“Hey! What’d you call her?” Lula said, hand on hip, lower lip stuck out. “You better be careful what you call her. We don’t put up with none of that shit talk.”
He snarled at Lula. “You shut pie hole or I carve you like pig roast.”
“Was I just insulted?” Lula asked. “Did he compare me to a roast pig? ’Cause I don’t like bein’ compared to a pig. And what’s with the knife? I mean, who uses a knife these days?”
Raz held his knife in his right hand and pulled a semiautomatic out of his pants with his left hand. “I also got big gun,” he said to Lula. “I shoot you in eye and then I slice you and make bacon and cook you in fire.”
And he squeezed off a shot.
“Run for it!” Lula yelled. “He got a gun! Satan’s got a gun.”
Lula took off and was immediately swallowed up in the black night. She crashed through shrubs, smacking into who knows what on her way to the parking lot, her voice carrying back to me. “Ow, shit, sonovabitch.”
Raz turned the gun on me and fired. I jumped behind a tombstone, he fired again, and the bullet pinged off the marble. I bolted for a small patch of woods directly behind me. I had my gun in my bag, but no time to search for it. I saw him stumble forward, lit by the campfire. He was hampered by a bullet wound in one leg and a knife wound in the other.
I carefully walked toward the ambient light originating from the front of the church, avoiding the road. I could hear Raz shuffling behind me.
“Here kitty, kitty,” he called. “I come get you, kitty.”
An engine cranked over, lights flashed at the top of the hill, and Magpie’s Crown Vic roared down the road, crossed the parking lot, and disappeared for parts unknown, presumably taking a revived Magpie with it.
My feet wanted to run, but my brain insisted I go slow. I couldn’t chance running into a tree or a tombstone in the dark and knocking myself out. I’d managed to find my gun in my bag and had it in hand. I was almost to the lot. I could see the two parked cars. I no longer heard Lula in front of me, or Raz behind me. Just the sound of my heart thudding in my chest.
As I exited the wooded area, I saw Lula move in front of a car and wave at me, and I broke into a sprint across the stretch of open field. I reached Lula and bent at the waist to catch my breath.
I glanced at the Camry next to Lula’s Firebird. “Is this his car?” I asked her.
“Looks like it. There’s no one in it. There’s an extra clip for his gun on the front seat.”
I shot two rounds into each tire, Lula and I hustled into the Firebird, and she drove out of the lot onto the road and sat at idle. I called Berger and got him on his cell. I told him Raz was in the cemetery, and his car was disabled.
“You gotta admit, he did sort of look like Satan in the beginning there,” Lula said.
“You freaked. You were squealing like a little girl.”
“I got caught by surprise. And I was affected by the atmosphere. You know how I’m all sensitive to that shit.”
“You yelled
“That was smart,” Lula said. “He was gonna make me into bacon. He’s a maniac. Good thing he can’t shoot for snot with his left hand.”
I agreed. He was definitely a maniac. And he definitely couldn’t shoot left-handed.
“I want to stay here and wait for the police to arrive,” I said. “I don’t want to chance Raz somehow driving away. I want him caught.”
“Sure. Just keep your eyes open for him sneaking up on us. And keep your gun out. I’m not bein’ no breakfast meat.”
After a couple minutes, I thought I saw Raz navigate the open grass to his car. I was sure he’d heard the shots. If it was me, I’d immediately check the tires. I couldn’t see him in the dark lot. We had the window down, listening for footfalls. Lula and I had guns drawn.
“Bitching bitches” carried out to us.
“He looked at the tires,” Lula said.
I saw lights on the road behind us, and a cop car drove up and turned into the lot. It was followed by two more police cars and a sedan with a Kojak light.
My cell phone rang. It was Berger.
“Is that you sitting out on the road in a Firebird?” he asked.
“Yes. I put a couple rounds in his tires, so he’s on foot. He’s not far away. I saw him go to his car a couple minutes ago. He’s armed.”
“Thanks,” Berger said. “We’ll take it from here.”
“Do you want to stay around and see what happens?” Lula asked.
“No. I want to go home.”
Truth is, I was afraid if I stayed in the area, Raz might circle around and come back and shoot me.
TWENTY-FIVE
LULA PULLED INTO MY LOT to drop me off, and we spotted Brenda’s car.
“That’s Brenda’s toaster,” she said. “And it looks like Brenda waiting for you at the door. And she don’t look good.”
Brenda was hunched, arms wrapped around herself, head down.
Lula cut the engine, and we went to where Brenda was standing and chain-smoking, the butts littering the ground around her.
“What’s up?” I asked her.
“I have terrible problems. I need you to help me. I don’t know who else to ask. It’s my son, Jason. He’s been kidnapped. I was there when they grabbed him and dragged him away.”
“Omigosh,” I said. “That’s serious. Did you call the police?”
“I can’t. There are circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“The police are sort of looking for Jason,” Brenda said. “It’s not like he’s done anything bad. I mean, he hasn’t killed anyone or anything.”
“What
Brenda lit up another cigarette. Now she had two going at the same time.
“He’s a hacker,” she said.
“I know about them,” Lula said. “They go around giving people a virus. And they steal Sarah Palin’s email.”
“Jason isn’t that kind of a hacker,” Brenda said. “He would never do anything mean. He’s just interested in the technology. He says it’s like a chess game, and he’s playing the computer. He’s really smart. He’s a genius.”
“So why do the police want him if he hasn’t done anything wrong?” I asked.
“He has a couple friends who are just like him. It’s, like, a geek club. I guess for giggles they break into government computers and leave funny messages. They don’t take information out, but the government doesn’t like when their systems get hacked.”
“The government got no sense of humor,” Lula said.
“Anyway, Jason and his friends went underground a year ago. Jason says they aren’t leaving any more funny messages, but the FBI is still looking for them. The thing is, the FBI doesn’t know who they are or what they look like, so if Jason keeps a low profile, he might be okay.”
I took a step back to get away from the smoke cloud surrounding Brenda. “Jason is the friend who sent you the photograph from Hawaii, isn’t he?”
“He was trying to help me get my car. He’s such a good boy.”
“Do you know enough about computers to use the photograph?” I asked her.
“No. Jason has a friend here who was going to help me.”
“Sounds to me like Jason come home,” Lula said. “Why’d he do that if the FBI is lookin’ for him? Why didn’t he just send you another photograph?”
