Blackout (36 page)

The stench of his sweat mingling with his cheap cologne taints the air.

His dark eyes peer into mine, causing me to shudder violently. “You watched us for a long time. You must’ve liked it.”

“I was eight-years-old. I didn’t even know what you sick people were doing.” I shrink away, lowering my head. Think of something quick or you’ll die out here just like Mama’s sister Lilly.

His fingers graze my chin. “Look at me. You’re so beautiful. If you’d stay with me, I’d let you live.”

“I could stay with you,” I choke out, anything to buy me more time.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to die.” His whispers on my neck make me cringe.

Tears rim my eyes. I wipe them away, using my cast. The tree bark I’m pressed against scrapes my back. I have to escape, or I’ll die.

His fingers pinch on my chin to hold it in place. When his lips close in on mine, I jerk away.

“Don’t touch me.” Terror echoes in my quavering voice.

“I bet you like it rough, just like your aunt. She was a wild one. Your mama was tamer, quiet and reserved, elegant—a class act.” His voice sounds rough from years of smoking. He must’ve not completely quit because I smelled it on him just before the storm hit.

“The one you cut up into the tiny pieces. What did you do with Lilly’s body?”

He laughs. “She’s in the Alligator River. I heard you ran into her bones when I swamped Dare’s boat. You were getting too close.” His hand gropes my breast. “Soft like your Mama’s, a little smaller though.”

Vomit gurgles in my stomach and crawls up my throat, leaving a nasty taste in my mouth. I’d like to sob, but I won’t. He’d only enjoy that.

His hand rises underneath my shirt. I struggle, and he slams me into the tree, crushing my broken pinky. I scream out in pain, tears forming at the edges of my eyes.

“Don’t fight me. It’ll just make it worse. I know you want me, just like your Mama.”

When his hand reaches between my thighs, I squeeze them together.

“Don’t be this way.” He forces my body into a prone position, his sweat plastering my clothes to my skin. His erection stabs my groin.

His weight pins me to the ground. His breath stinks of onions and fried food and chewing tobacco. I’m completely vulnerable in this position.

He grinds himself against me, groaning and smashing his lips onto my breast through my tank. His hands touch me all over. I slap him with my good hand, so he shackles it down.

“Don’t make me taze you. I could, ya know.” He kisses me all over, pushing up my shirt past my bra. “I like this. Did you wear this for Darius? You don’t have to worry about him. He’ll go to jail for Graham’s murder and probably yours.”

“What did you do to Dare?” My face crinkles while I imagine poor Graham sawed to the bone and scattered somewhere in the swamp.

“Darius is at the station. I helped the department find parts of your other boyfriend Graham. That looked good for me. He should’ve stayed away from you. Your mama promised me that we’d be together, but then you came back, and she didn’t. I wasn’t about to let Graham or Darius have what was due to me.”

It comes to me now. Through the fog caused by my cracked-opened skull, I saw Kirkland run off when he realized I was in the bushes watching the three of them. He scooped up his clothes and ran. He hadn’t stuck around for the carnage.

I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to come up with something to help me. Poor Miles.

He called my daddy though. Will Daddy come for me, or will Tate just shoot him too? Tate’s grimy hands snake into every crevice. I continue to fight him, but it’s like trying to budge a mule. My hands search for his gun, his belt, but it’s far out of reach.

And then the stupidest thing happens, my broken arm itches so bad I can’t stand it. The pen.

“I can’t breathe,” I moan.

He lifts for a second, and I pull out the pen from my cast. He’s so busy kissing my stomach he doesn’t notice.

I only have one shot. I rotate the pen one-handed to extract the pointed end. When he rests on his elbows, I jab the pen into his eye. He howls and blood spurts into my eyes and mouth. I spit it out. He raises himself just enough for me to jab the heel of my palm into his throat.

While he gasps and rips the pen from his eye, I scramble to my feet. I frantically search for the gun, but it’s hung on a branch too high for me to reach. I grab a stick, but he’s up on his feet.

“You little cunt.” He staggers toward me, but I run. I outran him before. Can I do it again?

As I sprint toward the road, my heart hammers in my chest. Miles has the keys. I run toward him. He’s breathing. I can’t just leave him, but I can’t carry him either. I tear off the bottom of my shirt and press it against the wound to suppress the bleeding.

“Stay still. I’ll come back for you.” I dig in his pocket for the keys and his phone. The phone is gone.

