Blood Trade: A Sean Coleman Thriller (3 page)

Andrew bit his lip and swallowed. Denver was over an hour’s drive south. The man
was trying to leave the scene. Andrew suspected, based on the alcohol he could smell,
that he was trying to avoid a DUI charge. He seemed more glazed than drunk; his footing
was solid and his speech wasn’t slurred. Regardless, he clearly wasn’t interested
in waiting around for the police to arrive.

Feeling the weight of the situation pressing down across his shoulders, Andrew searched
for an excuse to decline the request—one that wouldn’t provoke a physical confrontation
with the large man.

“Listen, I’m not headed to Denver, and besides, I’m just about out of gas.”

“I’ll pay you for the gas,” said the man. “We’ll stop at the next gas station.”

Andrew’s pulse picked up. He felt the situation quickly spiraling out of his grasp.
He speculated that the man was not going to take
no
for an answer. In the developing
tension, he strained to hear the hopeful sound of faint police sirens. There was
none.

“Come on,” urged the man. “Do me this favor, all right?”

Anxious indecision jetted through Andrew’s veins like electricity
through a wire.
He weighed different tactics in his mind, but none felt promising. If he said no,
the man might get angry, toss him down the hill, and take his car from him. Maybe
the car stuck at the bottom of the hill was stolen and that was why the man didn’t
have any qualms about leaving it behind. If he said yes, he was trapping himself
in a situation that he might not be able to get out of. The guy could be an axe murderer
for all Andrew knew.

He repeatedly glanced up at the highway above, yearning to find the headlights of
another car making its way down the ramp toward them. It would give him a chance
to wave down some help and inject a buffer into the situation. Not a single automobile
had passed down the road since the driver in the van had abandoned him. Andrew was
on his own.

His mind raced, desperate to avoid a physical confrontation with the giant man. An
idea filtered into his head. “I have a tow rope in my car!” he spewed. “I can pull
you out of that ditch with it.”

Though he was sure that the man’s first priority was leaving the scene, Andrew banked
on his preference to do so in his own car. If he’d stolen the car, however, that
might change things. Andrew prayed that wasn’t the case. It was best not to give
the man too much time to dwell on the proposal. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right
back with my car.”

Andrew spun away from the man and began walking briskly down the shoulder of the
road. He had begun his career in software sales. Taking away the luxury of choice
was a classic professional maneuver from a seasoned salesman, and he used that now.
Andrew kept his stride even over the cold ground, with only a hint of his typically
more pronounced limp. He was wary of advertising any sign of weakness to the more
physically endowed man. It made him feel like a small, injured animal fearful of
distinguishing itself to a stalking predator.

Even with his back to the man, he could sense the stranger’s imperialistic eyes scrutinizing
his every step and movement. He
discreetly brushed his hand along his front pants
pocket, panicking for a moment when he didn’t feel the bulge of his car keys inside.
He breathed again when he found them in the other pocket. He rehearsed a drill in
his mind—quickly hop in the driver’s seat of his car, crank the engine, and leave
the confused stranger behind in a cloud of exhaust as he tore down the interstate
alone.

He had no intention of helping the man out of this predicament. He didn’t even have
a rope in his car. He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of situation he had come upon
there on that exit ramp in the middle of the night, but he was certain that if he
didn’t cut things loose right now, he’d undoubtedly end up paying some kind of price.

As he put more distance from the man, he started to feel more at ease. His mind flew
through his drill again.

The faint shift of gravel and the intermittent scuffing of wet pavement behind him
caught his ear.

Andrew’s heart sank.

As nonchalantly as possible, he bent his head over his shoulder for a glimpse. The
man was walking after him—quickly.

Andrew’s head snapped back around to face his Lexus, holding the lingering image
of the pursuing man in his mind. Obviously, the stranger suspected he was being deceived
or had made up his mind that he wasn’t going to accept the proposal. The Lexus wasn’t
far away, but to Andrew it seemed frighteningly distant.

He crossed the street, stealing another glance at the stranger under the motion of
checking for oncoming traffic. The large man was moving in faster now, displaying
sternness and aggression with each lunge forward. A metallic rattle reached Andrew’s
ears, something like keys in the man’s pocket or a wallet chain riding his hip. Andrew
considered demanding that the man stay put and wait for him to back his car up, but
he doubted the suggestion would be heeded.

He held out the small remote on his keychain and pressed a button to pop the trunk,
hoping that seeing the trunk lid spring
open would convince his pursuer that he was
retrieving a tow rope. The move didn’t faze the stranger.

Andrew concentrated on the steadiness of his footing; he couldn’t afford to trip
or lose his balance along the sloped pavement. He wouldn’t stand a chance of getting
away.

By the time he reached his car and tucked his fingers under the handle of the driver’s
side door, his arms were trembling.

The stranger’s footsteps erupted into a near sprint. The metal rattling sound turned
wild.

Andrew’s eyes bulged and his chest stiffened. He yanked his door open. The man was
bearing in fast, too fast for Andrew to slide inside his car, close his door, and
lock it before he was reached.

He gripped the brass handle of his walking cane in his hand and quickly raised it
hand over hand until his fingers clasped it around its base just above the tip as
his keys dangled from one of his clenched knuckles.

“Hey!” the man shouted from just a few feet away.

Andrew felt the wisp of the man’s hand slide along his shoulder. He clenched his
teeth, choked back on the cane, and swung it into the large man like a lumberjack
axing down a tree. The sickening thud of metal landing on flesh and the crack of
splitting wood echoed, drowning out Andrew’s strenuous grunt. The cane connected
with the man’s forehead. The streetlamp added new visibility, highlighting the man’s
face as it contorted in shock. The image shot through Andrew’s head. The man went
down.

