chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-two
word count: 521

Bud Kramer dropped his black bag to the ground and stood back to look at the body. The man had been beaten to death. Blood and raw tissue decorated the pavement in a Picasso of darkness. He checked his notes. Ruben Malleo, Sargent "Ren" Malleo's brother. Whoever did this would have hell to pay. Unless he could stop the carnage before it escalated.

Bud felt old. He thought of his beautiful wife waiting for him at home. Maybe it was time to retire.


Stan gunned it and headed for in the interstate. The road passed by like the elements of a dream while his mind played the same nightmare over and over.

"Where are you taking me?"

The voice broke in, obliterating the raucous thought process. He spied his hands on the wheel, caramelized with blood, trembling. The whore! He'd grabbed her and drove off. A saner mind slow-stepped to the surface. Christ! He'd really fucked up.

"Did you hear me? Where the hell are we going?" She leaned closer. "If you stop now and let me go. I'll walk away and I won't tell anyone. Please!"

He shot her a glance. Skinny, pathetic bitch! The anger rolled around again in his chest, smoldering, ready to erupt. "Shut up!"

Oh Christ! He'd killed two people, and it all started with that damned baby. The Medical Examiner, Bud Kramer, was probably hot on his tail. And Vic...was Vic out there gunning for him, too?

"You can't blame me for asking where you're taking me!" The bitch again.

"Look! I told you to shut up!"

"I'm not gonna shut up! You've got me cuffed and you're taking me somewhere. How the fuck can I shut up?"

"Look. I don't know where we're going. I'm in a shitload of trouble here."

The girl fidgeted. "These cuffs hurt. Would you take them off?"

"No."

The road passed by in more monotonous miles. Stan remembered when taking a drive used to be a pleasurable experience. Now the trip was a search to find a needle in the proverbial haystack...a safe haven in a world full of cops with an APB out on him.

"I'm hungry, man!" It was her again.

"Sorry, bitch! Can't help you. I'm on the run, remember!"

"I have to pee, too. Aren't you ever going to stop to pee?"

His knuckles got white, clutching the wheel too hard. "Will you shut the hell up?" he roared.

"Can't blame a person for being hungry or having to pee," she muttered.

A short silence, and she started again. "You could just let me out now. I'll take care of myself, and I won't tell anybody that you kidnapped me."

"I didn't fucking kidnap you!"

"Sure, you did, mother-fucker. Don't you think these cuffs make that pretty obvious." She lifted her wrists and jangled them.

God! Would she ever shut up? He swerved onto the side of the road and parked.

"Get out. Get the fuck out of my car." he said.