Jolene 1 Read online

  “Come on, sheriff,” said Stranger. “Play along. You’re the star of this show. Without you, the whole thing really just collapses in shambles. Kind of like Mick Lily.”

  Now Jolene understood. Unfortunately, the realization did nothing to improve her situation. As requested, she slowly set her guns on the ground, one at a time.

  “Excellent,” said Stranger. “Now put your hands up.”

  Jolene glanced around the yard. Back up the driveway. Out through the trees. Where was this man watching her from?

  “Hands up, sheriff. You know – stick ‘em up! Reach for the sky. That sort of thing. Like you’re the bad guy.”

  Jolene raised her hands in the air while Hightower silently held her at gunpoint.

  “Thank you.” The line clicked. Stranger hung up just as the front door to Jolene’s cabin swung open. The light inside came on to reveal a gaunt, well-dressed, and well-groomed man in the doorway. Wrinkled face, short golden hair. A goatee. Corpse eyes. And when he spoke, it was apparent this man was Mr. Stranger.

  “Please,” he said, “Come in.”

  Chapter Four

  Stranger stepped aside and gestured with an elongated arm for Jolene to enter, a large silver pistol in his hand and a wry grin on his face. Hightower matched her footsteps but had to duck to follow her inside. The lamplight revealed Hightower’s face to resemble a flattened, weathered basketball. Stranger closed the door behind them, saying, “I hope you don’t think I’m rude, but I haven’t prepared any snacks. I realize you had a long drive from De Soto so maybe I’ll make you a sandwich. Won’t you please join me in the kitchen?”

  As Stranger led the way through the living room, Jolene noticed there was a third man present. Only this one appeared unconscious, or at least unmoving, from his position. His hands were tied behind the chair the rest of his body was bound to. A black hood over his head concealed his identity, but Jolene could see he was robust, square-shouldered, and barrel-chested. Maroon splotches dotted his shirt around the collar and down his torso. Dried blood.

  She assumed Hightower was the one who got him in that chair.

  Jolene stopped and asked, “Who’s that?”

  Stranger kept walking. “He’s not important yet.”

  In the kitchen, Stranger pulled a chair out and motioned for Jolene to sit. Before she complied, Jolene said, “So this is about me shooting Mick Lily?”

  “No,” said Stranger, “this is about you killing Mick Lily. I knew the man. Kind of a creep, really. Probably deserved what he got. If you’d just shot him, you might have walked away from this with a slap on the wrist. Or at least, without a wrist to worry about.”

  “So then what’s the plan?”

  Stranger’s stare was vile. “Please. Sit.”

  Jolene sat and Hightower moved around her, the pistol still locked on her forehead. He joined her at the table, barely fitting in the wire-framed chair. Stranger opened the refrigerator door and asked if Jolene wanted a beer.

  “You mean, would I like one of my beers? No, thank you.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Stranger happily lifted a pot of coffee already brewed. “I’ll bet you could use some right about now.” He poured her a cup and set it down in front of her. “This whole setup you’ve got here, I love it. It’s really quaint. I’m from the city, you know, and there’s just a charm about this little country cabin. Are there fish in the pond out front?”

  Jolene sipped the scolding joe. Said nothing.

  “Do you fish at all, sheriff?”

  Still nothing. She just returned that unsettling stare with her own razor-sharp beam.

  “I’m going to have some coffee, too, if you don’t mind.” Stranger poured himself a cup and offered a peculiar smile as he stirred in cream and sugar. “You think you’re going to want that sandwich? I saw you have some baloney – “

  Jolene grew tired of the bullshit. “What the hell is going on? If you’re going to kill me, just do it. If you’re trying to jaw me to death, it’s a valiant effort, but I’m a little more resilient than that.”

  Stranger grinned, showing two pristine rows of white teeth. “There’s the spirit. I knew at some point I’d get to see it. I was starting to worry I might have to hold a gun to your head just to catch a glimpse of that firebrand reputation.”

  Jolene blew on her coffee. Took a sip. Waited.

