Southern Bound - A Paranormal-Mystery (Max Porter Mysteries Book 1) (25 page)

Max's muscles tensed as he held his breath. "He found it," he whispered.

"No. That's why his son, my grandson, Stephen took over. And bless his heart, he succeeded."

"They really were looking for that journal."

"Yes. Your finding Stan's journal was a mistake. How did you find it anyway?"

A cold, painful thrust of memory spiked the back of Max's head. "I had some unusual help."

"That's all there is. Now, you know my dirty secret. Please, don't tell Hull. For my grandson."

"I won't, but I need you to do something for me."

Annabelle's face turned cold. "What is it?"

"I need you to call Stephen, arrange for him to meet me. I need to talk with him."

"You don't need me to visit the prison."

"I doubt he would talk with me. He tried to kill me."

"He wouldn't have really killed you. He just tried to scare you away from me."

"Look, I've listened to or read so many sides to this story, and I want the last one. Please."

Annabelle frowned as she looked out the window. "Okay," she said. "I'll do it. But go now."

Max checked the window — a green Ford and a grey Honda had pulled up; the Honda in the driveway and the Ford in front of the house.

"I'm sorry," Annabelle said. "I called Hull before I opened the door. I didn't know you were on my side."

"Is there a back door?"

With a nod, she pointed the way. "I'll call Stephen. He'll be waiting."

As he hurried down the hall, Max wondered how much more abuse his body could take. His hand throbbed non-stop, his muscles complained from the previous night, and his head ached with the feeling of ten hangovers. He moved like an elderly man as he negotiated the stairs to the backyard.

When he slid to the side of the house, he could hear Annabelle at the front door. "It's all okay, gentleman. He's gone now. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'm just a foolish old lady."

The men said something too soft for Max to hear. Then Annabelle continued, "Come in, please. Have a drink. Oh, well, then have a seat. Let me see, he barged in here, very rude, and forced me to sit over there ..."

While she proceeded to fabricate a tale, Max crouched and duckwalked toward the front. He peeked onto the porch. Nobody. Both men were inside. He looked at both cars. No drivers waiting. Finally, he checked out his car. No Sandra.

Looking up and down the street, he sought her with fear rising in his throat. As his gaze passed over the car again, he saw movement — her hair. She was scrunched down in the driver's seat.

Relief swept Max as he rushed down the sidewalk several houses before crossing the street and then working his way back to the car. When he opened the passenger side door, Sandra jolted and stifled a yelp. She motioned him to stay down but get in, and before he could close the door, she hugged him. Wiping at her eyes, she pulled the car out and drove off in a casual manner though Max could see her pulse pounding on her neck. Pride took over and he kissed her cheek.

"Where to?" she asked.

"The prison. It's just a few blocks north."

Chapter 27

Max sat in the functional waiting room, his elbows on his knees, trying to ignore the sideways glances he received from the other visitors. Fluorescent lights turned everything pale. He knew he looked awful — dirty, smelly, bruised, and broken. At least he had Sandra sitting next to him — that made him look less crazy.
Just a little longer,
he promised himself.

"Samuels," a guard called out, and a young, overweight lady went to see her boyfriend.

Each minute that passed by left more questions for Max to plague his weary brain.
What if Annabelle was still with Hull's men? What if she couldn't get Stephen to agree to see him? What if she had lied and was informing Hull of everything right this moment? What if ...
But Max knew that worrisome thoughts would not help him now. The time for over-cautious analysis had ended long ago. He had tested Drummond's way more than once, but now he had entered Drummond's world in full — a gut-reaction and from-the-hip world.

"Spanitti," the guard called out and waited as a woman assisted an old man into the visitor's room.

"I'm sorry, you know," Sandra said.

"For what?"

"The only reason we came down was because of me."

Despite the pain, Max shook his head. "No, no. Don't start that. We came down here together. I screwed things up back in Michigan, I'm the one who couldn't bend a little for my boss to make it work, I'm the one who stole, and —"

"And I'm the one who found this job."

"What?" A chill covered Max, reaching all the way into his wrapped hand.

With her hands clutching her purse, Sandra said, "I wanted us out of Michigan, out of that mess, and I wanted you to feel better, confident — maybe even a bit arrogant like you were when we first met. So I started checking around on the Internet. I found out about this opportunity with Hull, but they didn't actually take job applications. You simply recommended somebody and they said they would look into it if they had an opening, and so, I recommended you."

Max brushed away the tears dribbling down her face. "I don't know what to say. I don't know whether to be mad or flattered or what."

"You can be all of those. Obviously, the plan didn't work out quite the way I had intended."

"Obviously." Max tried to put this new information in place, but it wouldn't fit. "Why even tell me this? What good is it?"

"I'm trying to be truthful. All the little secrets we keep hidden to protect each other, it only ever hurts us. You said we can't lie anymore, and you're right. I know you're mad. I can see it building up, but just know, I did it all out of love. And I'm sorry."

Sniffling, Sandra lowered her head. Max put his arm around her, and the warmth of her body against him was the first good sensation in quite some time. He squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

"Porter," the guard called, but Max didn't want to let go of the moment.

As if reading his thoughts, Sandra said, "Go ahead. It's okay. I'll be right here when you're done."

Max followed the guard to a desk where he filled out some papers. Then he was taken to a large room teeming with inmates in orange jumpers, all seated with their loved ones, all talking in hushed, urgent tones. Near one of the wide, frosted windows, Max saw a man seated alone. The guard pointed and nodded.

