LYING COP Page 6

  *****

  The cold water succeeded in taming Alaska’s horniness. She shivered as she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off. He better not had left; they were going to head out before dawn.

  It was obvious he didn’t believe in sex right away. That was good. If it hadn’t been so long since she had any, she’d agree. She put on lounge pants and a raggedy old T-shirt.

  She pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold. The sight of him stretched out stark naked with his cock standing up blasted her mind like a dynamite explosion. “Oh!”

  He opened one eye and seductively said, “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Not at all, I thought you didn’t want to…you know—”

  “Baby, I was waiting for the right time.”

  Alaska disrobed and straddled him. He pulled her down and gave her a killer kiss. After that, she held onto his shoulders for dear life as she grinded herself into an extreme orgasm with lots of high pitched Ahs.

  Colt wasn’t done. He turned her around, and pulled her hips up. When she arched her back she could view his reflection in the dresser mirror. He was surreal in the low lighting. His biceps, chest muscles and abs were toned, tight, sheen and all flexing in rhythm with his hips. His to die for brutally handsome face had the contorted expression of raw sex.

  Pummeling her with the speed of a jack hammer, her breasts vibrating a thousand times a second, another orgasm consumed her whole body, from the top of her head down to her toes.

  He gripped her hips in a stronghold and moaned.

  *****

  The alarm clock buzzed. Alaska’s warm body rolled over him and she turned off the un-welcome sound. Colt reached out for her in the dark. Soft skin barricaded any thought of the up-coming day. He pulled her back but she managed to slip loose, turn the light on, and dart away.

  He remained under the covers, hugging her pillow and breathing in the scent of her hair. He imagined her face close to his, her eyes glittered like green diamonds.

  The noise of hangers and the sensation of clothes landing on the bed alerted him to reality. He turned his head and opened his eyes. Alaska stood there wearing a white bra and pink panties. She held up a shirt as if inspecting it, and said, “I’m making two pots of coffee, we’re taking Blade some.”

  He got out of bed and without a word headed straight for the shower.

  Refreshed and dressed Colt strolled to the kitchen. The aroma of brewed coffee blanketed the fragrance of honeysuckle.

  Alaska knelt on the floor in front of an opened cupboard. “Here it is.” She stood up holding an orange contraption.

  He peered into a box on the counter. It contained a tall thermos, canned food, an opener, matches, tins of gelled fuel, and a small pot. “Is all this for your brother?”

  “Yep, and this,” she said referring to the item in her hand, “is the folding stove. Blade can cook his soup in the cave. Canned fuel doesn’t put out any carbon monoxide.”

  “You’re fixing him up pretty good.”

  “He’s expecting to go to Branson, but since I got together with you, and you agreed to go with me, I figured it best Blade stay where he’s at. He’ll be safe there. He could get spotted and that would mess us up trying to get Whip.”

  “And we’re taking it out to him before we go?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I suppose that’s why I don’t have my cell?”

  “Sorry for not trusting you.”

  Colt shrugged.

  “But I do now.” She brushed up against him and kissed his cheek.

  Sitting at the table with mug in hand, Colt stared at the yellow wall phone after Alaska took off to the bedroom. He didn’t know how long she’d be in there, or what she went in there for. All he had to do was put out the word that they were on their way to pay Blade Roper a visit at a cave. And if there were any law enforcement personnel in the vicinity, all they had to do was follow and they would locate an escaped convict. But he didn’t dare. She came back too soon anyway. She wore a tight, white button down blouse, showing cleavage. Totally sexy—she must have put on a push-up bra. The sleeves stopped at her elbows.

  He followed her through the yard as she pointed the beam of a flashlight in front of her. Her purse strap hung over her shoulder and she carried a gallon of water. He carried the box that had been folded closed except for the corner that had the top of the thermos sticking out. “We can take my car,” he offered.

  “I don’t think you want to do that.”

