Sinners & Scarecrows Page 30

  Spider gently cradled Blaze’s head and tipped some water into his mouth as he said, “You detective friend figured out what you were up to.”

  Blaze gazed at Ryan almost lovingly. “Thanks, man,” he croaked.

  Ryan gripped his hand as he said, “I can’t take all the credit; it was your father who stitched you up and saved your sorry ass,” He motioned across the room.

  Blaze’s features hardened the second he saw Archer. “Doesn’t change a thing,” he said. He tried to sit up but the pain from his shoulder tore through him as if his bones were made from barbed wire.

  “Just take it easy,” said Spider.

  “How did you make it out of the water with only one flipper?” said Ryan, referring to his busted shoulder.

  “I almost didn’t. But drowning wasn’t an option. I still have unfinished business to deal with. It was enough motivation to swim through the pain.” He looked across at Archer.

  Archer swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “What about when you went over the bluffs? I thought you’d have been knocked out and trapped in the car once you hit the water.”

  “I prepared myself by opening the car door and stayed inside until I felt it was safe to jump.”

  “You mean you jumped out of the car mid-fall? You’re fucking nuts!” said Ciggy.

  Blaze grimaced as he laughed. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”

  Papa Bear darkened the mood. He said, “As much as I’m happy to see you, brother, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Blaze suddenly remembered the horrible phone call he’d made before he risked his life over Cooper’s Bluffs. “I already know about Zoe,” he replied.

  “How?” Ryan asked.

  Blaze did his best to explain his goodbye phone call he’d made to Zoe.

  “You mean it was Charlotte that killed her? The commissioner’s daughter?”

  “That’s the reason I had to risk everything and hide out up here until it was safe to return. I will have my revenge, even if it kills me,” he said coldly.

  “It almost bloody did,” said Ryan. “You’ve got more luck than sense!”

  “So, what do you want to do with him?” Trigger interrupted, motioning towards Archer from his seat at the table.

  “What day is it?” Blaze asked.

  “Sunday,” Lemon answered.

  “Perfect,” he replied sadistically. “I always did enjoy a good Sunday roast.”

  Chapter 86

  “Help me outside so I can watch the fun,” Blaze asked Ciggy and Lemon. They happily obliged, leaving him comfortable, resting back against a large tree stump.

  Spider and Trigger chopped some strong branches from the surrounding bush before building their barbaric construction.

  Ace and Papa Bear subdued Archer and dragged him towards the campfire. They stripped his clothes, then stretched out his limbs, binding them to a long, thick branch, securing him tight with extra rope around his waist.

  “Blaze!” Archer screamed. “I’m your father for God’s sake!”

  “You don’t have to do this,” said Ryan solemnly. “I can live with you shooting him, which is why I suggested bringing him out here, but what you’re planning is just sick.”

  “No one’s forcing you to stay,” Blaze replied. “This has been a long time coming for me. You know how personal this is.”

  Ryan held up his hands. “I can’t watch this.” He returned inside the cabin.

  “Please, Blaze!” Arched continued. “I’ll give you anything you want!”

  Blaze locked eyes with him. “How’s your knowledge on the Comanche Indians?” he asked.

  Archer was baffled by his left field question, and was in too much of a panic to answer.

  “They were notorious for their killing and torturing of white settlers and rival tribes,” Blaze started. “They would butcher the babies, repeatedly gang rape the women, and among other various methods of torture, roast the men alive. They would ride a thousand miles just to kill one family out of revenge if they had to.”

  Blaze took comfort from the terrified look on Archer’s face, then continued. “I admire their ways. It was never too much trouble to seek justice. They would do whatever was necessary, and torture was their specialty. The women would burn their prisoners’ hands and feet until the nerves were completely destroyed, then amputate the limb and start the process all over again. They could keep a prisoner alive for days while torturing them, squeezing every last writhe and scream from their mutilated bodies. And guess what, asshole? Today I’m on team Comanche.”

  “I’ve been nothing but generous to you and your club,” Archer cried. “And I saved your life!”

  “You’re a fucking rapist,” Blaze cut him off. “And it all makes sense as to why I’m so fucked in the head. I’m the son of a monster—the monster who threw me into The Wolves’ Den and left me for dead! The same piece of shit who defiled my mother; the same twisted freak who imports underage girls into the country and sells them to useless fuckers like Luther Sutherland!” He nodded to Ace and Papa Bear.

  They each picked up an end of the log Archer was bound to. “I’m sorry, Blaze! I made a mistake!” he pleaded.

  Blaze struggled to his feet with help with Lemon and Ciggy. “You made a mistake? Was that the same fucking mistake you made when you put a bullet through Ellie’s face? Danny topped himself because you broke his fucking heart! Which in turn, fucking shattered mine!”

  Ace and Papa Bear secured the log into the supports Ace and Spider had constructed either side of the campfire. Spider had let the flames burn down. Archer hung face down over the red hot embers.

  Blaze returned to his tree stump, and asked Ciggy for a smoke. He slowly dragged on the tobacco, basking in the moment while quietly etching the horror show into his mind.

