No Going Back - 07 Read online

  ‘Thank God,’ she sighed. She rested her head against my shoulder, then moved with me for the exit door.

  I thought about checking on Samuel, but decided enough was enough. Jay didn’t want to be parted from me for even a second and I didn’t wish to subject her to more corpses than she’d already seen. I guided her across the yard towards the lean-to shed. With no need for stealth now, I gripped the plyboard covering and tore it aside. Jay gave a sob as she recognised her father’s car. Not that he’d berate her for the damage it had sustained, but it obviously brought back everything about her original kidnapping. For a second or two I thought she’d refuse to get inside. I fired up the engine and edged it out from under the tin shed. Jay had no qualms about climbing in, and I’d to warn her off while I swept the crystals of broken window glass from the front seat. Once in, she tucked the seat belt round her, snapping it secure. After all that she’d endured, the action brought a smile to my lips. She didn’t notice; she had her head in both hands and was now openly crying.

  I allowed her a few minutes as I drove back out and across the yard. A rickety fence made things awkward for driving around the right-hand corner of the ranch, so I was forced to go left. I glanced across at Jay as we passed where Samuel had fallen but her hands were still obscuring her face. Good. She was spared what I saw.

  Giving the SUV its head, I swung us past the watering hole and beelined for the distant cliffs where I’d left Nicole and Ellie. With the headlights on they’d see us coming, but I hoped Nicole would have the good sense to ensure they kept their heads down until I could reassure her that it was safe to show themselves.

  There was no trail to follow, as we were reminded by the jouncing of the wheels over the same ruts I’d recently used for concealment. Jay braced one hand on the dash, while using the other to wipe the tears from her face. Between watching the desert for hidden dangers, I checked her out and saw that she’d managed to rein in her emotions for now. Or, more accurately, she’d cried for herself, but now she was more concerned about her friends’ well-being.

  I hadn’t told her what Nicole had suffered, but it was apparent that she had figured it out for herself. I bet she believed her own ill-treatment was nothing in comparison, and guilt was setting in once more.

  ‘She’s a strong young woman,’ I said. ‘Stronger, I think, than many people give her credit for.’

  ‘I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.’ Jay’s voice was small.

  ‘And you followed through with your promise, Jay. Look at what you’ve had to do to save us all.’

  She frowned at my choice of words. ‘It was you that saved us, Joe.’

  Shaking my head, I said, ‘If you hadn’t got Samuel off me that first time, I don’t know what might’ve happened. He could quite easily have killed me, and I dread to think what would’ve happened to you all if he had. Then, when that dirty cop almost killed me, you saved me again. That’s twice I owe you my life.’

  She went silent for a while, working through what I’d said, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. She told me what had happened between the two cops, and how Lewin had murdered his sergeant when he’d realised the gig was up. And how helpless she’d felt when Lewin had taken her prisoner a second time.

  ‘I should have thought about his connection to the Logans sooner. I’m sorry I put you through that again.’

  ‘Everything turned out well in the end,’ she said. ‘And we now know everyone responsible. At least it’s over with.’

  A couple of outstanding issues still remained, but I wasn’t about to bring them up. Not yet. Notwithstanding the whereabouts of Helena Blackstock and Carla Logan, the reason for the Logans selecting specific lookalikes continued to elude me.

  ‘Let’s collect the others and get the hell out of here,’ I said.

  Jay perked up, anticipating the longed-for reunion with her friends.

  The cliffs were etched under the glare of the SUV’s headlights, the yawning caves like the open mouths of a choir. Flicking the headlights to announce our arrival, I guided the vehicle to the foot of the cliff where I’d left Nicole and Ellie. We were a good distance from the ranch, but I didn’t doubt that they had heard the recent gunfire. They couldn’t know who had triumphed, of course, and would still be wary of whoever was arriving so soon after. I’d have preferred a more low-key approach, but Jay had unbuckled her seat belt and was out of the door before I could caution her.

  ‘Nicole! Nicole!’

