The Suppressor by Erik Carter (best free novels .txt) 📗

stormed in Burton’s eyes. His realistic yet thin facade of civility rarely wavered, but few things enraged him as much as losing control of a situation.

Burton's smile quivered back into place. “Hudson got away, did he?”

“But I got him in the leg,” Saunders said and motioned toward the Mossberg.

“Hurt bad?”

Saunders shrugged. “Grazed him. He’s not going to die, but he’s bloody well hurting.”

The old man suddenly looked away, distraught. His hand returned to his forehead.

“I can’t believe it,” Saunders said. “Pete killed Sylvester and Cecilia. In one night…”

Burton glanced at the body. “Well, Hudson is a ruthless bastard deep down. Don’t let that goofy smile fool you. I’ve had chats with the guy. Total psycho. Have you called the police?”

“I did. I hesitated, but … I didn’t know what else to do. The phone lines weren’t working, and I couldn’t find a cellular in the entire house. He must have taken them all. I had to drive into town, to a payphone. I got back right before you arrived.”

“And you reported Hudson?”

“Of course.”

Burton smiled. “Very good.” He reached behind his back and took out his Smith & Wesson Model 29, aimed it at Saunders’s chest.

Glover gasped.

On the ride over, Burton had told him the plan of action. This hadn’t been discussed. This was not on the agenda.

“Burton, what are you doing?” Glover said, the first time he’d spoken since they returned to the mansion.

Burton ignored him.

Saunders brought his hands up slowly. But he didn’t panic, just narrowed his eyes at Burton. The old guy had been through a lot. He wasn’t easily rattled.

“What the hell is this?”

“I need information from you, Saunders,” Burton said. “Where’s the second press? I only know of the money-printing press. I need to know where the other one is.”

Saunders’s eyes went to Cecilia’s body and back to Burton. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Answer me.”

“Piss off. The police will arrive any moment.”

CRACK!

Burton fired. The round was horribly loud, amplified by the wooden walls, the stacks of books. Glover’s hands went to his ears.

Saunders howled and clenched his thigh, both hands, blood oozing between his fingers. But he didn’t fall. Tough old salt.

This was definitely not on the agenda.

“Looks like Hudson circled back to the mansion,” Burton said. “Decided he should silence the only witness. He managed to put a round in your leg. But did he finish you off?”

Burton aimed at his head.

“Okay!” Saunders screamed. His faced dripped with sweat. “Okay! The business park on Alexander Street, in Warrington.” He groaned. “Suite 109.”

Burton nodded. “Thanks, Saunders.”

CRACK!

A spout of blood from Saunders’s forehead. He crumpled to the floor, a couple feet away from Cecilia. A stream of bright, fresh blood raced out onto the carpet and mixed with the thick darkened blood already there.

Saunders’s mouth was open, teeth exposed.

Glover felt his hands shaking.

Burton turned to him, smiling. He looked down, saw Glover’s shaking hands, scoffed.

“Come on, pussy,” he said and walked off.

Glover glanced at Saunders’s body then followed Burton.

Chapter Thirty-One

Jake turned his notebook to the right page, then stuffed it into his back pocket.

The apartment buildings encircled a courtyard with a rundown gazebo in the center. Each building’s second story had balconies with a shared staircase between two apartment units. Jake cut through the courtyard, avoiding the mismatched patches of light—some warm-hued, others cool-hued—from the black lampposts, crossing thick, poorly kept centipedegrass. Many of the units had their screen doors open, and Jake heard snippets of nighttime home life as he passed—laughter, a New Kids on the Block song playing through a tinny speaker, the clatter of silverware, copious televisions.

Odom’s building was ahead. Jake retrieved the Glock. He climbed the stairs quickly, stepping as lightly as possible, but the tired boards still moaned under his weight.

At the balcony, the door to his left was closed and dark. Through the other door, he saw the bluish light of a television set, its brightness level waning and waxing. Like so many of the apartments, Odom’s sliding glass door had been opened to a screen door. He heard a sitcom laugh track.

He dispatched with stealth and threw open the door.

There was Odom. On his couch. In nothing but his tighty-whities, watching L.A. Law. The TV was the only source of light.

Odom was in his late forties, one of the oldest members of Burton’s gang. White, long, and lean. His cavernous cheeks sported a gray-and-brown beard.

Instant recognition in Odom’s blue, deep-set eyes. “Oh, Jesus Christ … You were supposed to die.”

Jake yanked the notebook from his pocket, showed the note.

Did you hurt her?

Odom squinted at it, confused for a moment before a malicious sneer materialized on his lips.

“What’s with the note? Cat got your tongue, Loudmouth?”

Jake jabbed the notebook forward, scowled.

Odom’s sneer grew wider.

“You’re damn right I hurt her. We all slapped her around for a while. Tell ya what, though, I wanted more. That was a fine piece of ass you had there, Hudson. But Burton wouldn’t let us. Crazy son of a bitch really thought of her as a sister, I think.”

Odom’s eyes flicked to the small, ratty table beside the couch. Peeking out of a stack of car magazines and Playboys was the butt of a revolver.

Jake darkened his expression and shot an eyebrow up, telling Odom that he’d seen what the man had hidden in the magazines.

With a series of swipes from the Glock, Jake motioned for Odom to stand up, move away from the revolver, and put his raise his hands. Odom did as instructed.

Then Jake motioned for him to get on his knees.

Odom continued to sneer, but Jake could see genuine fear now, as though Odom hadn’t considered Loudmouth Hudson a genuine threat to this point, even after the man had barged into his apartment aiming a gun.

Odom went to his knees, hands up.

Jake motioned for him to put his hands on his head. Odom acquiesced.

“Just blast me right here, huh? All these people in the surrounding apartments to hear it? Not even gonna use a silencer to cut down on the noise?”

The man