“HEY!” the woman yelled again, “come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Darren heard whoever had been on his back porch jump up and run. He never saw his face, but he knew it had to have been Troy.
“You’re a dead man,” he growled toward the sliding door.
Then a loud pounding knock sounded on his door.
“Hey, Darren,” Ellie Mae’s voice called from the other side, “you in thar?”
“Yeah,” he croaked through a dry, cracked throat. He swallowed and tried again. “Yeah, it’s me. Look, I’m stuck in the door.”
“Stuck in the what?”
“Me hand’s stuck. It’s wedged in the—”
He was cut off by the door slamming open and into his back. Pain shot into his left hand, but he was free. The blood rushed back into his arm and an arterial spray began shooting from the tips of his fingers.
“Fa fook sake!” he shouted, grabbing the end of his destroyed hand.
He was covered in blood and bandages, most dark brown and oozing. His mangled hands were wrapped tightly together and his eyes were both bruised and swollen. His right leg was wrapped in a flimsy gauze and was also moist from what looked like green and brown mud. In his lap, he cradled a small handgun, also covered in blood.
“Towel,” he said and nodded toward the kitchen. “Get me a towel, wench!”
Ellie Mae looked down at him. He saw the sudden twitch in her hip and she threw it out to the side, slapping a defiant hand on it.
“Whatchu just call me? A wench?” She arched an eyebrow. “And now yer orderin’ me around?” She shook her head. “Yeah, that ain’t happnin’”
“Shit’s sake, woman,” —Darren started to prop himself up on his elbows— “I’m gonna bleed out here!”
Ellie Mae took in a deep breath. She inched around him and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing a white dish towel, she flung it at him.
He grabbed it and the blood spurted from his torn finger. The tip above the first knuckle was gone in a jagged tear. He groaned and wrapped the towel around it as best he could. With great effort, he lifted himself up and looked at Ellie Mae. Her eyebrow was still arched.
“What in God’s name done happened to you?” she asked.
“Ah was attacked by an evil she-bitch!” Darren said, wobbling on his feet, “but she’ll pay fa that. First, I’m gonna go slit her cousin’s throat. Then, I’m gonna chase her down and rip her fookin’ eyes out. Then, I’m gonna tear her fingers off, one by one. And then…”
Ellie Mae’s eyebrow slowly went down. He saw a new emotion flick across her face… fear.
Good, he thought. She needs to be afraid of me.
“And then,” he continued, “I’m gonna fookin’ rip off Troy’s goddamn head and take his fookin’ hat. Take the fookin’ check out of it and then burn that fookin’ hat. Then, me and baby Darren are gonna cash that check and disappear on a beach somewheyah south of the border.”
“What about us?” Ellie Mae’s voice sounded different. “What about me and Daisy Mae? We’re goin’ too, ain’t we?”
Darren blinked twice. “Ah, yeah… that’s what ah meant. All four of us. Disappear. On a beach, or something like thet.”
Now a new emotion started to drip into Ellie Mae’s eyes. She crossed her arms.
“So, you mean to tell me you ain’t got the money? But it’s in Troy’s hat?”
“Yes, woman,” Darren snapped. “Haven’t you been—”
He stopped suddenly. That fookin’ bitch, he thought, she’s gonna steal my money. His eyes closed to a slit… even though they were mostly closed already from the beating they’d had in the last few days.
“Ah’ll fookin’ kill you!” he yelled, trying to point his pistol at her as he lunged toward her.
His slickened bandages slipped across the hardwood floor and she jumped back. He scrambled like a fish on a slip n’ slide toward her, the gun clattering away from him. She turned and bolted out the door.
“Sayonara, jackass,” she called behind her as she ran down the steps, “your ass is grass!”
He had no idea what the hell that meant, but it enraged him. He pounded his bloody fists on the floor until they started throbbing. Bandages were flying, syrup ribbons of blood slung in every direction. Rolling onto his back he let out a guttural scream. He had now officially lost everything. His money, his woman (women), his baby, his fingers, his toes, his clear eyesight… all was slipping away. He thrashed like a wild animal for a few seconds until he panted, his lungs aching.
Can’t get to them fookin’ wenches, dunno where fookin’ Troy has run to, damn blondie ran off, the two sluts with the baby are dust in the wind… that left only one person to feel his wrath… Karah.
He rolled over to rise up onto all fours, growling low and deep, like a wolf on the prowl. Ah’m gonna slit that chick from ear ta ear, his thoughts burning red in his mind, and then I’m gonna shoot her.
Part III
Check Out Time
“Yo, man, it’s check out time. It’s time to get out this mother.”
-2Pac
29
Shocking Troy
Troy Clint Bodean paced back and forth on the screened in porch on the beach side of his rented beach cabana. His knee ached a little from all the running and crawling around spying on the house next door. He could hear the sounds of people yelling coming from inside the house, and prayed that Karah wasn’t in there.
Laura’s cop boyfriend was supposed to be on his way, but there wasn’t any sign of him yet. The commotion next door grew… God, it sounded like a bar brawl had broken out over there. He couldn’t see anything happening, but he did hear a car door slam and then the screech of tires and the scattering of gravel as someone apparently drove away from the house in a hurry… whoever was in the red Jeep, he guessed.