Andrew knew he’d gotten a clean, wicked shot in, but wasn’t in any less of a hurry
to get away. He dropped what was left of his shattered cane and slid inside his car.
His rapid heartbeat nearly tore a hole through his chest. He yanked the door shut
and snapped the lock. His hand shook uncontrollably as he managed to slide the right
key into the ignition, twisting it so hard it nearly broke off. He popped the gearshift
into drive and mashed his gas pedal to the
floor. His tires spun madly along the
road before gripping, sending him rocketing forward onto the off-ramp.

He roared in adrenaline-fueled triumph. He looked back and forth from the road in
front of him to his rearview mirror, searching for the man sprawled out along the
road behind him. He didn’t find it. The night was too dark.

Air funneled up from his lungs and out his mouth as he worked to calm down. He flipped
on his headlights. As his eyes went back to the road where the ramp met the interstate,
he noticed the white van parked on the shoulder. The stranger from the hill who had
abandoned him hadn’t gone all that far.

A brief temptation to pull over and give the man a tongue-lashing for leaving him
on his own entered Andrew’s mind, but he ignored the taunt. He was done. The police
would be there soon. They’d sort it all out.

The way Andrew saw it, he had tried to perform a good deed, and his reward was that
he had nearly gotten attacked and his car stolen.

“Never again,” he muttered.

Andrew’s headlights lit up the overhanging branches of a long row of Nannyberry trees
as he rounded a bend. Just a few months earlier, those branches had been dense with
small white flowers. Now, they were completely bare other than with the thin blanket
of accumulating snow that lined them.

Through a mesh of steady, large flakes, the Lexus glided up the short, wet drive
to the entrance of the long, illuminated sign framed by a decorative concrete wall.
It read “Hunter’s Cove.” Andrew had lived in the Greeley, Colorado, subdivision for
years.

He slowed the car down to coast between a pair of oversized pine trees on either
side of the subdivision entrance and then sped back
up. He passed by several large,
upper-scale homes with tall, arching facades lurching high above. In summertime,
the residents’ wide, well-kept yards were all cast in the same deep and attractive
shade of green, their lush landscaping having evolved from an unspoken ongoing competition
among homeowners. Concrete fountains, koi ponds, artistically trimmed hedges and
shrubs—all were purposefully exuberant in their nature. Under the even sheet of snow,
they now all looked the same.

The lengthy arch of Andrew’s garage came into view from behind an eight-foot-tall
hedge that divided his property from his neighbor’s lot. With the press of a button,
he commanded the steady rise of the garage door. As he waited in the driveway of
his home, it suddenly occurred to him that he had never stopped at the store for
supplies. He shook his head in frustration; his thoughts had been solidly preoccupied
with the scene back at the off-ramp. He’d have to get up a little earlier than planned
in the morning and make the stop on his way down to Colorado Springs. He pulled the
Lexus inside the garage.

The interior was nearly bare. No tools draped along pegboards and no rakes or shovels
hung from prongs. Not even a lawn mower. Andrew always hired out whatever yard and
maintenance work that needed to be done around the house. He had never been much
of a handyman and had little interest in learning such skills. He was a numbers guy.

When the broad glare of headlights vanished as he turned the knob, he was left alone
in the dark. The bulb in the garage-opener above had burned out months earlier and
he hadn’t cared enough to replace it. The only assisting light came from a streetlight
a couple of doors down and what little glow stemmed from his car interior light as
he stepped out of the vehicle. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the night,
losing himself for a second at the sight of faint flakes falling gently to the earth.
Their delicate landing was a display of poetic profoundness.

He felt alone, fighting an adolescent urge to call someone—anyone—and tell them of
the strange, harrowing event that had taken place that night. He somberly accepted
that there wasn’t a single person left in his life who would even care. It was as
if he was one of the flakes falling from grace outside, and upon impact, disappearing
into nothingness.

He breathed in the cold air and stood with glazed eyes for a few moments longer before
a broad, unexpected gust of wind brought him back to his senses. He turned toward
the inside garage door, but as he did, he heard a muffled thump. It was quickly followed
by a creaky groan of unsettlement that seemed to emit from his car.

He turned back to the Lexus and listened carefully. All that was heard now was some
intermittent ticking from the engine. With his eyes narrowed, he took a breath and
was about to unlock the door when he was halted by another noise. This time, it sounded
like tapping metal.

He carefully walked to the rear of the car where the faint tapping continued and
grew a bit louder. There in the dull light from the streetlamp he noticed the trunk
wasn’t completely closed. The gusting wind caused it to bob slightly up and down.

A smirk slowly curled along his face at the thought of his last-ditch attempt back
at the off-ramp to convince his deranged pursuer that he was trying to help him and
not escape from him.

“Tow rope,” he whispered.

He had popped the trunk with his remote key before things got physical and it had
remained unsecured the rest of the trip home. He slid his fingers under the edge
of the trunk door and lifted it up in order to give it a good slam back down. He
felt the sudden force of a sharp object plunged viciously into him just below his
ribcage even before the trunk light exposed the large figure inside.

Andrew’s eyes swiftly swelled and his mouth gaped in shock, but he couldn’t breathe.
He dropped the trunk and his hands instinctively went to his gut. He felt warm blood
ooze freely between
his fingers from the brutal stab. His face felt numb. A second
thrust from the trunk sent another jolt through his body. This time he felt the object
pierce just under his chest.