detective smirked. "Meet the Ball twins. This here's Skuz Ball and this one over here is his retarded brother, Skum Ball."
Rhonda very nearly relieved herself right then and there. One thing stopped her. The voice coming from her left hand. "Alex! Detective Stoner pick up this phone right now! Alex! Rhonnie! Pick up, I tell you!"
The tall, seemingly fearless woman looked at the offending hand and back to her friend. Then she visibly winced. "oooooooooo. Rhonnie, he sounds pissed. You answer it."
"Me!? I'm a guest here, Ms. Stoner. It's your cell phone." The blonde bombshell snickered, extending her hand.
About that time the Ball Brothers decided to wake up and take in their surroundings, including one famous model turned actress.
"Wow. Brian, wouldja lookit that? It's the blonde bombshell and she's even more delicious in person."
"No shit, Teddy. Damn, honey. You look good enough to....." The strike and thump of the body hitting the floor echoed into the communication device.
Crackling from the floor where the stunned friend dropped it, the device got eerily quiet. Making a childlike face of fearful hesitation, Alex lifted it to her ear.
"Alexandra Abigail Stoner! Tell me you did not just strike a perpetrator." Chief Bartoni knew his number one detective could not see the wide, proud grin he now wore in the privacy of his own home.
"Uhhhh. Sorry chief. He said...uh...well, I uh....oh hell, chief. You know I can't stand anyone saying crap like that about Rhonnie."
"Oh look, Brian. The blonde bombshell has a dyke friend."
Alex spun and grabbed at the blur moving past her but it was too late. One very well sculpted, powerful leg met it's twin marks and the Ball Brothers were out for the night.
"Uh, chief...."
"Nevermind," groaned the smiling father figure. "They fell out of a tree sitting out there in the dark, right?"
"Right chief. A very BIG tree." Alex winked and Rhonnie shrugged.
"Well try and keep the tree from doing it again, please? I only have a few years till retirement."
"Right chief," the detective promised.
"Right chief," the model repeated.
Green eyes searched the floor, the walls, the ceiling and finally the threads being pulled from her sweater, but there was no escape. She lost it and she knew it. Visibly cringing at the sight, Rhonda Reynolds forced herself to look at the two men she just assaulted. The already forming bruise covered nearly the entire right side of Skum Ball's face and head and, if one looked closely, the shape of her foot could almost be seen along a dirty cheekbone. Skuz Ball didn't fare any better. In fact, it looked to the hot tempered beauty as if he may have broken his nose when Skum Ball's hard head smashed into it. The blood mingled with dirt, mud and slime as it soaked the front of his heavy flannel jacket. It was an incredibly disgusting sight and oddly satisfying at the same time, thought Rhonnie.
"Here," Alex interrupted her musings by tossing her a thick roll of gray duct tape.
Rhonda looked at the roll of tape, lifted her eyebrows and smiled into crystal blue eyes. "You're kidding, right?" She told herself Ms. Do The Right Thing couldn't possibly mean for her to tape their mouths shut on top of everything else.
"Nope. And do it before they wake up and start whining again, please." Alex smirked into the fireplace as she added more wood in preparation of what she knew would be a very long night.
"But Al, I think I broke the one man's nose." She tried to see if her friend was angry with her for losing her cool and assaulting the...what was it Anna told her they were? Perpetrators.
"Wrong," Alex turned and smiled into concerned green orbs. "His partner in crime broke it. You," the detective added, "only broke HIS jaw."
"Oh my god! I did? Alex, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kick them, honest I didn't. He called you....I hate that....I guess I just lost it. I'm really sorry. When we get back I'll make a full statement and accept whatever consequences the Chief chooses to give me."
Alex turned her head for only an instant as she felt the words strike her soul. 'I hate that.' Well, that pretty much answered that age old question, the tall woman mentally berated herself.
"Alex? You're mad aren't you?" Rhonda had put the shiny tape across both faces after wiping the worst of the grime away with their own filthy sleeves.
"Huh? Oh. No, Rhon, not at all. I was just thinking is all." Detective Stoner looked around the room at the odd assortment of 'guests'. Stanley was wisely keeping his mouth shut while clearly listening to every word being passed between the two beauties. Snapping herself back to fully alert status, Alex strode to the door and reset the timber across the closed framework.
"You don't think it's over, do you?" Rhonda moved to her friend's side. "Alex, I really am sorry."
The tall servant of the peace draped a long arm around uncharacteristically slumping shoulders. "Hey, it's all right. I hit one too, remember? The hell with em, Rhon. They're the least of our problems tonight. And no, it most definitely is NOT over."
"Al, I'm..."
"Scared?" The detective waited for the lowered eyes and gentle nod. "Hey, who isn't?" Leaning down, Alexandra kissed the blonde head. "We'll make it honey. I promise."
