Burn Scars, Eddie Generous [read full novel txt] 📗

figure out. He mumbled and fumbled words to her. Snapped his teeth tight and spoke slowly, working hard to loosen his jaws. The words came out before coming to a conscious decision. “My dad didn’t kill my family. There’s witnesses…can you make a copy of a CD for me, but don’t listen to it?”

“What do you mean he didn’t?”

“There’s a witness. Two actually. Or three. They told the truth and recoded it.”

“Could it be a trick?”

“No. No. Not this. It’s, can you, but you can’t listen. Okay?”

“What?” Christine grabbed him. “We have to show my dad! You have confessions? That’s what you’re—!”

“No! No showing anything. Just make a copy and let me think. Give me time to think.”

“That’s crazy! We have to…” Christine trailed and then wrapped her arms around Rusty and pulled in him tight. He let his face fall to her soft, welcoming shoulder. This was the only thing right in the world, all he had worth a damn.

“I’m seeing him tomorrow. I’m going to the prison. Stay with me tonight?” he said.

“Of course.”

—

The radio alarm went unused—switched off before necessary—for the last week, so when it clicked into life, Rusty sat bolt upright, panicked. He’d slept through the night.

For the first time in a week, and he felt good. He looked at Christine’s beautiful, uncovered chest and the slight ski jump curve of her breasts, her shoulder moles, her short, but slender neck, and beautiful sleeping face. He bent to kiss her and she smiled, but did not move otherwise.

Then it hit him. All of it at once. He might lose this and so much more. What was he thinking? But did he really have a choice?

His good mood drained away in a toilet swirl.

 17

Seventy-five in cash and a slip of paper with his name written in blocky, capital letters went to the top floor landing, same as every Wednesday—excluding the handful of times he’d been late with it and had to duck in and out of the house in the middle of the night until he could play catch up with the due payment. Christine was already outside waiting. The neighbor had his two-year-old F-150 truck running in the laneway next-door, and as much newer as the Ford engine was, it still drowned out the gentle purr of Christine’s car. Some kind of marvel, it was so quiet.

Christine had called the Logic Appliance answering service and left a message for Dwayne and Linda. Rusty had suggested that she tell the truth, nobody would argue the nobility of being his lean-to, considering the touchiness of the subject—though Dwayne might ask why today? as in, why on a workday? Rusty hurried over and opened the passenger’s side door. Korn turned low rumbled from the speakers and the fan blew a gentle flow of warm air from the dash vents.

Christine dressed the same as she did for work the day before. A blouse, slacks, flats, and her brown vinyl jacket. She still had on a light dusting of makeup around her eyes and foundation evened out her complexion from the morning prior, but other than that, she was au naturel. She hadn’t so much as splashed on any perfume to cover the odor of no shower and day-old clothes, letting the car smell a little like sweat and engine exhaust fumes.

Christine hit the road in the wrong direction and pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru and ordered meals and large coffees. Rusty was thankful she hadn’t asked him if he wanted to drive. Because if she had asked, he might’ve opted to, anything to keep his mind busy, but he was jittery enough to ditch them and inadvertently sabotage himself. Again. His normal.

They’d stopped by her father’s house along the way. The desktop in the cubby office was asleep, but came awake at a keystroke. Christine opened Nero and gave Rusty the pertinent instructions while she went off to shower. Rusty listened for chance movement entering the home while the computer hummed and beeped through copying the disc.

Rusty was thinking again. Cary made promises, but Rusty was so trusting of Linda. Adding him last minute seemed off. Really, he simply hadn’t figured out how he’d protect himself against being the scapegoat of the heist, which the more he considered, the more that seemed likely. The idea that he could somehow convince Cary and Linda to sign a confession for him to carry seemed simultaneously the smartest and most unlikely option. Aside from that, he hadn’t come up with much worth considering because nothing seemed to fit. If the scheme was at all in Cary’s control, he’d come out okay.

But what if it wasn’t, not even a little bit?

Never even was?

What if Linda was simply using them all to get away from Dwayne? Get revenge on Dwayne?

Rusty looked at his reflection where it banked off the computer monitor and whispered, “You’re in a murderer’s house.”

On the street outside, a heavy car rolled close and then slowed. Instinctively, Rusty’s hackles went up. The care idled before it pulled away…or perhaps killed the engine in the driveway. He took in a deep breath. If the man would burn a family alive, he’d have no qualms about killing right there in his home office. Hell, Rusty was already a missed notch in the belt.

He waited. Did not dare take a breath.

A door creaked.

The trey on the tower rattled open after the speakers on the computer pinged and Rusty jumped at the sound, gasping a lungful. He paused, listening, but only heard Christine’s movements. He sighed as he read the message on the screen and removed the disc Mr. Beaman gave him and placed the blank Christine took from a spindle into the trey. He pushed it closed and the hums and beeps started anew. He watched the number jump a percent every handful of seconds