2 Dog River Blues (11 page)

“I’ll leave you two out here so you can think about what I’m gonna do to this here girl. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll freeze to death before I get back.”

Slipping a knife from his pocket Fish opened it with a flick of his wrist and reached down to slice the ropes from her legs. He dragged Jessica to her feet and when she tried to pull away he gave her a sharp clap across the side of her head. Without another glance our way he headed toward the door of the barn, half leading, half dragging Jessica behind him.

Roy was still struggling with his bindings.

“Save your energy,” I said. “Maybe if we back up to each other one of us can untie the other.”

It took several minutes to swing our bodies around and back into place. The mud numbed my fingers, and after a few unsuccessful minutes I stopped.

“Fish knows how to tie a knot,” I said. “I’m not having any luck, want to give it a try?”

“I can’t even feel my hands right now.” I could hear the desperation in Roy’s voice and knew he was as afraid for Jessica as I was. I took another look around the barn, twisted onto my side, and began rolling toward the Model T. Icy needles of pain shot through my arms and legs and I wondered if I’d ever see Jessica again.

I was encapsulated with mud that smelled like rat shit and molting feathers. It cleared my sinuses and made me nauseous. Easing to a stop against one of the tires, I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath while I studied the area around the car. I was hoping to find a toolbox, a knife, anything that would help cut me free. Nothing. As an afterthought I rolled under the carriage of the car where I found an edged piece of metal. I then arched my body until my hands rested against the rough steel.

I’m not sure what was worse, the chips of flesh I shaved from my hands as I moved the ropes across the metal piece, or the biting strain on my back from trying to reach the makeshift cutting tool. After what seemed like an hour the bindings parted, and I lay on my stomach until my dead hands tickled back to life.

My feet threatened to slide out from beneath me as I skated across the muddied floor to where Roy lay. Again, I fumbled unsuccessfully with his knots. “Just leave me,” he said. “Who knows what that animal is doing to Jessica? Go see if you can help her.”

I sprang to my feet and was almost to the door when two shots rang out. I doubled my speed and burst into the night in time to see Fish Conners climb into his car and take off down the drive, spinning his tires as he hit the road.

When I reached the trailer I hesitated for a moment before tearing open the door, afraid of what I’d find, hoping against hope that I was wrong.

The place was a pigsty. The sink was piled with dirty dishes. Crusted pots and pans filled the stove. In the center of the kitchen a filthy folding table held an army of empty beer cans and a large ashtray overflowing with half smoked joints and cigar butts. I gagged at the stench of bacon grease, sour milk, stale tobacco, and pot.

Someone had removed the carpet from the living room floor leaving dark patches of glue. The two chairs and sofa were torn and faded, and covered with newspapers, CD jackets and videotapes.
 

In the corner, a sixty-inch projection TV was tuned to a talk show whose host I didn’t recognize. The volume was turned down so low that the cheering audience sounded almost like the ocean’s surf heard through a giant conch shell. The only other sound in the trailer was the ticking of an old clock hanging over the sofa.

The door to the bedroom was ajar and by the time I was halfway across the living room I could see that the bed was empty. Stepping through the doorway, my heart went cold as my gaze followed a thin trail of blood that ran from the pillow, across the dingy sheets, and along the floorboards.

Chapter 12

I made a quick spin and raced back through the trailer, only to be confronted at the doorway by my cousin. Her blouse was ripped open. Dried blood stained her lips, neck and bra, and there was a haunted glaze in her eyes.

“I thought you were dead,” I said.

It took a moment but her eyes cleared and a smile threatened to replace the frown on her face. “I bit the son of a bitch’s finger through to the bone. I tried my best to bite the damn thing off, but the bone just wouldn’t give.”

“We heard gunshots and I saw Fish drive off.”

Jessica started laughing, a soft gurgle that grew to a squawk. Giant sobs followed, and tears flowed down her face as she threw herself against my chest and clutched at me.

Something akin to liquid fire rushed through my veins. I wanted to hold her close and kiss away her tears, but that was a path I could never allow myself to follow. They say blood is thicker than water, and as far as I was concerned that blood was a dense social wall that I could never breach.

So I held her at arm’s length and spoke soothing, if meaningless words as I willed her anguish away.

“We need to get moving,” I said. “Fish or Rusty might come back at any time. Wait here for a minute while I find a knife or something to cut Roy loose.”

She nodded, but she didn’t move away from me so I backed further into the kitchen, reached over, and tore out a drawer. Seeing only towels I let it crash to the floor and moved over to the next one. In the third drawer I found what I was looking for.

Not only was there a nice folding Buck knife, but all three of our pistols were tucked under a stained dishrag. I checked each gun and found that they were still loaded. Slipping the knife into my pocket, I turned back to Jessica.

Forcing the nine-millimeter into her right hand, I slid one of the forty-fives into my waistband, and then racked a bullet into the chamber of the other. Taking Jessica by the elbow, I guided her from the trailer and out to the barn. As we made our way across the lot, she told me what had happened.

“He kept telling me how much I was going to like his ‘Big Willie.’ It was disgusting.” As she talked, she grabbed my arm and held it as if she were afraid I might disappear.

“He cut me loose when we got to the bedroom,” she continued. “He was trying to retie my arms to the bedpost when I got hold of his finger. God, did he let out a scream.”

“So that’s where all the blood came from?” I asked.

“Yup. He tried shaking me off but I just clamped down on the finger. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I wasn’t going to give in without a fight.”