  Archer grimaced as the endless wave of hot air gnawed away at his chest and arms. His screams intensified to high pitched squeals as his pasty white flesh on his chest bubbled red, blistering as his outer layers of skin roasted under the constant heat.

  When Blaze finished his cigarette, he called out to Archer, “I promised you this day would come. You should have listened to me. You did this to yourself,” he snickered. “Do you remember saying that to me when you threw me to the Wolves at Winterhill?”

  Archer’s wailing groans sufficed as an answer.

  Blaze asked Spider to stoke up the fire. He tossed some dried, leafy branches beneath Archer and blew on the embers. The leaves ignited instantly. They flames quickly rose beneath Archer’s chest; the crisp crackling sound haunted Archer to his core.

  “Please,” Archer begged as the flames started to take interest in his torso. “Please just shoot me!” he squealed.

  “Concede defeat, and I’ll grant you the mercy of a bullet,” replied Blaze.

  Archer relinquished his pride. “I concede!” he screamed as the flames started to envelop his body.”

  Ryan sat back against the wall of the log cabin. The horrific noise outside picked away at his conscience; he couldn’t ignore the situation any longer. I have to end this, he thought.

  He reached for one of Blaze’s hunting rifles on the wall and took action. He picked it up and surged outside. When he was sure he’d lined up his shot, he frantically squeezed the trigger.

  Everyone jumped as the unexpected shockwave blasted through the clearing.

  Archer’s head exploded.

  “What the fuck!” Blaze shouted. “You could have warned us before shooting the fucking place up!”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said, as he carefully placed the gun down. “It had to be done. And if you disagree, you’re all no better than he was!”

  Blaze chuckled. “It’s all right, man, I was just about to end his misery.” He stared at Archer—the flames had fully enveloped his carcass.

  Ryan breathed a sigh a relief. “So we’re good, then?”

  Blaze grinned as he replied, “That all depends; how do you like your Archer? Medium rare?”r />
  Chapter 87

  “So, it’s settled: you both retain your jobs with recommendations of a substantial pay increase and benefits after the successful demise of the Lombardi family business and all known associates. Detective Gibson’s children will receive scholarships in whatever field of their choosing when they reach university age, and the same applies for any future children Detective Ryan should have. In addition, the SAS are no longer a threat in the eyes of the New Zealand Police Force. They will be free to resume their lives as the low life thugs that they are—on the condition they cease all illegal activities and present themselves as law-abiding citizens. And off the record, even though I have no actual proof of their involvement in the abduction of Seth Archer and his associate Francois Steyn, I am more than convinced that they were the party responsible. Having said that, I have personally seen to it that the file is closed and that there will be no further investigation. I would like you both to acknowledge that I have met your demands before I move on to the second part of this agreement by signing this legally binding document.”

  Ryan and Sandra both put pen to paper.

  The commissioner also signed his name to the agreed clauses, then continued. “Now, in return for my cooperation, the details regarding the Bowmans’ murder case are to remain buried. The record states that they were killed by an unknown assailant, and it is now officially classified as a cold case. And secondly, the video footage of the attempted execution of Bobby Blaise in Brighton Square is to be permanently erased. I understand you are aware of the video’s location?”

  “Yes, Commissioner. I can have it erased in one simple phone call,” Ryan answered.

  “Very good. Then we are all in agreement? This matter is put to rest?”

  “I just have one tiny detail I’d like addressed,” said Ryan.

  “Go on.”

  “What happens in the unlikely scenario that Blaze turns up? They say it’s impossible to kill a cockroach.”

  The commissioner scoffed. “I think you’ll find the likelihood is remote. No one has seen or heard of his whereabouts in the past seventy-two hours. I’m sure he’s slowly rotting on the bottom of the Sterling.”

  “Yes, I agree, but, what if...?”

  The commissioner scratched his chin as he mulled over his answer. “Well, in accordance with our agreement, as a member of the SAS, Blaze will be free from any prosecution as long as he stays within the confines of the law. And as I don’t believe in ghosts, I doubt we have anything to worry about where he’s concerned. But if at any stage he should crawl out of the woodwork, I’d say it would be in his best interests to stay as far away from Brighton as possible. You never know when a gun might accidentally go off. Now, are we all clear? If any one of us should break any of the said clauses of this agreement, the party concerned will be liable for imprisonment and fined up to two hundred thousand dollars. This ensures the details of this arrangement never come to light.”

  They both reluctantly gave their consent and signed once more.

  “I’ll never be comfortable with this, knowing what you did,” Ryan said.

  “Neither will I,” Sandra added.

  “Then perhaps I should put the break and enter charges back on the table? Or aiding and abetting an escaped convict? Or perhaps you can tell me what really happened to Seth Archer after he miraculously disappeared from the face of the Earth, Detective?” He raised an eyebrow at Ryan.

  “I’m sorry, sir; I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied.