Dangit, he thought, hope to hell they ain’t takin’ Karah somewhere and we missed ‘em.
He poked his head into his house through the sliding glass door. Laura Kate Starlington sat crying on the futon. She was staring at the cell phone in her lap. It was Karah’s phone. She looked up at Troy.
“Should I call her folks?” she asked through streaming tears.
Troy took a deep breath. “Yeah, probably so.”
“What do I say?” Laura asked, sniffing.
He had no idea. Your daughter has been kidnapped, she might be right next door and we’re just waitin’ on the police while the kidnappers have their way with her. Troy checked to see that his gun was still tucked in his waistband. The cold steel made him feel uneasy. He pulled a breath in across his teeth.
“It’s quiet over there now,” he said and nodded toward the next house, “so ah’m goin’ ta get her.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Nope.” He pointed at the front door. “You wait ‘til Ches gets here and then you send him over. This ain’t my first rodeo, so I’ll be just fine.”
“Bu—” Laura started to protest, but he interrupted her.
“No, now you sit tight,” he said, “and call her folks. When the cavalry arrives, send ‘em on over if I ain’t made it back with Karah yet.” He slid the door shut, then opened it again. “Lock this behind me.”
Laura stood up, walked to the door and clicked the lock while staring through the glass at Troy. She mouthed the words, be careful.
He nodded and winked at her. He studied the house next door before leaving the safety of his own screened in porch. It was deathly quiet. Whatever had been going on over there was now done. They’d probably taken Karah away. Dangit.
He opened the screen door and casually took the stairs down to the beach, acting as if he was just out for a day on the sand. Glancing sideways at Laura’s beach house next door, he didn’t see any activity; no sign on anyone moving around in the house and no noise that he could make out over the crash of the waves. The big red Jeep that had been parked in the driveway was gone too. Likewise, the beach was almost completely empty as well… except for
one woman.
She was sitting in a teal blue beach chair wearing a teal blue one-piece bathing suit. Her towel was also teal blue… it was the strangest thing ever, this monochromatic ensemble. Her hat was the only thing that didn’t match. It was a large floppy hat, pink with a white bow around the brim. Her hair was pulled back into a single tight braid and was brown with an ashy look that might’ve been a color died over her natural grey.
She was flipping through the pages of a magazine and occasionally picked up a nearby tumbler and sipped at the straw. Troy was certain he’d never seen her in Pawleys before, but there was something oddly familiar about her. She suddenly dropped the magazine and stood looking out into the ocean. Stretching her arms high, she leaned her head back and inhaled the breeze. She flipped her head, looking north down the beach, and then turned to look south, directly at Troy.
He jerked his gaze away, realizing he was staring. She had large round sunglasses on, obscuring most of her face, but the sensation that he recognized her flooded into his mind. Maybe he’d run into her at the grocery store or the gas station or something. No, that didn’t seem right. He thought she must be someone he knew… like, really knew.
As he tried desperately to look nonchalant, peering sideways so as not to look directly at her, he noticed she was waving. He thought maybe she was also calling to him, but the sound of the ocean muffled her voice.
When he heard it more clearly, he turned to face her. She was walking toward him, her teeth showing brightly in a smile. She was still waving. And like a lightning bolt, it hit him.
“Holy dangit,” he muttered to himself.
She was now just a few yards away and he could make out what she was saying.
“As I live and breathe,” she said, still smiling, “if it isn’t Troy Bodean.”
Damn you, Debby, he thought as she walked up to him.
It was Debby “Gidget” Robinson, the friendly—yet married—stripper from The Peppermint Hippo. At the time, he’d thought she’d ruined his perfect little life spinning records for dancers at the strip club by making him believe she’d fallen for him, but a Mafioso husband and a couple of Italian goons later, he’d left Vegas. And that turned out to be the spark to get him off his ass and do something with his life. Whether or not he’d been successful was another story.
“Hello, Debby,” he said and tipped his hat to her. “How’s Teddy?”
Teddy was the husband that had caught Troy in the buff, wrapped only in a towel in an expensive condo at the MGM with Debby. He saw a fleeting look of sadness cross her face.
“He’s dead.”
“Oh, dang.” Troy suddenly felt guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
“Don’t be,” she interrupted. “He was gunned down by some other family years ago.”
Troy knew what she meant by family. It was likely a hit had been put out on Teddy by a rival Mafia group that felt he was impinging on their territory. She took her sunglasses off and put her hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun.
“You look good, Troy.” She smiled again.
“Thanks.”
She looked good too… but she looked older. Lines around her face showed more age than she had lived, evidence of a rougher life shown in the heavy darkness under her eyes. And the deep brown of her eyes was faded and… empty. She looked like, well… a Stepford Wife.
He glanced down at her hand and saw the huge diamond wedding ring. She must’ve noticed his look and subconsciously wrung her hands together.
“Yeah,” she said through her teeth, “I remarried a few years after Teddy.”
