Flashback

by Peter Grist

  “Check upstairs, see if he’s there, I’ll look for Esther.” suggested Ed. Linda never broke her stride and headed for the stairs to the next floor leaping them two at a time. Ed turned left into the front room and immediately saw the woman laid out on the floor. He rushed to her side, kneeling beside her head. The gash was deep and still oozed blood, matting her hair and causing the grey to turn to a deep reddish-black, the area around it a massive lump. She looked white and he could see that she had lost a lot of blood into the carpet. He felt for a pulse in her neck, it was faint, but there. He raced into the kitchen, grabbed a clean dishcloth from the side and went back to her prone body. Upstairs, he could hear Linda shouting for her son as she searched all the rooms. Ed gently placed the dishcloth over the wound then raised her head so that he could put a seat cushion underneath. Esther felt limp and lifeless in his hands. Linda ran back down the stairs and into the living room.

  “He’s gone…Oh my god! Esther!” She ran to join Ed beside the lifeless body of her friend. “She’s not….please, she isn’t…?”

  “No she’s not dead, but we need to get her medical attention urgently. She’s lost a lot of blood, I’ll call 911.”

  “No, it’s quicker if we take her. There is a small hospital on this side of town, it has an E.R. department. You sit in the back with her and I’ll drive.” Ed agreed and between them managed to get Esther into Ed’s arms. He carried her like a small child to the back of the Jeep. Linda opened the back door and helped him slide her friend in the back, Esther’s head cradled in Ed’s lap, still resting on the seat cushion. Without further ado she jumped in the front, started the car and turned it around, the spinning wheels spitting more gravel and dust in a wide arc. It was still in 4x4 mode so the tires dug in and shot the car around and back towards town.

  She drove at breakneck speed and got to the medical centre in less than ten minutes, pulling right up to the electric doors that usually took ambulances. As soon as the car was in Park, Linda was out and through the sliding double doors, calling for help. Matt Petonowski was the duty doctor, sitting at the nurse’s station just inside. Linda knew most of Ludlow’s dwindling population by face if not by name, but the young physician was a regular visitor to the library. Linda always thought of David Schwimmer from Friends whenever he came in. He jumped up, dropping his paperback to the desk as Linda burst in.

  “Linda, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh Matt, it’s Esther Mourn, she’s been attacked! She’s in my car, hurry.”

  Matt’s dark green eyes showed shock but his professionalism kicked in as he grabbed a gurney parked by the entrance. Ludlow was a relatively quiet town and attacks were very rare. The most common thing at this time of night was bar brawls and they weren’t that regular. He ran to the Jeep, closely followed by a nurse. Between the four of them, they got Esther laid on the trolley, Matt taking a quick peek under the dishcloth. “Looks ugly, but Esther’s a tough old bird, let’s see if we can fix her up.” Matt and the nurse rattled the gurney into a side room, leaving Linda and Ed staring after them. The last thing they saw was an oxygen mask being placed over Esther’s face as the door swung silently closed. They stood close together, not moving, not talking, hardly daring to breathe. Gently, Linda slipped her hand into Ed’s. He returned the hold, gaining strength and composure from it as if being plugged into a battery charger. Linda felt the same; just the closeness of his body helped her. Eventually, she said, “I’m going to call Jed, Esther’s husband, he must be worried, she should be home by now, then we need to find Josh.”

  Linda came back from the public pay phone along the hall, looking tired and distressed, but under the circumstances, Ed thought to himself that was quite understandable, and she still looked a million dollars.

  “I’ve been thinking”, she said as she approached.

  “Oh dear, that sounds dangerous!”

  She offered a wan smile at his attempt at humour.

  “No, really, we are going to need some help with this. I think I know who and I think I know how. But I don’t want to leave Esther.”

  “She seems to be in good hands now, our priority is to get your son back then finish this thing. Anyway, Esther’s husband will be here soon, right?”

  “Yes, you’re right, of course, Jed is on his way, but I can’t leave her.”

