Chapter 1

Friday late evening
Early March
Blues Roadhouse
Near Harborton Washington

The beat up blue Jeep Cherokee pulled off the highway and into the parking lot and around to the side where the dense forest of fir and hemlock pushed against the cracked and potholed pavement. The driver backed and filled the vehicle until the towed wood chipper attached to the rear of the vehicle faced with it’s chute pointed out over the forest floor.

The flickering neon beer signs of the shambling wooden structure cast shimmering snakes of red and blue onto the pothole puddles still lingering from the afternoon’s rain as the driver stepped out on 3 inch heels and began clicking her way toward the front door. The slender, pony-tailed blond counted six bikes parked right by the front entrance and nodded.’Looks like they’re all here’ she thought as she straightened her short pink leather vest and pulled open the battered and chipped metal door.

It had been a really slow night for Lanie. She had to work by herself for the last shift and she was just a little bored. Her only entertainment had been ‘chatting’ with the huge gray tom cat that had snuck in the door earlier.

She tried to give the kitty some milk and she could swear he actually turned his nose up at the bowl and pointed to the beer taps! She just shook her head and started to pour out some Budweisser. At that, the huge cat had, what almost looked like a stroke and a really bad hair ball simultaneously. On a hunch, she put her hand on the tap with their only import beer, Harp Ale. The kittie recovered quickly, purring furiously as he stropped her ankles with his striped gray furred body. Lanie laughed to herself, shrugged and had poured out a generous tot into the bowl. The cat quickly lapped it all up finishing with a loud burp.

The cat’s strange antics had been the highlight of otherwise extremely dull night. She sighed, If the bike bozo’s hadn’t made this place known as their Friday night hang out there might have been some decent traffic in the old tavern tonight. But then Lanie wouldn’t have been able to do her job either.

She had just finished delivering round five to the leather clad bikers sitting at the table closest to the pool table when the decrepit door at the front of the place screeched open and in walked a Barbie Doll personified. Her bronze tinted blond ponytail bounced playfully about her shoulders as she strode up to the bar.

“Shit. here goes my whole night,” Lanie muttered under her breath as she reached under the bar and loosened the sawed off Remington 12 gauge in its clip.

‘Barbie’ was quite a sight. She looked almost like any typical teenaged girl that you might see congregating at the mall or movie theater. She had an innocent ‘girl next door’ beauty with a smattering of tiny freckles across her nose overlooked by sparkling gem like sapphire blue eyes.

It was only when you looked closer that the Barbie image wavered a bit. First of all, this girl was ripped. She had the muscle tone of an Olympic athlete. The long legs barely covered by her brief pink pleated skirt rippled with muscle. And the arms shown off by her short sleeved white silk blouse displayed the hard, dense but elegant looking musclature that serious female athletes developed. If not for her height and her rather hefty bust she could have easily passed as a world class gymnast. And then there was an air about her of ultimate confidence. She moved like she was the apex predator here, not the overweight jerkoffs eyeing her like they were wolves and she but a wayward, innocent, fluffy little sheep.

Lanie thought quickly. Maybe she could get Barbie out of here before the idiots by the pool table were prodded into action by the single brain cell they shared. There was no way that this girl was old enough to drink. Maybe I can shoo her out before the execrement hit’s the rotating blades Lanie hoped. These bikers were morons, but very dangerous morons. They had collectively been accused several times of rape and murder but nothing had stuck, especially since any witnesses had a tendency to disappear or change their stories.

‘Barbie’ crossed the warped unvarnished wooden floor boards straight to the bar and pulled up a stool in front of Lanie.

“I’d like a Budweisser please,” said ‘Barbie’ with a brilliant smile.

Lanie could hear the cat behind the bar apparently hacking up another fur ball at the mention of Budweisser.

“Um, sure. Let’s see some id sweetie.” Lanie said flicking her medium length, dyed blue-black hair out of her face and setting her damp towel down on the bar.

Lanie’s hopes of a peaceful evening were dashed as ‘Barbie” withdrew a slim wallet from her small purse and flipped it open to show what looked like a completely legitimate drivers licence that showed the girl to be 21 and 3 months of age. Lanie had seen plenty of fakes in her day but if this id were fake it was the best one she’d ever laid eyes on.

“So your name is Sarah, right?” Lanie asked skeptically.

“Yep, that’s me!” Sarah chirped cheerfully.

“Er Sarah, my name is Lanie. And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but you need to get the fuck out of here.” said Lanie quietly.

“Lanie, thank you for the warning, I can see you mean well, but I’m going to be fine.” said Sarah as she began casting around for some way to make her point. “Ah here we go!” said Sarah as she leaned over the bar to pick up a steak knife from a set of tableware.

Lanie had no idea why they even had steak knifes. This place hadn’t seen a steak since the pioneers had built this place out of a canvas and pole shanty. In any case, Lanie watched fascinated as Sarah flipped the knife a few times seeming to try and get it’s measure. Then, in a movement so quick that it was barely possible to detect, Sarah’s arm twitched. A millisecond or two later Lanie heard a thunk through the open door to the kitchen behind her.

