Killing Ways

49

What does this woman know about what Duke Rawlins has been doing? Or has she been operating as his accomplice in some way?

Fuck. I need backup.

‘Dainty — is there somewhere we can sit down and have a chat?’ said Ren. She looked around.

‘There’s a coffee shop on the corner?’ said Dainty.

What about somewhere nice and out in the open? ‘Why don’t we go into that park over there, sit down at that picnic bench. It’s a nice day.’ To tell someone they’re sleeping with their half-brother.

‘Sure,’ said Dainty, running her hand through her hair.

Little red dots in her elbow crease. Bruises on her arms.

Ren sat down opposite Dainty on the bench, and rested her forearms on the table.

‘How did you meet... Harris?’ said Ren.

‘In a bar,’ said Dainty. ‘I was having a hard time. I wasn’t in a good place, I guess. I liked to disappear into my music. I was singing one night, he came in, we got to talking.’ She shrugged. ‘We had a connection.’

‘Dainty,’ said Ren, ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that this man’s real name is Duke Rawlins. His mother is Wanda Rawlins. His mother is your mother: Wanda.’

Dainty shook her head. ‘What? You’re saying Harris is what — my half-brother?’ She laughed loud. ‘No, he is not. Mama didn’t have any other kids. Me and Robin were the only ones. You’re talking shit. And I have no idea why.’

‘This man’s name is not Harris Riggs,’ said Ren. ‘It’s Duke Rawlins. Does the name mean anything to you?’

Dainty shook her head again. ‘No. How do you know my father?’

‘He hired me to find you and Robin,’ said Ren. ‘I’m going to show you something to prove to you who Harris really is.’ She took out her phone and called up the articles on Donnie Riggs from 2004. She turned the screen around to show Dainty.

‘This is Donald Riggs,’ said Ren. ‘He came from Stinger’s Creek, Texas. Your mother came from Stinger’s Creek, Texas. You can ask your father. You can ask your father about Duke Rawlins.’

She found photos of Duke and showed them to Dainty. She watched her scan his face, add and remove the parts that were familiar to her.

Dainty Farraday started to shake. The color drained from her face. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. You got this all wrong. You got this all wrong. You are a crazy bitch.’

Dainty bent down, resting her forearms on her knees. She looked like she was trying to compose herself... or preparing to throw up. In a toss of blonde hair, she straightened up. With a knife in her hand. She jumped up and was suddenly beside Ren.

What the fuck?

Ren slid away from her and stood up.

Dainty lunged for her, swiping down hard.

Well, fuck you!

Ren deflected, throwing Dainty’s arm back, sending the knife skittering across the grass.

Fuuuuck. Ren shook out her arm. Fuck, that hurt.

Dainty ran. Ren ran after her.

You bitch. You will not outrun me.

Ren ran.

Oh, the beautiful pain. The beautiful pain.

She was gaining on Dainty.

‘Stop,’ shouted Ren. ‘Federal agent. Put your hands over your head—’

‘Fuck you, lady,’ said Dainty, still running. ‘Fuck you.’

‘Fuck YOU!’ said Ren. Don’t take me on, bitch. Do not take me on.

Ren accelerated. She could feel the pain searing in her calves, her hamstrings, her glutes.

She was within feet. She dived. She caught Dainty’s legs, brought her down hard. Ren rolled, took the fall well, gripped the bony frame of Dainty Farraday.

But Dainty bucked, kicked her leg up, pulled another knife from her filthy white cowboy boot. She brought the blade down, aiming for Ren’s forearm. Ren turned away and the knife went into the grass.

Two knives?! You psycho bitch!

She punched Dainty in the face. She punched her again.

Dainty kicked out, caught Ren’s jaw. Ren grabbed her ankle, spun her away. She reached for her sidearm.

Oh, shit.

She looked up. She was looking at her sidearm. And Dainty Farraday was on the other side of it.

‘You fucked-up bitch,’ said Dainty. ‘You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’

Ren nodded. ‘You need to lower the weapon, Dainty. You need to drop it right now.’

Dainty stared at her.

What is going on in your junk-addled, brother-fucking mind?

‘You haven’t a clue, lady,’ said Dainty.

Ren’s heart was pounding.

‘And that makes you lucky,’ said Dainty. ‘Wanna know why? Because I want to come back and look you in the eye, I want to come back, so I can tell you how you’ve got it all wrong. So I can make sure myself that you know that. I can look you right in the eye.’

Ren struggled to get up.

Dainty threw the gun at her and ran.

Ren went over and sat on the bench.

That family is like a brand: Rawlins Killings, Est. 19whatever. Wanda Rawlins, face of the operation—

Oh. My. God.

Wanda Rawlins.

‘I did a terrible thing. Something terrible brought me here.’

Vincent Farraday said Wanda Rawlins had a tattoo of Duke on her shoulder.

The Jane Doe... was Wanda Rawlins.

That night, when she was being brought to the hospital, she tried to burn her son’s face off her shoulder because she knew it would connect them.

Duke Rawlins kept his own mother chained up, tortured and beaten.