by Jay Nadal
“So, Madison was telling me her daddy is in the hospital,” Bobby said.
Maddie looked up, nodding. “Yeah, he’s sick and we will see him later.”
“That’s too bad. Hope Mommy doesn’t get sick, too.”
“She won’t. Mommy never gets sick. Even when I am and Daddy is. Mommy never does. Can mommies get sick?” Maddie looked up at Beth innocently. Bobby’s look was just as innocent, which made Beth’s stomach churn.
“No, honey. We can’t. Mommies are always well enough to look after their little monsters.” She tickled Maddie, making her squeal and kick in delight. Beth pulled Maddie closer to her. She kept her arm around the little girl’s shoulders and looked over her head at Bobby.
“Well, I hope not. But hey, if Mommy got sick, Uncle Bobby could look after you. Have you ever been to my house, Maddie?”
“No, where is it? Are you really my uncle?”
“No. I don’t think so. But you know, in a town like this, everyone is kind of related. We’re all just one big family helping each other.”
“Mommy used to live in Houston and Dallas. They’re really big families.”
“Wow. I’ve never lived in a big city. I think I would miss my family too much. Do you miss Daddy, Madison?”
Madison nodded and pressed against Beth, who tightened her embrace.
“We all do. But he’ll get better, and he’ll be back on his feet in no time,” she reassured Maddie.
“I hope so. What will happen to you if he doesn’t? Can’t run that big garage on your own.”
“I get by.”
“But it’s such a big place. You try to do everything yourself and you end up in all kinds of trouble. That’s how things get missed. Before you know it, there’s a window broken, tools missing. Fire started.”
Bobby talked lazily, playing with one of Madison’s toy cups as though nursing an actual cup of tea. He even lifted it to his lips and took a sip absently.
“All those things could happen. That’s why we have help.”
“Oh, you mean Cole Danagger and Nelson Turner? I think they may have quit. Lot of other auto shops. Someone probably offered better wages.” He sipped from the cup again. Maddie watched him from her mother’s arms, incomprehension on her little face. Beth couldn’t take her eyes from him. She was a field mouse caught in the yellow-eyed stare of a hawk.
“We’ll find a way,” Beth said breathlessly.
“Hope so. Hear your brother got arrested. Trouble with the police. Too bad, you can’t rely on anyone.”
“Arrested—what?”
“Didn’t you hear? You were there. Big Chief Joe will probably want a witness statement from you. For assaulting some friends of ours.”
“He was defending me.”
“Sounds to me like an unprovoked attack on some friends who just wanted to see how you were doing, with Brandon being in the hospital and all.” Bobby shook his head. “Violent man.”
“Mommy?” Maddie asked tentatively. “Is Uncle Tommy in jail?” There were tears on the edge of her voice.
“Yes, honey. Your Uncle Tommy almost killed three men. He’s dangerous,” Bobby told her in a Sesame Street tone, as though he were reading her a bedtime story.
Maddie sniffled, and Beth reacted without even thinking. “You’re scaring her. Stop it,” she snapped.
She regretted it instantly as Bobby stiffened. His face went flat. His breathing was hard and fast.
“I’m sorry.” Beth forced herself to put out a placating hand. She couldn’t quite make contact. Her hand hovered inches away from his arm. He wore a stained denim jacket, and he pulled it around himself, flicking up the collar.
“Just saying it how it is. She needs to know the world ain’t cotton candy and fairies.”
“Come on, Madison. Let’s go inside,” Beth suggested, getting to her feet. Bobby grabbed her arm, pulling hard.
“No. Stay here.”
There was something in his tone that tugged at Beth’s awareness. It took her a moment to see it. He sat on the grass, hunching into his dirty jacket as though withdrawing into a shell. His forehead creased into ridges and furrows. His index finger flicked against his thumb, teasing at a patch of dead skin. Each scratch was harder than the one before. He didn’t look at what he was doing.
“Madison! I got ice cream for ya!” Charlie called from the backdoor.
Beth gave Madison a push toward the house, and Maddie ran. Bobby lurched to his feet and made to go after her, but Beth stood in his way.