  He recalled her truck caked with mud. “Well how bout this, after we deliver these, we come back here and exchange vehicles, cruise to Branson in my car?”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  Colt put the box in the back of the truck and got in on the passenger side.

  As they careened onto the mountain highway, he glanced around and spotted a vehicle enshrouded in brush. It pulled out behind them, keeping its headlights off. Somebody was on the ball, but from what department? It didn’t matter—look at him, an officer from the LRPD, sitting next to the escapee’s sister who was in the process of aiding and abetting him.

  He was relieved that he had backup, but he was going to have to assist in arresting her brother. Perhaps he could arrange it so they could go ahead and go to Branson. Who knows, maybe Whip wasn’t dead. He could then be instrumental in taking down the criminals responsible for Blade’s imprisonment. And then he would be her hero, instead of some jerk who had betrayed her.

  She noticed him turning around. “What’s wrong? Is somebody following us?”

  “No…I was just checking.”

  “I did see some headlights, I guess they turned.”

  *****

  Esther Ketch had been at the beauty parlor having her hair put up in curlers when she reluctantly answered her cell.

  It was Deputy Doug Haggard talking like a mad man.

  He told her Blade escaped and that he also heard through the grapevine that Garland was down there at the correctional facility running his mouth about Whip not being dead, but was in Branson. And then he screamed, “Isn’t Whip still in fucking Florida?”

  Esther tripped, jumping out of the swivel chair. She landed on her side and disconnected the call. After the hairdresser helped her up, she ran out the building as if it was on fire.

  Doug called right back.

  Sitting in her pristine SUV and wearing the parlor’s cape, she whimpered into her cell, “Whip’s in Branson.”

  Her short hair stood out in disarray with half a dozen curlers dangling when she stumbled into her newly remodeled kitchen.

  Her son, Tom, sat at the table, engrossed in his laptop.

  She told him.

  His response was, “But Whip’s not in Branson.”

  She stared at him wide-eyed and nodded.

  His jaw dropped while his cheeks flushed hot-pink. He sprung out of his chair and shouted, “What the fuck’s he doing in Branson?”

  Esther wrung her hands when she explained to him that Whip took it upon himself to move back. Said he hated Florida. And he had already rented an apartment in Branson when he contacted her about where she could either send or bring his monthly allowance.

  Slumping to the tile, she said, “He swore to me he looked different.”

  Her hand shook when she tried Whip’s number again on her cell—still no answer.

  She gave Tom his address and told him to hightail to Branson and get him the hell out of there. While she stayed behind and kept tabs on what was going on with Blade.

  At first, Esther felt like a fool dressed in woodsy camouflage and hiding in the bushes all night in her old car with cold coffee and a bottle of scotch. But when Alaska’s truck roared down the road, right before daybreak, and turned in the opposite direction of the café, she knew—she was right. The Louisianan story was bullshit.

  Following Alaska was not easy. Esther flipped the headlights off and on numerous times until the night lifted enough for her not to need them.

&
nbsp; The obscure road they turned down seemed familiar. She’d been down there hunting once or twice many years ago with her late husband. She fought the ruggedness and proved herself worthy, preventing the car from getting stuck.

  After about two miles of brain rattling, roller coaster driving, she lost sight of the truck, and parked behind a cluster of four boulders. Toting binoculars and her Remington 870 pump action, 26 inch barrel, 12-gauge shotgun, she went into the woods. It wasn’t too dense, perfect for spotting game but thick enough to seclude her as she marched onward, keeping the road in sight.

  Birds chattered and an owl sounded a slow Hooo…Hooo.

  Rays from the rising sun sliced through pine and hardwood branches, forming golden patches. She zigzagged around them, sticking to the shadows.

  She still hurt from that damn fall at the beauty parlor, but she had a job to do. She was the one who masterminded the whole thing, and she was the one who was going to fix it. Once she eliminated Blade and Alaska, who gave a rats-ass about Whip. And then she could go home and relax in her hot tub that she had placed next to her bushy blue Hydrangeas.