Lanie whirled and could see the handle of the steak knife 30 feet away still quivering as it protruded out from between Miss October’s gravity defying 42 DD’s. ‘Always hated that stupid calendar anyway’, was Lanie’s first thought followed by ‘holy shit snacks!’

“How did you do that!” Lanie exclaimed.

“I have some talents.” smiled Sarah enigmatically. “Anyhow, that’s not important. I just want you to know that I’m fine. Whatever these cumstains do, just let it happen. I don’t want you to get hurt by trying to interfere. I also need you to trust me Lanie Coleman. I know what your job is, and I promise what’s going to happen next will help.” Sarah finished with a small smile looking straight into Lanie’s intensely intelligent green eyes.

“Uh how ... never mind I guess. If you know who I am and why I’m here I’m either already blown or you are one of the good guys I just don’t have clearance to know about,” Lanie said resignedly.

For some reason though, Lanie did trust this girl. Lanie had spent most of her ten year career with the DEA undercover and trust did not come easy to her, but this girl just radiated something. If Lanie hadn’t been so cynical she would have said ‘goodness’. But not in a unicorn and puppy dog sense. Lanie just knew that this girl could no more do something truly evil than Lanie could fly to the moon on gossamer wings.

“Okay, I’ll try but you have to let me know what’s going on!” Lanie said under her breath.

“Promise, I will girlfriend! Just as soon as I can wrap this up,” said Sarah sweetly with a genuine smile.

By this time the two hardy customers that had come in despite the bikers having taken up residence in the old tavern had left for parts unknown. Lanie thought they must have sensed the drama about to happen.

Lanie saw the fat fuck known as ‘Big Jim’ give a signal to one of his minions. This minion was tall and skinny with a filthy black beard nearly down to his stomach. Black Beard guy casually strolled over to the front door and locked it with a loud snick. Another biker that Lanie had dubbed ‘Pretty Boy’ nonchalantly stepped to the back door and locked it as well, simultaneously hitting the main light switch that turned off the outside signage. Shit, thought Lanie, she knew they had done something similar to this several months ago, before she got assigned this case. It hadn’t ended well for the college kids that had mistakenly entered the bar that night. What she didn’t understand is why the owner tolerated this kind of bullshit.

Pretty Boy turned his artfully stubbled face to look directly at Sarah for the first time.”Time to party!” He said with an evil grin.

If the bikers had expected Sarah to be frightened they were about to be very disappointed.

“Awesome! I love a party. Are we going to play twister? Or maybe spin the bottle? There’s only two girls here but I bet you five are used to swapping spit with each other so that won’t be a problem. “ Sarah said cheerfully as she spun on her stool and faced them.

It took them all a few seconds to understand any of what she had just said. Finally the insult percolated to the forefront of Big Jim’s tiny brain and he stood with a huff. He maneuvered his six feet six 400lb frame just to the right of where Sarah sat and threw a ham sized forearm atop the bar. Sarah could smell his rancid breath as leaned slightly toward her.

“Lanie don’t you try reaching for that scattergun or I’ll have to paint the mirror with your insides” Big Jim sneered looking sideways at Lanie while pulling his putrid leather vest aside showing a chrome plated .45 resting in a shoulder harness.

Lanie didn’t respond, she just threw her hands in the air and took a step back from the bar. She could feel a low rumbling at her feet as the fluff monster cat at her feet started a not-so-subtle growl.

“And now we are going to see how this little missy really likes to party.” Big Jim exclaimed loudly, stepping back from the bar slightly.

“Little missy? Really? Did we just teleport back to a 1950’s Western?” quipped Sarah saucily.

“I’ll show you a Western!” said a baffled but aggressive Big Jim as he moved slightly away from the bar and undid his pants.

“Yeah you show her that Western Jim!” shouted one of the sycophants at the table.

“Oh! Can’t wait!” said Sarah with a wicked grin.

Big Jim fumbled down his jeans and his yellow stained tidy whiteys all the while mumbling something about snotty princesses. Finally, in triumph he reached into a fat roll and retrieved an appendage that looked somewhat like vienna sausage crossed with a very small pink hoho.

“Suckit B...” Big Jim started to say but was interrupted by Sarah’s hysterical giggling.

“Woah! What is that!” Sarah continued giggling, pointing at Big Jim’s prize as he sputtered impotently, “It looks almost like a penis only waaay smaller!” Sarah snarked.

Big Jim had finally had enough and with a roar threw a right hook that would have felled a water buffalo. A really slow, stupid water buffalo, which Sara was not. By the time Big Jim’s fist had arrived at its would be destination Sarah was already standing behind him where she used the momentum of his flailing punch to spin him toward the bar. Then she deftly kicked the back of his left knee collapsing it neatly as that was where all his weight had ended up after the punch. Big Jim folded like a Sears monkey suit and Sarah assisted him on the way down by grabbing a handful of long greasy gray hair and using it as a hand hold to slam his forehead into the edge of the bar.