  Jay had no clue which of the caves held her friend, but it didn’t stop her running for the foot of the cliff. From inside the SUV, I searched for the cave mouth I’d tagged in my memory and saw two figures emerge from it. There were corresponding shouts of joy as Nicole and Ellie began clambering down the rock face. I didn’t want to interrupt their reunion, so busied myself with another task. I climbed out of the cab and turned to survey the nightscape, holding my reclaimed S&W in one hand and Carson’s semi-auto in the other. The girls were safe for now, but I wondered how long that status quo could be maintained, because there was yet another outstanding issue I’d neglected to mention.

  As we’d driven past where Samuel had fallen, his body was no longer there.

  27

  I’d expected a shit storm and that’s what happened. Investigative teams descended on the area en masse: cops, crime scene investigators, dignitaries from the Navajo Nation, the mayor of Holbrook, camera crews and newspaper reporters. Crime scenes were marked at various locations on a large triangle that included Peachy’s gas station to the Logan ranch and back to the road where my rental and the body of the dead police sergeant were located. Even a troop of National Guardsmen was press-ganged into helping cover the extensive search area. The only ones missing were the FBI; I wondered how long that would last.

  Thankfully we were spared much of the circus that erupted, but the compromise was that we were all held in separate rooms at the police office in Holbrook. For hours, we were each interviewed over and over again about our respective involvement in the case. I’d briefed all the girls during our drive to the town, stressing one point: I told them to hide nothing, tell everything else as they remembered it and everything would be OK. The truth was the best policy and attempting to cover up the fact I’d killed three men wouldn’t help in the long run. The men I’d killed were monsters and deserved what they got, and I didn’t think there’d be too many recriminations when the full story came out. Yet there was a major complication.

  Because two Navajo County police officers were involved in fatal shootings, their case was farmed out to the State Police Office ensuring ‘transparency’ was maintained during the ongoing investigation. Jay’s testimony, she told me, was at first met with disbelief, but I suspected that the forensics would prove everything and Lewin would be confirmed as Sergeant Espinoza’s murderer.

  Two state police detectives took over from the local cops, who’d been hammering me with cross-examinations since our arrival at Holbrook, and they loaded me into an unmarked Lincoln sedan to transport me to an office in downtown Phoenix, apparently the one where the infamous Miranda versus Arizona investigation took place. Funnily enough, as in that landmark case, I wasn’t offered my rights either. Though I took that as a good sign.

  Detective Andrew Chambers was the younger of the two, a man indisposed to smiling. He had straight black hair, finger-combed back from his high forehead, and pointy ears. Maybe he was conscious that he looked like a Vulcan from Star Trek when he allowed his bangs to fall forward. He was wearing a navy blue suit, a pale yellow shirt and no tie. His shoes were scuffed at the toe, a sure sign that he did most of the driving. His partner, a fifty-something guy called Michael Witherspoon, with a florid face and a gut that overhung his belt buckle, was the more amiable of the two. I guessed he was supposed to be the good cop.

  I was parked on an uncomfortable bench in the busy waiting area while the detectives organised their next move. When they returned to collect me, Chambers just grunted and jerked his
head at me to follow him. The cubicle they took me to was your standard interview room, with a video camera, audio recording equipment, and bolted-down table and chairs. If not for the flickering overhead strip light I’d have thought there was a power outage, because all the electronic equipment was dead. Isolated more like, because our conversation was the type they refer to as ‘off the record’ in police circles.

  I chose the seat reserved for the bad guy: the one nearest to the recorder and opposite the lens of the CCTV camera. My chaperones sat across from me. Chambers had a ring folder with him that he placed on the table top. He opened it to reveal a single acetate pouch containing a number of papers. Through the semi-opaque plastic, Chambers made a perusal of the details on the uppermost sheet. It was a printout from my military file. There wasn’t much on it that hadn’t been blacked out under the Official Secrets Act, other than a ten-years-out-of-date mugshot, my birth date and service number. He glanced up at me, then across at his partner. I waited for the inevitable.

  ‘You’re a bit of a mystery man, ain’t you?’ Chambers said.

  ‘What you see is what you get. There’s no mystery.’

  Chambers tapped the acetate, as if confirming something, then closed the file. He frowned, exhaling loudly. Witherspoon only offered me a twinkling eye.

  ‘Care to tell me a little more about yourself?’ Chambers asked.