  She located the truck parked at the bottom of a hill. Her memory kicked in. A rock overhang lay to the north, maybe a cave too. She would have to cross the road to get there.

  Wondering if Alaska had begun the hike, Esther knelt behind a tree up on an embankment and peered through the binoculars.

  The bitch was still there, holding a box and a gallon of water. And she wasn’t alone. A strapping young man stood talking to her.

  It appeared as if he was trying to take the box, but she wouldn’t let him, backing up and shaking her head.

  Then he placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her.

  She broke free and disappeared into the woods. He didn’t go with her.

  Esther figured he’d go sit in the truck. She could then sneak across the road. But he didn’t. He just stood there, gazing longingly after a woman who would soon be dead. Maybe he was having some kind of premonition, like he would never see her again.

  Suddenly he spun around, facing Esther’s direction.

  She plastered herself behind a tree trunk.

  What the hell? She didn’t make any noise.

  After a few moments passed, she peeked and saw that he had turned. She stretched out along the ground, sliding her hands across the dirt, rustling leaves. She raised the binoculars up.

  The man strutted down the craggy road like a stallion, scanning the area as if he was searching for something or someone.

  An unsettling feeling engulfed Esther. Did he spot her trailing them? Was that why he stayed behind, to cover them?

  Well she would just have to shoot him.

  She reached for the shotgun. The weight of the laminate wood grips and black finished steel emboldened her, like it always had. But the explosive discharge would alert the others, her real targets. She laid it back down.

  She didn’t dare move as the distance between them grew shorter.

  He stopped and stood with the stance of a drill sergeant, staring ahead. He waved his arm as if beckoning to someone.

  What the hell? Esther swung the binoculars around, expecting to see another person, or a vehicle. But there was stillness. She put it back on him.

  He pulled his wallet out and flipped it open, raising it high over his head. As he twirled it around, the glint of a gold badge caught Esther’s eye through the lenses. He was a cop!

  Whoever he expected didn’t appear.

  Maybe it was supposed to be her. Maybe he had spotted her car following them and he thought she was a lawman.

  What the hell was Alaska doing with a cop? Maybe he’s working undercover to locate that damn Blade and she didn’t know her lover-boy was an officer of the law?

  Esther covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

  The stud gave up, put his wallet back, and trotted up the hill.

  Imitating a soldier, she stealthy crossed the road and followed.

  *****

  Being weighted down with Blade’s food and water tired Alaska. But she didn’t waver as she trudged up the incline through a forest of hardwood and pine. The under-story of dogwoods were sprouting leaves and losing its white blossoms.

  Colt tried persuading her to let him go so he could carry the box. But she explained that Blade would flip at the sight of him and hide, and she didn’t want to just leave the supplies because she had to talk to him.

  Even though it had been years since she had been out there, the clearing drew her in like a magnet. Her chest heaved from labored breathing and her arms ached. She dropped the box to the ground with a thud, unscrewed the top of the plastic gallon, and took a quick drink. She set the water down and stepped out onto the rock overhang. Beneath her, tops of trees blended into a sea of spring green.

  Searching the side of the craggy drop-off where the tiny mouth of the cave was, she called out, “Blade.”

  “What’s all this?” His voice came from behind her.

  She turned. He stood next to the box. “You’re staying here,” she said, strolling over to him.

  “Why?”

  “They all have gone crazy looking for you. Sheriff Thornville flipped the café upside down yesterday morning and Deputy Haggard liked to haul me off to the jailhouse. State Police are all over the place.” Alaska gave him a hug then backed up. “I can’t drive down the road with you sitting next to me. We’ll get busted for sure.”

  “Well shit, I’ve got to go to Branson.”

  “No you don’t, I’m going. I’ll find Whip. I’ll get his ass.”

  “By yourself? Did you tell anybody?”

  “No.”

  Blade glared at her.

