Madness (Asher Benson #2) Page 3

  Allison closed her eyes for a moment. “Can we turn the lights off? If they come back, I don’t want them to know I’m in here.”

  “You tell me what’s going on first, then I’ll decide what we’re going to do.” The sheriff stayed by his desk, where his pistol sat. He never wore it inside the station because he hated the damn thing. The law required that he keep it on him at all times, but he didn’t bother wearing it too often.

  “I was driving to work,” Allison said. Her color had returned to semi-normalcy. “My shift was about to start and I was running late, so I was driving a little faster than I should have been.” She paused for a second, gauging the sheriff’s reaction to her admission. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I looked down at my radio for a split second, and that’s when all four of my tires blew at the same time.”

  Adam’s whistled. “All four? What did you hit?”

  Allison continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I tried to keep the car on the road, but I hit that stupid pothole I keep telling you about. My car flipped and rolled a few times.” Lines formed between her eyebrows. “I think it did a few times anyway. It’s hard to remember exactly. I was upside down when it finally stopped in the drainage ditch.”

  Her speech had begun to speed up again, so Adams motioned for her to slow down.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That’s when I climbed out and saw that all the tires had blown. I walked up the road a piece and saw one of those spike strips the police use to stop high-speed chases in movies.”

  “Spike strips?” Adams grunted. “You take Crescent Road to work, right? Why would someone have spike strips out on the road? Hell, we don’t even have any here at the station.”

  Several summers before, one of Sheriff Adams’ deputies had taken their strip out for a drunken bonfire party. He’d used it on a few cars of women he wanted to sleep with so they would need rides home.

  The spikes had been bent and Adams hadn’t bothered to order new ones. He’d canned the moron deputy, thrown him in jail for three days, and then had made his life a living hell with tickets until the idiot had moved to another town.

  “They were right there, Sheriff. Right in the middle of the road.”

  Adams rubbed his protruding stomach absentmindedly. “Why would someone do that?”

  “If you’d let me finish my damn story, you might find out.”

  The words made Adams flush with anger, but he held his tongue. It seemed that the Henley woman had suffered a real fright, and he didn’t see the need to fight with her.

  Yet.

  He made a twirling motion with his finger for her to continue.

  “I started walking down the road so I could get you when I saw some headlights coming my way. It didn’t feel right, so I ran behind a tree and hid. A van came by and two men started looking around for me. They were saying they needed to find me because their boss would get mad or something.”

  Allison’s shirt was tucked into the waistband of her shorts. She pulled it out and used the bottom portion to wipe sweat from her brow.

  Adam’s noticed her toned stomach. He forced his eyes back to her face just as she lowered her shirt again.

  “They said that they’d been ordered not to let anyone leave the town. I tried to sneak away, but they heard me and chased me the whole way here.”

  When she didn’t say anything else for several seconds, Adams said, “Is that it? You done?”

  “I’m done.”

  “You’re saying that a couple of men in a van put spike strips on the road so that no one could leave the town. You hit those strips, flipped over, and then were chased here?”

  “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “I’m sorry, Allison, but that just sounds stupid. Why would they do this to you?”

  Allison sneered. “How should I know? It happened, that’s all I can tell you. How about you go and arrest them so we can find out?”

  The sheriff inspected her visually again. Her knees were cut up. Tiny red spots covered her forehead. Bits of glass glinted in her hair.

  He moved closer and leaned forward, getting a better look. They stood at roughly the same height of five feet, eight inches, though Adams had a solid seventy pounds on her and a whole lot more gray hair.

  Abrasions covered her knuckles and the back of one her hands.

  The old lawman had seen a lot of people in car accidents in his day and this one surely fit the bill. He still wasn’t buying the spiked strips story. His nostrils flared as he sniffed by her mouth. Allison had a reputation as a bit of a boozer and he couldn’t help but figure that she’d hit the sauce all night and wrapped her car around a tree.

  The story about the men chasing her was probably just a cover story.

  But then again, a van had stopped in front of his station and shined its headlights into the front windows. That was mighty peculiar, all right.

  “What are you doing?” Allison leaned away from him, her eyes narrowing. “You think I’m drunk?”

  “Just making sure.” The sheriff took a second sniff, but he didn’t catch the scent of alcohol. “Don’t get all pissy about it.”

  “I know what everyone around here thinks about me, but I don’t drink before work. Ever.” Allison folded her arms over her chest and winced. “My chest is killing me from the seat belt.”

  “Let’s get you looked at.” Adams walked over to Mel’s desk and reached for the phone. His hand hovered over it for a moment as he realized that he didn’t know the number of the hospital. The county had discussed installing a 911 system for the past few years, but funds had been scarce due to the lagging economy. He walked around the desk and flipped through Mel’s rolodex, searching for the number.

  How many times had he told her to put her records in the goddamned computer? He cursed himself for hiring a Luddite to run his filing system.

  “Who are you calling?” Allison asked.

