Deadly Duo: A Tale of Crime and Chaos

By Rod Kackley

"The Deadly Duo: A Tale of Crime and Chaos," takes you on a wild ride through the dark and twisted minds of two unlikely partners in crime.

Barney and Heidi, two individuals from very different walks of life, join forces to embark on a violent and unpredictable spree of robbery, murder, and mayhem.

The story begins with Barney, a bored thirty-something, meeting Heidi, a stunning woman — known as 'Heid' by her friends — when she comes running out of a liquor store with a bag of cash in one hand and the store's owner in hot pursuit.

Barney and Heid quickly discover a mutual love for danger and excitement, leading them to team up for a series of heists and murders that leave a trail of destruction in their wake.

As their crimes become more daring and violent, Barney and Heid's relationship deepens, blurring the lines between their criminal partnership and their intense romantic connection.

But as their notoriety grows, so does the danger, as law enforcement  closes in on them.

"The Deadly Duo" is a heart-pumping thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat.

The novel explores the complexities of human nature and the allure of power and danger, making it a must-read for fans of crime fiction and psychological thrillers.

With its gripping plot, intense action scenes, and well-developed characters, "The Deadly Duo" is sure to be a hit with readers who crave a suspenseful and thrilling ride.

Whether you're a fan of crime fiction or just looking for a page-turner that will keep you guessing until the very end, "The Deadly Duo" is the perfect read for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rod Kackley
• Release date: Apr 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224556168

Rod Kackley

It’s all about the story, as far as Rod Kackley is concerned. Whether it’s Shocking True Crime Stories or one of his many works of fiction. Rod wants to keep you turning pages and reading incredible tales of criminals, their victims, and their capture. Spoiler alert: No matter how long it takes, the bad guys rarely win. But it’s the criminal who is often the most compelling character. That’s true whether it’s “Mommy Deadliest,” the story of a woman who kills her children, or “The Murder of Thora Chamberlain,” the story of a teenage girl and her kidnapper. In Rod’s world of fiction, he spins yarns about “The Coffee Shoppe Killer, a woman who kills her lovers when they disappoint her. A teenage girl wraps a serial killer around her finger in “Go Big or Go Dead.” Then there’s “The Murder of Emma Brown,” where two young women go out to party one night, and one only returns home. Written in Kalamazoo, Michigan, Rod’s books and stories allow his readers to brush up against the world of crime without getting hurt. And it’s a heck of a ride!

Book preview

1

Barney’s had a terrible morning. Calling it quits early, but he doesn’t want to go home to his wife and kids, whom he doesn’t like. He’s pretty sure they don’t like him much, either.

So, rather than driving home to his cul-de-sac of hell, Barney pulls into a 7-11 store parking lot.

Doesn’t do anything, doesn’t want anything. No smokes, no beer, no beef jerky. Barney sits in his banged-up AMC Gremlin and smells the blue exhaust from his car and the other oil-burners driving up and down Mound Road. He sighs and thinks that with 40,000 miles on his four-wheeled tin can; he needs to start looking for a new set of wheels. Otherwise, how’s he going to get to the job he never wants to go to in the first place?

To escape that depressing thought, he shuffles into the store and buys a pack of smokes for the first time in years.

A few minutes later, sitting in his car, inhaling the tar and nicotine of a Winston as deeply as possible, he sees a young woman, a college girl, walking toward the store. She looks over her shoulder, pulls the red and white scarf she’s wearing around her long, white neck up over her mouth, and walks in.

What the hell is that in her hand? Barney gives the girl little more than a passing thought as he appreciates the curve of her tight, round, cut-off jeans.

Two minutes later, while Barney is halfway through the best cigarette he’s ever smoked, he sees flashes of light in the store and hears gunshots. He drops the Winston onto his lap. Frantically he tries to find it before it burns the family jewels, both hands going to his lap with sparks flying everywhere. Barney looks up from slapping his cock and balls. The girl with the scarf down around her chin is now running toward his car.

