Chapter 29 #2
Before she could even get a finger on the handle, however, her door was wrenched open, and in one swift move, hands pulled her out of the van and pushed her low to the ground.
Petula struggled.
“Wha—?”
“Shh,” a voice said in her ear. “We have to move. He’s coming.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” Petula asked shakily.
The voice sounded like Statler’s, but it wasn’t Stat, so—
“Jefferson?” she asked incredulously in a quiet voice.
“Yeah. It’s me. But we have to move,” he reiterated. “Now, and quickly,” He helped her off the ground, then kept close to the van before urging her into the cover of the woods.
Petula tried to shake his firm but gentle grip loose.
“Where are you taking me? And who do you think is out here?” she questioned, beginning to grow concerned. “Jefferson. Stop. Julian is just behind us. He’s—”
“Been ambushed,” Jefferson told her succinctly. “His car is toast. He’s okay, though. He’s moving. I saw. But he’s trapped inside. If you wait for him, it could be too late.”
“Too late for…?”
That’s when it hit her. Jeff wasn’t trying to hurt her. He thought he was helping in some way. But how? And was he delusional?
In either case, she wasn’t leaving Julian behind.
“I’m going back for him,” she said, decisively.
Petula turned to look her brother square in the face, and immediately her combative stance softened. His features were so endearingly familiar, even after all these years. It could be his resemblance to Statler, but even so, what she saw didn’t look…unhinged.
Jefferson might appear grim, but he was resolute and clear eyed.
“You can’t,” Jeff hissed quietly, urging her with a palm-downward motion to keep her voice, low. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?” Petula hissed.
“Bradly.”
Petula’s blood ran cold. “B…Bradly?” she repeated dumbly.
“Yeah. He’s been after you.”
That got her moving again.
They wended their way as quickly as possible through the trees as Jeff talked, and this time Petula wasn’t resisting.
“How do you know it’s him?” she whispered, hunching over as Jefferson guided her, perversely not wanting to say Bradly’s name out loud.
“I knew Bradly in prison,” Jefferson told her softly.
“I ignored him at first, because nobody associates with a child molester. But I always checked out any new inmates with a deep dive on my computer. Once I found out who he was and what he’d done to you, I made it a point to pretend I was his friend.
Since he had no clue that I was your brother, he talked a lot of smack about finding you when he got out.
He wanted to kill you for getting him put away. ”
“He’s so despicable,” Petula hissed. She’d somehow always known that the prick would blame her for his nasty deeds. She simply hadn’t figured he’d risk everything; get released to subsequently murder her.
“So, it’s not you who’s been stalking me?” she questioned.
“Yes and no,” Jefferson wove them through the forest at a speed that had her tripping over roots, but she wasn’t about to complain, and she wouldn’t slow them down.
“I did begin stalking you once Bradly was released. His plans in prison made it pretty obvious you were going to be his target. So, sure enough, a few weeks after I began following you around to make certain you stayed safe, he showed up, and I tailed him, too.”
“He shot Julian,” Petula told him.
“Yeah. I heard. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it. But I didn’t know Bradly had that planned. I had stayed back at the dive shop to make sure you continued to be safe.”
“Can you tell me something, Jeff?” Petula asked, recalling the sketchy incidents that had happened over the past few weeks.
“Of course,” he answered, continuing their forward progress.
“Was he responsible for my flat tire, or the flood that almost killed me a few weeks ago?” Another thought hit her. “Did he kill his own father?”
“The tire, yes. The flood? I’m not sure, but it’s possible,” Jefferson responded. “He might have blown that dam knowing exactly where you’d be, and when. And he always talked of killing his old man, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that had been him, too.”
One thing Jeff said, stuck with Petula. “Wait. He knew where I’d be the day of the tire incident? How is that possible?” She was confused. “How could he have… Wait. How did he know where I was going to be, today?”
Jefferson’s expression was grim. “Have you ever heard the word, hybristophilia?” he asked.
“No.”
Jeff didn’t look pleased. “It’s the technical term for women who are obsessed with criminals in jail. We inmates call them prison fleas.”
Petula noted that he still referred to himself as an inmate. She’d ask him why, later.
Right now, she needed to hear about prison fleas.
