She said, “You were drunk when you strangled Darcy, Richie. You’d get second-degree at most. Diminished capacity. You don’t want to run now.”
“I don’t, huh?” he snapped at her. “You really think I want to spend ten years in prison? There’s no fucking way, Amy. No way. I’m heading for Mexico. I can be there in two days. I know people there. I can vanish for the rest of my life.”
“And it’ll be some life,” Amy said.
“Better than life in prison.” Then, “That fucking Jimmy. He had to go and tell everybody what he saw.”
This is what he’d suddenly remembered about last night...
Darcy hadn’t been dead when David and Helen Cummings set her on the hill behind Richie’s cottage. The blow to her head had knocked her unconscious, but in their panic they hadn’t checked her carefully. Last night’s hard, cold rain had awakened her and she’d gone down to Richie’s cottage. She was angry, threatening to tell her father on him if he didn’t let her spend the night there. Richie, blind drunk, strangled her to death and then put her back on the hill. Jimmy saw all this. He’d come to give Richie the bread from Amy. Then he saw Richie, still staggering drunk, take Darcy up on the hill again and cover her with leaves once more.
“I can barely remember it,” Richie said, “and for that I’m going to prison? No fucking way.”
“Your life won’t be over if you turn yourself in now, Richie,” she said. “But it will be if you run.”
She watched as Sam tried to push himself to his feet. “Listen to your sister, Richie. She’s right. I’ll tell everybody that the gun discharged accidentally while you and I were wrestling for it. I’ll make sure there aren’t any charges.”
“You could even be out in less than ten years,” Amy said. “And you’d be free to do what you want.”
“Oh, yeah, an ex-con has so many great choices in life.”
Richie was facing her again, forgetting Sam momentarily. “I appreciate everything, Amy. But I’ve got to leave. I really do.”
She watched as Sam leaned forward — his eyes never leaving Richie’s back — and began to slide his hand down his black boot.
His spare gun.
She’d forgotten about that.
This was the best she could hope for. Sam would take his spare gun and make Richie hand his gun to Amy. Then nobody would be hurt.
“I’m leaving now, Amy,” Richie said. “I want you to stand over by Sam.”
Was there going to be time for Sam to pull his gun? His hand was still in his boot.
“Go on,” Richie said. “Stand over there now.”
She felt the weapon in her own pocket. Moments before entering the cottage, she’d transferred the gun to the right-hand pocket of her jacket.
“Go on,” Richie said.
She walked over to the wall where Sam sat. His hand was still in his boot.
When Richie saw the angle of Sam’s arm in relationship to the boot, he smiled.
“Caught you, didn’t I? You cops always carry guns in your boots, don’t you? Hand it over.”
He walked over, reached down, and put the tip of his gun barrel right against Sam’s forehead.
“Give me the gun,” Richie said.
Sam looked up bleakly at Amy and shook his head. They both knew what lay ahead. Richie was going to escape. There would be an even wider manhunt. And given Richie’s temper, he’d be shot to death somewhere on the American side of the border.
Sam slid a blue snub-nosed .38 from inside his boot.
Richie held his hand out. Palm up.
Sam laid the .38 carefully across Richie’s palm.
Richie hefted the gun momentarily and then shoved it into his back pocket.
He walked over to the telephone, bent down, found the cord connecting it to the jack, and then ripped the cord free.
“No phone,” he said. “And no cars. I’m going to fix your engines so they won’t start. And I’m going to take your cell phones. It’ll be a while before you’re able to contact anybody.”
He was a stranger again to her. She’d never seen her little brother’s face this hard, this angry. He showed no remorse at all. This terrified her. She remembered all the stories she’d heard about his hard, cold temper. All the years she’d refused to believe them... but now...
“Richie,” she said, “you killed a girl last night. And it doesn’t seem to matter to you.”
“She was a bitch,” he said. “I didn’t have a hell of a lot of choice, did I?”
“Sure you did. You didn’t have any right to kill her no matter what she said to you.”
He walked up to her. Put his hand on her shoulder. “Amy, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me all my life. But I’m not going to prison. And that’s where she wanted to see me go. I was dumping her, so she was going to ruin me. I know you don’t believe this but I didn’t have any choice.”
He walked over to the door. “You’ll hear from me sometime. From Mexico.”
“You won’t get that far, Richie,” Sam said. “They’ll find you. And you’ll have to kill them or they’ll have to kill you. You don’t want any more blood on your hands, do you?”
Richie smiled. “Thanks for the pretty speech, Sam. I need to hear things like that every once in a while.”
He walked over to the table and picked up a small collection of money. Stuffed it in his pocket.
She wouldn’t have many chances, she knew.
It had to be very soon.
He said, “I guess there isn’t much more to say, Amy. I don’t blame you for being pissed.”
“Pissed? Richie. You killed somebody.” She heard the whine in her voice but his words had stunned her. He was talking as if he’d committed some kind of social faux pas instead of murder. Now she had no doubt that he would also kill others when he felt he needed to. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be for us. Sam and I are sworn to uphold the law. We can’t let you walk out of here.”
The chill smile. “You can’t, huh? How you going to stop me?”
“I have ways.”
“I kind of like it when you’re pissed like this, Amy. Shows me a side of you I never saw before.”
“I’m telling you, Richie. You’re not going to walk out that door.”
He glanced at them both and then walked to the door.
He turned his back to them to open it, and that was when she took her gun out and said, “Stop right there, Richie.”
He turned around to see that she was holding a gun on him just as he was holding a gun on her.
He said, “I don’t want to have to kill you, Amy.”
“I don’t want to have to kill you, either.”
“Put your gun down.”
“It’s too late, Richie. I have to turn you over to the law.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Amy.” To Sam he said, “Sam, tell her. You know people like me. Tell her that I’ll kill her if I need to.”
“I think she already knows that, Richie,” Sam said softly. “I think she realized that a few minutes ago.”
Richie laughed. “Another one of your nice little speeches, huh, Sam?”
“Put your gun down on the table,” Amy said.
“It’s not going to happen, Amy. I’m going to walk out that door and you’re not going to stop me.”
“But I am, Richie. That’s what you don’t realize. I can’t let you go on and kill somebody else. I’ve got a duty to stop you.”
He stared at her gun for a long moment, then raised his gaze to hers. “You’re not going to kill anybody, Amy, and you know it.” He spoke in a curiously gentle way. Then he said, “I love you, Amy. I really do.”
He glanced around the cottage one final time and then put his hand on the door again.