Barney’s got one of those feelings that something terrible is about to happen.

Oh fuck. How’s Barney going to tell his wife about this?

Barney blinks hard. Can’t believe what he’s seeing. This woman, girl really, is wearing tight blue cut-off Levi shorts and a white tank top. She had been wearing sandals, Barney remembers that, but now she’s barefoot, running as hard as she can.

Barney realizes in the next second why.

In the one hand, she’s carrying a wad of cash. In the other, a .32 caliber revolver.

Hang on, Barney thinks. This is about to get worse. A hell of a lot worse.

Behind the girl—closing fast—is an overweight, powerful man carrying a baseball bat. Barney’s seen him before. Where? Oh yeah. This big dude sold Barney his pack of Winstons a few minutes ago.

The angry store owner who just got robbed is wearing a determined look with ‘bloody revenge’ written all over it.

Barney knows he can make it happen as bloody as he wants. This guy might be fat, but he’s powerful.

And this guy can run. Fast.

In a flash, Barney realizes the girl will not make it to his car in time to avoid being batted out of the parking lot.

Barney knows as sure as he is his Gremlin won’t start quickly tomorrow, that Mr. Baseball Bat will catch her and beat her to death. Now, the girl could always stop, turn and shoot. But she doesn’t seem the type.

Barney could get out of the car and get between them, but he definitely isn’t that type, either.

But for some reason, maybe because of the day he’s had, that is just what Barney does. Suddenly, Barney, a man on a mission to rescue a damsel in distress, jumps out of the Gremlin.

No weapon. Never been in a real fight, but damn it, Barney’s ready for combat.

He runs toward the girl, pushing her out of the way. She falls to one knee, putting down the hand holding the gun for support, and dropping the weapon. Barney skids to a stop on the leather soles of his Thom Mccans, reaches down, grabs the gun, and pushes it up into the face of the guy with the baseball bat.

Who saw this coming?

Barney’s in a standoff with the baseball bat-wielding store owner.

What now?

Barney points the gun toward the sky and pulls the trigger. First time for everything. He hears a click. Oh fuck.

Luckily for Barney, the big guy doesn’t have room or time to swing the bat and is totally off balance, falling backward. Instinctively he puts his hands behind him to catch himself before he falls.

The bat clatters on the pavement. Barney pushes his opponent the rest of the way down and turns back to the girl. And comes up empty.

Where the hell did she go?

Barney looks back at his car.

Oh, excellent.

The girl’s already sitting in the Gremlin’s passenger seat. So Barney runs to the driver’s door, hops in., scrambles for his keys, finally gets a key into the ignition, fires up the car, drops into reverse, and pulls out onto Mound Road.

He looks over at the girl, and she at him. She’s smiling. And for the first time today, Barney is smiling too.

––––––––

Barney eases into traffic, checking his rearview while the girl counts her money. Once their hearts stop racing, Barney looks at the girl and says, You do this often?

That’s when the cop car behind them hits its lights and siren.

Barney freezes.

Drive motherfucker, drive! The girl screams. And that is what Barney does. He slams the gas pedal down and takes off like a motherfucker.

Lucky for Barney and the girl, this brown Gremlin with thin white racing stripes has a 4.0-liter engine, a six-cylinder that is way too much for the car. With his foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor, Barney can feel the car’s motor mounts shaking.

But this isn’t the time to worry about the Gremlin coming unglued. It’s time to drive as fast as fucking possible.

A few miles down Mound Road, a straight shot from Detroit to and through the northern suburbs and back again, Barney relaxes enough to enjoy the ride.

Holy shit, he thinks as adrenaline races through his bloodstream; this is the most fun I have had since, well, since forever.

The girl squeals in the passenger seat, looking back toward the cop. Barney’s got a tight grin on his face, driving towards who the fuck knows where faster than he’s ever gone in his life.

Then, BAM!

He t-bones a cop car that is parked across the road.

Once again, oh fuck.

