The Cadillac Diaries Episode 39

Tightly holding on to Pete, Deborah reached up for Ray’s coat hem.
“Daddy, get down,” she pleaded again.
“Don’t move,” Ray ordered.
A second shot punched into the wall, an inch closer than the last one. Ray looked at the bullet hole then over his shoulder as he calculated the direction of the shot. When his phone suddenly rang, Ray slowly reached into his pocket.
Flipping the phone open, he answered, “Yello?”
“I’ve got him, mate,” Tommy announced.
Ray looked around at the thick fog.
“You can see through this mess?” he asked.
“Don’t have to. I can hear him. With every shot, his rifle makes a sound that lets me pin down his location to within three feet,” Tommy explained.
Ray looked at Richard and Deborah and said,
“Stay here.”
“Please, Daddy,” Deborah begged.
“Stay,” Ray insisted. “You have to trust me.”
Deborah nodded her understanding, tears welling up in her eyes. Ray looked back up in the direction the sniper was shooting, based on the angle of the bullet.
“All right. Let’s just see how far you want to take this,” he said to the gunman.
Moving to the left, he took one step down and another shot went off, this time beside his foot, bouncing off the concrete and sending out a spray of chips. Ray looked down at his foot then up in the direction of the sniper. Another step down and another shot fired, this time near Deborah. Ray looked back at Deborah then turned his gaze towards the sniper’s general location.
Into the phone he growled,
“Take the shot.”

* * *

Porter Daniels adjusted his rifle and looked through the scope that had been modified for the fog.
“All right, old man, I don’t know how you know I won’t kill you, but I’m tired of playing around.”
Just as he lined the crosshairs on Ray’s head, two shots rang out. One punched the wall next to him, spraying rock dust and debris into his face. The second hit his rifle, knocking it from his hands.
“What the—!” Daniels exclaimed.
When two more shots tore into the wall, Daniels stumbled back away from the ledge and looked toward where he had last seen Ray. Without the scope, he could only guess.
“Who are you?” he asked.

* * *

When the firing stopped, Pete wriggled free of Deborah’s hands. A second later, she heard the rumble of the Cadillac as Ray drove away. Slowly raising her head, she felt a chill work its way down her spine, and she knew that something bad was coming. Whatever it was had to do with whatever was going on.
Richard squinted, struggling to see through the fog. The Cadillac was gone. He looked over at a frightened Deborah, tears streaking her face. Angry, he raised up and reached for her hand.
“Come on,” he grumbled.
Once inside the station, Richard stormed through the department and took a sharp turn to the morgue with Deborah on his heels.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Settling a question,” Richard answered.
When they reached the morgue, he flung open the doors and marched in. The medical examiner, a small quiet woman, suddenly jumped, dropping her donut to the floor.
“Have you finished examining Damien Pena?” Richard barked.
“Not yet,” she stammered in response.
“What can you tell me so far?”
The woman paused, uncertain of how to answer.
“How did he die?” Richard snapped.
Again the woman jumped.
“I don’t have everything yet, but I can tell you that whoever stabbed him was six feet and left-handed,” she slowly answered.
Richard pinched the bridge of his nose and thought for a moment. When he looked up, he spat in a silent curse.
“What’s wrong?” Deborah asked.
“Pena was stabbed by a six foot tall man holding a knife with his left hand,” Richard said.
“Okay,” Deborah responded confused.
“David Delgado, the man who confessed to the murder, is five foot five and right handed,” Richard explained. “He didn’t kill Pena which means there’s a good chance he’s covering for someone else.”
Deborah paused then asked, “What about Daddy?”
“Whoever was shooting at us knows something and wants Ray scared off the case.”
“You know him, Richard. Daddy won’t quit,” Deborah said.
“Then whoever murdered Pena will stop trying to scare Ray and just kill him.”

* * *

“Where are we headed?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t have time to deal with the sniper back there. If he’s serious, he’ll try again. I had to leave because Deborah would try to keep me there. The gunman was outside a police station, so if he’s hanging around, the police will haul him in and I can question him later,” Ray responded.
Tommy paused.
“That doesn’t really answer my question, Ray,” he said. “Where are we headed?”
“I couldn’t get anything out of Sabella’s father, so we’re going back to the crime scene. Maybe something was left behind that can help solve this thing,” Ray answered.
A quarter of an hour later, Ray pulled up across the street from The Spotlight, the club where Pena had been stabbed. The neon lights flashed and the music pounded so loudly that Ray could feel the vibration of the bass when he shut off the engine.
As he slipped off the lush leather seat and exited the Cadillac, Ray turned to Pete who was standing on the driver’s seat waiting to jump down.
“I need for you to behave,” he instructed, pointing to Pete. “Promise?”
With bright eyes, Pete stood still, panting happily.
“Promise, or you’re staying here.”
Pete quickly shook his head, his ears flopping back and forth. When he stopped, one ear was folded back.
“Good boy,” Ray said. “Let’s go.”
As Pete hopped down to the pavement, Ray said,
“Tommy, you stay here with Sabella. I’ll be right back.”
He closed the door and waited for traffic to clear before crossing the street. Ray noticed that no one stood outside the club, no bouncer guarding the door.
“That’s odd. I wouldn’t think a murder would chase off people so quickly,” he thought.
Three steps into the club, Ray stopped in his tracks.
Dead bodies filled the room, sprawled over tables, scattered across the floor. The walls were covered with blood splatter, and everywhere pools of blood ran together. On stage the band lay where they fell, the drummer slumped over his bass drum.
“What in the world,” Ray said aloud.
Ray looked around. No sign of the bartender. He noticed a familiar odor and glanced down to see he was standing in a liquid covering the floor. Reaching out with his finger, he bend over to see what it was. When he got closer, he caught the unmistakable smell of gasoline and straightened up quickly. He turned around to see that Pete had stayed just outside the front door, the gasoline keeping him back.
“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” a voice said overhead.
Ray looked up and spotted someone standing on the catwalk above the stage. He lifted his hand against the glare of the lights and saw a man.
“What did you do?” Ray asked.
“Just cleaned up a mess,” the man said.
Ray didn’t recognize the voice.
“You should leave now,” the man advised.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ray protested.
“Suit yourself,” the man said, dropping something from the catwalk.
Ray squinted and saw that it was a lit blow torch falling toward the gasoline soaked floor. He whirled around and dove out the door, scooping up Pete and running toward the parking lot as the club exploded into flames, knocking him to the pavement.

Published in: on June 14, 2013 at 3:44 pm  Leave a Comment  
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