“Let her go inside, Bobby. Let her have ice cream.”
“Maybe I want ice cream, too.”
“Ice cream is for little kids. You’re a grown man.” Beth forced the hint of a smile onto her face. It sickened her, but she couldn’t think of any other way to keep him outside and away from her daughter.
“Yeah?” Bobby said, looking at her with interest.
“Uh-huh. Lot of girls I know talk about Bobby Dexter. You’re… a bad boy.”
Every instinct in Beth’s body screamed at her to get away, but she was the only barrier between Bobby and the house. She heard the backdoor closing and the snick of a key in the lock, then footsteps. Charlie had locked the door as he made his way down the yard.
“I am. I’m always in trouble. Can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”
“That can be attractive.”
“To you?”
She looked away. His eyes were fevered. She couldn’t look at him and say the things she was saying. The things he wanted her to say. She felt violated by the pretense. She hoped that it came across as coquettish.
“Maybe.”
“Brandon’s always had a stick up his ass. He’s so uptight. You need excitement.”
Bobby touched her bare upper arm. His fingers just brushed the softness of her skin. She recoiled. It was a primal instinct, welling up from inside like vomit. She pulled back, folding her arms about herself. A terrifying change came over Bobby. His lips pulled back in a snarl, and his eyes went wide. There was sweat on his upper lip. The fingers of his outstretched hand curled into talons, then a fist.
He closed the gap between them in one mad lunge. Hands with dirty fingernails seized her by the upper arms, fingers slipping into the sleeve of the T-shirt she wore, touching white skin above her tan line. His head dipped as he pulled her toward him, and she felt his breath on her neck. Charlie yelled as he moved forward. Bobby broke away long enough to hit the old man across the face. Charlie went down in a heap.
Bobby’s touch had paralyzed her. The revulsion had frozen her mind, allowing her no way to choose her response except for standing there. But now, she acted. She pulled her arms down and swept her hands around in a circle, left clockwise, right counterclockwise. She brought each wrist down hard on Bobby’s wrists as the circles completed, sweeping his grip away. Then she raked one sneakered foot down Bobby’s right shin. There was a nerve cluster there, and she had been taught that kicking it could gain valuable seconds when confronted by a larger, stronger assailant. It did. Bobby hopped back, right foot raised, and clutched at his shin. Beth hit him on the side of the head, which dropped him to his knees. She kicked him in the stomach and danced back. Her fists were clenched. She was ready for him to come at her. He didn’t.
She took a moment to realize he was cowering away from her. Fear painted his features, and his eyes were full of tears. Charlie laboriously climbed to his feet.
“You son of a bitch! You spineless bastard! Terrorizing a child and now attacking an unarmed woman! I’ll break your neck!” He grabbed at a garden rake that was the only thing near at hand and held it before him like a sword. He took a step forward and swung it. It struck Bobby across the back with a loud crack. Bobby cried out. He cowered again.
Beth realized what Bobby looked like. He was like a stray dog that barked and showed its teeth to keep people away before running away with its tail between its legs when confronted with a larger, more aggressive animal. But Charlie wasn’t a threat, and neithe
r was she.
“Charlie, leave him,” Beth told him, catching hold of the rake handle and refusing to let go when Charlie tried to tug it free.
“Get out of here, Bobby. You’re not welcome.”
“Bitch!” Bobby spat the words and then followed by spitting phlegm. “You’ll regret that, bitch.”
He ran back down the garden, vaulting the fence. “Jimmy’s going to burn your whole fucking family,” he yelled before the trees of Meers Hill swallowed him.
Beth’s legs turned to liquid. She sagged, Charlie barely catching her. Her stomach was so tight she could almost feel it knotting itself. She sobbed, adrenaline soaking her nerves and making the world spin around her.
“Lean on me, girl. Come on now. He’s gone. Everything’s okay,” Charlie was saying. She was dimly aware of it. His shoulder was a rock, feeling solid under her forehead. She allowed herself to lean, and the old man didn’t waver. “You’ll be okay,” he said, patting her hair.