Life flashes before his eyes, and Barney is out of his wrecked car. Blood drips down his forehead; the cops have him spread-eagled against their vehicle, reading him his rights, getting ready to put the cuffs on.

The girl is already in the backseat of one of the responding squad cars, and her hands are cuffed behind her small back.

Barney knows his life is over now. No way his wife or kids will want him, and there’s no way he will ever survive prison. Maybe they’ll drive to a cliff he can jump off on the way to jail.

Barney can always ask.

Then he smells rubber, hears tires squealing behind him, and sees the cops running toward the other car. The girl has managed to wiggle through the cuffs and get her hands in front of her.

Now, she’s in the front seat, driving at the police and Barney.

She pulls up alongside him, get in motherfucker, and they are off.

This girl says motherfucker a lot for a girl, a lot for anyone, Barney thinks.

And now she’s driving a squad car?

Good God, what a woman!

But who cares?

What options does Barney have? Either get in the car, or find a cliff, and take a high dive.

Not even worth the time to flip a coin, Barney decides.

He gets in the passenger side, she hits the gas, and they take off in the police car with every other car coming up behind them.

Barney looks back, wondering what will happen to his Gremlin.

2

The Gremlin’s history, Barney thinks, and so is the rest of my life. He takes a big swallow of acid reflux, forcing the bile back down his throat, and then a deep breath of what smells an awful lot like freedom.

At least, that’s what Barney is thinking.

The girl?

She’s beaming like a bewitching lighthouse, a siren luring sailors to her rocky shore, having the time of her life, driving a cop car for all its worth.

Turn on the lights and sirens, the girl shrieks.

How?

I don’t know, just start flipping switches and pushing buttons. She can’t help but laugh at the rookie in her passenger seat.

So that’s what Barney does. He starts pushing buttons, flipping switches, like his newfound manhood depends on it. And wouldn’t you know it? The siren starts howling, the lights start flashing, and Barney feels life growing behind the zipper of his plaid, flared trousers.

Hot damn!

The blonde laughs again at her new playmate.

Ain’t this great? She looks at her cohort with what used to be described as a come hither smile.

Barney nods his agreement like a five-year-old asked if he wants an ice cream cone. The crotch of his pants grows just a little tighter.

However, as he takes a moment to run his hand over the shotgun still in its holder in the middle of the dashboard, Barney sees more red and blue lights behind them.

A quick look in the rearview confirms his worst fears. The entire police force of Warren, Michigan, a suburb of Detroit, is after them. And soon, Barney knows in his soul, those cops will be joined by Macomb County deputies and police from most, if not all, of the suburbs.

Maybe even the Detroit P.D. will join the chase. The Motor City cops will have to be part of this if they keep going south on Mound Road. Barney realizes they aren’t far from Eight Mile, the border between city and suburb; black and white.

He also knows nobody wants to mess with the Detroit Police Department, not those cowboys.

His worst fears are realized when Barney looks straight ahead through the windshield of what has become their cruiser — his and this long, lean, blonde, barefoot girl’s rocket to a new life.

The bad news?

More cops are ahead of them, coming out of the neighborhoods to the east and west of Mound Road. Barney might be a rookie at high-speed chases and is certainly no psychic. But even he can see his immediate future will quickly get really ugly before his new glorious fantasy becomes his reality. If ever.

Think you can get that shotgun out of the rack?

Barney’s eyes bounce open even wider than they have been for the past few minutes.

This shotgun?

No, the other one. Of course, that shotgun. Get it out and fire off a couple of rounds.

Good God, you must be kidding! Shoot at the cops?

Only way I can think of stopping them, the girl pauses and looks over at Barney. You don’t look like the kind of guy who wants to spend the rest of his life in prison.

No shit, Sherlock, Barney thinks. This girl reads him like an old Ram’s Horn restaurant menu she’s seen at 3 a.m. every Saturday and Sunday for the past five years.

She couldn’t be more correct. Death would be better than a prison cell for Barney. He knows that as well as she does.

So, he decides, here goes nothing.