  “Okay”, he replied, “let’s wait a few more minutes.”

  Her relief was visible although she could hardly stand still with worry for Josh and her friend. There was the occasional noise and muffled instruction from behind the closed door of the side room where Esther lay but otherwise the hospital seemed as quiet as the proverbial grave. Less than five minutes had passed before they heard the noise of a car engine hastily getting closer. They walked out of the E.R. Department doors, the ‘shush’ of the electric motors breaking the barrier between the air-conditioned and sterile environment of the hospital and the warm dry air of the summer night outside. As they stood under the yellow glow of the lights of the reception veranda the beam of headlights grew quickly larger as the car speed towards them. The mid-eighties Oldsmobile sedan hardly slowed as it took a right and turned in to the hospital grounds. It pulled up just the other side of the Jeep, the wheels barely stationary before the driver stepped out. Esther’s husband showed his years, with worry accentuating the lines on an already lined and weathered face. As he limped from the dark of night into the stark brightness of the fluorescent strip lights of the reception Ed could see that Jed had lean features and a slightly stooped posture but still looked to be about six foot tall. His eyes were still sharp and intelligent, the brightest of blues. The thinning grey hair was combed over and struggled to hide large age spots on his pate. The dark green flannel shirt stuck closely to the thin body. Linda stepped forward to meet him, converging with a huge hug. Jed pulled away and held Linda at arm’s length. “What happened, is she alright?”

  “Someone came to the house; they attacked Esther and took Josh. They are looking at her right now, the doctor said she should be okay but they haven’t come back out since I called you.”

  Jed let go of Linda and almost to himself whispered “Oh my god! Why? Why would they do this?” as he brushed past her and into the building, limping heavily on his left leg.

  Ed and Linda watched as Jed entered the building then turned to each other.

  “Now, we really have to go.” She nodded in reply, grabbed his hand and moved towards the Jeep.

  Buster opened the door to his house as soon as Linda had pushed the doorbell.

  “We need your help Buster.”

  “C’m on inside both of you’s.”

  He led them back into the living room and they all sat in the same places they had earlier. Buster leaned forward, eager to hear what they had to say but reluctant at the same time. He looked into the eyes of his visitors, trying to read their minds.

  “You found her didn’t you, you found my Gracie in dem hills?” he asked in his slow drawl. Ed spoke first.

  “We found someone Buster, but, well, well it wasn’t Grace, it was another little girl……but we are sure she’s there.”

  The big man almost looked relieved; his emotions clear to read on his face like the cover of a book. He glanced towards the front of the house where Linda’s car was parked.

  “Did you bring them back, are they here?”

  “No Buster”, he replied, “we couldn’t. They have to stay where they are for just a little longer. We need to get the killer to go back on his own, to prove it was him.”

  The chair protested loudly as Buster sat back and mulled this over for a moment before he nodded in agreement. Ed glanced at Linda, then back to the big man resting in his easy chair.

  “Look”, he began, “whoever did this has taken Linda’s boy Josh. We think we know where he is but we’re going to need some help getting him back.”

  Buster frowned at Linda. “Whateve
r it takes, I’ll help. What you want me to do?”