  Stranger leaned back leisurely against the counter. “Obviously, I’m not used to these parts. And despite the fact that you’re an officer of the law, I respect you. I respect anyone who does their job and does their job well. Because you see, I’m quite efficient at my job, too. As is my associate, Mr. Hightower.”

  Jolene giggled. “So what is it you boys do? Do you dance? If you do, I must warn you – I’m a lousy tipper.”

  “No, Sheriff Flannery. Unfortunately, our job is to make life, for you, as uncomfortable as possible.”

  “Oh,” said Jolene. “Is that why you didn’t give me a coaster for my coffee?”

  Stranger’s eyes creased with a smirk. “Sheriff Flannery, you have impeded the process of a very delicate operation. More specifically, you shot and killed Michelangelo Lily, a vital component of our highly illegal endeavors.”

  “I always just called him Mick. Reckon I hurt his feelings not using his full name?”

  “I reckon it doesn’t matter much anymore. I trust that, underneath your Amazonian façade, you grasp the severity of your predicament.”

  Jolene took a gulp of her coffee, now cool enough to do so, and said, “I trust at some point you’re gonna shut the hell up and get on with whatever this is.”

  “Now, now,” said Stranger, “I thought you’d take a more sympathetic tone than this. After all, you left Mrs. Lily to raise two children on her own. You took a father away from his family.”

  “I think Mrs. Lily will manage. In fact, she might be better off. Also,” Jolene stopped to yawn, “if you’re here for revenge, why are you wasting time assuming I care about inconveniencing you?”

  Stranger washed back the rest of his coffee. “We’re just following orders.”

  Jolene wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Beads of sweat had begun to form and the exhaustion from her trip seemed to be quickly catching up with her.

  Stranger said, “How’s the coffee, sheriff?”

  Jolene almost answered him. Then she realized why he asked. She looked down at the mug. Nearly empty. She watched as it split in two, then three, then four. The room whirled around her. She couldn’t hold herself up, felt her weight spill out of the chair and onto the floor.

  The mug cracked against the hardwood and glass flew.

  “I slipped the pill in right in front of you,” Stranger said, standing over her. “Seriously, I’m a little disappointed right now. How are you not better than this?”

  Jolene slapped at his boot, her only defense. Her body converted into a pile of bricks. Stranger’s cell rang and he answered it. The conversation sounded far away, and it echoed, but Jolene heard Stranger say, “Yeah, she’s here . . . She’s feeling it now . . . Oh, oh, looks like she’s going . . . No, no, she’s still with us . . . Where do you want her? . . Really? Then what was the point of sedating her? . . I understand, plans change . . . How long do you expect us to wait? . . Oh, she’s slipping . . .”

  Chapter Five

  “H ey. Hey. Hey, hey lady. Hey lady – lady – hey, lady, wake the fuck up.”

  Somewhere at the cusp of consciousness, Jolene heard the man. Her eyelids split open and blazing sunlight blinded her, forcing her eyes shut again. She caught enough with a small glimpse to tell she was in her own living room. Her wrists were bound tightly together behind her with what felt like duct tape, and the hard wire-frame of the chair dug into her back. Her ankles were restricted the same way to the chair legs.

  She opened her eyes again and found herself sitting directly in front of the barrel-chested hostage she didn’t know from Adam. The black hood removed
, his face beaten. Disheveled, chestnut hair receded to form a point on his forehead. Wide, crimson streams had spilled from both nostrils, curved around his mouth and off his chin. Dry now. Like the cut above his left eye, the socket purple and swollen. A five o’clock shadow was slowly turning into an actual beard.

  Despite the severity of his beating, his sculpturesque features were still intact. His Roman nose indeed had been lacerated along the bridge but did not appear broken. Velvet brown eyes peered out from a heart-shaped face that ended with a square jaw, and he offered a tepid smile as he said, “Good, you’re awake. You’re the sheriff, aren’t you?”