I take the keys and dash for the car. A gunshot explodes. Pain rips through my ear. I touch it and blood curls between my fingers. I zigzag through the brush, behind trees. When I get to the car, Tate’s truck blocks the MGB into its parking space. A tree obstructs the car from the front.

Now what? I run toward the highway.

“Stop running or I’ll shoot you again.”

He’s going to kill me anyway. I dart behind a tree but not before he fires off another round. I go down hard onto the sawgrass. Blood pours from my calf.

Tate rushes to where I’ve fallen and looms over me. “This isn’t worth the trouble. We’ll get this over with.” Blood gushes from his punctured right eye.

He picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I groan from the pain in my ear and leg. Blood runs down in rivulets. He’s wounded. I have to fight back. I won’t die in this stinking swamp, not like Lilly.

He spits out a wad of tobacco.

From the back of his truck, Tate tugs out a chainsaw. My mind swirls in a fog, black spots piling up in my vision. I won’t let myself black out, not now. I manage to fight off hysteria and focus on my surroundings. Leaning over his shoulder, I stare at his back pocket. A Gerber utility knife partially sticks out. I struggle, so he doesn’t notice me pilfering his Gerber.

“Keep still.” He smacks my ass hard, and I swallow down the agony coursing through my limbs. I scream as loud as I can. Maybe a park ranger will hear me.

“Shut-up, or I’ll knock you out.”

I can’t lose consciousness.

He hauls me back to the small clearing where he finished cutting up Aunt Lilly. His breathing is labored, and he shakes his head, flinging blood.

I undo the Gerber, so the knife end points outward. Just as I’m about to stab him, he drops me onto the ground, and the knife slips from my hand. It’s now a couple feet away from me.

The pain keeps me alert. I scoot closer to where the Gerber lies open on the ground. If I can just get to it.

He picks up the chainsaw and fires up the engine. Fear cracks open my skull, and I almost unravel and black out. Not now. I inch closer to the Gerber.

The swooshing in the brush causes him to swivel around. I dive for the knife, pick it up, and stab him in the foot.

He screams, dropping the running saw. It bounces right next to me, almost catching my fingers before I yank them out of the way. The stench of gasoline and the burn of the engine permeate the humid swamp air. I feel like I’m having a heart attack from the pain stabbing under my left breast.

“Goddamn you.”

I limp along as fast as I can, tripping and stumbling on the vines and brier. I can hide.

“I’m going to tear every one of your limbs off until you scream out your last breath,” he yells.

I trip and land face first in the mud. I recover quickly, and I’m back up on my feet, charging back to the trail.

I scream at the top of my lungs. “Help.” Surely a ranger will hear me. “Help!”

“Shut-up, you stupid bitch.”

This time when I fall I come nose to nose with an alligator. It’s as startled as I am. It hisses at me, and I slowly back away from it.

My hair is yanked back, so that I’m sure some of it has come out by the roots. I cry out and jab him in the side. He grunts but doesn’t let go.

I fight hard now, kicking, biting, punching. He finally drops me. I wallop him with my cast, and he stumbles backward. I scream out, a dagger-like pain shooting up my arm.

While he’s down, I jump on his gut, and he lets out a gush of air. I kick his head, my foot connecting with his damaged eye. He bellows. I don’t let up, even though he’s curled into a ball. I won’t let him hurt me.

“Step away Teal.” From behind me, the deep gravel of Dare’s voice rumbles into me. “We’ve got this now.”

When I swivel around, Mr. Tucker and all his boys, except Randy have rifles pointed at Tate. Their stone cold faces sends chills even into me. Mr. Tucker appears sober, though a bit bedraggled, his face unshaven, his eyes bloodshot, but his hands are steady on the gun, and for that I’m thankful.

Tate moans, unfurls, and crawls to his knees. I stumble toward Dare to lean against him. He kisses my shoulder, not letting go of the shotgun or taking his eyes off Tate.

“Don’t move another inch Tate, or I’ll shoot your goddamn balls off,” Dare says, his gaze perusing over me. His hands shake a bit while studying my torn clothes and the blood pooling at my feet. “Stay right where you are.”

“Let’s just shoot his sorry ass and get it over with,” Sam says, spitting on the ground.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Jackson says, a glint in his eyes.

Dare gives one of his sadistic lopsided grins. “How long do you think a cop like him would last up at the state pen?”