  twenty-six

  Joshua still had the sack pulled down over his head as he was pushed roughly into the building. He hadn’t made a noise, not a whimper since his abductor forced him into the pick-up truck. The boy was dragged into a stall and thrown down onto the cement floor. He could feel a rope being threaded around his arms and wrists then tied off. The smell of horses was strong, the touch of brittle old straw in his hands evidence enough to the boy that he was in a horse barn. He could hear the huffing of the man breathing deeply as he tied off the rope then the scuffling footsteps get fainter and a large door being closed as he was left alone. Josh made no move for many minutes, just lying on his side, his arms pulled behind him. When he was sure he was alone he tried to sit up but he felt shackled to the ground. He felt around until he could feel the end of the rope and the cold circle of steel fixed to the floor. He shuffled backwards so there was a little more slack then tried again to sit up, this time successfully. Now upright, he bent his head down and shook it ferociously. Within seconds the loose hood had fallen free, landing in his lap. Josh blinked, trying to focus his eyes, but it was almost pitch black. From where he sat he could just make out the wooden sides to the stall he was manacled in. Josh knew he wasn’t close to home, he had counted the seconds of how long he had been in his abductor’s vehicle and it had added up to at least thirty minutes. He had tried to keep up with the turns they had taken but he had lost track halfway through the journey but he had heard no cars passing at all so he guessed they were further out from town. He felt afraid and wanted to go home but his analytical mind raced through how he was going to get out of this. He wondered how his favourite TV character B A Baracus from the A-Team would handle it. He guessed BA would use his mighty strength to pull out the cemented steel ring but that wasn’t an option for Josh, he needed something cleverer. After some wiggling and rotating, the boy managed to get his backside then both legs through his arms so that his hands were now bound in front of him and not behind. Lying on his stomach he could now stretch much further and with his long legs could just about reach the end of the stall with his bare feet. There was nothing there; the stall was empty except for him. He stretched further and felt with his legs up the left side of the wood. He couldn’t reach up far but he felt nothing. He shuffled over to the other side and tried again. In the darkness, he felt the slim wooden handle of a farming implement leaning against the end of the stall. He could just about feel it with his big toe. He pushed up more, balancing on his left leg and gingerly managed to knock the handle towards him with his right. The handle made a sharp knock on the concrete as it toppled down. Josh froze, listening for footsteps. After a minute of waiting and holding his breathe he slowly exhaled and began to feel with his feet for where the tool had landed. It was close. Very slowly he used his feet to bring the tool closer to him, all the while hoping it was something sharp, not just a yard brush at the other end of the handle. The end scraped along the floor in the dark, it sounded like metal. His toes finally felt something cold, flat and hard at the other end of the handle. Definitely not a brush. Once the handle was in reach of his hands it was much easier. Josh managed to drag the tool up near his head. The steel end felt like a hoe but it didn’t feel that sharp. His fingers felt along the short blade. It felt dull and rusty but it was his best chance. He waited and listened to see if anyone was coming then rotated his body around so that he had the wall to his back and the steel ring in front of him. He manoeuvred the tool around so that he could hold the handle with his feet about halfway down the shaft, putting the blade near his hands. Josh began moving his out-turned palms up and down, sawing through the rope and tape that bound him.

  twenty-seven

  Buster put the phone back in its cradle after a series of short calls and turned to his two accomplices. “I’s got some help from some folks, they’ll be here soon enough.”

  “How many are coming Buster?” asked Ed.

  “eight, maybe nine. They ma closest friends, the ones I trust ya unnerstand?”

  “That’s great, now have you got some plain paper and a pencil so that we can make a map while we’re waiting for them to come.”

  Buster disappeared to the kitchen and moments later came back with some printer paper and a pen.

  “Ain’t got no pencils hereabouts, this is about best I can do.”

  “That’s perfect thank you Buster. Right, let’s get to work. Now you said you been up to his place to fix his car, that right?”

  “Yassir, that’s about right, been there few times over the years. He owns Judge Jones’s old place. Ain’t got no neighbours as such, lives long ways from anyone out on the east side.”

  Ed passed the pen to the big man. “Okay, we need a map, really basic, of where his house is from the road, any outbuildings, woods, fields or fences, stuff like that.”

  Buster Benjamin took the pen in his huge hand and began to draw.

