Vengeance. Mystery Writers of America Presents B00A25NLU4

light in Tarvis’s eyes flickered and died.
    Earl let him drop to the floor. Melon let out a chuff.
    The others had remained fixed in place, unsure of Earl’s prowess, perhaps, or just insecure in their naked vulnerability. But now they started forward as a group.
    Loretta suddenly burst into the room. She had her gun out. Her eyes were wild with fear.
    It halted their advance.
    “Cut the girl loose!” Earl said to them.
    A couple of the men moved to carry out his orders; the other two glared at him as if trying to say
We will remember you and there will come a time.
    Loretta handed the gun to Earl and rushed to her daughter’s aid. The girl-child lolled, made dopey by the weight of Rohypnol or some other rape drug. But her eyes were aware and shifting between Earl and her mother.
    Loretta dragged her to her feet, gathered her clothing, and dressed her as best she could.
    When they were at the door and ready, Earl popped the small memory card from his camera and held it for the men to see. “You try to fuck with me or my family ever again, not only will this go to the media, but I’ll come looking for each of you myself.”
    There was little of what could have passed for shame on the four white faces. Earl considered for one brief moment the idea of opening up on them with the gun. But the priority for now was to get his daughter and granddaughter to safety. “Are we clear on all this?” he asked, fixing his eyes on each of the men in turn.
    “What about him?” one man asked, motioning to Tarvis lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
    “I understand you’re all members of Atlanta’s finest,” Earl said. “I’m sure you got ideas how to make a body disappear, make a crime as though it never happened.”
    Earl could see by their eyes they were already considering the possibilities. He backed his way to the doorway with Melon at his cuff. And with his daughter and granddaughter, he fled off into the moonlit Georgia night.

    A T THE G REYHOUND bus terminal at four in the morning, Earl bought two one-way tickets to Los Angeles. His granddaughter was still docile and quiet, but she was starting to come around.
    Loretta had managed to clean her up and get her properly dressed for the trip. And India herself had managed a smile.
    “Take good care of our little girl,” Loretta said. “See she get a good education.”
    “You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Earl asked.
    “It’s too late for me,” she said, pride overriding the sadness in her eyes. “Will you be all right?”
    “I’ll let you know. But I don’t think the mystery of what happened to Ray Tarvis will ever be solved. A Jimmy Hoffa kinda thing. Still, I wish the rest of the bastard boys’ club could receive some evens.”
    Earl studied his daughter, feeling a certain sense of guilt-layered pride. She was a survivor, at the very least. And though he couldn’t change the past, he could give her some justice for the pain and humiliation both she and India had suffered.
    Earl took Loretta’s hand and folded the memory card from his camera into it. “What’s this?” Loretta asked, looking down.
    “It’s a bit of justice,” Earl said. “Put it in an envelope and send it anonymously to the
Atlanta Journal
.”
    Loretta brought her eyes back to his. “It’ll stir up a hornets’ nest that could come back on you.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” Earl said. “I’m an old man with an old dog and just as blind as I need to be. I’ll take what comes.”
    Loretta gave him a strong hug and wished him and her daughter well. Then she turned toward her taxicab parked at the stand.
    Earl put his arm around his granddaughter. And together they watched Loretta gather a waiting fare from the curb and drive away.
    “Been some kind of visit, eh, Melon?” Earl said to the dog at his feet. “And we got a new member of the family to share our house with.”
    Melon chuffed and nuzzled India’s ankle to show his approval.
    “What about you?” Earl said to his granddaughter. “You ready for a new life?”
    India gave what passed for a smile and boarded the bus ahead of him.
    The driver was waiting to close the door against the heat.
    Earl pulled his dark glasses from his inside pocket and slipped them on. He adjusted the camera around his neck, extended his cane, smoothed the front of his poplin jacket.
    He was making a show of it. And why not?
    Even a blind man could see he was seventy years old and a black man back in the