by Lukens, Mark
*
The men sat around the dining room table, all of them sipping cups of coffee. Stella sat beside David on the couch. David had eaten half his bowl of oatmeal, but then he wouldn’t eat any more.
Cole looked at the other men at the table. “I want to know what made Frank get up in the middle of the night and leave.”
“You think those are his footprints?” Trevor asked.
“Who else’s would they be?” Cole asked.
Trevor shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he heard something in the middle of the night. Or he saw something. Then he went out there to check it out.”
“He would’ve woke us up,” Cole said.
“Then maybe he ran,” Trevor answered.
All eyes were on Trevor. A tense silence blanketed the room.
“Frank wouldn’t run out on us,” Jose growled.
“Hey, I’m just exploring possibilities,” Trevor said. “Besides, this is a different situation we’re in now.” Trevor’s eyes rested on Needles. “We’ve never had a murder rap hanging over our heads before.”
Needles stared at Trevor, but he didn’t say anything.
“Even with a murder rap,” Jose said, “Frank wouldn’t run.” Jose stared right at Trevor. “But I have a theory—maybe somebody did something to Frank in the middle of the night.” Jose’s eyes were still locked on Trevor. “Somebody with a lot to gain.”
Trevor stared right back at Jose. “You trying to say something, Jose? Go ahead and spit it out.”
“Come on, you two,” Cole said. “Let’s think about this for a minute. Frank leaves in the middle of the night without his hat or coat.”
“Or his share of the money,” Jose offered.
“Or his share of the money,” Cole repeated. “Then he walks straight from the cabin to the woods. And then his footprints just stop.”
“Maybe somebody else got him,” Trevor said. “He heard something, went out there to check it out and someone got him.”
“Have to be a bad motherfucker to take Frank,” Jose stared at Trevor.
“You mean like the bad motherfucker that tore a guy’s eyes out and stuffed him in a freezer?” Trevor answered.
Cole leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair as he exhaled a deep breath. “This shit doesn’t make any sense. There’s no sign of struggle anywhere. If somebody got to Frank, we would’ve heard something. Frank yelling. Gunshots. Something.”
“I slept like a rock,” Trevor told them.
“Me too,” Cole said. “It was like I passed out.”
Needles chuckled. They all looked at him. Needles sat back in his chair, the wood creaking. He laughed harder now. “Nobody’s going to say it, are they?” he said through his laughter.
“Needles …” Cole started.
“No, Cole,” Needles snapped, his laughter stopping suddenly. His eyes blazed with fear and insanity. “People just don’t go out in the middle of the night and walk into the woods. People don’t just disappear in mid-step. Something’s wrong here. Really wrong.”
They were all quiet for a moment. Needles took a deep breath, like he was trying to control himself and then he continued: “Something took Frank. Not someone, it was some-thing.”
“Needles, don’t start with that shit again,” Cole warned.
“You guys know it’s the truth,” Needles said, almost under his breath. “You’re going to realize it before long.”
Cole got up and took his coffee cup to the kitchen. He poured another cup of coffee, spooned a few teaspoons of sugar into it and stirred—the sounds were loud in the quiet cabin.
Trevor glanced at Needles, then at Stella and David, and then back at Cole. “Cole, maybe Needles is right.”
Cole turned and stared at Trevor. “There’s got to be some kind of rational explanation here,” Cole told him.
“I’m not seeing any rational explanations.” Trevor glanced around at the others for a moment, and then he looked back at Cole. “Maybe it’s time we thought about getting out of here.”
“I think we should look for Frank,” Jose spat out.
“Frank’s gone!” Trevor shouted. “He ran. When are you going to get that through your head?!”
Trevor and Jose jumped to their feet; their chairs tipped backwards and fell over on the hardwood floor. They glared at each other, ready to fight. Cole rushed back into the dining room and stepped in between them. “That’s enough,” he said as he stared at each of them. “We’re not going to fight each other.”