  The group had swelled its ranks and now numbered ten. Buster’s friends had arrived in twos and threes, most carrying shotguns or hunting rifles and wearing either dark clothes or old combat and hunting gear. All but one was black and for the most part were farm hands, as well as two mechanics, a phone engineer and a dentist, aged from thirty-five to sixty. They packed into Buster’s kitchen, surrounding the well-worn but usable solid wood table that held the hand-drawn map. They all recognised Linda and nodded or said hello as they came in, but she stayed near the back, leaning against a chipped Formica worktop staring at the blue check curtains that ran in front of the window and back door, desperately trying and failing to ignore what the men were plotting, hoping against hope that her precious boy was still alive and not scared out of his poor gentle mind. Ed took control of the small group and soon ascertained that five of the friends had served in the military at some stage. Without going into too much detail about where he had found the information, Ed explained to the gathering what had happened to Grace and the other children, and to Linda’s son. When he told them who the culprit was the friends all stared at Buster in disbelief. He nodded that it was true, which seemed to be all the proof they needed.

  “Shouldn’t we phone the Police, at least the state troopers?” asked John, the youngest of the group. The rest of the group looked at him, most with a patient expression. Buster answered for the rest, “We will, but not yet, this is our business, my business, Police wouldn’t help none as they wouldn’t believe us, an even if they did it would take too long. We got to get Miss Linda’s boy back, tonight, afor it’s too late.” The group nodded in agreement and eventually John nodded with them. “Okay, what do you want us to do?” he asked turning back to Ed.

  “We’ve got to do two things, first off is to find Josh and get him back. Once he’s safe we need to get the murdering son of a bitch to go back to where he buried the kids, that’s the best way to prove to the authorities that he did it. They can look for more forensic evidence inside his place later. If we split into two groups, I’ll take one group up to where he lives, Linda, you take the others and wait around the clearing up in the hills.” The mention of her name brought her back to the present. “I want to go with you, to get Josh.”

  “I know you do but only you and I know where the clearing is, and I think I should go and find Josh, just in case there is trouble. I promise we’ll find him and take him somewhere safe then meet up with you.”

  “We can take him back to mine, no problem.” offered John. Linda looked crestfallen but finally agreed. She really didn’t want to go back to that horrid grave site, not tonight, not ever.

  “Okay, we’ll take the Jeep.” She said with more determination than she felt.

  “Good, that’s settled then. Buster, have you got any paint in your garage?” Ed enquired.

  “I got lots o half tins from paintin’ d’ house. What d’ya need?”

  “Anything bright will do but red would be perfect, oh, and a br
ush too.”

  Buster smiled for the first time since they had met.

  “Yessir, I got just the thing, I’ll just go get it.” He squeezed through the throng to get to his back door then disappeared into the dark night.

  While Buster was gone the group split up into two groups, one of six, Linda’s, and one of three, Ed’s, the ex-military guys spread between the two. Ed removed a calendar from a pin-board on the kitchen door and pocketed the thumb tack then turned back and looked at the gathered friends.

  “I don’t want Buster going into the hills earlier than necessary for obvious reasons,” the group nodded and muttered their agreement, “so he comes with me.” He grabbed a pen and an old envelope from near the sink and began to draw a quick sketch of the woods. “Linda, when you go up there spread out over the far side in a shallow C shape, furthest from the stream. He’ll come in from that side so you’ll be facing him. Leave space between you but not so much that you can’t see each other. It’s very dark up there and there’s not much of a moon tonight. Park a lot further up the track so he can’t see your Jeep. Any cell-phones turn off or to silent, we’ll try and get to you before he arrives so don’t start shooting at anything that moves it could be me! Remember, we want him alive and we want him to start digging before we show our hand. Any questions?”

  Buster bustled back in at that moment carrying a two-inch brush and a battered pot of paint, complete with old red splashes bleeding down the sides. Just about all of his friends started looking at their shoes or checking their weapons, anything so they didn’t have to look their friend in the eyes. What they were about to do was starting to hit home. Buster passed the brush and paint to Ed who shook the pot to see how much was left inside. It felt like over half a can remained.

  “Okay, we’re ready.” He looked at his watch. “It’s 11.15 now. Linda, you guys don’t need to leave for at least another thirty minutes I’d say”. She looked up at a clock on the wall then nodded. None of the group said anything else so Ed’s small band moved towards the door to the hall.