Cutting Loose, page 28
“Max Lindemann.”
“Max . . . ? Emmett, are you serious?”
“He’s been alive all these years, looking for Sol and Carey. He had a grievance they left him behind. The rights and wrongs of it, I don’t know.”
“My God. Did he get out of that there building?”
“No. This time he’s real dead. I put a bullet in him and Carey stuck a dagger in his neck. She saved my life.”
“Is that right?”
“He was a serial murderer. It’ll all come out soon enough.”
“My God. How many did he kill?”
“We’ll never know. A lot. There was another case that started all this, a woman in a barrel.”
“Has she been identified?”
“No. Maybe she never will be. But I guess she represents them all. All the dead.”
“It’s a dirty, diseased world,” said Loomis.
“It surely is. Look, folks, this is still my case, far as I’m concerned, so if anyone comes asking questions―like the FBI―say nothing. Tell ’em to see me. You could get yourselves in a world of trouble.”
“Hearing you loud and clear, Emmett.”
“This . . . it’s my job. It can be tough. I hear you when you say you loved her.”
“We surely did,” said Etta. “She came here looking for refuge. We knew she’d done those bad things. We’re condoning nothing. But we thought we could see something in her that was worth saving.”
“I have no truck with killing and bombing and such. One half of me said she should have paid for what she done. But when you meet someone, you see the person, and the person we saw wasn’t some sick creep.”
“We gave her a home,” said Etta. “I think that changed her.”
“I think she appreciated what we done.”
“I believe it,” said Emmett.
“She told us about her past because of her feelings for us. She wanted nothing hidden no more.”
“But now, it’s done. It’s over,” said Loomis.
“Uh huh.”
“I mean, I guess she died in there. Must have.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“A lot was going on, those last few minutes.”
“What are you saying, Emmett?”
“Me? Not a lot, Loomis.”
“But you surely know what happened.”
“It was kinda chaotic down there, I have to tell you.”
“Uh huh. Talk to me, Emmett.”
“Well, it’s just kinda hard to pin it down. What with the craziness of it all. He had a basement down there where he did what he did.”
“But―even if she got out, she’d be running lost, with no backup. To get outa the country, she’ll need papers, tickets, and what all.”
“Emergency bag.”
“Sure.”
“There was a bag in her Toyota.”
Loomis took his time, then said, “Emmett. Help us out here.”
“Not sure what I can say, Loomis.”
“The bag?”
“Sure. In the trunk.”
“Is it still there?”
“No, it isn’t.”
“What happened to it?”
“I guess that’s a matter of conjecture.”
“Did you help her, Emmett?”
“I’m a cop, Loomis. Please. I would never do a thing like that.”
“Uh huh. Straight arrow all the way.”
“That’s me.”
“Rules are there for a reason.”
“That’s right.”
“Never play judge and jury.”
“Never do that,” said Emmett. “Exactly.”
“Then, uh, maybe . . .”
“Sure.”
“South America, maybe?” said Loomis. “If the dice roll right. Great climate down there, I hear.”
Emmett smiled, and Etta gave him a sideways look.
“Emmett, what?”
“Etta, I’m gonna ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Any chance you’re gonna fix a pot of coffee?”
“Why, Emmett, I’m falling down on my social responsibilities. Gimme just a few moments.”
Loomis cleared his throat. “Etta, honey, we got some a that apple pie left?”
Later, he decided the job could wait for a few minutes. He took Loomis’ guitar out to the porch, eased himself into a rocker, and began to pick out a tune he had always liked, Cloudy and Cool, by John D. Loudermilk.
∞
If you liked this novel, would you consider leaving a review?
Also by James Vaughan on Amazon:
Sand River
Five Peso Badge
James Vaughan, Cutting Loose
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“Max . . . ? Emmett, are you serious?”
“He’s been alive all these years, looking for Sol and Carey. He had a grievance they left him behind. The rights and wrongs of it, I don’t know.”
“My God. Did he get out of that there building?”
“No. This time he’s real dead. I put a bullet in him and Carey stuck a dagger in his neck. She saved my life.”
“Is that right?”
“He was a serial murderer. It’ll all come out soon enough.”
“My God. How many did he kill?”
“We’ll never know. A lot. There was another case that started all this, a woman in a barrel.”
“Has she been identified?”
“No. Maybe she never will be. But I guess she represents them all. All the dead.”
“It’s a dirty, diseased world,” said Loomis.
“It surely is. Look, folks, this is still my case, far as I’m concerned, so if anyone comes asking questions―like the FBI―say nothing. Tell ’em to see me. You could get yourselves in a world of trouble.”
“Hearing you loud and clear, Emmett.”
“This . . . it’s my job. It can be tough. I hear you when you say you loved her.”
“We surely did,” said Etta. “She came here looking for refuge. We knew she’d done those bad things. We’re condoning nothing. But we thought we could see something in her that was worth saving.”
“I have no truck with killing and bombing and such. One half of me said she should have paid for what she done. But when you meet someone, you see the person, and the person we saw wasn’t some sick creep.”
“We gave her a home,” said Etta. “I think that changed her.”
“I think she appreciated what we done.”
“I believe it,” said Emmett.
“She told us about her past because of her feelings for us. She wanted nothing hidden no more.”
“But now, it’s done. It’s over,” said Loomis.
“Uh huh.”
“I mean, I guess she died in there. Must have.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“A lot was going on, those last few minutes.”
“What are you saying, Emmett?”
“Me? Not a lot, Loomis.”
“But you surely know what happened.”
“It was kinda chaotic down there, I have to tell you.”
“Uh huh. Talk to me, Emmett.”
“Well, it’s just kinda hard to pin it down. What with the craziness of it all. He had a basement down there where he did what he did.”
“But―even if she got out, she’d be running lost, with no backup. To get outa the country, she’ll need papers, tickets, and what all.”
“Emergency bag.”
“Sure.”
“There was a bag in her Toyota.”
Loomis took his time, then said, “Emmett. Help us out here.”
“Not sure what I can say, Loomis.”
“The bag?”
“Sure. In the trunk.”
“Is it still there?”
“No, it isn’t.”
“What happened to it?”
“I guess that’s a matter of conjecture.”
“Did you help her, Emmett?”
“I’m a cop, Loomis. Please. I would never do a thing like that.”
“Uh huh. Straight arrow all the way.”
“That’s me.”
“Rules are there for a reason.”
“That’s right.”
“Never play judge and jury.”
“Never do that,” said Emmett. “Exactly.”
“Then, uh, maybe . . .”
“Sure.”
“South America, maybe?” said Loomis. “If the dice roll right. Great climate down there, I hear.”
Emmett smiled, and Etta gave him a sideways look.
“Emmett, what?”
“Etta, I’m gonna ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Any chance you’re gonna fix a pot of coffee?”
“Why, Emmett, I’m falling down on my social responsibilities. Gimme just a few moments.”
Loomis cleared his throat. “Etta, honey, we got some a that apple pie left?”
Later, he decided the job could wait for a few minutes. He took Loomis’ guitar out to the porch, eased himself into a rocker, and began to pick out a tune he had always liked, Cloudy and Cool, by John D. Loudermilk.
∞
If you liked this novel, would you consider leaving a review?
Also by James Vaughan on Amazon:
Sand River
Five Peso Badge
James Vaughan, Cutting Loose
