Motion to Kill

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Three men stood on the porch. Camaya raised his arms, directing one of them to return to the Escalade and the other two toward the woods on either side of the cabin. Kelly steadied the barrel of her shotgun on the rocks. He matched her movements from his spot two feet away.

“Shit!” Mason hissed as one of the killers started toward them.

“Shut up and watch the other side of the woods. I’ve got this.”

Despite Kelly’s order, Mason couldn’t take his eyes off the killer moving toward them. As he got closer, Mason could see his gun. It had a triangle-shaped frame stock, a pistol handle, and a short barrel. It reminded Mason of the guns favored by bad guys in every action movie he’d ever seen.

He was close enough now that Mason could see his wide forehead, mushy nose, and hard-set mouth. There was no trace of fear, nerves, or regret.

Kelly jabbed Mason in the side, pointing to the south side, the gesture reminding him of her order. Mason watched Blues’s target take his first steps into the trees before stopping and crumbling to the ground. Blues was good, but not good enough to smother the sound of the man’s startled cry.

Mason glanced to his left to see if Camaya had heard his man go down. Camaya took a cautious step forward, now flanked by the third gunman. Kelly spoke in a voice loud enough for her man to hear but not loud enough for Camaya.

“Freeze, or I’ll blow you in half!”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

The killer fired first, but Kelly made good on her promise, two blasts tearing into him, twisting his body and shredding his chest. His finger clung to the trigger of his gun as he fell, exhausting his clip.

One of the rounds found the propane tank mounted near the side of the cabin. The tank erupted in a blinding ball of fire, the shock wave knocking Mason and Kelly to the ground, the limestone boulders shielding them from the molten shrapnel.

Dazed, Mason raised his head. Kelly was sprawled facedown in the dirt. Mason crawled to her. She was conscious, her hands digging into the soil. He rolled her over, pulling her into his arms. Tears ran down her soiled cheeks as the flames swept through her cabin.

Above the roaring blaze, Mason heard more automatic fire. He looked in the direction of the shots and saw Camaya riddle the tires on the Trans-Am and the pickup from the open passenger window of the Escalade. As they sped away, Blues ran after them, emptying his magazine, his shotgun useless at that distance.

Kelly stiffened, clotting off her tears. She and Mason were stunned by the power of the blast but otherwise in one piece. The searing heat from the fire drove them from their rock pile. Once clear, she called out the rest of the Pope County Sheriff’s Department, the fire department, and Doc Eddy.

Blues and Mason walked the quarter mile to the county road to wait for them. Kelly stayed behind, a lone silhouette framed by the inferno devouring her hiding place. Incandescent shadows swarmed through the trees like extras in a low-budget horror movie before evaporating into the black sky.

The rescuers and the rescued worked through the night stamping out the few burning embers that had drifted into the trees. By daylight, the fire had consumed itself.

Brilliant tracers of pink and orange crept into the morning sky as the last tendrils of black smoke drifted away.

Soot stained and weary, Blues, Mason, and Kelly poured themselves into a deputy’s car and joined the procession back to town. Tow trucks dragging the Trans-Am and the pickup bounced along, bringing up the rear.

Riley and Sandra, their faces pinched with fatigue, were waiting in front of the courthouse when they pulled in. Sandra was stretched out on the wide stone handrail using her arms for a pillow. Riley lay across the stairs like the hypotenuse of a triangle. Mason had the feeling that the morning wasn’t going to get any better.

“Hi, honey, I’m home!” he called out with more good cheer than was fair.

He figured the one who answered was probably still alive. Sandra rolled off her perch and reeled Riley to his feet.

“You folks okay? The deputy told us what happened when you called in,” Riley said.

Kelly walked into Riley’s waiting arms and he held her, rubbing her back. She pulled away a moment later.

“A little shell-shocked, Riley, that’s all,” she said. “Any luck?”

“Well, I’ve got an answer, but it’s not the one you expected,” Riley said. “There’s nothing else on the porno disks.”

“What do you mean?” Mason asked.

“The only thing on those DVDs is people doing the horizontal mambo and switching partners faster than you can say ‘Swing your partner, do-si-do.’”

“That doesn’t make any sense. There has to be something else. You’ll just have to keep looking until you figure it out. It’s been a long night. We’ll all get some rest and start fresh this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, son. There’s no point in it. I spent half the night looking, and there just isn’t anything else there.”

Mason took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep him from shaking Riley until he made some sense.

“What in the hell are you talking about? People are getting killed for those damn disks, and you’re trying to tell me it’s all a big mistake? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Son, no one’s getting killed for the skin flicks. Now, Johnny Mathis-that’s a different story entirely,” he said.