  “I’ve got everything under control, don’t—”

  The sound of a sliding cock from a shotgun came out of the trees. Esther Ketch appeared and shuffled towards them. She wore a camouflage jacket and cap. Binoculars dangled on a strap around her neck. Directing the long barrel at them, she mockingly spoke, “Where’s your lover boy Missy?”

  Blade raised his hands up, palms showing. “Mrs. Ketch—”

  “What?” Alaska glared at the wrinkled old woman who was staring back at her with the eyes of a hungry coyote.

  “Oh c’mon, where’s that handsome stud you left back there?”

  Alaska’s eyes widened as Blade gave her an enquiring glance.

  “Didn’t you know,” Esther said, “that dumb cop followed you up here.”

  Alaska’s mind reeled. Cop? Colt wasn’t a cop. Maybe it would be best to let her think he was.

  With his hands still up, Blade said, “If you want to bring me in, fine. Let’s go.” He took a step forward.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Esther raised the shotgun to her shoulder.

  Alaska’s realization that Esther intended to kill them, stabbed her like a butcher knife in the back. Fear raced through her body like a cold drug, paralyzing her.

  Blade pleaded, “Mrs. Ketch, you don’t have to—”

  “POLICE!” Colt’s voice burst out of the brush behind them. “PUT THE GUN DOWN!”

  The shotgun re-aimed in a flash and blasted a discharge. It cracked like a lightning strike within spitting distance. A bush exploded from the buckshot.

  Blade pounced on Esther, knocking her flat on the ground. He yanked the shotgun out of her hands. “You crazy old woman!” He dashed to the rock overhang and tossed the gun over the edge.

  Alaska ran to the site of impact.

  Colt jumped out the weeds twenty feet away, holding up a wallet showcasing a badge. He sped past her, and headed towards Blade. “Police Officer!” His tone was denoting. “You’re under arrest!”

  Police Officer. Alaska was flabbergasted. And he was patting her brother down, looking for weapons. Poor Blade stood there with his hands raised again, and giving her a not too kindly stare.

  She clenched her fists. Son-of-a-bitch. Colt was a fucking cop the whole time.

  “You’re a cop?” She leaped
in-between the two men, facing Colt. With hostility, she shoved him away from her brother. “You’re a fucking cop?”

  Chapter 8

  Colt had spotted the old woman dressed as a hunter and silently trailed her. His gut told him that she, not law enforcement, followed them. He figured she knew where Alaska headed to meet up with Blade, and that she intended to bring them in, but not kill them.

  He had no handcuffs, firearm, or Mace. He didn’t mind fighting the escaped convict but he refused to harm his sister, surely she would take her brother’s side. Somehow, he would have to reason with them. But she acted furious and the features in her face distorted as if immense pain raged somewhere in her body.

  “Alaska,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry, it just happened.”

  “Just happened,” she shrieked. “It just happened you’re a fucking cop!” She slapped her hands on his chest and pushed. He stumbled.

  Blade grabbed her and pulled her back. “Who is this guy? What the hell is going on here?”

  “He lied to me!” She pointed her finger at him. “Told me he worked construction.”

  “I had to. I couldn’t tell you I was a cop. I’ll explain later but for now he needs to turn himself in.”

  “Bullshit,” Blade snapped. “I’m going to Branson, c’mon Alaska.” He took her by the arm.

  “Blade,” Colt blocked them. “If you don’t turn yourself in, I’m going to have to arrest your sister for aiding and abetting. You don’t want that for her. It’s a felony, mandatory jail time.”

  “You want to arrest me?” She kicked Colt in the shin.

  The strike sent pain up his leg and threw him off balance. “And for battering an officer.”

  “That wasn’t for being an officer,” Alaska spat. “That was for last night.”

  “Who is she?” Colt said referring to the old woman dressed in camouflage and shuffling toward the ridge.

  “Esther Ketch,” Blade answered. “She faked her nephew’s murder, framed me for it, and now she’s trying to kill me. You should be arresting her!”

  She reached the edge and peered over, then hobbled along the side on a downward slant.