  Jolene studied him carefully, trying to place him. She couldn’t recall his face. He wasn’t from Folsom. Possible he was and she just never saw him before, but doubtful. What concerned her was why this man had come to be her fellow prisoner in her own living room. She knew why she pissed these people off – but what had this man done?

  She nodded firmly at his question. “I am. Who are you?”

  “Troy Ellis. I’m from Kent.”

  So he was from Bluff County. Kent was a small community to the north. “Hello, Troy. Why are you tied up in my living room?”

  Troy licked his split lip. “I was sitting at home, watching a baseball game. Cardinals and Brewers. Heard a knock on my door. Answered it. That is the last thing I remember before waking up with a hood over my face. I asked where I was several times before the big guy knocked me unconscious again. When I woke up a second time, I saw you. Now here we are.”

  Jolene nodded. “Any idea what they want with you?”

  “Actually . . . yes. But you’re the sheriff and I don’t know exactly how I feel about divulging that kind of sensitive info – “

  “What’d you do, Troy? You owe money?”

  “No,” Troy half-laughed as though the idea were ridiculous. “I don’t owe anyone any money. Although that does depend on the outcome of that baseball game. You didn’t catch the score, did you?”

  “Troy, don’t be funny with me. I don’t plan to die here. You, on the other hand, I don’t know what you deserve.”

  “Jesus. I don’t deserve to die.”

  “What’d you do then?”

  Troy leaned forward, although his wrists caught the back of the chair so he could only go so far. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh,” Jolene said, “forgive me for not believing that.”

  “Good morning!” Stranger exited the kitchen having heard their chatter. “I see everyone’s awake. Listen, Hightower’s about to throw some bacon on the skillet. Does everyone like pepper on their bacon? Afterward, he’ll scramble some eggs in the bacon grease. Ingenious. Are the two of you hungry? Because he’s cooking the whole package.”

  Jolene and Troy stared blankly back at Stanger. Actually, Jolene had started to think about the shotgun under her bed. And the pistol behind the headboard. Could either gun still be there? If Stranger and Hightower were the professionals Stranger claimed they were, probably not. If Jolene were in their shoes, the first thing she would have done would be to sweep the place. Didn’t matter where the guns were anyway without a way to use them.

  “Well, this is awkward,” said Stranger. “Look, if it were up to me, you’d both be dead and buried in unmarked graves deep in the woods right now. Obviously, we’ve had to improvise a little bit. So just sit tight. I’m waiting on a phone call. Once I get the word, I’ll let you decide between yourselves who gets offed first. Sound fair?”

  As Stranger returned to the kitchen, Troy whispered to Jolene, “I don’t know about that guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You think he’s crazy or it’s just a show? Like, to intimidate us?”

  Jolene sighed, her mind racing to find a way out of that chair. “I don’t know.”

  “I think it’s both,” Troy said. “I think he knows exactly what he’s saying. Exactly how insane he sounds. I think he’s enjoying himself.”

  Jolene attempted to tug her hands-free of the duct tape binding. “Might be why he chose this line of work. So you said you didn’t want to tell me why you’re here, but then you insisted you haven’t done anything. Did I understand that correctly?”

  Troy relaxed in his chair, his shoulders slouching. “Yeah. That’s about right.”

  Jolene ceased her escape attempt. The duct tape was tight. Nothing on the coffee table to help, just some old books she never got around to reading. And a candle. The remote sat on the television. A pair of scissors resided in the kitchen in the drawer with her silverware, but for many reasons, that did not help here.

  “Well,” Jolene said, “You either did or did not do something to provoke the wrath we are both now experiencing. So which is it?”

  Troy clicked his tongue, peeved. “If I say, isn’t that, like, entrapment?”

  Jolene shook her head. “I would have to coerce you into something stupid to constitute entrapment. What I’m asking about is any of the stupid things you’ve already done to get here.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Troy said. “Alright? It’s my sister. She got involved with a bad crowd.”

  “This crowd?”

  “I don’t know who specifically. From what I can tell, these guys aren’t distributors. They’re hitmen. They’re hitmen, right?”

  “Yeah, I think so. What’s that talk about distributors?”

