Making amends, p.3
Making Amends,
p.3
“I’m sorry, but-”
“Sorry, but,” Jamie mocked. “See, I’ve been putting up with crap like that all my life. People’ve insulted me, cheated me, made fun of me, bumped into me ever since I was a kid. And I’ve never had the guts to fight back. I just swallowed it all… I get walked over and I never have the balls to do anything. But a week ago I decided I’m not going to put up with it anymore. People’re going to make amends to me for what they’ve done. And you’re the first on my list.”
“Make amends?” Vaughn gasped. “But I just spilled something on you. What do you want? You want money?”
“No, I want you to die,” Jamie said matter-of-factly and shoved the gun against Vaughn’s head, then pulled the trigger.
After he cleaned the blood off his own face and hands Jamie wrapped the dead man’s fingers around the gun and quickly left the garage. He looked around. Nobody seemed to have heard the shot. He walked slowly down the stairs and out to the lot where he was parked, carrying the Champagne. Jamie’d taken the bottle to use as a weapon; it was something that nobody would be suspicious of. He’d planned to either beat Vaughn to death with it, or, if it broke, use the jagged neck to slash the man’s carotid artery.
But Vaughn had actually been carrying a gun! If the businessman was really so jittery about whatever’d happened on St. Patrick’s Day, the cops might get the idea he’d gone over the edge and killed himself. Or maybe they’d think that guy who’d attacked him had finally tracked him down.
Jamie climbed in his car and drove slowly out of the parking lot. He kept hearing Vaughn’s words in his mind.
At the bar back then in March? That guy I was telling you about, the attacker? I thought he was outside. I was afraid.
Excuses, Jamie reflected in disgust. There were always excuses.
And he wasn’t going to accept them anymore.
Jamie was going to be true to his resolution. The TV show he’d seen had changed him forever. People had to make amends for their transgressions, and he was going to be the angel of justice to make sure they did.
Who next? He glanced down at the list and noticed his wife’s name, but she was at the bottom. He’d have to handle that one carefully since he’d be a prime suspect in her death.
But there were plenty of scores to settle before her.
He saw the name below Vaughn’s.
Carole, in Scituate. She was a thirty-five-year-old bank manager he’d taken out on a date in February. They’d gone to the Red Lobster, All You Can Eat… and she sure had.
But afterwards, a double insult: She’d refused to sleep with him and then she’d never called, like she’d promised.
It was seven-thirty. Did he have time to take care of Carole tonight?
Sure he did, Jamie decided. Tomorrow was Saturday; he could sleep in. Besides, there were a lot of names on his list; it’d feel good to mark another one off.
He lit a cigarette, only his fourth of the day, and headed for the turnpike.
About the Author
Former attorney and folksinger Jeffery Deaver is the best-selling author of a dozen suspense novels and numerous short stories. He has been nominated for an Edgar Award three times and is a two-time recipient of the Ellery Queen Readers’ Award for best short story of the year. The London Times has called him the “best psychological thriller writer around.” He makes his home in Virginia and California. The Bone Collector, the first Lincoln Rhyme thriller, is soon to be a feature film from Universal Pictures.
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Document creation date: 23.12.2009
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Jeffery Deaver, Making Amends