Neither of them said a word as they grabbed their chairs and sat back down. Cole went back to the kitchen counter for his cup of coffee. He took a sip as he walked back into the living room. He stared at Stella and David. “What about you?” he asked Stella. “Did you hear anything last night?”
“No,” Stella answered in a low voice.
Something about her, Cole thought. She’s hiding something.
He saw her eyes dart to the fireplace, at the cases of money, and then she looked at him again.
“What?” he asked her. “If you saw something or heard something, you’d better spit it out.”
Stella hesitated, and then finally she said, “None of you noticed that the ax from the fireplace is gone?”
CHAPTER 14
They all stared at the fireplace.
Cole remembered now that there had been an ax leaning next to the small stack of firewood set on the hearth. He had thought it was odd that someone would have an ax inside the house, but it looked like Tom Gordon had used it to break up the logs into smaller pieces before placing them into the fireplace.
And now the ax was gone.
“What the hell?” Jose whispered.
Nobody answered Jose. They all stared at the fireplace.
“This just keeps getting weirder,” Trevor mumbled.
Cole looked at Stella and David for a moment, and then he looked at the others. “Okay, I’ll go check out her truck; see if it can be fixed.” He looked at Jose. “You come out there with me. Watch my back.”
Trevor jumped to his feet. “You don’t want me to come with you?”
“No. You stay here and watch these two.” Cole pointed at Stella and David.
Cole walked to the kitchen counter and above the end of the counter on the wall was a wooden key holder carved into the shape of a large key. But there were no keys on the key holder. Cole looked at the counter where someone might throw a set of keys—but there were no keys on the counter, either. He opened the first drawer; it looked like a junk drawer. He rummaged through it.
“What are you looking for?” Jose asked as he shrugged into his winter coat.
“Probably the keys to Tom Gordon’s truck, genius,” Trevor said to Jose.
“What the hell’s your problem?” Jose said as he took a step towards Trevor.
“Nothing,” Trevor said with a smirk.
Cole found a set of keys, but they couldn’t be the keys to the pickup truck outside, but they did look familiar and he was pretty sure that he knew what these set of keys went to. He palmed the small set of keys inside his hand and continued his search through the drawers for the keys to the pickup truck.
Then a morbid thought occurred to Cole. What if the keys to the pickup were still in Tom Gordon’s pants pocket when he was murdered? What if they were in his pants right now, frozen in there? Cole could imagine pulling the frozen corpse out of the freezer, prying the pockets open or cutting them away with a knife as frozen flesh peeled away with the cloth.
He pushed the thoughts away, and moved to the next drawer, opened it and found the truck keys. He closed his hand around these keys, collecting them with the small set of keys he already had in his hand, and then he pocketed them both.
Cole turned and looked at Jose. “Found them. Let’s go.”
*
Cole and Jose walked around the cabin to the back where Stella’s Chevy Suburban was parked under a blanket of snow. Jose trudged through the snow right beside Cole, his gl
oved hands stuffed into his coat pockets. “I don’t know what your brother’s problem is,” he grumbled.
“He’s just nervous and trying not to show it,” Cole answered. “The more nervous he gets, the more sarcastic he gets.”
“He better stop fucking with me,” Jose said. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Cole opened the driver’s door and looked at Jose. “You two are going to cool it right now. We have enough to worry about without you two at each other’s throats.”
Jose looked away and exhaled a long breath that plumed up in front of his face in the freezing air. “Whatever,” he mumbled.
Cole still stared at Jose. “Maybe Trevor’s right. Something’s not right here in this cabin. Needles is halfway to La-La Land right now and pretty much useless, so the rest of us need to keep our cool and work together.”
Jose shrugged and kept looking around, averting Cole’s eyes.
“Jose, I’m serious. I need your help. And Trevor’s.”
Jose looked back at Cole. “Just get that fucking truck fixed so we can get the hell out of here.”