“Mommy? Has the man gone?” came Maddie’s voice from the kitchen.
Beth straightened. She wiped unshed tears from her eyes and stood away from Charlie. Maddie’s needs gave her strength. She turned and saw Maddie peeking through Max’s cat door, the only way she could talk to Beth with the kitchen door locked.
“Yes, honey,” Beth called out to her. “We’re coming in now. Who wants a Coke float?”
Beth forced the smile of normality, the smile that told Maddie that everything was okay, because Mommy said so.
“Beth…” Charlie began.
“Not a word. Everything is fine,” Beth told him sharply. He nodded reluctantly.
“You got Tommy’s number. I’ll try him again.”
“It’s in my phone, but he’s away somewhere, on his own. And so are we.”
20
Bobby ran. There was a path through the grabbing, whipping mess of trees and bushes, but he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see anything. The rage had him. He charged forward, slamming through undergrowth, stamping it into submission. He ignored the whiplash of slender branches against his face, the snag of thorns. It was irrelevant. That bitch. How dare she. His hands clenched and unclenched impotently. Tears pricked at his eyes. That had always been a problem, and it had infuriated Pa. Whenever Bobby got angry, furious, he teared up. The emotions became overwhelming.
The trees gave way to a footpath, winding its way down the hill. He stopped running, breathing hard and sweating. Jimmy waited down there. That got through the anger. Nothing else could. But his fear of Jimmy, like his fear of Pa, got through the red veil that had descended over his mind. He stalked down the path, hands thrust into the pocket of his denim jacket. Bobby found a pack of smokes. He crushed them and discarded the useless mess of plastic, tobacco, and paper. Had anyone been unlucky enough to have passed him on that path, they would have regretted it. Anyone.
He had always been attracted to Beth. She was fierce and independent, capable of standing up for herself. She was also soft and feminine, able to submit to the right man, or so he fantasized. For a moment back there, he had seen that submission. She had been ready to submit to save her little girl. And then she had turned on him. She had rejected him and attacked him. The thought made the bile rise again, made his fists ache to be used. Bitch needed to be taught a lesson.
Well, that would happen real soon. This was just the start. He grinned in anticipation. Menace riddled his thoughts. Just the beginning. Soon Beth would be ready to give up everything he and Jimmy wanted. And once she did, he would take something for himself. Beth.
The path opened onto a street. To his left was the entrance to Riverside Drive. Driver Avenue ran to the right and curled around Meers Hill to meet Grover Street. Ahead was an intersection and Willow Street. A black SUV sat parked just down from the intersection. Jimmy stood beside his truck, smoking a cigarette. He was looking right at Bobby, the stare pinning him in place. No, he was more afraid of Jimmy than Pa. There were things Jimmy had done that only Bobby knew about. Things that put him way beyond his father.
Pa was angry. Jimmy never showed anger. He showed nothing. He was a snake. You never knew when it was going to come from Jimmy. Bobby had seen him cut a guy’s face, wipe the knife clean on the guy’s shirt, and then eat a burger. The anger at Beth dwindled into fear. He crossed the street toward Jimmy.
“Well?” Jimmy said, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke.
“Hey, can I bum a smoke, man. I ain’t got none.”
Jimmy held out his pack of Lucky Strikes. Bobby lit one.
“She’s pretty scared,” he replied finally.
“What did you do?”
“Just what we agreed, Jimmy.” Bobby wished his reply didn’t sound much like a wail. Why did Jimmy always make him feel like a snot-nosed kid?
“Tell me.”
“Jeez, don’t you trust me?”
“No. Tell me.”
Bobby feigned outrage. Jimmy slapped the cigarette from his mouth and grabbed the shoulders of Bobby’s jacket.
“Listen, you dumb shit. This has to be done right. Tell me exactly what you did and said.”
“The little girl was playing in the backyard when I got there. So I talked to her—she’s real sweet, you know. And I thought Beth’s going to be out here checking on the girl soon, so I would be there playing with her when she did. So that’s what I did.”
He hunched his shoulders under Jimmy’s stare, as though expecting a blow. He always did. Jimmy nodded, and Bobby straightened a little, feeling more secure.