“And?” she prompted.
“And your boss is one of them,” Jeff supplied with a growl.
“She met Bradly online, eventually started visiting him, and between the two of them they concocted a way that she’d become his eyes and ears outside of prison.
Regarding you,” he added. “You have to understand, Pet, this was a long-game they played.”
Petula couldn’t believe her ears.
She’d known Irma was a bitch, but to have planned this…?
“How did she pull it off? Getting a supervisory job at UPS, I mean?” Petula questioned.
“She went for the same job at a different facility—one that wasn’t a major hub—all of six years ago. She fudged her credentials and her employment history, but the woman is an accomplished liar, so she got the position.
“She bided her time, but eventually she was able to get a transfer to your headquarters a few months ago. It was exactly what they’d been waiting for. She and Bradly escalated things from there.”
Petula was speechless. Dumbstruck. But it all fit. Jefferson wasn’t just blowing smoke.
“How do you know all this?” she asked.
He tapped the side of his head as they continued bushwacking. “Computer genius, remember?”
She could hear the smile in his voice, even though she couldn’t take the time to see his face.
“I’ve cyber-stalked everybody concerned for a long time now. Including your cast of characters, here,” he added, tongue-in-cheek. “I even know there’s some dude named Tex who’s been looking into me.”
Petula wasn’t surprised. Jefferson had been magic on his keyboard, even as a teenager.
“That’s also why I know Stat is currently on his way,” Jefferson continued, “and exactly where we need to be to meet him. Which is…here.”
As they spoke, they emerged from the woods onto the side of a paved road. It was rough pavement, and looked like it wasn’t widely used, but at this point, Petula believed in Jefferson. If he said this was the place Statler would be, this is where they’d wait.
If only she was sure that Julian was alright. She had Jeff’s word for that, which was something. She’d also heard no gunshots, so Bradly hadn’t tried to shoot him again. She hoped that prick, whom she despised with all her heart, was too busy trying to find her, to take his anger out on Julian.
“Let’s stay to the side of the road,” Jefferson instructed, “so if Bradly comes along, we can run back into the trees. Once we see Stat, though, I know he’ll be carrying, and you should be safe. At least for now.”
“For now, because Bradly will still be out there,” Petula interpreted.
“Yeah. But don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of Bradly.” Jefferson’s face grew hard.
Petula put an arm on his sleeve. “No. You can’t. I don’t want you going back to prison. Let the police—Julian’s brothers—take care of him.”
“Mason and Kyle?” Jefferson replied with a snort, and damn, he looked even more like Statler when he was getting his snarkiness on.
“They’re good, but their morals are impeccable.
Which means they won’t kill him.” Jeff’s tone turned unrelenting again.
“And that man needs to be terminated. If they take him to jail, it’ll be hard to prove he’s done anything outside the law at this point because the evidence is slim.
Which means he won’t go back to prison, and you’ll continue to have to watch your back. ”
His face softened. “I don’t want that for you, Pet. You’ve suffered a lot because of me. You and Statler. You can’t know how much I regret that. Once my head was clear…”
He explained further.
“In jail, they gave me the meds I needed, and eventually tweaked them properly so that after I’d been in for a couple years, I was well aware of what I’d done wrong. My mind has been functional, in the real world, ever since. Functional enough to know I had to make things up to you.”
The last of the ice in Petula’s heart, melted.
She had to give him this. “It wasn’t all on you back then, Jeff.
Mom and Dad should have taken your concerns more seriously.
They weren’t the most nurturing people. Ignoring your signs and symptoms was their mistake, and eventually their downfall.
They turned a blind eye and basically told you to suck it up, but we both know mental illness can’t be reasoned away like that,” she told him sincerely.
“So… If you need to hear it from me right now… I forgive you.”
In fact, she’d forgiven Jefferson years ago. Statler had as well, eventually coming to grips with things to some degree. It was only with the beginning of her being stalked that Stat had gone back to thinking the worst of their brother.
“Thanks, Pet. That means a lot,” he rasped, clearly overcome with emotion.
“Can I…hug you?” she asked.
Petula had a sudden need to feel Jefferson in her arms; to make sure he was real.
She saw tears come to his eyes at her request.
