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

“I don’t hate him. I understand why he took off now,” Blake says.

“Oh, good.”

Watching as Billy is looking at the ground, he thinks he has more to say again.

“Are you going to kill Luke? Billy says.

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Let’s get on with our lives Billy. I am going back to New Orleans to find Rose,” Blake says with hope in his eyes.

“You will find her,” Billy says, walking off into the dark woods in the direction of the Lowell House, Addiction Treatment and Recovery Center.

Putting the backpack back into the back seat and locking the doors, He walks back around to the trunk. He can hear the sound of another car driving down backside lane. He hopes it is who he thinks it is. The car is approaching without any lights on. As the car gets closer, he can see the roof has dome lights on it. As the car gets close, he can read the side door Silver LakePolice.

Ray McCrery steps out of the police cruiser.

“Hey, Ray what brings you out to Cripple Cove tonight?”

“Hey Blake, well I was hoping you will deliver on your promise.”

Opening the well-lit trunk, showing Ray the contents.

“Is that my old friend Luke?” Ray says.

“Yes, it is,” Blake says.

He and Ray lift Luke out of the trunk of the car. Ray can see Luke has had a long night. Ray walks Luke to the back of the police car. He removes all the tape from his wrist, ankles, and mouth. Ray properly cuffs him and reads him his rights. He puts him in the back seat.

Blake takes the orange backpack out of the trunk. He opens it, showing Ray the Jackal cocaine, Jackal Methamphetamine, and other drugs he and Lester retrieved from the Punchbowl. He takes his smartphone out of his right front pocket. He texts Ray the pictures and video of the Punchbowl.

“There are enough drugs in the orange backpack to put Luke in jail for a long time. The pictures and videos are from the Punchbowl located in the basement of the barn next to the commercial buildings.”

“Yes, there are,” McCrery says, putting the backpack onto Luke’s lap.

“The people of Silver Lake will be free from the drugs and alcohol he distributes throughout the lake’s region. The people who owe him money will be able to move on with their lives,” Blake says.

“I am going to take Luke to Lowell and arrest him there. I have some friends there, who have been dying to meet him,” Ray says with a smile a mile wide.

“Great, thanks for everything, Ray.”

“Thanks, Blake. Good luck finding Rose.”

“Thanks, Ray.”

Watching as Ray’s police car drives down Backside Lane dirt road deeper into the night. Blake goes over to the water’s edge and cleans up a little. He washes his hands and face in the lake water. He looks around to make sure he has not left anything important behind. Looking out over the water, he can see the party on Little Rock Island is in full swing. The party will be going on all night into the next day. Getting back into his car he cannot help but feel a sense of pride for everything he has done. Getting Luke locked up for a long time has made him feel slightly better for what happened to Cindy Flynn. Blakes car drives down Backside Lane dirt road in the opposite direction of Ray’s police car, back towards the tattoo shop. He needs to get some rest after a long night in Silver Lake. He will be leaving for New Orleans first thing in the morning.

CHAPTER 23

New Orleans

Blake fights back the early morning sunshine coming through the windshield of his car. Putting on a pair of aviator sunglasses and dropping the sun-visor down helps shield his eyes. He made the decision early yesterday morning to leave Silver Lake as fast as he could. The problems of Silver Lake are no longer his problems; he took care of the person responsible for the murder of Cindy Flynn. He is shifting his focus to his own problems. He desperately needs to find Rose.

Driving all night and into today, has returned him back to New Orleans. He is still trying to find Rose. His hope of finding her has not faded. He is now sure she did not go back to Silver Lake. He keeps driving south. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel trying to compose himself. I am never going back to Silver Lake again, this time I mean it!

The drive from Boston to New Orleans takes at least twenty-one hours; he knows he has been desperate enough to do it a few times. The closer he gets to New Orleans, the more red brake lights he sees in front of him. The city of New Orleans is still recovering from Hurricane Katrina.

Looking at the clock on the dashboard shows it is 8:00 a.m. His eye lids are heavy. When he looks in the rearview mirror, he can see red lines racing across the white base of his eyeballs. Around the edges of his eyes, there are traces of red. He catches himself before he dozes off. He is going to need to stop driving soon.

He presses on the accelerator and keeps driving for now. His hands are both on the steering wheel at ten and two o’clock. His arms are sore and being held in place by his grip on the wheel. His mouth is dry and void of any moisture, he needs to get some water soon. He looks at several empty water bottles on the floor of the passenger seat. He knows there are some more on the back-seat floor. His stomach groans. He needs to stop at a gas station to fill the gas tank and his stomach.

The big old car has completed the journey. He realizes from the sounds and the vibrations coming from the engine and transmission his car is on its final leg.