  ‘I’ve already gone over everything with your buddies at Holbrook.’ I leaned forward and mimicked his action of tapping the file. ‘It’s all in there and I know you’ve already read and absorbed it. I don’t know anything extra I can add.’

  Chambers scowled now, his intimidating look, but it had no effect on me. ‘See, the way I see it, when we get hold of a military file that has more lines scored through it than my school report, it tells me we’ve got a problem on our hands.’

  ‘You were academically challenged? I’m surprised you made it to detective.’

  Chambers sat back, his face frozen, more at Witherspoon’s chuckle than at my sarcasm.

  Now it was Witherspoon’s turn to tap the file, but his action was dismissive. ‘I think we can stop blowing smoke up each others’ asses. What do you say, Hunter?’

  ‘I’m all for a clean air policy,’ I said. ‘I gave up smoking years ago. Have a real bad habit with caffeine, though. I get cranky when I haven’t had a coffee. Any chance of a brew?’

  ‘You don’t seem to have a problem when it comes to killing,’ Chambers said. ‘Is that another of your bad habits?’

  ‘Self-defence,’ I pointed out, ‘and in defence of life. What would you rather have me do, Detective, allow the Logans to continue raping and murdering innocent women?’

  ‘You could have come to us.’

  ‘You saw what happened when the police were involved.’

  ‘That son of a bitch Lewin isn’t indicative of the entire force.’

  I shrugged. I didn’t intend having a pissing competition with Chambers, but my flippancy was allowing him to get his way. I changed tack. ‘I’ve already covered everything in my previous statements. I’ve nothing to answer for and you both know it. I haven’t been arrested, and I don’t expect to be. So what’s the real reason for bringing me here?’

  ‘The real reason?’ Chambers gave me a look of disbelief.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Chambers snapped a glance at Witherspoon. ‘Can you believe this asshole?’

  The older cop just lifted his shoulders noncommittally.

  Frustrated, Chambers slapped his palms down on the table. The sound ricocheted round the small room. It engendered a blink of annoyance from Witherspoon, the first time he’d looked anything but a genial guy.

  Witherspoon turned to his partner and said, ‘Go get our guest a cup of coffee, Andy. I’ll handle this.’

  Chambers stood up quickly, maybe aiming for dramatic effect, but the action was thwarted by the bolted-down seat and he swayed in place to check his balance. ‘Don’t see why we’re pandering to him. Jesus H. Christ! It’s a bloodbath out there and all we’ve got is his word that he’s one of the good guys. That goddamn file says otherwise, you ask me.’

  Chambers wasn’t playing bad cop, he really was pissed.

  He stabbed a finger at me. ‘There’s still the issue of the gun you were carrying. I could push for charges over that, don’t forget.’

  He had a point. I wasn’t licensed to carry a firearm here in Arizona. If he wanted to be a bureaucratic arsehole he could indeed have me brought up on charges – if I admitted to having taken the gun to the ranch. ‘I told you already . . . I took the gun off Samuel Logan when he tried to kill me and Joan Walker.’

  I could see he didn’t buy the lie, but what else could he do? I’d told Jay to say the same thing, the one concession to self-preservation we’d agreed on during the drive to Holbrook. ‘I have a problem with your type,’ he said. Then without another word he yanked open the door, slamming it behind him.

  ‘You think he’ll spit in my coffee?’

  Witherspoon chuckled, but all pretence of humour had been put aside now. He rolled his neck, then leaned forward on his elbows and clasped his hands together. He stared at me for a moment. ‘I were you, I’d wait until you were outta here before drinking anything that isn’t from a sealed container.’

  ‘What’s his problem with me? I just helped save the lives of three innocent women. You’d think he would be pleased.’

  ‘He doesn’t like vigilantes.’

  ‘I’m not too fond of the term myself.’

  ‘See, a guy once decided to take the law into his own hands. He used a shotgun and killed the man accused of raping his daughter. Shot him in the balls.’

  I shrugged. ‘Just deserts.’

  ‘That’s why Chambers doesn’t like you. Your attitude. See, the way things turned out, the accused guy was innocent and was proven so when the real rapist was arrested later the same day. The guy who died . . . that was Chambers’ older brother.’

