Boobytrap

From the notebooks of Donald Michael Latimer

Tues., July 2–6:30 P.M.

Everything is ready.

All I have to do now is call Dixon. Not just yet, though, let the bastard sweat a while longer. I’m in no hurry, I don’t want to be out of here and on the road to Indiana until after dark. Relax. Finish this entry, have a beer and the last can of chili. No hurry at all.

I just went in to check on the kid. He’s quiet, but what else could he be, gagged and blindfolded and tied so tight to the bed he can’t even move a finger? Pretty good kid, didn’t give me any trouble all day. Too bad about him. But he’s a Dixon, his old man’s blood runs in his veins, so he won’t be any great loss. Besides, there’ll be a second or two when Mr. Prosecutor realizes too late what’s about to happen to both him and his son, and I’d do anything for that second or two. Sweet! Sweeter than the original Plan, even if I don’t get to see the big finish. Almost makes all the crap I had to go through at the lake worthwhile.

The one thing that would make it sweeter still was if fat old Mike Hammer was trussed up in there next to the kid. Bothers me he’s still alive. Shotgun surprise got somebody else instead, that’s what the radio said a few minutes ago, some Plumas County cop. One less cop in the world, that’s fine with me, but it should’ve been fatso. Well, I can fix him when I come back from Indiana.

If I come back from Indiana. If I even make it to Lawler Bluffs.

Every law enforcement agency in the country is looking for me by now and they’ll double their efforts after tonight. Public Enemy No. 1. Hah! I really don’t give a shit if they get me eventually, I’ve pretty much known all along I’m living on borrowed time and I’m resigned to it now. Rip Kathryn apart with marbles and bones before that happens and I’ll die satisfied and happy. But even if I can’t give her what she deserves, I’ll have made sure Cotter and Turnbull and Dixon got theirs. I’ll see the three of them in hell, at least.

I wonder if this is the way Bonnie and Clyde felt on their bank-robbing spree? My old pal, the Unabomber, on his way to the post office with another surprise package? The guy who took out all the lawyers with the assault rifle?

Steady, heady, ready. Happy as a lark.

Man, I feel good!