Page 15 of Kill Jill


  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “How?”

  “Remember our talk about synchronicity?”

  “Coincidences are like conspiracy theories. If they’re on your mind, you find them everywhere.”

  “I’ll give that some thought, Jack. In the meantime, see if you agree this is a coincidence. Remember Abbie Rhodes, from Willow Lake?”

  The expression on his face says he does.

  “What about her?”

  “Two hours ago her husband Darryl attacked Jill in your front yard because, according to him, you fucked his wife. Get the coincidence? At the same time he’s punishing Jill because you fucked his wife, I’m punishing you for fucking my wife!”

  Jack closes his eyes, thinking Poor Jill. She’d have been safer with Bobby than me.

  Bobby says, “Don’t worry. My guy put a bullet in Darryl’s forehead. Now half the town’s in your front yard. Neighbors, cops, technicians…if my bomb guy’s calculations are right, we’re going to wipe out half the town’s population tonight.”

  “You’re telling me this for a reason,” Jack says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something you want me to do in return for not killing Jill. It’s why you wanted me completely lucid tonight. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Spare Jill’s life and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Bobby’s face shows amusement. “You’ll do anything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you kill yourself?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Kill a child?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have sex with a goat?”

  “A goat?”

  “You said ‘anything.’”

  Jack frowns in disgust. “Spare Jill and I’ll do anything you say.”

  “Tell me you’ll have sex with a goat and all the male prisoners here. Wait. Let me tape this.” He presses a button on his cell phone. Then says, “Okay. What’s your name?”

  “Jack Tallow.”

  “Jack, tell me what you’re willing to do if I let Jill go.”

  Jack says, “I’ll have sex with a goat and all the male prisoners here.”

  Bobby laughs till his sides hurt. Then he clicks off the recording app and says, “Are you listening to yourself, Jack?”

  “Yeah. And I keep hearing myself say I’ll do anything, but I don’t hear you telling me what it’ll take.”

  “Kill Jill.”

  “What?”

  “Would you kill Jill?”

  He pauses. “Yes.”

  “Why? Because you think you can kill her more humanely than me?”

  “No. But if I kill her myself at least the other people in Willow Lake will live.”

  “What, I’m supposed to think you’re a wonderful guy now? A real humanitarian?”

  “I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

  “You say you’ll do anything,” Bobby says.

  “That’s right.”

  “Would you trade places with Jill?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Would you be willing to walk out of here a free man, knowing Jill would have to take your place?”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I don’t need you to bring Jill back. I could have my man on the ground do it tonight. But believe me when I say I’ll treat her worse than the others. I won’t just let her rot, I’ll punish her in ways you can’t even comprehend. What if I bring her back, put her on this chair, and force you to tell her the reason she’s going to be in a jail cell for the rest of her life is because I traded your freedom for her captivity. Would you still want me to spare her life?”

  “No.”

  Bobby laughs. “That was fun, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was just fucking with you. My man can’t waltz in there and remove her with all those people milling about. There are a hundred of them crawling all over the neighborhood. You thought I was telling you all this for a reason? I was. But only because I wanted to gloat, like any respectable movie villain would do. No, Jack, there’s nothing I want from you. Except to make you feel utterly powerless, like I felt when Jill stopped loving me and there was nothing I could do about it. And of course I want you to experience the agony of losing your home, your neighbors, and your new girlfriend. I want you to live with the knowledge that if you’d simply kept your dick in your pants and brought her back, like you were paid to do, none of this would have happened. I’m telling you all this and keeping you lucid because I want you to share this moment with me. You and I will experience Jill’s death together. And this memory will be firmly etched in your mind when my doctor removes your nuts and vocal cords.”

  He puts his phone on speaker and presses a button.

  Jack hears the phone ring, hears a man answer, “Decker.”

  Bobby says, “Can you talk?”

  “Yeah,” Decker says. “I’m in position. No one can hear me.”

  “I’ve got Jack Tallow on speaker phone.”

  “He’s with you? At your place?”

  “Yeah. Have you heard from Mike the Pilot?”

  “We’ve been in contact.”

  “Tell Jack what’s going to happen to his lake house.”

  “Mike’s going to fly over the house, drop the canister. When it detonates, the aluminum powder and fuel will form a mushroom cloud that’ll mix with atmospheric oxygen, and fall like rain on all people and structures within the blast radius. Then I’ll fire a warhead to detonate the cloud, and create a blast wave strong enough to destroy everything within the initial radius.”

  “You used the word ‘destroy.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “Can you give Jack a precise description of what you mean?”

  “The lake house will be completely decimated, including the basement foundation, to a depth of at least six feet. Surrounding houses will suffer massive damage.”

  “And the people in the house and yard?”

  “In the simulated version, most would become human fireballs. Those furthest away would suffer critical, if not fatal, injuries, including ruptured lungs, blindness, burst eardrums, extensive third-degree burns...”

  “Will we be able to hear the screams?”

  Decker pauses a moment before saying, “What screams?”