Cole pulled the latch to pop the hood. He marched through the snow to the front of the truck. He lifted up the hood and stared down at the mess that used to be engine.
Jose saw the look on Cole’s face. He hurried over to the front of the truck and stared down at the destroyed engine. He didn’t know near as much about engines as Cole did, but he knew enough to know that this engine was ruined. Inoperable.
Cole stuck his hand down in the motor and picked up some loose parts, then he tossed them back down onto the engine, the clanking sound was loud out here in the silence. Cole picked up the cables that used to go to the battery. “Battery’s gone,” Cole mumbled.
“Holy shit, Cole,” Jose yelled right beside him as he stared in shock down at the engine. “Holy fuck, man. What the fuck?”
Cole studied the frayed end of the battery cable. It looked ripped, torn apart, like someone had torn the battery out of the truck with tremendous force, snapping the battery cables.
“What the fuck?” Jose said again as he backed away from the truck, pacing around in the snow in a small circle, still cussing. “What the fuck happened?”
“It looks like someone destroyed the engine with an ax,” Cole said, his voice even and controlled, like he was a scientist analyzing a piece of data. “See those chop marks there. Hell of a swing.”
Jose swung his fists at the air. “Fuck!” he screamed out into the freezing air. “FUCK!!” His voice echoed across the snowy field.
Cole lowered the hood of Stella’s truck, but he didn’t close it all the way. He turned to Jose. “Let’s go check the other truck.”
*
Inside the cabin, Stella stood at the sink and washed the leftover oatmeal out of the bowls.
Trevor watched her. He still sat at the dining room table, his coffee cup in front of him. He toyed with the cup, spinning it around slowly on the table as he glanced at David who sat on the couch. Needles was curled up in the recliner, comforting himself by rubbing the cross around his neck, his eyes half-closed, his lips moving in silent prayers.
Trevor looked back at Stella, watching her rinse the dishes. “What’s wrong with your kid?” he asked. “Is he autistic?”
“No,” Stella answered, not bothering to look at him.
“Retarded?”
Stella gave Trevor a hard look with her blue eyes. “No,” she said.
“Seems like something’s wrong with him.”
“He just doesn’t talk much,” Stella said as she turned her attention back to the dishes, setting them in the strainer a little too hard.
Trevor smiled as he kept playing with his coffee cup. “Stella, could I get another cup of coffee? It was really good.”
“Get it yourself,” she told him without looking at him.
David got up from the couch and walked across the area rug in the middle of the living room. He gave Needles a wide berth as he hurried over to Stella.
Stella turned and smiled at David. “What is it, honey?”
He tugged on her sleeve. She bent down and he cupped a hand beside his mouth and whispered into her ear.
She nodded. “Sure,” she said. She went right to one of the drawers under the counter and rummaged through them.
Trevor watched the two of them with that same smirk on his face. “What’s the kid want?” he asked.
Stella found a spiral-bound book of notebook paper. She flipped through it, all the pages were blank and it looked brand new. She handed the notebook to David. His face lit up as he took it. She continued looking through the drawers for something else.
“Is he writing a book?” Trevor asked.
“He wants something to draw on,” Stella said over her shoulder as she continued looking through the drawer.
“Really?” Trevor’s face lit up. He looked at David. “Are you a good artist?”
David stared at Trevor for a moment, and then he looked at Stella with hope in his eyes.
Stella turned to David with a ballpoint pen in her hand. “Sorry, honey. This is all I could find.”
David took the pen with a big smile and he hurried back to the couch, his long hair flying out behind him as he ran. He plopped down on the couch and opened the notebook.
Trevor got up and grabbed his coffee cup from the table. He walked to the coffee pot and poured another cup. He watched Stella as she went back to the couch and sat down beside David.
Stella looked at Trevor. “You don’t seem particularly worried about what’s going on here.”
