The Silver Lake Murder by Gregg Matthews (read novel full txt) 📗

her clothes, trying to recover. She was running for her life, and no one seemed to care. Most of the local people have gone home.

There was an old Lakeview Lounge pickup truck with Luke and Pierre in it behind her. The truck was quickly catching up. She could not see but thought there was a trail of people on foot chasing the pickup truck, trying to figure out what was going on. Shawn, Caleb, and Dylan must have been following the pickup truck on foot. Kelly, Tracy, Shannon, and Megan must have been running as fast as they could behind them.

Cindy was running as fast as she could. Luke and Pierre were determined to catch her. Cindy knew too much about Luke’s Jackal operation, and tonight’s meeting did not go well for her. She knew the violent slashing with a razor blade made Luke and Pierre want to silence her.

Bleeding and bloodied from the punches to her face from Pierre caused her to cry; the makeup, blood, sweat, and tears all mixed together on her face made her unrecognizable.

Luke and Pierre were close behind her, and they were about to catch her. She was winded and desperate for help. She would have done anything to avoid another beating. She turned her head and body and could see Luke and Pierre in the pickup truck close behind her.

“Help!” Cindy cried out.

Knowing they needed to catch her and keep her contained in The Devil’s Den made her want to run faster. Out of breath, gasping for air, she continued running down Route 38, along the front of Silver Lake, towards the large white sign.

She looked up while she was running and saw the headlights of the oncoming pickup truck. I was driving towards her. She stepped out in front of my pickup truck more than she should have, but she must have been sure I saw her. She must have been briefly relieved to frantically wave her arms over her head, hoping I saw her. She was hoping I would stop and help her.

She must have recognized the pickup truck from next door and at the bar. She continued waving her arms and yelling for help. She must have been relieved at the sight of the truck.

She must not have been able to see what was going on in the cab of the oncoming truck. She may have wondered why the truck was not slowing down and why she could not see anyone driving the truck. I was looking down at the popped lighter.

“Pete!” Cindy shouted desperately into the empty night.

“Pete!” Cindy shouted again, waving her arms over her head desperately.

Cindy met the hood and the grill of the pickup truck I was driving that night. She must have had a flash memory of her neighbor, me and my five Driving Under the Influence convictions. She must have squinted her eyes to see the top of my head. She must have realized I was looking down and not looking in the direction I was driving.

The last thing she must have seen was the horrified look in my eyes when I looked up and realized what I was about to do.

Cindy’s face made contact with the hood of my pickup truck. Her midsection made contact with the bumper. I saw her body go flying in the air in the opposite direction she was running. I saw her body when it landed on the pavement, skidding along the street with a thud and a moan of pain, not heard by anyone. Her body was tumbling out of control. Her broken, beaten body rolled over a few times and came to a complete stop right under the sign with blue lettering reading, Welcome to Silver Lake. Some of her blood was flying through the air, trying to catch up with her body. The fresh human blood sprayed viciously across the front of the sign.

Before she went unconscious, she must have seen Luke and Pierre in their pickup truck twenty feet from the sign. She looked up the road in the opposite direction and saw me, the driver of the truck she made contact with. I was standing outside of my truck, showing a look of horror. She thought I was going to rescue her.

The problems she was having taking care of her mom. The amount of money she needed to make to pay her tab at the Lakeview Lounge and pay her bills at home was too much for her. The amount of drugs and alcohol in her system. The way Luke set her up to meet the bikers, the beating she received from Pierre, the crushing impact she received from my pickup truck: these things were too much for her to overcome.

I watched as her eyes rolled back into her head for the last time. She took her last breath of fresh air. She was lying beaten, bloodied, and dead under the new sign.

I was standing ten feet from Cindy, in front of my truck with a look of horror on my face for what I did. I saw Luke and Pierre standing twenty feet from Cindy, in front of their truck with a look of horror on their faces. The rest of the people from The Devil’s Den meeting, Pierre, Shawn, Caleb, Dylan, Tracy, Shannon, and Megan were all running to catch up and see what is going on.

While I was standing there, I saw a wisp of steam rise from Cindy’s bloodied, beaten, body as if her soul was separating from her body,” Pete says, crying with his head down.

“Oh man, what a mess,” Blake says into the night air.

“What's going to happen to me?” Pete cries out.

“I don’t know, Pete!” Blake shouts angrily, walking back to his car.

Getting back into his car, he drives quickly back down Route 38 from Lowell to Silver Lake. He pulls into the crushed stone parking lot on Shady Lane. He exits the car and goes into the shop for the night.

CHAPTER 16

The next day.