  “The hospital. We need to get an ambulance over here for you. You might have a concussion. Maybe some broken ribs.” Adams found the number and punched it into the phone.

  They answered on the second ring.

  He explained the situation, and they agreed to get an ambulance en route. They would be there in twenty minutes. Arthur’s Creek only had a clinic that closed after eight in the evening. The closest hospital was the next town over, and it often took the paramedics damn near half an hour to get there.

  When old man Howey up the mountain had suffered a heart attack last year, the paramedics had found him flat on his back on the floor, clutching the phone to his chest. The man had been dead for a quarter of an hour before they finally wound their way up to his trailer.

  After hanging up, Adams went over to the coffee pot and filled two more cups, handing one to Allison. “They won’t be too long. Just relax until they get here.”

  “What about the men in the van? The strips? George, I know how stupid this sounds. But what if someone else drives over them? They might not be as lucky as I was.”

  Adams grunted. If what she’d said was accurate, then she had a point. “Tell you what, I’ll ring Deputy Roberts and see if he can find the van. As soon as the ambulance gets here, I’ll run on out and see if I can find those spikes. How’s that sound?”

  “Better. Tell Alan to be careful, all right?”

  “Of course.” The sheriff tried to hide the tension that settled in his shoulders at the mention of Deputy Roberts’ first name. He hadn’t known they knew each other well enough to be using their given names. Allison had another reputation around town beyond that of a drunk—people called her a slut.

  He reached for the phone again and punched in Roberts’ number.

  He put it against his ear and waited.

  There was no dial tone.

  “Huh,” he said as he pulled the receiver from the side of his head.

  “What?”

  “No signal.”

  The color drained from Allison’s face. “Do you think it was them?”

&
nbsp; “Them who? The men in the van?”

  “Of course!”

  “Come on now, Allison. You think those men are running around town, trying to kill people and taking out our phone lines? What good would that do anyway?” Adams tapped the cell phone clipped to his belt. “Everybody has one of these nowadays.”

  Allison frowned at him, but didn’t say anything else.

  That suited the old man just fine because, truth be told, he was a lot more nervous about the phone not working than he wanted to let on.

  In the twenty years he’d been manning his post, he couldn’t remember a single time that he hadn’t been able to make a call.

  The odds of that happening at the same time Allison ran into the station felt just a hair better than a lightning strike.

  4 – The Guilt Trip

  Christ, I was slipping. I’d let Drew get the whole way into the cabin and talk trash to me before I knew it was him. Being by myself for the past several weeks had me lowering my guard too much.

  I did a push-up off the couch cushions and looked over the back.

  “I see that you’re living like a king out here.” Mr. Clean stood by the mountainous pile of beer cans, staring down at it.

  He had on a gray suit and tie. The man always wanted to look good when he was on the job. He said that people respected a sharply dressed detective.

  I figured he was full of shit and just liked to play dress up.

  Like a little girl.

  A two hundred and twenty pound girl.

  With a gun.

  He was the only man who wore a suit that I trusted.

  “Don’t make fun of my aluminum throne.” I got to my feet and stayed in front of the couch.

  It was good to see my friend again, but I was wary of the lecture I was sure would follow.

  Drew looked over at me and grimaced. “What’s that shit all over you?”

  I inspected my chest. My sweat and the nastiness from the couch coated most of my skin. “Sorry. If I’d known you were coming I would have notified my butler to get the place in order.”

  “Ashley, you have goop all over you. It looks like you were just on Double Dare.”

  “I wish. I loved that show.”

  Drew kicked a few empty beer cans out of the way and walked further into the cabin. He peered around at the dirty floors and dingy kitchen. “Nice to see that the landlord has upgraded the place.”

  “Yeah, it really shows that he cares.”

  Drew opened the fridge, frowned at the smell that wafted out, and quickly closed it again. “I’d be drunk all the time if I lived here too.”

  “Did you come here just to shit on my life? If so, I’d rather skip that so I can get some sleep and then get back to my drinking.”

  “That’s only part of it.” He peeked into the bathroom and shook his head. “Beautiful.” He finally stopped judging my bachelor pad and leaned against the wall by the far end of the couch, standing about ten feet away from me. “I got a call from Jane Barker. Seems she’s come upon some money.”

  “Oh yeah? Good for her—she deserves it.”

  Drew nodded. “That she does. It’s an odd situation, though. She logged into her account and found an extra eight grand in it. The account it was transferred from was closed. She called me to see if I could look into it.”

  “And here you are.”

  “And here I am.” Drew crossed his arms over his chest. “That was a good thing you did, Ashley.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  We both knew I had given her the money, but I didn’t want to admit it. Drew thought that I was a bit of a masochist because of the way I lived. Money had been an issue for me since I was discharged, and I knew full well that he saw my giving away what little had come to me as a sign of my self-loathing.

  Of course, he wouldn’t say that because of whom I had given it to, but that didn’t keep him from thinking it. Sometimes, it didn’t take a telepath to know what someone had on their mind.