  “No, I’m sure you don’t. But you and I both know that you’re not as straight an arrow as you make yourself out to be. Your constant devotion to that deviant Bobby Blaise will forever puzzle me. And as for you, Detective Gibson, I simply expected better. Now, both of you get out of my office. I have a long overdue retirement party to attend.”

  “You mean we aren’t invited?” Ryan asked.

  “Out!” he snapped. “And let us pray we never cross paths again!”

  They both took their leave.

  On the ride down the elevator, Sandra said to Ryan, “So, what did actually happen to Seth Archer? You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back. You never did tell me what happened after the morning Blaze died.”

  “I’m sorry, Sandra,” he replied. “Even if I wanted to tell you, I can’t.”

  “Oh, come on. You mean to say that even after all we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me?”

  Ryan sighed. “Believe me when I say that I trust you with my life. But I promised a certain someone that I’d keep the events of the past few days to myself.”

  “I assume you’re referring to that dirt bag, Spider?” she sulked. “You know, you don’t have to take orders from those outlaws anymore. It’s time you moved on.”

  “Who said anything about taking orders from Spider?” he replied with a wry grin.

  Sandra looked confused, then covered her mouth as she gasped in realisation. “You mean Blaze, don’t you? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

  Ryan grinned as he replied, “Now you're just talking crazy. Only fools believe in ghosts.”

  Epilogue

  Peter Stuart stepped out onto his balcony and breathed in the cool, morning air as he sipped his sweet cup of tea.

  Retirement suited him. He had never felt so relaxed. He felt confident that he’d got away with murder; his secret was safe through the deals he’d made with Ryan and Sandra. He felt at peace knowing Blaze hadn’t resurfaced and sought him out. He felt his beloved Hazel was smiling down on him. Life was grand.

  To make things even better, Charlotte was joining him for breakfast. He loved spending time with her. She was all he had left of Hazel. She never complained about the fact she’d lost her thumb in the battle to avenge her mother. She’d said it was worth it.

  As he took the last sip of tea from his plain china cup, he noticed Charlotte pull into his driveway. He bustled down the stairs to greet her.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you!” he said as she stepped out of her car and threw her arms around him. “Please, come in,” he said, beaming.

  They were interrupted by a yellow courier van that pulled up behind Charlotte. Peter hurried over to the driver to sign for the package. As the van reversed out of the driveway, he tore open the courier bag, revealing a wooden box the size of a large, hard-covered book. It had an elegant silver plaque fastened to the lid that read: To a deserving family: Peter and Charlotte Stuart.

  “Well, that’s good timing!” he said. “It’s addressed to both of us. Shall we take it upstairs and open it?”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been receiving quite the number of cards and boxes of chocolates for the past few weeks since I made my retirement official. It’s probably just a belated gift for the two of us to enjoy now that I have so much time on my hands.”

  She accompanied him inside. “Cup of tea?” he asked as she sat on his lounge suite.

  “Please,” she replied. Then after a moment’s silence, she called out, “So what’s the big news?”

  Confused, he replied, “What big news?”

  “The reason you messaged me to come over.”

  He scratched the top of his head. “Forgive me, Charlotte, but if I recall correctly, it was you who left a text message on my phone saying you wanted to come over and talk about something urgent.”

  She was taken aback. “I think you’re getting senile in your old age,” she giggled. “I never messaged you.”

  He accepted her argument without protest. “Well, I’m not getting any younger.” He laughed. “You’ll have to forgive me if I get my wires crossed sometimes. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  “That’s all right. It’s just nice to see you smiling after all these years.”

  “Pancakes and bacon?” he asked as he flicked on the hob.

  “Sounds perfect. Just like Mum used to make.”

  He looked at her lovingly. “At least we still have each
other.”

  She changed the subject before her emotions ran away with her. “How about we open that package? It looks exciting!”

  “What a splendid idea!”

  He put down his mixing bowl and wooden spoon. She retrieved the box off the bench top and stood next to him. “I hope it’s chocolates like you said.” She smiled.

  She lifted the lid.

  The room erupted from the huge explosion.

  The driver of the yellow courier van saw the fireball blast through the second storey windows from his position out on the street, then he made the call. “It’s over,” he confirmed.

  “Are you sure?” the man on the other end replied.

  “Trust me; Zoe is at peace now, brother.”

  Blaze inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled long and slow. “I can’t thank you enough, Ciggy. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

  “Letting me stay and watch the explosion was thanks enough,” he chuckled. “And be sure to thank Danny’s computer geek friend for hacking into their phones and setting them up for my retirement gift. That was fucking genius.”

  Blaze laughed. “You know I will.”

  Ciggy paused, then asked, “So will you ever come back? We all miss you, man.”

  “Maybe one day when the coast is clear. But for now, it’s best if I stay away. Living off the grid has its advantages; they won’t suspect my involvement in the commissioner’s death.”

  “I understand,” he said sadly.

  They said their goodbyes. Blaze knew his life in the SAS was over.

  He was a dead man walking.

  He tossed his phone into the trash can on the side of the busy New York street, and went in search of the nearest bar.

  Alone.

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