  “From the wounded people.”

  “Hopefully there won’t be any.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mike’s parked on your airfield in Memphis, waiting for my call. Which he won’t get till all the gawkers have cleared the area.”

  “What are you talking about? You said we could wipe out half the town tonight.”

  “I was explaining the explosive force. We could kill most of those people tonight. But we’re not going to.”

  “We’re not?”

  “No, Mr. Dee. We’re not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t work that way.”

  “You killed Darryl tonight. And you agreed to kill Jill.”

  “That’s different.”

  Bobby thinks about it a minute, then says, “You’re still planning to kill Jill, though, right?”

  “I said I would.”

  “And that means?”

  “She’s as good as dead. You have my word. She won’t escape.”

  “You’re certain she’s in the house?”

  “I got a visual on her through the window a short while ago.”

  “Could she have slipped out the back?”

  “Not hardly.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, there are several people in the house with her. For another, I would’ve seen her. I’m in the water, behind Jack’s house.”

  “You’re in the water? What about your equipment? Your rocket launcher?”

  “Everything’s in the bass boat.”

  “I don’t’ understand.”

  “I hid the rocket launcher and sniper rifle in the hold
of a bass boat and drove it to the edge of the peninsula hours ago. I took my rifle up the hill to use my scope as a spotter to give Mike coordinates and terrain. Saw Darryl and his wife pull into Jack’s driveway. When Jill showed up after jogging, I moved in close enough to hear their confrontation. Darryl came at her, and I killed him.”

  “You should have shot Jill, too.”

  “You hired me to blow her up, not shoot her.”

  “Just so we’re clear. If she escapes from the house before you blow it up—”

  “I’ll hunt her down, kill her, cut her head off, and bring it to you.”

  “Perfect. Where are you now?”

  “A quarter-mile from shore, hanging on the side of the boat.”

  “How the fuck can you fire a rocket launcher while treading water?”

  “I’ll prop it on the side of the boat, and fire from here.”

  “What if you miss?”

  “Ray Charles couldn’t miss the target Mike’s going to make.”

  “Still, you’re a quarter-mile away,” Bobby says. “I’d feel better if you moved closer.”

  “Any closer and I’ll be part of the barbecue.”

  “Well, can you see anything? I mean, it’s dark out back, right? How would you be able to tell if Jill makes a run for it?”

  “I’m wearing night vision goggles. Anyone comes out the back, I see them.”

  “I’m going to want visual confirmation of Jill’s death.”

  Decker pauses. “That’s going to be hard to do.”

  “Why?”

  “I could drive the boat to shore, but I’d have to search through the flames and rubble.”

  “You should have time to do that, if everyone in the neighborhood is dead or dying.”

  “The neighborhood casualties will be limited to Jill and whoever else is still in the house when I fire the warhead. But they’ll be carbon by the time I get there. I won’t be able to tell men from women.”

  “I don’t want her getting away.”

  “She’s not going anywhere. The sheriff has been questioning her. He’s not going to let her out of his sight.”

  “I still want you to check the house afterward.”

  “Because?”

  “The bitch always seems to find a way to fuck up my plans.”

  Decker sighs. “I’ll do my best.”

  “What about Mike the Pilot?”

  “If you still want him eliminated, I’ll shoot before he clears the blast area. If you want him alive, I’ll wait an extra twenty seconds before firing.”

  “Mike’s a good man,” Bobby says, “but he knows too much. Shoot early, and call me when it’s over.”

  “Okay. When I fire the warhead I’ll film the results and stream them to you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  They end the call.

  Jack says, “Don’t do this, Bobby. It’s mass murder.”

  “You’re turning into a nag, Jack.”

  “And you’re turning into a terrorist.”

  Bobby says, “Can I be honest? You’re not much fun to be around.”

  “Sorry if I’m ruining your big moment.”

  “Are you always like this? Because I’ve gotta tell you, the sound of your voice is making a big stink in my ears.”

  Bobby presses a button on his phone. When someone answers he says, “Is the doctor here yet? Good. Bring him on down.” He listens a moment, then says, “Yes, of course I’m going to watch. I always watch.”

  Leeds Road, Willow Lake, Arkansas.

  Present Day, Present Time.

  Bobby’s man on the ground, Ryan Decker, removes his night vision goggles and places them in the boat. Then gives Mike the Pilot the go-ahead, which means Decker has thirty seconds to get the rocket launcher in position.

  More than enough time.

  Mike flies over Jack’s house, disengages the canister, and the initial bomb detonates just as it was programmed to do.

  No surprise there, Decker knows his shit.

  He’d love to take a few seconds to marvel at the mushroom cloud, but since he needs to blow Mike out of the sky, he can’t spare the time. He fires the warhead, tosses the rocket launcher in the boat, and ducks underneath, just in case he miscalculated the distance.

  He didn’t.

  The explosion rocks the sky. As predicted, when Decker surfaces, he sees half the neighborhood in flames. Jack’s house has been leveled, as have the vacant houses on both sides. To the left, several other vacant homes are on fire. If he had done it Bobby’s way, dozens of bystanders would be dead, dozens more would be in flames, running and hopping about like fireflies.

  Ryan gets his cell phone from the boat, takes a short video, texts it to Bobby. Ten minutes later, he calls from the blast site.

  Bobby says, “I got the video. Fuckin’ amazing!”

  Decker says, “I’m standing behind Jack’s house. The area’s too hot for me to get closer right now, but I have some information for you.”

  “Will it make me happy?”

  “I think so. Is Jack Tallow still with you?”

  “He is, but he’s unconscious. I just had his vocal cords removed.”

  Decker pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it a moment in disbelief. Then puts it back to his ear and says, “Why?”

  “I gave him a choice of losing his nuts or his vocal cords.”

  “And he chose his vocal cords?”

  “Surprisingly, no. He chose to lose his nuts. So I took his vocal cords. I’ll take his nuts in a few days. Give him something to look forward to. Cool, huh?”

  “I’m at a bomb site, remember?”

  “Right. Sorry. What’s the good news?”

  “Jack’s house had a secret room.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a fall-away lot to the lake. He built a secret room beneath the main floor that’s hidden behind the retaining wall.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the blast took out the ceiling and front wall.”

  “Why’s that good news for me?”

  “Your wife was in the secret room when the bomb went off.”

  “No shit? That’s great! Wait. You’re sure it’s her?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. The secret room goes under the ground on one end, and butts up against the retaining wall that faces the lake. There’s a metal door below it, and maybe Jack had a way to use the door as an escape route. But if he did, Jill didn’t know about it, because she’s still in there. It’s freaky the way the blast affected the secret room.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like I’m looking at the back half of a kid’s doll house. Half the secret room is still intact. That’s the part that was partially underground. Jill’s lying on her side on the cot like nothing happened, except that most of the organs that used to be inside her are splattered all over the room.”

  “You’re sure she’s dead?”

  “Trust me. Her body imploded from the power of the blast. If I could get closer, I’d drag her out and throw what’s left of her on the ground and send you a photograph.

  “Can you try?”

  “Not to complain, but I’m still at the bomb site, remember? I originally planned to haul ass after firing the warhead. Now you’ve had me drive the boat ashore, engage in a discussion about severed nuts and vocal cords, and I’ve taken the time to find and positively identify your wife’s body, which I managed to do only because of the secret room. And yes, she’s thoroughly and completely dead. Had she been anywhere else I wouldn’t have been able to ID her. But I’d prefer not to take the time to work my way into the wreckage and pull her out. It’s a very dangerous area. Also, I wouldn’t have time to get her DNA off me.”

  “You could make it look like you’re searching for survivors.”

  “True, but there’s the issue of my bass boat tied to what’s left of Jack’s boat dock. Not to mention my sniper’s rifle and rocket launcher are in the boat, and I have to get them
and myself out of the area.”

  Bobby sighs. “Okay, leave her there. But photograph what you can, and send it to me.”

  “Will do.”

  Decker takes some pictures of the general area and forwards them to Bobby, knowing in advance his cell phone can’t provide definitive details because he’s too far away, it’s dark, and there’s smoke and pockets of fire everywhere.

  Decker turns off his phone and removes the battery so no one can trace him. Then he runs to the front yard, searches to make sure no one else was killed or injured in the blast. He sees no one in the yard, but there’s a man and two women lying by the side of the road a short distance away. They’re rolling around, disoriented, but generally unhurt.

  He recognizes one of them. Abbie Rhodes. Abbie says, “Emma Wilson must’ve flashed her tits again.”

  The young man says, “My parents run the grocery store.”

  Decker assumes the second woman is Milly Reston, town gossip.

  Decker flips them onto their stomachs, pulls down their pants, takes a black grease pen from his pocket and writes the letters BWC on their asses. After photographing his work, he runs to the dock, jumps in the boat, pushes off. Fires up the motor and says, “Bobby thinks you’re dead.”

  “Thanks, Ryan,” Jill says. “I owe you.”

  Thirty Minutes Earlier…

  Sheriff Cox wants Jill to provide Jack’s phone number?

  It’s over.

  The yard’s crawling with people, and there are at least five others in the house. Jill was lucky to make it into the closet without being detected. There was a terrifying moment when she was completely vulnerable after sliding the freezer away from the wall. As she scrambled behind it in the dark she lost her shoe. She thought about leaving it in the closet, but doing so would be like painting an arrow that points to her location. She had to go back and find it, put it on, and start over.

  And somehow she made it.

  She must have been crazy to think Jack’s stupid lake house idea would work. Nor did Jack do her any favors by failing to mention he fucked the backwoods child bride Abbie Rhodes, who was basically half-receptacle, half-punching bag for her primitive Neanderthal husband, Darryl.

  Jesus, Jack. Could you really be that careless with Abbie? This is a small town. Everyone knows everything.