Vengeance(110)

“That’s . . .” Joe’s voice trailed away.

“It’s like free advertising. Asshole.”

They sat silent, eyeing each other.

“So,” Valiant said. “Now what?”

Joe wondered how he’d ended up here. He looked out the windshield, unable to hold Valiant’s smirking gaze.

The setting sun pierced the cloud bank, and golden light dappled the trees below them. Joe sighed.

“I’m not sure.” The 1911 was heavy in his hand.

“Well, I don’t care. Do what you want.”

Joe turned back. “Okay,” he said.

He raised the pistol and shot Valiant in the heart.



“THE FBI TALKED to me,” said Stokey. “And the state police. Even the DA — and I voted for him last year.”

“Me too.” Joe closed the iron firebox, adjusted its damper, and checked the thermometer poking out from the smokehouse planking. “Down in the courthouse. They took over the whole second floor, it felt like.”

Hardwood smoke drifted from blackened vents. They were in Stokey’s backyard, where he’d built the little smokehouse twenty years before.

“I told them you went up there.” Stokey shifted uncomfortably. It was the first time he’d brought up the subject directly. “To see Valiant. You told me you were going.”

“You did the right thing,” Joe said. “I did tell you that, and I went to New York. Of course you had to tell them the truth.”

“They’re convinced you did it.” Stokey looked at Joe square. “That you killed Valiant.”

“Lots of guys wanted to.”

The October morning was cool and overcast. Joe had shot a deer the day before — in season, permit and everything — and what hadn’t been frozen, he and Stokey were turning into sausage and jerky.

“Did you?” Having finally asked, Stokey wasn’t letting it go.

“They don’t seem to have any evidence,” said Joe. “Whoever did it, he probably walked away all bloody, but if he burned the clothing and got rid of the gun, there’s no connection.”

“But eyewitnesses —”

“Saw a man in a dark jacket and a hat. Worthless.”

The wood smoke was sharp and clean. A couple dogs from the neighborhood had shown up and were now sitting out by the road, watching with keen attention.

Stokey gave up. “You taking your old job back?”

Joe studied the smoke rising, drifting slowly into the gray sky.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “That wouldn’t be right.”





THE HOTLINE

BY DREDA SAY MITCHELL


Rukshana Malik wasn’t angry when she was passed over for promotion at the London bank where she worked. It was true that Sarah, the successful candidate, wasn’t as well qualified. It was also true that she was a bit younger, but Rukshana didn’t want to draw any conclusions from that. After the selection process was over, her manager had given her a debriefing in which he explained that it had been a very close thing and that Rukshana still had a very bright future with the company — after all, she was only twenty-nine. He also suggested that the next time a position came up, she should go to him so he could prep her with some interview practice. Rukshana liked Jeff; he was a great boss. So she was disappointed and a bit puzzled, but she wasn’t angry.

Her family was, though. They suspected that the reason she hadn’t been given the promotion was that she was a Muslim who wore a headscarf. Her sister, Farah, asked, “This girl who got the job, what does she look like?”

“Well, she’s young and blond . . .”

“And very good-looking, I imagine?”

“I suppose.”

“Oh, wake up, Rocky.” Farah waved her hands in the air. She was wearing her pale blue soft leather gloves with the fancy fringe at the end and the three white buttons on the tops, one of her newest fashion accessories.

“It’s not like that; they have strict policies on race, religion, gender, and the rest of it.”

Her sister sighed and shook her head with pity. Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that Rukshana was the older of the two, and an outsider could be forgiven for not realizing they were related at all. Farah wore her faith lightly, dressed in Western clothes, and was a party girl with dark brown eyes that flashed and sparkled like her gold jewelry.

The following week, Rukshana was called away from her desk to see a guy from Personnel. As soon as he told her that she was a highly valued member of the staff and a key member of the team, she knew what was coming, and sure enough she was right. He went on, “Unfortunately, in today’s harsh financial climate, tough decisions have to be taken . . .”