“I’d like that. A lot,” he said.
She’d just wrapped her arms around him when she heard a slow, loud clapping from somewhere nearby. Jefferson’s head snapped up.
“Oh, bravo,” a man sneered.
It was a voice Petula hated with every part of her being; one she’d hoped never to hear again.
But Bradly, if anything, was persistent.
“How touching. And how interesting, as well,” he mocked.
“You know what, Jeff? I was clueless in prison, but I knew you two were related once I saw the resemblance between you and that other brother,” Bradly addressed Jefferson with a snarl, ignoring Petula for a moment.
“So you played me for a chump all those years when I thought you were my friend?”
Jefferson subtly positioned himself in front of Petula, but she noticed.
“I was never your friend,” he spat out. “Nobody was. Pedophiles are the worst kind of criminal, and nobody associates with them.”
“Worse than parent killers?” Bradly taunted.
“One-hundred-percent,” Jefferson said with conviction. “I had a lot of people in my inside network who respected me. I had them pretend to like you, so we could keep tabs on everything you did, and you never suspected. You’re just a dumb piece of shit, Bradly. As well as a fucking pervert.”
Bradly laughed, a hysterical sound as he raised his gun.
“Well, now maybe I’ll get some respect in the joint, because I’m going to be a murderer, too.
Oh, oops,” he chortled. “I already am. My old man needed to be snuffed out for being an asshole, so I took care of that. Now,” he regrouped.
“Move out of the way, Jefferson. I’m going to shoot your sister. ”
“Not going to happen, Bradly.”
The man shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.
“Have it your way, then.”
He fired, and Petula screamed as Jefferson went down in front of her.
She dropped to her knees beside him. “Jeff. No. Don’t die. You’re going to be alright. You are,” she cried.
But she could already see the light dimming in his eyes.
“Glad…it was me,” he rasped, clearly proud that he’d protected her. “…love you…Pet.” He coughed out blood. Too much blood.
“I love you, too, Jeff,” Petula choked back, and couldn’t stem the tears that began flowing freely down her cheeks.
It wasn’t fair.
Petula wanted to scream. She’d just found Jefferson again after so many years, and now…
“Don’t worry, bitch,” the evil voice interrupted. “You’ll be seeing him soon enough. In hell.”
Petula looked up. Bradly was slowly raising his gun to shoot her.
She laid a hand on Jefferson’s barely moving chest, grounding herself to her brother while glaring her hatred at the man standing in the street who’d been responsible for so much misery in her life.
“Go ahead, asshole,” she bit out. “Shoot me. You’re a horrible creature. Twisted. Sick. Vile. You disgust me, and it’s not me and Jeff who’ll end up in hell. That will be you.”
She lifted her chin and shot daggers from her eyes. “And at least once I’m dead, I’ll never have to see your ugly face again.”
Petula got the satisfaction of seeing Bradly redden with anger.
Her only regret, as she stared him down, was not being able to have a future with the men she loved; Julian, Stat, and Jefferson.
She had no doubts, however, that Bradly was a dead man walking, as well.
There was no way the people who advocated for her wouldn’t track this piece of shit down, and end his miserable life.
Bradly laughed again. “Say goodbye, Little Flower.”
Damn. She’d blocked that hateful name from her memory, and rued that it was the last thing she’d hear on this earth.
He aimed his gun.
She closed her eyes.
The shot sounded.
Then another.
Wha…?
Her lashes blinked open.
She was…fine?
Bradly.
Her eyes went to where she’d last seen him standing.
He hopefully lay dead in the street, bleeding from one wound to his head, and another to the side of his neck.
She raised her eyes.
Julian, her wonderful Julian looking like an avenging angel, stood down the road, his legs spread apart and his arms up, pointing his weapon directly at the downed Bradly.
Hearing a scuffling foot, Petula turned her head.
Statler also stood in the street, twenty feet away, affecting the identical stance.
It seemed both men had shot at the same time, and both had connected.
They’d save her life.
But…
She looked down and wailed. It was too late for Jefferson.
He gasped his final breath, then lay still.
Petula lowered her head to his chest and wept.
He’d given his life for hers, and she’d always remember that.
He’d been brave. True. And a loving brother to the end.