“She came out. That old guy was with her. The one with the store on Main Street, I think.”
“Biggs. And it’s Robinson Street.”
“Yeah, crappy store. He didn’t come out, just looked out through the window. Beth came out, and we talked.”
“What did you say?” Jimmy’s voice was deep and regulated. He didn’t show emotion. Growing up a Dexter had taught them both not to. Bobby hadn’t learned the lesson yet.
“Just stuff. Like you said. No threats. Not outward. I asked about her husband and said I hoped her husband got better and nothing happened to her. I think she got the message, Jimmy.”
Jimmy stared at him for a long time, the unblinking gaze of a snake contemplating its next kill. Then he nodded. He threw down the cigarette, grinding it out beneath his heel. Relief flooded Bobby. He grinned.
“Okay, you did well. We want her scared. Keep her out of the way.”
“When we going to do it, Jimmy?”
“Tonight. That cop is going to be in jail soon, so he’s out of the way. I want that old bastard out of there, too.”
“You mean Biggs? I can take care of that.”
“How?”
“Trash his store. I’ll go in the back, break in, and tear the place up. No one is going to see me or be brave enough to go to the police even if they do.”
“Okay. But you stay away from downtown. Pa wants none of our boys near the town hall tonight.”
“I know, Jimmy. I know.” Bobby was keen to please now. He had come up with an idea Jimmy liked, and he had done a good job keeping Beth Collins scared. More than anything right now, he didn’t want to screw up.
“Wait until dark before you do it. I’ll be waiting at Sugar’s.”
“You got the papers?”
“Right here.” Jimmy patted the inside pocket of his jacket.
“You deliver your message to Biggs. Then you and I will go over while Beth is alone and make her an offer.”
Bobby sniggered. He wasn’t thinking of the papers they would make Beth Collins sign. He was thinking of what he would make her do after that. When she was alone and vulnerable with no one coming to her rescue. He wanted to go do it now. Waiting seemed unbearable. A few hours only, but it seemed like years, and he couldn’t think of anything worse than not going back to Beth’s house right now. Jimmy’s eyes burned into him again. Jimmy could read his mind, could see into the dark corners that even Pa couldn’t look into.
“We stic
k to the plan. Got it? Biggs’s place first, then Sugar’s to make the call. Then we go see her. Screw this up and I’ll kill you, Bobby.”
Cade trudged north along Chester Road. Trees flanked him. The air was humid and hot, the woods screening out any breezes while the tar magnified the sunlight. It was a warm New England day in September, and he told himself this was nothing compared to Houston, let alone West Texas. It hurt. He felt out of shape after so many days on the road, eating fast food and not getting any exercise. Six months wandering the wilderness of West Texas had left him lean and hard as a tree root. But the last few days had taken their toll, plus the days spent on the road and sleeping badly.
The cops had kicked him out of the car a couple of miles away from the Dexters’ house. When he had asked for his phone again, Nate had reached into his pocket. But the other officer, Mitch, had stopped him.
“You’re going to sign for it,” he told him. “Got to be signed in and out at the station.”
Nate’s stare had been quizzical, but Mitch had returned it flatly. “Chief’s orders” was all he said. Nate had wilted.
“Whatever, man” had been his reply, in a tone that said he was done fighting.
Cade knew the feeling. He had seen it several times. It was the exhaustion that came from fighting against a whole department of corrupt cops, trying to do the right thing under pressure to just go along with everyone else. He wondered how long Nate had labored under that burden. The daily jibes, comments, the preferential treatment given by the chief to every other officer who went along.
“Pick it up at the station,” had been the last thing Mitch had said to Cade before he drove away. He left Cade by the side of the road, rubbing his uncuffed wrists to restore the circulation.
It had been a downhill walk all the way so far. The road flowed down into the Grey Valley from the east. Looking back, he could see it on the horizon, see the cut in the pine trees it made as it dropped over the ridge. Burford was still out of sight, hidden by the trees and the contours of the hills. His leg was aching. But there was nothing else he could do.