  “My sister . . .” Troy hesitated. “She started selling cocaine. I swear I didn’t know until a few nights ago.”

  “I take it you learning about her affairs is what preceded your abduction?”

  “Actually,” said Troy, “she disappeared first. When I woke up the first time, before the big guy knocked me out again, the other one, Stranger, he asked me some things. Apparently my sister took off with some cash that didn’t belong to her.”

  “And now they want to know where she is.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know where she is.”

  “How much money did she make off with?”

  “I don’t know.” Troy shrugged. “But I’m here.”

  Jolene glanced up at the clock. Nearly eight thirty. At some point, her deputies would become concerned about her absence. She should have been at the department by six a.m.

  “Can I say something?” asked Troy.

  Jolene noticed a sincere curiosity in his tone. “Troy,” she said, “speak freely.”

  “After all the stories I’ve heard about you, I didn’t – well, I just didn’t – “

  “You didn’t what, Troy?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.”

  Jolene stopped struggling with the duct tape for a second. Couldn’t actually believe where Troy’s mind lurked at this moment. “No point in sweet talking me. I don’t blush easily.”

  “I’m serious,” said Troy. “I know our circumstances are dire, but I see a beautiful woman, I feel inclined to tell her.”

  Jolene ignored him. The sticky vice around her wrists hadn’t even creased. Must have been wrapped around five or six times. Thick. And Troy kept talking.

  “I woke up and for a second, I thought I was sitting across from an angel. Don’t get me wrong, stories about you being a quick draw, laying men and women alike to rest when they tried to get the jump on you – those aren’t the only stories I’ve heard. When I was in high school, everyone knew who the county sheriff’s daughter was. Jolene Flannery. It’s just, I thought the job might have taken a toll on you. But here you are. Not even married. I bet criminals put the cuffs on themselves just to catch a ride with you.”

  Jolene heard him but was too busy trying to free herself. Nothing he said was something she hadn’t already heard. Occurred to her she might be cynical. Then she remembered Stranger and Hightower in the kitchen with guns and thought that might not be such a bad trait in calamity.

  Then a cell phone rang in the kitchen. Stranger’s voice answered the call.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Everything’s been prepared. We’re just waiting on you.”

&nb
sp; Jolene said in a hushed tone to Troy, “Who’s he talking to?”

  “How would I know?”

  “I think you’re in deeper than you claim to be.”

  “That’s a bold assumption.”

  “Yeah? What’s your sister’s name?”

  Troy grinned. “Why would I tell you that?”

  “Your sister’s in trouble now, isn’t she? We get out of here, I can help.”

  Before Troy could respond, silence filled the cabin. They all heard it. A vehicle gliding down the driveway. Hightower emerged from the kitchen, the goliath, spatula in hand with grease dripping off it, wearing Jolene’s own pink apron with vibrant red roses. He pulled his pistol with his free hand and peered out the side of a window.

  He looked back toward the kitchen. Stranger stood there waiting.

  Hightower said, “It’s the cops.”

  Chapter Six

  Stranger’s instructions for the hostages was to not say a single freaking word. He held the barrel of his pistol to his lips, shushed them, and waited with his hand on the doorknob. Hightower stood between Jolene and Troy, a pistol in one hand and a carving knife in the other to ensure their compliance.

  A car door slammed shut. Footsteps followed the concrete path to the cabin’s door, accompanied by an unusual whistle. Jolene knew that whistle.

  Buck Gully.

  Three quick raps on the door followed by, “Jolene? Jolene, you in there? Thought you said you were coming to work today? I’m just making sure everything – “

  Stranger threw the door open and shoved the pistol in Buck’s face. Now Buck filled the doorframe, and despite being a muscular man in his forties and known throughout Bluff County for his high school football career, he was still about two sizes smaller than Hightower.

  With Stranger’s pistol in his face, Buck seemed at a loss for words. He looked from the barrel to Stranger, to Jolene, to Hightower, to Troy, back to Stranger, and said, “What the hell is this?”