  ‘He has my sympathy, but what has that got to do with me?’

  ‘We’ve heard you’ve made a habit of taking the law into your hands.’

  ‘So you’ve likely heard about the type of men I’ve gone up against.’

  ‘Some cops would applaud you. Chambers though, he thinks that you’re a loose cannon. He thinks that you went to the Logans with only one thought in mind.’

  I had no lie for him. Instead I asked, ‘What about you, Detective?’

  He slowly unfolded his hands so that he could tap his fingers together. It wasn’t exactly applause, but he got his message across. ‘Doesn’t make a difference what I think. I’ve a warning to give you and you’d best pay attention.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Samuel Logan escaped.’

  ‘I know. I heard. He took Officer Lewin’s cruiser after I left with the girls. He hasn’t been found yet?’

  ‘You know he hasn’t.’

  ‘And you’re concerned I’m going to go after him?’

  ‘Kinda sounds like something you’d do.’ He smiled but it was a hard look now. He placed his hands on the ring binder for emphasis. ‘And we don’t want history repeating itself. You get my drift?’

  ‘Loud and clear.’

  ‘It would be a shame if we had to lock you up . . . after all the good things you’ve done.’

  ‘Yeah. But it’s not something you need fret over.’

  ‘So you’re gonna do as I say? Forget about Samuel?’

  ‘I’m not interested in him. Soon as I’m out of here, I’m taking Jay and Nicole home. You’re welcome to Samuel Logan as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘You said you shot him twice.’

  I hadn’t mentioned that I’d put the second round into him when he was already on the floor and wasn’t about to now. ‘I did.’

  ‘So we don’t expect him to get far.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘The sooner you get him the better. Like I said . . . he’s all yours.’

&
nbsp; ‘Keep thinking like that and you’ll be outta here in no time.’

  ‘No argument from me.’ I started to stand up, but Witherspoon waved me down again.

  ‘I thought we’d put things straight.’

  ‘We have. But I just sent for coffee. You don’t really think that Chambers will spit in your cup?’

  ‘It’s not spit I’m worried about. I’ve a bad feeling that it’ll taste distinctively salty after that jerk-off’s finished with it.’

  Witherspoon chuckled, and the twinkle had returned to his gaze.

  ‘Go on. Get outta here, before I change my mind and lock you up until Samuel Logan’s safely behind bars.’

  I looked down on him and the file. I gave him a none-too-subtle sly grin. ‘Samuel Logan’s safe from me.’

  I meant what I said, but with one caveat: so long as he stayed away from the women.

  28

  A few minutes later I was standing out under the desert sun, squinting at the reflections of light bouncing off the edifices of glass and steel opposite me. In downtown Phoenix the air was full of exhaust fumes from the traffic stalled at the lights. There was a steady thrum of engines, a babble of voices, the swish of tyres from the cross street to my left. For a second or two I wished I was back in the solitude offered by the desert. I looked for a cab, but there wasn’t one in the queue on this side.

  I didn’t take that coffee from Detective Chambers, and I was definitely ready for one. I looked for a Starbucks. The street here was dominated by official-looking high rises, but I thought there must be a coffee shop nearby. I checked my pockets for cash. Then I turned and walked to the right. It was a random decision and as good a direction as any. The detectives had been keen to bring me here but hadn’t offered to return me to Holbrook and I didn’t push them for a ride. I was happy enough to be out of their way because I’d much to plan and didn’t want them listening in.

  I meant what I’d told Witherspoon. I did intend taking the women home, and if Samuel Logan ventured no further than the Arizona state border, then fine. But I didn’t believe he’d let things rest at that. I’d shot him twice – as far as I knew – but obviously not as badly as I’d hoped. Samuel struck me as the type who wouldn’t let things lie. Chances were he had a couple of priorities to see to, namely surviving his wounds and evading the manhunt that had been launched to find him, but then he’d want to get revenge on me for slaying his kin. Let him come for me: I didn’t fear him, and if the truth be told, I welcomed a second shot at the title. However there was one thing I was certain of: he wouldn’t demand a stand-up man-to-man encounter; he’d try to get to me by what he’d see as my weakness. He’d target the women first.