“That’s good,” Troy said, seeing her less than jubilant response, “I guess?”
She put her sunglasses on… another subconscious move to hide her true feelings, he thought. She nodded.
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, “it’s been good. How about you?”
That was an odd way to talk about someone you’d promised to spend the rest of your life with, but he shook it off. “Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “never found the right girl.”
She smiled, turning one corner of her mouth up slightly, but said nothing.
“And you guys are vacationing here?” he asked, nodding to the massive house.
“Oh, that?” She glanced up at the porch. “It’s my husband, Victor’s, house. I’ve never been here before.”
Another really strange thing to say. Her husband’s house? And she’d never been there? He waited, but she didn’t add anything to the explanation and a long pause indicated that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere.
“Okay, well, it’s good to see you.” Troy reached out a hand.
She took it. “It’s great to see you too.”
“Maybe we can catch up sometime over a—”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she interrupted him, “I think we’re leaving this week and Victor…”
She let it hang for a second.
“Well, ya know… jealous husbands are my thing.” She smiled in a not-too-pleasant way.
“Yeah,” Troy said, completely baffled at this strange meeting, “I suppose so.”
As they stood in awkward silence, Troy was happy a voice broke through the sound of the waves. A high-pitched call drifted down from the porch of the beach house. “Meesus Debbyyyy.”
A short round woman in a light blue dress with a white apron was looking toward them. Troy thought it must be the housekeeper standing on the deck waving.
“I guess I should be going,” Debby said and waved back at the maid.
“Okay, well…” Troy was at a loss for words, “have a good life.”
“Same to you, Troy.”
He watched her take a few steps away, and said, “Debby, wait.”
She turned around and looked back at him.
“Did you see anyone… did you see a girl… ” He struggled with how to ask if she’d seen Karah. “Did you notice if anyone was home next door?”
She shook her head no and shrugged her shoulders. “New girlfriend?”
“Ha,” he blurted with a short laugh, “No, um… just checking on a friend. I’m a little worried about her. She’s been gone too long.”
“Haven’t we all, Troy?” she said, smiling ruefully.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, so if you… well, if you need anything, I’m just right over there. The Turtle Nest House. He motioned down the beach toward his house. “Look it up, call me if you…” he stopped unsure what to say.
“Sure thing,” she said and turned away, still smiling.
And just like that, Hurricane Debby had blown her gale force winds into his life yet again.
Troy watched her walk up the beach toward her husband’s house and caught sight of the police cruiser as it pulled into his driveway.
That would be Officer Chesney. He slogged through the loose sand back toward his house, his knee aching again. He decided that when this was all over, he was gonna get that battery fixed in his Chevy pickup and leave Pawleys Island in his rearview mirror.
An old Skynyrd song about the Breeze drifted into his mind.
30
Sharpie Scribbled Initials
The sliding glass door on the back of his house screeched open. Laura was sitting on the futon and a police officer was standing across from her. He was pacing back and forth quickly. They both looked over at him when he walked in.
“So?” Laura jumped up. “Was she there? Is she okay? What’s going on?”
Troy was still in a little shock at bumping into Debby and realized he’d never actually made it to Laura’s house to see if Karah was there.
“Yeah, um, I never made it over there.”
“What?!” Laura raised her hands, palms to the sky. “Where in the hell have you been if you weren’t over there?”
“I was, well,” he stammered, “I bumped into an old friend and—”
“Troy!” Laura shook her hands. “This is no time to reminisce with old pals! My cousin
is in danger.”
“Okay, you two,” Chesney butted in, “let’s just ramp it down a second. I have backup on the way.”
Laura looked at him. “But she’s in trouble!”
He held up his left hand and his right hand subconsciously drifted over to rest on his gun.
“I’m going over right now. Both of you need to stay here. Go nowhere else. The other officers will join you here.”
“I’m going with you.” Troy wondered if his knee could take another jog back to the house.
“Nope,” Chesney said and motioned to Laura. “What I really need is for both of you to stay out of this now. And Troy, I need you to stay with her. I’ll explain later, but it’s likely that these people aren’t after Karah. It’s Laura they really want.”
“Huh?” Troy tipped the cowboy hat back on his forehead.
“Wait… what?” Laura chimed in.
Chesney walked toward the street-side door and opened it. Backing out and down, he pointed at the sliding door.
“Lock that,” he said, “and lock this one behind me. Sit tight. I’ll check next door and find Karah. But you two are going to stay here.”
He closed the door and Troy turned the bolt to lock it. He then crossed the floor to the sliding door and clicked the lock. He grabbed a stick that was propped up behind the drape by the door and slid it into the track of the sliding door. An ancient—if not tried and true—method for ensuring that the door could not be moved.
“Why would they be after me?” Laura was in a daze.
“Darlin’, I got no clue,” Troy said and pulled the drape closed over the sliding door, “but let’s just wait on Ches. He’ll get her back safe.”
The phone in Laura’s hand began tinkling a pop song. She looked down at it. “Shit.” She pointed the screen toward Troy, who shrugged. “It’s Karah’s dad.”
The Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Series Boxset Page 16