“That’s when he cuffed me across the ear and shook me off. I rolled off the bed and took off like a coon running from a hungry gator. I don’t know where the gun came from, but Fish fired a couple times as I headed for the trees. I hid until I saw his car pull away. I figure he was headed to a hospital. I hope he loses the damn finger.”

Roy had managed to roll several feet outside the barn entrance. A thick blanket of mud and straw covered his entire body and he looked like a boar in pig heaven.

“Thank God,” Roy said when he saw Jessica. “I was worried half to death about you.”

“What, you weren’t concerned about me?” I asked. I bent down and began sawing at his ropes with the Buck knife.

“I figured you could handle yourself,” he said.

 
The blade was sharp and I quickly hacked him loose. Roy rubbed his hands together and groaned as the blood began circulating. “Where’s that bastard, Fish? I’m going to kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands. Soon as I can use them again, that is.”

“Maybe it’s time to go to the police,” I said, as Jessica and I helped Roy to his feet.

“We can’t do that,” Jessica said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because Ma wouldn’t want Daddy exposed as a thief,” Roy chipped in. “She’d rather the manuscript stay stolen than have that happen. Now what the hell happened at the trailer?”

 
Jessica filled him in and then we headed back to the car.

“I knew I should have made you stay at my place,” Roy said as we tramped along behind him.

“Like that was going to happen,” Jessica said.

Roy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to a stop. “You’re out of this as of right now.”

“If it wasn’t for me biting Fish’s finger near off and sending him scurrying away, we’d all be dead,” she said.

“She’s right, you know,” I said.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?”
 
Roy asked.

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” I said. “Do you really think you can keep her out of this? At least if she’s with us we can keep an eye on her. Otherwise she’s going to do whatever she wants and she’s liable to get herself killed.”

Jessica tore her arm from Roy’s grip and started walking. “Finding the book was my idea in the first place and I’m not going to sit by and let the two of you have all the fun.”

“Yeah, this is my definition of fun,” I muttered as we trudged back through the woods. If Jessica heard me, she ignored the comment.

When we reached the car Jessica held out her keys and asked, “Will you drive, Wes?”

I took the keys and we climbed into the car, Jessica and Roy in the back. As we headed back to Roy’s cabin, my eyes searched every cutoff and parking area for signs of Fish or Rusty. I was struck by the realization that I was becoming quite fond of my cousin.
  

We made it back to the cabin without further incident. The sky was making its morning shift from black to gray as we coasted to a stop alongside Roy’s beat up truck. “Jessica, you’re staying with me,” he said. “Wes, you’re welcome too. I’ve got an air mattress we can set up on the floor if you’d like.”

“I’ll pass. I want to get back to the marina. I need to check on the boat and I’d rather sleep in my own bed than on the floor.”

“All right,” Roy said. “Take Jessica’s car and I’ll bring her on out to the marina later today to pick it up. We can have dinner and discuss our plans.”

“Maybe we should come along,” Jessica said. “What if they’re waiting for you?”

I shook my head. “Judging by the blood on the floor I suspect Fish has gone off to lick his wounds and maybe get a couple of stitches. But if you don’t mind, Roy, I’ll hang onto the gun for a few days.”

 
Roy gave me a quick pat on the shoulder. “Keep the gun until this is all over, but I’m surprised you don’t have one of your own on board.”

“When I sailed up the coast from Key West I didn’t expect to be out playing cowboys and Indians.”

 
“I don’t think any of us expected things to get this messy,” Roy said. “Why don’t we plan on meeting out at the marina around four-thirty?”

The two of them climbed out of the car and I shifted into gear and began to creep away.
 
Roy said something I couldn’t make out, so I stopped and rolled down the window. “What’s that?”

 
“Jessica’s right, Wes. You need to be careful. They may not act at all like we expect.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

I left the window open and let the cold air brush away my tiredness and clear my mind. It was a long trip back to the marina and the last thing I needed was to fall asleep at the wheel.

As I drove, my thoughts ran the gauntlet from despair to anger, and after awhile I was overcome with a strange exhilaration that bordered on depression.

All I’d wanted when I sailed into Mobile Bay was to find out why I’d never heard from my father or his side of the family. I’d never envisioned miserable cold nights without sleep, gunfights, or the developing closeness I felt toward Jessica.

When I got to the marina I had to drag my body from the car. Letting out a groan I hunched my shoulders against the frosty breeze that was winding its way off Mobile Bay and along the Dog River. I slogged my way across the parking lot and over to the round table where I found Cathy sprawled out across two chairs. She was holding a cigarette in one hand and a near empty bottle of Captain Morgan in the other.

She didn’t appear to have heard me walk up to the table and I wondered if I should leave her alone. Next to where she was seated, cigarette butts lined the edge of the table like little white fence posts. As I watched, she stubbed out her current butt and placed it in the row before lighting another.

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Quit six years ago.” She looked up at me and took a swig of her rum.

Her eyes were dull, her face slack from the liquor, and in the damning half-light she appeared old and worn. I moved around the table and sat down across from her, uninvited, and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, Wes. I always sit outside all night smoking and drinking and freezing my ass off.”

I leaned forward. “Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head no. “Men are all bastards.”

“All of us?” I asked, as she lined up another cigarette and took another sip of rum.

“Last night I got a call from Rob, my ex-husband. The cops are dropping all the charges against him. He’s driving down to see me today.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Well it ain’t good.” She took a hefty swig from the bottle. Her body gave the impression that it was swaying in the wind, and for a moment I thought she was going to pass out. Instead, she folded her upper body across the table and let out a fetid trace of steam as her warm breath crossed the icy air. “I left Wisconsin to get away from the prick.”