Rhonda felt Alex kiss her on the head and closed her eyes for an instant, absorbing the gentle gesture of friendship. The softly spoken term of endearment surprised her, though. Alex was more guarded than that and the blonde bombshell knew her friend was a lot more worried than she chose to say. Needing to reassure the tall beauty of her complete and unwavering trust in her, Rhonnie simply took Alex's hand and squeezed it. "I know," was all she said.
Stanley watched the interaction between the two females with tired fascination. He wondered what their story was and just knew it must be a doozey. Here he was, hiding and hoping just to stay alive long enough to testify about what he witnessed less than ten days ago. He was a quiet man, for the most part. He had a good job which he did reasonably well and while he heard all the stories about his boss he did not believe them. At least, two weeks ago he didn't believe them. Now belief no longer played a role in the matter. He knew the stories were true. Mickey Lawton was as cold a human as he ever saw and he was a murderer too. Stanley saw that for himself the night his boss showed up early for the weekly meeting held in the drive-in movie's back office. Wheaton never questioned the somewhat unusual habit of having the meetings here when he knew his boss' downtown offices were far more comfortable. Stanley always figured it was something to do with security and no one suspecting such a wealthy man would hold financial strategy meetings in an old drive-in movie office.
The events of the evening remained as clear in Stanley's mind as if they were burned onto the back of his eyes by some new cinematic process.
"Evening boss," Stanley said as Mickey Lawton stepped through the doors right on time, just as he did every Wednesday evening.
"Evening, Stan. Got a nice crowd tonight for September. Glad I didn't listen to all those people who told me Drive-Ins were dead and gone."
"Me too, boss. I like Drive-Ins. Always have. Part of America dies with every one that closes down." Stanley shrugged knowing his boss could not care less about what he thought. Mr. Lawton was just being polite, making conversation.
As was the usual routine the concession stand was closed during the weekly meeting. When the three couriers arrived Stanley noticed his boss seemed agitated, on edge. The shorter, red headed courier seemed to Wheaton to be passing looks back and forth between himself and the bossman. The movie manager brought the drinks into the small office, sat them down and moved toward the door.
"You have any problems with delivery Teddy?" Lawton asked the tall courier with the beard.
"No boss. It's all there and the packages were all delivered on time." Stroking his beard absently, he seemed distracted.
"How 'bout you, Rusty? Your contracts all delivering on time too?" questioned the man in charge.
The stocky man in the torn jeans jacket lit another cigarette off the one he had just smoked down to his fingers. "Yeah boss. All on time. What's up?"
Mickey Lawton stood slowly and smiled with a brilliance that chilled the manager to the bone. He almost sensed it before he actually saw his boss open his expensive jacket and withdraw the powerful handgun with something attached to the end of it.
"You're both lying to me. Two of those hits were hours behind schedule and they cost me. Now they will cost you."
"B..b..bb...but boss..." the men stammered in frantic unison.
"No second chances here, fellas. I told you when I hired you. Never lie to me because I always know. Always." With that, the cool eyed mogul stepped forward, placed the gun against first one head and then the other.
The sound was not at all what Stanley had expected and he swallowed hard to keep from vomiting as the bodies crumpled to the floor, one after the other.
Mickey Lawton put the weapon back into its holster and turned to the third courier. "Lock the door and clean this up. Stanley, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." Then he laughed at his own sick joke and slapped his manager on the back. "So, Stan my man, tell me....does Redford get the girl in this one or not?"
"Uhm, not really boss." Wheaton struggled to breathe. "I mean, not really. He gets to bed her but he doesn't get to keep her. So he loses I guess."
Mickey Lawton took the empty tray from Stanley and sat it down. "Don't worry about this Stan. Someone else will clean things up tonight. You go open the concession stand and Stan?"
"Yeah boss?" croaked the still shaken Stanley P. Wheaton.
"If I say Redford got the girl, Redford got the girl."
"Yes boss," was all he could think of to say.
"Stanley? You all right? Stanley?" The detective noticed her witness going very pale, then gray, then looking like he would hurl at any moment.
"Alex? What's wrong with him? Is he hurt?" asked a concerned blonde.
"Hurting's more like it. He's remembering, Rhonnie, just remembering."
"How do you know?" questioned Rhonda.
Alex considered her answer. "Recognize the signs is all."
"Oh," came the quiet reply. "Stanley. Stanley you're all right. It's Rhonda. Stanley," she wiped the man's forehead with a cool cloth.
Weary hazel eyes looked up at the two women and Stanley wondered for a moment where he was. Taking a quick visual tour of the main room of the cabin he saw the Ball Brothers still slumped together on the floor and it all came back to him. Damn. He so hoped it was just a horrible nightmare, which of course it was; trouble was this nightmare had flesh and bone.....and wanted him dead. Correction, thought the city boy, wants us ALL dead.