Trevor sipped his coffee as he mulled over an answer. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he finally said.
You will be, Stella thought.
*
“Pop the hood,” Cole told Jose.
Jose lifted the handle on the driver’s door of Tom Gordon’s truck, and then wrenched the door open as snow fell in heaps from the top of the door and the roof. He reached inside the murky truck—all of the snow covering the windows made the interior dark. He groped around until he found a lever. He pulled until he heard the clunking sound that released the hood.
Cole lifted up the hood. He was pretty sure what to expect, but he still hoped anyway. He prayed that he was wrong.
But he wasn’t.
Jose rushed around to the front of the truck, slipping in the snow a little. But then he stopped in his tracks when he saw the expression on Cole’s face. “Fuck,” Jose breathed out.
Cole slammed the hood of the truck shut. “Somebody doesn’t want us to leave.”
CHAPTER 15
“There’s no way you can fix the truck?” Jose asked Cole.
“I don’t think so,” Cole said as he looked at the large, free-standing garage behind Tom Gordon’s pickup truck. “I’m going to check in there. You stay out here by the truck and watch for anything.”
Jose nodded. His gun was in his gloved hand already. He looked at the woods as Cole stomped through the snow drifts to the double doors of the garage.
Cole pushed on one of the wooden doors. At first it didn’t budge and he thought he was going to have to call Jose to help him, but then it broke free. He slid it open far enough so that he could slip inside. He stood there for a moment in the doorway, breathing hard from pushing the door open, his breath clouding up in front of his face.
Cole entered the garage which was longer than it was wide. On both sides of the garage boxes, crates, and bags were stacked up. There were stacks of lumber and wood siding, cinder blocks, and an old water heater. Cole walked down a pathway through the stacks of junk. He paused and looked at a long workbench covered with automotive parts. Tools hung from an unorganized pegboard above the bench. Boxes were crammed underneath the bench, some of the boxes split open from the weather. Cole wondered if there might be some spare parts to the trucks among the parts on the counter, but it didn’t matter—he knew both engines were too far gone to repair in a day or two.
Besides, he was lookin
g for something else in here. His hand went to his pocket, his gloved fingers reached into his pocket and pulled out the set of keys he’d found in the kitchen drawer.
He ventured farther down the aisle through the maze of junk. He saw boxes and crates stacked on top of each other. A large set of wood shelves built into the wall held more boxes and bags. There were at least fifteen fifty pound bags of rock salt.
On the floor near the shelves was a red plastic container of gasoline. That was a good sign. He hurried over to the gas container and lifted it up. It was nearly full. He set it back down on the concrete floor and noticed a tarp covering up something large.
That might be what he was looking for.
Cole pulled the tarp away which was nearly frozen solid, but it broke free, crinkling loudly in the silence. And under the tarp was what he suspected the keys went to. A snowmobile. An older one, but it looked like it might still run.
“Cole!”
Cole turned to the doorway of the garage, towards the sound of Jose’s panicked voice. “Cole, get out here right now!”
He threw the tarp back over the snowmobile, covering it completely, then at the last second he pushed some of the boxes down on top of it—he didn’t want Jose or Needles discovering it. Then he broke into a run towards the garage doorway and pulled his gun out of his coat pocket.
*
“So, you’re an archaeologist, huh?” Trevor asked as he stood in front of the coffee maker. He added more sugar and cream to his coffee.
“Yep,” Stella answered. She was already getting very tired of whatever game Trevor was trying to play here. She glanced at Needles who was still curled up in the recliner, massaging his crucifix. He stared down at the large area rug, seemingly transfixed by the colorful patterns. Stella looked back at Trevor. She decided to flip the questions around. “What about you?” she asked. “You look more like a grad student than a bank robber.”
Trevor smiled. “Things aren’t always what they appear to be.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“What does a grad student look like?” Trevor asked, and then he sipped his coffee. “You some kind of expert?”