“Not long at all,” Sam says. “That tub of lard would be somebody’s bitch pretty quickly. That’s only if a lifer doesn’t stick him good with a shiv first. Good thinking, little bro.”

Tate glares at Mr. Tucker. “If you would’ve just left Lynn alone, she would’ve stayed with me, but you put all those fancy notions in her head about running off.”

“That was never my idea, and I wouldn’t leave my boys. She ran off anyway. That woman could never be true to one man.”

She’d slept with several. Tommy Collins’ words return to me about my mama spreading her legs. She was the talk of the town. All those whispers behind my back. I’d always thought they were about me, but maybe they weren’t. I wonder if Kami knows.

Tate spits out blood. “She left that daughter of hers behind, and you let her go to your son.”

Mr. Tucker doesn’t lower his gun, his finger on the trigger. “My son’s business is his own.”

“I bet you’d like to be porking the little girl. She looks exactly like her mama.”

Dare steps closer to Tate. He’s a tad taller than the sheriff. “I’ve had enough of your lip.” He slams the butt of the shotgun into Tate’s forehead.

Tate collapses, like a limp noodle.

He’s jealous of Mr. Tucker. He took it out on Dare, and Kami had told me Sam was setup. Maybe… “I bet Tate set Sam up with the drugs.”

Sam scratches his head. “That makes sense. He’s the one who arrested me, and they’d just made a huge cocaine bust.”

“Take care of Tate,” Dare says, while grabbing hold of my waist as my shot leg gives out.

“Gladly.” Prodding Tate with the rifle, Sam pushes him back to the parking lot.

“Teal?” As Dare studies my wounds, worry tinges his words. “You must’ve fought like a wildcat.”

“Miles was shot,” I spurt out. “Please go check on him. How did you know I was here?”

“Your dad called me. He couldn’t get out here fast enough, and he figured us backwater boys had other guns.”

Dare gives me another once over. “He nicked your ear.” He tugs off his tee and wraps it around my calf to slow the blood flow. “I’ll go find Miles.”

He kisses my forehead. “My tough girl.” A grin slashes his handsome face. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.

After the ambulance shows up, the feds take over the crime scene since the refuge is federal jurisdiction. Jimmy doesn’t look too happy about that.

The paramedics pick up Miles first. I hurry to his side before he leaves. “I’m so sorry Miles.”

“What do you mean? I volunteered to drive. I’m glad you’re okay, but you still need to come see me. You owe me now.” He winks.

“I will, once you’re better,” I say.

“I’ll be taking patients tomorrow.” He pats my hand. “You’re going to be okay now, Teal. Not much left to cover.”

“You’re right,” I lie. There is so much more to this—Lynn for instance. “I know why I can’t remember her now.”

“We’ll talk about that,” he says. “I’d give you a hug, but this really smarts.” He clutches his shoulder where Nan has adhered a bandage.

Dare rides in the ambulance with me, and a fed follows us to the hospital. She looks Middle Eastern, though she could be Hispanic with her choco skin and long dark hair. It’s hard to say, but she has the most amazing pale green eyes I’ve ever seen. Unlike the other feds, she has on sensible boots muddied by the swamp, jeans, and a blazer.

“I’m Savannah Kinlaw.” She sits down by my bed. “I have a little background on your history but not all of it.” There’s something about her that puts me completely at ease.

I tell her most everything, except about Mama. “When I stumbled upon the threesome in the swamp, my Aunt Lilly was shocked to see me. She hit me on the head with Tate’s baton. She was petrified of Lynn. “I believe Kirkland was the other man involved, but he ran off. He had a port wine birthmark on his abdomen. At first, Tate thought my aunt had killed me. He went a little mad and hacked her up with the chainsaw.”

“I’ll be damned,” Dare says. “Kirkland does have a mark like that. When we were kids, we teased him about it, so he wore a shirt to the beach after that, but he must’ve covered up because you might’ve recognized him.”

I tell her about the thighbone and skull I saw in the bay, which probably belong to Lilly. “Everything’s a little hazy after that.”

“We’ll search the river for your aunt, and they’ve found most of Graham,” Agent Kinlaw says. “We’ll find out what happened.” She examines my face as if spotting my omission. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

I shake my head and choke on my tears for Graham. Tate had stalked me because I resembled Lynn. That’s why he left the daises. In his deranged mind, he thought I could replace her. He didn’t want anyone else to have her or rather me, so he killed Graham and planned on giving Dare jail time.