  My monetary situation had been a point of contention between us for a long time.

  Drew had often tried to talk me into winning some money by playing poker or blackjack.

  With my ability, that would have been easy.

  Too easy.

  I didn’t feel right about the whole idea of it. People gambled because they thought they could win. If I were sitting across from them, always knowing what hand they held, it would be the equivalent of stealing from them.

  I was many things, but a thief wasn’t one of them.

  My moral compass often got me into less-than-desirable situations.

  Being perpetually poor appeared to be one of those.

  “You deserved that money too.” Drew gestured around at my highfalutin palace. “This is beneath even you.”

  “Why? Why do I deserve anything more than she does? Her husband is gone. I’m still here.” I mimicked his gesture around my place with a bit more anger than I’d intended. “Look around you, man. My life is over. She has a lot of years ahead of her. So does her kid.”

  “Do we really need to get into this again?” Drew sighed.

  “I’d rather not. Having you define my worth is getting old. Let’s just get drunk and laugh about shit.”

  “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

  “Everyone keeps saying that to me.”

  “It’s time to come back to the world again. We need your help.”

  “We?” I didn’t like the sound of that. When people said they needed my help, it usually ended up with me getting shot at. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “You know who I’m talking about. Don’t act stupid.”

  I knew. Of course, I did. Smith was still out there. He had a vendetta against the United States’ government. I always knew they would come knocking, wanting me to help them find that scar-faced bastard.

  What I didn’t expect was for them to send my best friend, my only friend, to do it for them.

  So, I decided to ignore it altogether.

  Like a man does.

  “How’s Melissa?” I asked.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “She still hate me?”

  Drew didn’t answer.

  “I don’t blame her, you know? If you didn’t know me, you’d have a normal life. You’d catch bad guys and then go home and play softball.”

  “Play softball?” Drew smirked.

  “Isn’t that what regular people do?”

  “How would I know? Being normal is boring. I’m getting tired of these games, Ashley. We went through this a long time ago. Don’t make me talk you off the ledge all over again.”

  “I’m not—”

  A small voice came from the door. “Goddamn, it fucking stinks in here. Take a shower, you smelly bastard.”

  The tone, vulgarity, and overall mischievousness of that voice could only have come from one person.

  I looked around and grinned at Nami Williams. She stood by my epic mound of beer cans, waving a hand in front of her face. I laughed, and said, “Short Round!”

  Nami wore a t-shirt with some anime-style characters on it that I didn’t recognize. Her long, black hair was pulled into two ponytails jutting from either side of her head. “Short Round? What the hell does that mean?”

  I gaped at her for a full five seconds before looking over at Drew. “Is she for real?”

  Drew shrugged. “Probably. She’s into some really weird stuff. I doubt she has time for the classics.”

  “Both of you can kiss my perky, black ass. What classic?”

  “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Are you telling me you’ve never seen it?”

  “Sounds stupid.” Nami stepped further inside. “And don’t call me short, Ogre.”

  “If you ever call Indiana Jones stupid again, I’ll punt you like a football.” I held my arms open and beckoned her over. “Now come give me a hug.”

  “What are you covered in?” She pointed at my chest. “Is t
hat petroleum jelly? Did you know that Drew was coming over so you oiled yourself up for him?”

  “What?” I asked. “You act like you’ve never seen a man covered in jelly before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Well, feast your eyes and fantasize.” I considered bouncing my pecs, but figured it best to save my sweetest moves for a special occasion. “And no, I didn’t do this for Drew. He wouldn’t be able to handle my overpowering masculinity.”

  Drew bayed laughter. “Don’t drag me into this.”

  “Why not? You dragged me all the way over here to Redneck City. You deserve everything I can dish out.” Nami turned her attention back to me. “I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to. The woods are gross. Get in the fucking car and come back with us.”

  I ignored her and turned my attention to Drew. “Why is she here?”

  “Don’t act like I’m not standing here,” Nami said. “I came here to talk your dumb ass into helping us find that jerk weed, Smith. We all owe him one or fifty.”

  Drew said, “Exactly. I knew you wouldn’t listen to just me, so I brought help.”

  “I’ve only met Short Round one time. Why would I care what she thinks?”

  “I’ll kick you right in the dick.” Nami walked around the couch and peered up at me. “We went through hell together, so don’t pretend like we’re total strangers.”

  It had been quite a while since I’d been around her, so I had almost forgot just how short she really was. I stood at least two feet taller than she did.

  And she was right about one thing—combat makes brothers and sisters out of the least likely of people. Nami and I had nothing in common outside of our penchant for swearing.

  But a lot of guns, explosions, and murders had brought us together. It was a bond that only those who have experienced extreme circumstances could understand.

  I opened my mouth to fire off another smart-ass retort when she winced.

  “Whoa, you really do stink. What’s that funk coming off you?” She waved her small hand in front of her face again. “You smell like a bag of assholes.”

  “I just went for a run. Shut up.”