He’s fiddling with the shotgun rack, where the girl yells, Oh fuck sees police vehicles coming right at her from the left and cranks the steering wheel hard to the right.

Now, she’s still handcuffed, so making a quick right isn’t easy. As a result, the turn is not smooth.

Barney is tossed around in his seat as the girl turns their cop car hard starboard, making a 90-degree turn on its two left wheels.

His head slams against the headrest behind him, and Barney sees stars while the girl apologizes for the quick turn.

Had to do it, she says, motherfucking cops are everywhere.

Motherfucker, Barney thinks and rolls his eyes. Now I’m saying it too.

Be that as it may, Barney and the girl are careening through a neighborhood filled with red-brick, one-story ranch houses. He can’t help noticing the addresses painted in white on the curbs in front of the houses.

Barney’s also looking at street signs warning drivers like the girl beside him to drive slow because this is a school zone.

Well, not to worry, Barney thinks. Middle of the day, all the little ones should be in the neighborhood’s elementary school. So all he and she have to do is get away from the cops.

Now, that is not going to be easy. Not in broad daylight. But it is possible.

The police aren’t paying any more attention to the school speed limit signs than the girl driving Barney to the next and maybe final chapter of his life.

He looks back over his shoulder. The cops behind them are riding on their back bumper. Barney sees the officers glaring and smiling like a couple of wolves getting ready to eat Red Riding Hood’s dear old granny.

Barney turns back to the girl and sees more cops coming out of the side streets to their right and left.

He gulps and wants to ask, What now, but decides why bother.

Instead, he shuts his eyes, squirms in the squad car’s passenger seat, and thinks about his first night in a state prison cell with a large man named, Bubba.

Hold on, here we go! Get ready!

Get ready, thinks Barney. What the heck do you think I’ve been doing?

Then he sees what she’s talking about.

Doing at least 75 miles an hour, she’s driving straight at an elementary school, Green Acres Elementary, to be exact.

What’s worse, Barney sees where the girl is going. The playground.

What the fuck? You aren’t going to hit those kids, are you?

The girl smiles at Barney and says, Gotta get the cops interested in something they care about more than us.

Children?

Yeah. Children. So get ready!

Barney is speechless.

The girl is annoyed. When I go through the fence, she explains, I am going to hit the school building. Be ready to rock and roll when we smash into the building.

Again nothing from Barney.

I am sure the car can take it; this is a cop car, for Christ’s sake. So just get ready.

What about the children?

They’ll scatter. Probably.

They’re only a few feet from the schoolyard now. Cops chasing them are skidding and stopping. Not even these cowboys want to be responsible for taking out a schoolyard full of kids.

Finally, Barney gets it, and the girl can see he does.

About time, she thinks.

They plow through the chain link fence. Kids scream and run. Teachers grab those frozen by fear and run, too.

The girl accelerates, going right into the red brick school building. She’s aiming for a set of green double doors. The impact shouldn’t be too severe, she hopes.

When we hit, run!

Like a motherfucker?

The girl laughs. Yeah, he gets it.

Maybe fifty feet to impact.

Barney has one more question.

Hey, he says, suddenly sounding like he’s bought into the plan.

Forty feet to impact.

Yeah, the girl says, surprised by Barney for the first time.

Thirty feet to impact.

Question.

Good God, she thinks, has he finally grown a pair?

Twenty feet to impact.

Go ahead, she says.

Ten feet to impact.

What’s your name?

She throws her head back and laughs.

Heidi. But everybody calls me Heid.

Barney extends a hand to shake hers, and says, Bernard. Everybody calls me Barney.

Impact!

The only sound louder than the screams of teachers and children running for their lives is the explosion of the squad car’s front end slamming into the metal bar dividing the pair of thick green steel double doors at the entrance of the building.

The car’s built like a powerful locomotive with a cow-catcher on the front. The front bumper is designed to plow through a crowd or stop a truck, but not crack a set of steel doors. The squad car stops the hard way. The back end of the black-and-white is tossed up in the air by the impact before slamming back down.

Heid goes chest-first