Stephen Bowman shared a few of his grandmother's attributes — a similar nose and jaw. The eyes were Annabelle's as well. The rest of him came from Cal and Stan and whoever was his mother — harsh and angular. He had shaved his head, and Max noted the knife tattooed on the back of his hand.

"I'm letting you know right now," he said with a force that spoke of more time in prison than just this most recent stay, "I'm only seeing you because my Grandma asked me to. I got no care what happens to you, so long as it don't come down on me or her."

"Fair enough," Max said, sitting in a plastic, blue chair on the opposite side of a small table.

"So what do you want?"

"Your side of this twisted story, and, depending on what you say, maybe we can help each other out."

"Yeah, sure. My side. Listen, man, there are no sides, just the one truth."

"And what's that?"

"The fact is that Hull screwed over my whole family. He took a good, honorable man, a soldier who fought bravely for this country, and he fucked with his head until the guy couldn't think straight anymore and he did it to protect his own ass. Then when it all went to shit, he bought off my Grandma and walked away as if nothing happened."

"That's not quite the story I've heard."

"Well, you don't have what I have, do you?"

Max tried to stay calm. "You have Hull's journal?"

"You know I do. Why else would you be here talking with me? I'm guessing you figured it out the minute you knew who I was. Well, maybe not that fast. You had to check with my Grandma first. Then, you knew."

"I had a hunch you had something on Hull, but I never thought you had his journal."

"Well, you ain't getting it."

"I didn't think I would. But I do need to know what's in it. It's important to both of us. I mean, if I could find out who you are, then Hull will have no trouble finding it out, too. He just has to decide to look."

"That's the thing, though, he doesn't want to look. He's got no reason to doubt me and start looking."

Max gestured around them. "He put you in prison for attacking me. You don't think that'll get him curious about you? Make him wonder why you'd want to hurt me? Besides which, doesn't he know his journal is missing?"

"Of course, he does. He hired you, didn't he?"

"I don't know which journal he wanted me to find."

"Fact is, I joined up with Hull so I could get his journal. That's it. I mean, I didn't know it at the time. Back then, I just knew I wanted to hurt the bastard who hurt my family, took my father and Grandpa Stan from me. Understand? I figured I'd get in and just keep my eyes and ears open and one day, I'd find my opportunity. That's what I was waiting for. A gold opportunity.

"And it happened. Sitting in a bar, listening to college kids playing trivia games, just minding my business. And then I hear this guy boasting loud right next to me about how he knew the Hull family. Good friends, he says. Made a couple of rude comments about the lady Hulls, got himself some laughs. Right then, I decided I'd beat the guy to a pulp. Get myself some points with Hull. I sat there for two hours listening to this jerk go on and on. I swear he just wouldn't shut up.

"Around one in the morning, he finally leaves and I follow him to his car. Then I start bashing him and kicking him and he starts pleading with me. He's crying right there. I say some cool shit about Hull, and he looks at me hard. Like his whole face changed and he became Mister Cool for just a few seconds. And he says to me, 'You want something to really give you power?' He tells me about the journal. Turns out this fool was one of Hull's little gophers awhile back and he saw the journal. Hull found out and fired his ass.

"I thanked him for the info and then beat him some more," Stephen said with a grin.

Max checked the clock — high on the wall, protected by metal bars. He couldn't recall how long the guard had said he would have but knew time would run out soon enough. "So, you've got the journal now?"

Stephen pushed Max's chair with his foot. "It wasn't easy like that. It took planning, cunning, some real smart work. But yeah, I got it."

"Have you read it?"

"Not much else to do around here."

"And?"

"And Hull was a dick just like I thought," Stephen said, his face reddening as he puffed up his chest. A guard at the door looked over, ready to pounce if Stephen grew any more agitated. Stephen waved at the guard and formed a twisted smile. Then he lowered his voice and said, "When Grandpa Stan went to Hull to blackmail him, do you know what really happened? He refused to pay. He said nobody blackmails a Hull. Then he turned the whole thing around. He offered my dad all the blackmail money plus more if my dad would do a small job."

"The POW," Max said.

"Damn right. He wanted a specific one, Günther Scholz, and he wanted it covered up well, so he used Grandpa Stan's nuttiness against him. He paid to have the POWs captured and tortured. Just three of 'em. The one he wanted and two he didn't even know. But Grandpa Stan still struggled with the war and all, and this whole thing just snapped him. He hurt way more than just three. And, of course, he took his life, too. It's all laid out in that journal."

"Are you sure about that name. Günther Scholz?"

"Yup. That's the name. Strange thing, though. Hull gloats about all of this, except he doesn't say why that one POW made a difference anyway. I mean who was this dude who was so damn important that Hull had to screw Grandpa Stan over, wreck my family's life, and send me on a path that led here?"

"I don't know," Max said, but he kept trying to recall the names he had seen on that transfer slip. He thought Günther was not on it. An idea had formed that he suspected might be right; however, with the remaining time, he had a more urgent line of thought to pursue. "I'm going to try to help us both out here."

"Oh, are you?"

"Listen to me, please. You are not in a safe position just because you have the journal. But you can be. Together we can guarantee our safety."

"Nobody's safe, man. Nobody," Stephen said with an all-knowing smirk on his face. "You find some way to get rid of Hull, there'll be some other bastard taking his place. Fuck, our own government is the worst one of all. At least with Hull, I know who I'm dealing with."

"That's fine, if it's just you. But your Grandma is involved in all this, too."

Stephen's mouth tightened into a thin line. "You stay away from her."

"I'm not trying to bother her, but like you, I've got to protect those I love. And right now, you and her are standing in my way. But we can do it all different. The problem for both of us is Hull. So, if we work together, we can solve our problem."