“Well,
last night she said she was going to
a screen test.”
“Do
you think she lied about the screen test?”
“No,”
Maggie answered, “she wouldn’t do that.”
“Then,
what is it about the screen test?”
“Well,
the last I heard from her was just before it, and everything that’s happened
since is just so out of character.”
“Is
there anything else in the last few days that stands out? Did she mention a
threat?”
“No
nothing like that, but she was really excited last night. On Tuesday she had a
scene with Ansell Parker.”
“Now
there’s a name I recognize. Did she mention what studio?”
“I
think she’s on contract with Xandar.”
While
he wrote “Xandar Studios” in his notebook, he asked, “Anything else?”
“She
said that after she got dressed and stepped into the parking lot, a guy was
waiting for her.”
“Did
she tell you his name? What did he want?”
“I
don’t remember his name but he was the one who offered the screen test.”
“Did
she indicate she knew or recognized him?”
“No,
she didn’t know the guy. He told her it was a secret so she couldn’t give me
much information.”
“I
see,” Caesar said as he picked up one of the pictures from Natalie’s portfolio.
“I’m going to take this. Do you think it’ll be all right?”
“I’m
sure she won’t mind, especially if it helps to find her.”
Caesar
laid the portfolio against the wall, slipped the photo into his notebook and
made a few additional notes. He glanced across the room, and noticed a counter
between the living room and the kitchen. A beige telephone sat on the bar and
next to it laid a message pad. He walked over and looked at the top sheet from
several angles to catch the light and shadow. Maggie stepped beside him and
Caesar felt the warmth of her body heat against his face in the otherwise cool
room. He took a pencil from his notebook and rubbed it across the page with the
side of the pencil lead. A name and an address appeared.
Tony
9797
Commercial Rd.
“Tony!”
she shouted. “That’s the name of the guy she was meeting last night.”
Something
about the address seemed familiar and Caesar reached into his notebook to pull
out a report. He scanned the first page.
“What
is it?” she asked. Her voice gave her anxiety away.
Caesar
found the place, confirmed his hunch and closed his notebook. He looked up into
the pleading eyes of the young woman.
“I
can’t tell you the details, but your suspicions may be warranted,” he said, and
then headed to the bathroom to pick up the toothbrush for DNA comparison with
the tights recovered from the warehouse at 9797 Commercial Rd.
“Should
… I … worried …?” was all her choked voice could get out before rivulets of
tears began to stream down her face again.
The
sound of the shot penetrated the motel room. Tony jumped from the bed and ran
toward the door.
“My
god, he’s killed her,” Rudy shouted from middle of the doorway
Tony
pushed him aside as he exited the room and ran across the parking lot. As he
neared the car, he stopped running, stooped down and crept along the side
toward the back of the Impala, being careful not to scuff his feet on the
broken asphalt and fallen leaves. He peered around the fender. Hank lay against
the chain link fence behind the car and Natalie crouched with the gun pointed
at the still figure. Tony stood motionless but extended enough to see the
outline of her head just below the trunk opening, her blond hair pale enough to
catch the reflection of the moon.
Even
though her hands were shaking, Natalie kept the gun trained on her assailant.
The bullet had found its mark and had catapulted Hank backward into the fence.
His body lay crumpled under its weight. He had slid to the ground like a
discarded rag doll. His head slumped sideways over his left shoulder and rested
on the ground. In the dim light of the faltering short-circuited security lamp,
she saw that his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. But blood flowed in
abundance from the left side of his silver-studded black leather vest.
She
couldn’t believe what this situation had driven her to in such a short time.
Unlike her sister, she never learned to use a gun. So when dad went hunting
with Cindy, she stayed home where mom tried to teach her how to be a good wife
and housekeeper—canning fruit and ironing sheets. Now, with dread turned to
rage, she had just blown a hole in a human being. Panic and fury had mixed
together into a disastrous combination in her otherwise docile soul.
Seconds
before, when she had pulled the trigger, the recoil of the revolver pushed her
backwards into a sitting position. Her head slammed into the sedan’s bumper and
struck right on top of the painful lump she had suffered with all day. She knew
the gun blast would soon bring reinforcements, so she didn’t take time to
massage the soreness. She pushed up to a crouched position again and hoped her
head would clear on its own. She waited for what would come next. If a new
assault loomed, she knew she would have to react fast to keep the advantage she
now had with the pistol in her hand.
Few
seconds passed when she heard a foot scrape on the driver’s side of the car.
She swung the pistol toward the sound and watched for someone to appear. And
then she heard a second shuffle behind her.
Before
she could react, a hand grabbed hold of the gun barrel and pulled it up into
the air. Her new attacker kicked her just below the ribs. The impact lifted her
off the ground, and knocked her off balance. She felt herself fall to her right
and struggled to swing her right hand, which held the pistol, toward the
ground. Her instincts reacted faster than her clouded mind, and she released
the revolver. She cursed herself for the reactionary lapse as she ground her
right hand into the broken tarmac.
Defeated,
she reached up to massage relief into her side with her left hand and looked
back toward the man who kicked her. A ponytailed figure towered over her with
the nickel plated barrel of the revolver in his hand.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
All
Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment