Read Online Aftermath by Michael Kerr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Kerr
Tags: Thrillers, Crime, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, Murder, Thrillers & Suspense, Vigilante Justice
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rid of him. Roy was just a burden now, and didn’t seem to realize that he had a lot of physiotherapy ahead of him before he would be able to get about again on his maimed feet.
Carmen Fontana helped Sal half carry Roy down the short hall and across the living room to where they lowered him onto a black faux leather sofa.
Roy’s girlfriend was not amused. “How come you’re lookin’ peachy and Roy is in such a mess?” Carmen asked Sal.
“I wasn’t with Roy when it happened,” Sal said defensively. He didn’t like Carmen; she was an ex-hooker with a bad attitude, who’d picked Roy up in a seedy bar in the State capital’s red light district. Carmen was beginning to lose her looks, and was smart enough to know that her best years were behind her. Roy had a nice apartment and always seemed to be flush with money. For some unknown reason he was besotted by Carmen: Couldn’t see that he was just a meal ticket to the woman.
It was a quick turnaround. Sal took Interstate 79, driving northeast, following the signal of the tracker that Roy had affixed to the woman’s Discovery. He came off at Weston and stopped thirty miles farther on at Elkins for something to eat. He was confidant that he would soon find the vehicle, and presupposed that the woman and her daughter would have linked up, and that the stranger who’d hurt Roy would be with them. No sweat. They would believe that they were in the wind, safe as bugs in a rug, unaware that their time was running out.
The signal had shown the vehicle stationary for several hours. He left the diner in Elkins planning to find them, reconnoiter where they were holed up, and kill them before dawn.
The flashing green cursor on the screen of his phone started to move. He followed the route it displayed and then lost it for a while. When the intermittent signal reappeared the vehicle had stopped again. He followed it in. Drove past a truck stop called The Gap. Pulled into a passing place round the next curve, out of sight of where he presumed the SUV was parked up. Got out of the Taurus, thumbed the remote to lock it and walked back along the berm of the highway till he reached the opening that led into the car lot. There was no sign of the Discovery. Sal checked between the parked trucks, but it wasn’t there. He jogged back to the car. The image on his smart phone was frozen. He tapped the phone against the steering wheel a couple of times. By coincidence the cursor came alive again and was moving back the way he had come, heading toward Elkins.
Fifteen minutes later, Sal passed the big semi truck and knew that he had been suckered. Whoever was protecting the women was not stupid. He’d found the tracker, fixed it to the truck, and would now be feeling smug and safe, convinced that any tail would end up following the truck to its destination.
Sal considered his options. There were only two. The trio had either taken off in the other direction, which meant he had little chance of finding them, or they were staying in the vicinity of The Gap.
He pulled off the highway, headed back the way he had come, and was soon parked in darkness, away from the yellow glow from begrimed lights that were affixed to posts at irregular intervals around the graveled lot. He slid out of the car and walked across to the rear entrance of the low building. It was rustic, its cinderblock walls faced with half logs, and there was a blue and white neon Bud sign blinking over the door, with big moths fluttering pointlessly around it in circles and bumping up against it.
It was hot and dimly lit inside. First thing Sal checked out was if there was a big guy in the joint who looked out of place. There wasn’t. In fact there were only seven customers, all male. Two were sitting at the bar on high, wooden stools. Three were at a table nursing beers, and the remaining two were playing pool. He could smell beer and sweat and
Carmen Fontana helped Sal half carry Roy down the short hall and across the living room to where they lowered him onto a black faux leather sofa.
Roy’s girlfriend was not amused. “How come you’re lookin’ peachy and Roy is in such a mess?” Carmen asked Sal.
“I wasn’t with Roy when it happened,” Sal said defensively. He didn’t like Carmen; she was an ex-hooker with a bad attitude, who’d picked Roy up in a seedy bar in the State capital’s red light district. Carmen was beginning to lose her looks, and was smart enough to know that her best years were behind her. Roy had a nice apartment and always seemed to be flush with money. For some unknown reason he was besotted by Carmen: Couldn’t see that he was just a meal ticket to the woman.
It was a quick turnaround. Sal took Interstate 79, driving northeast, following the signal of the tracker that Roy had affixed to the woman’s Discovery. He came off at Weston and stopped thirty miles farther on at Elkins for something to eat. He was confidant that he would soon find the vehicle, and presupposed that the woman and her daughter would have linked up, and that the stranger who’d hurt Roy would be with them. No sweat. They would believe that they were in the wind, safe as bugs in a rug, unaware that their time was running out.
The signal had shown the vehicle stationary for several hours. He left the diner in Elkins planning to find them, reconnoiter where they were holed up, and kill them before dawn.
The flashing green cursor on the screen of his phone started to move. He followed the route it displayed and then lost it for a while. When the intermittent signal reappeared the vehicle had stopped again. He followed it in. Drove past a truck stop called The Gap. Pulled into a passing place round the next curve, out of sight of where he presumed the SUV was parked up. Got out of the Taurus, thumbed the remote to lock it and walked back along the berm of the highway till he reached the opening that led into the car lot. There was no sign of the Discovery. Sal checked between the parked trucks, but it wasn’t there. He jogged back to the car. The image on his smart phone was frozen. He tapped the phone against the steering wheel a couple of times. By coincidence the cursor came alive again and was moving back the way he had come, heading toward Elkins.
Fifteen minutes later, Sal passed the big semi truck and knew that he had been suckered. Whoever was protecting the women was not stupid. He’d found the tracker, fixed it to the truck, and would now be feeling smug and safe, convinced that any tail would end up following the truck to its destination.
Sal considered his options. There were only two. The trio had either taken off in the other direction, which meant he had little chance of finding them, or they were staying in the vicinity of The Gap.
He pulled off the highway, headed back the way he had come, and was soon parked in darkness, away from the yellow glow from begrimed lights that were affixed to posts at irregular intervals around the graveled lot. He slid out of the car and walked across to the rear entrance of the low building. It was rustic, its cinderblock walls faced with half logs, and there was a blue and white neon Bud sign blinking over the door, with big moths fluttering pointlessly around it in circles and bumping up against it.
It was hot and dimly lit inside. First thing Sal checked out was if there was a big guy in the joint who looked out of place. There wasn’t. In fact there were only seven customers, all male. Two were sitting at the bar on high, wooden stools. Three were at a table nursing beers, and the remaining two were playing pool. He could smell beer and sweat and
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