Savage Noir

  Chapter 69 I heard voices. It sounded like Jason giving orders, women answering back. Their voices muted. I guessed that they could be leaving in minutes. I would be the last detail. What had Jason said? “Do it outside the tent.” I had taken that to mean: No blood in the tent. The thought had occurred to me then: Why not shoot me in the head with a .22? Mafia style. Little sound, minimum splatter. But what was the fun in that? I heard two women whispering, close. I shut my eyes. If Powers had changed his mind and ordered one of his baldies to shoot me, then this would be it. There was no talking my way out.  But I was pretty sure that Powers and his crew wanted to see my head roll before they left camp.  I remembered a history teacher telling us that there were tribes in what is now Great Britain, who played a form of soccer with human skulls. One last detail. Me. I decided to pretend to be asleep. Less pleasure for them if I didn’t see it comin...

  Chapter 68 I came to inside a tent. The right side of my head ached like hell, but when I tried to touch it, I couldn’t.  My hands were tied behind my back. I could see that it was dark outside, but I had no idea what time it was. How long have I been out?  Lying on my side, I turned my head and saw two cots. The bedding was folded neatly at the foot of each bed, like one would find in a military barracks. If the gear in front of the tents indicated they were pulling out, why weren’t the tents folded and ready to go?  Not to mention the bedding. Through the pain and fog inside my head an inescapable conclusion bubbled up: Powers knew he had run out of time. He figured that the feds were about to close in.  No time to stow the big items inside the Rover or the black van. They were ready to move out on his command. I remembered that a girl had escaped. I could not remember her name. The heat was on big-time now.   The tent flap opened and Sheena step...

  Chapter 67 Inside a secure room in the basement of F.B.I  headquarters Maggie Thornhill sat across from Rhonda Stone, who had been insisting that she wanted to be known as “Country.” Not just now, but for the rest of her life.  Agent John Driscoll sat off to the side, watching and waiting for his turn. Thornhill shot a searing look at Rhonda and said, “Why are you protecting a known killer? A serial abuser of women.” “He never laid a hand on me.” “That’s right. You got away.” She shrugged. “He liked me just fine before…”  “Before what?” Rhonda hesitated. “I let him down,” she said forlornly. “It was supposed to be my initiation.” “He wanted you to kill someone.” “How did you know?” “We have our ways.” Rhonda sighed. “I messed up.” “How?” She began to cry. “I just couldn’t do it.” “Let’s say you did do it. You shot and killed the farm boy.”  “But I wouldn’t,” she sobbed. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve told us. I want you to quit bawling for a minute...

  Chapter 66 Once we entered the forest, I drove slowly, staying well behind the Rover.  Terry spotted something. “Francis, check this out!” I saw a round shelter fashioned from long, curved wooden poles. “Pretty sure that’s Miwok,” I said. “Their version of a teepee.” I slowed down so we could get a better look at it. The shelter sat by itself, surrounded by tall pine trees. It couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. “Someone could live in it right now,” said Terry. “Most likely deer.” I pointed to a sign. It warned us to stay on the main road. Beneath the warning was Olompali Historical State Park . Up ahead I saw a swirling dust cloud. Sheena had turned off the paved road onto a dirt one.  “I think we’re leaving the park,” said Terry. He scribbled something in his tiny notebook. “That back there was the western boundary.” “So we are now trespassers. Keep your eyes on that odometer.” After a while, Terry said, ”We’ve gone two and a half miles.” “T...

  Chapter 65 Whole Food’s parking lot was nearly empty when we rolled in buzzed after a visit to Starbucks. A few early birds sat in their cars or stood by one or two entrances. The store opened on time, swallowing the shoppers. We drank our coffee and waited. Nine o’ clock came and went. Just before ten Terry went inside the market to pee. Two minutes later a mud-caked grey Land Rover rolled into the lot. My pulse quickened.  Sheena was the driver. Riding shotgun was a kid or a very short adult. Both wore baseball caps. The short one wore hers backward. Sheena parked the van in a handicapped zone and they headed for the entrance. I now saw that the short one was a mean-looking adult with big biceps. They went inside just as Terry was coming out. He did a double-take and turned back. The two had paid no attention to him. And why would they? Terry got my attention, pointing his finger twice, big jabbing motions. I hit my parking lights twice. Y...

Chapter 64 Wednesday night I booked a room in a motel near Petaluma city limits. The manager scanned the information on the card. She was a stern looking Indian who wore a sari and bracelets on both wrists and held herself like royalty. “How long will you be staying?” she asked, looking down her nose at us.  Terry and I exchanged a quick look. “We don’t know,” I said. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Tell me by eleven o’clock tomorrow,” she said as she turned a map upside down. She pointed to our room on the map and gave us our key and promptly left. “She thinks we’re a couple of queers,” said Terry. “You think?” “Hell yeah. She kept peeking at my tits.” Francis’ phone beeped. A text from Colin: Jake Potter might be your guy. He’s cooling his heels downtown. Potter had a motive, all right, but I couldn’t picture him doing a ritualistic killing in the forest, then driving into the city to leave a body at the wrong address.    “What’s up?” Terry asked. “Colin’s g...