Louisiana Fever

by D. J. Donaldson

  “Ted, you’re going to perform a little service for me,” Roy said. “And I want you to understand the ground rules before we begin. I’m going to free you. . . .”

  Kit’s heart leapt with the words.

  “Then you’re going to walk over to the ATM about fifteen feet from where we’re parked and withdraw the maximum daily limit from your checking account and, if you can get it, the same amount from savings. Then you’ll give me the money and the receipts and we’ll return to the truck. If you attempt to communicate in any way with the TV camera that records those transactions, I’ll signal my brother and he’ll kill Kit. If you attack me, he’ll kill her. If you run, he’ll kill her. Do you understand these rules?”

  Kit felt Roy climb into the truck. There was the sound of tape being pulled free and then Teddy’s voice hoarse and cracked. . . .

  “Yeah, you sorry. . . .”

  He said something in French that Kit couldn’t interpret.

  “I understand,” Teddy said. “But you remember this. I’ve only got two bad habits. I eat too much red meat and I never forget who my enemies are. Guess which habit involves you.”

  “Very eloquent,” Roy said. “Next time I need a sermon punched up, I’ll give you a call. Turn over so I can get to your hands.”

  Kit heard twine snapping as Roy cut Teddy’s hands free. The truck jiggled as Roy climbed out. There was more snapping and Roy said, “Come on. We’ve been here too long already.”

  Kit felt Teddy get out. Then the doors closed and Kit was left alone with Larry.

  “I’m kind of glad the money wasn’t there tonight,” Larry said. “I would have enjoyed getting my share and all, but if it arrives tomorrow, I’ll still get it, but I’ll also have enjoyed what’s gonna happen later.”

  With the headband in her mouth and the tape over it, Kit couldn’t ask him what he meant, but she was pretty certain he was referring to Roy’s penalty.

  Another couple of minutes passed, during which Larry said nothing and the only sound was the scanner. Then the rear doors opened and Roy said, “Kit, you ought to know that Ted had only two hundred dollars in his checking and a hundred and fifty in his savings. Between the two of you, you couldn’t come up with enough cash to rent a nice one-bedroom apartment. You should consider dumping this man and finding someone who can provide for you.”

  “I guess you don’t want to use his credit cards, either,” Larry said.

  “It could be just as dangerous with his cards as hers,” Roy replied.

  With Teddy again tied up and gagged, Larry drove back to where they’d started and Roy returned Teddy and Kit to the trailer by reversing the procedure he’d used to bring them out. Larry took the truck away to park it.

  As before, Teddy was put in the trailer’s rear bedroom. Kit was ordered into the armchair in the front room, where Roy retied her ankles and removed the tape and headband from her mouth.

  Kit quickly discovered that her lower jaw was frozen open. Ignoring the pain it caused, she forced it closed. The lining of her throat felt exposed and raw. She ran her tongue over the dry scales curling from her lips, but there was no moisture to soften them. “What about Teddy?” she croaked, turning to look at Roy, who was standing in front of the fridge, with the door open. “Did you remove his gag, too?”

  Roy took a small bottle of apple juice from the fridge and twisted off the cap. He came around in front of her and held it out. “Care for some? You must be thirsty.”

  “First, tell me about Teddy.”

  “You’re too concerned about others,” Roy said sharply. “Take care of yourself. Nobody else will.”

  “I’ll drink when he’s given the same opportunity.”

  Roy stared at her for a few seconds, then headed for the rear bedroom. He returned in a few minutes, shaking his head. “It’s really quite amazing . . . this selfless behavior you two exhibit toward each other. He didn’t want to drink until I told him if he didn’t, you wouldn’t, either.” He held up the empty bottle. “You can see the results.”

  He got a fresh bottle from the fridge and opened it, then put the mouth of the bottle to Kit’s lips and gently tilted it.

  The juice was sharp and cold and was the closest thing to paradise Kit had ever experienced. It was so wonderful, she was able to suppress her resentment against being fed like an infant, and she emptied the bottle.

  “Would you like your arms untied?” Roy asked. “Ted had his free while we went to the ATM, so you’re entitled.”

  Kit had suffered so many abuses at their hands, it was hard to rank them: the headband in her mouth, having to ask permission to use the bathroom and knowing Larry was listening at the door, hunger, thirst, fear. . . . But all those were episodic abuses. The agony of having her arms pulled behind her and the impossibility of finding a comfortable position sitting or lying was chronic. And it was true that Teddy had been freed for a few minutes.

  “Yes, I’d like to be untied, but only for as long as Teddy was.”

  “Of course, fair play above all,” Roy said, reaching in his pocket for his knife. “Stand up and turn around.”

  She did as he said and he cut her bonds.

  “Sit.”

  Wincing at the pain in her shoulder joints as she moved her arms to their normal position, she returned to the chair while Roy got another bottle of juice from the fridge. Feeling time-deprived and forgetting that they’d taken her watch, Kit looked at her wrist.

  “How does it feel to be free?” Roy asked, taking his juice to the sofa.

  “I’m not free. If I was, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Sorry, my question was unclear. How does it feel to have your hands free?”

  “What do you care?”

  “I care a great deal. More than you know.”

  “I don’t understand how someone like you could have ever been a minister,” Kit said.

  She wasn’t sure he was going to reply, but after taking a sip from the bottle, he said, “Why, because I’m cold?”

  “That’s the least of it.”

  “I can be warm and fuzzy when it’s necessary.”

  Kit doubted that.

  “Then, too, I just took over the family business.”

  “Your father was a minister?”

  He nodded. “A small church in—” Then, catching himself, he said, “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  But it was important to Kit. If she ever got free and he escaped, knowing where that church was might help track him down. “What denomination were you?”

  “Never mind about that.”

  “How does someone go from being a minister to . . .”

  “This wretched excuse for a human you see before you?” Roy said.

  “Your words, not mine.”

  “How does anybody get to any point in his life . . . accidents, genetics, luck. . . .”

  “Of course, things you couldn’t control. You’re just a victim.”

  “And I’m passing it along.”

  “That must have been some church you ran.”

  “I was doing okay until somebody in my flock figured out it was Larry burglarizing their homes on Sunday mornings.”

  “With a few hints about floor plans from you?”

  “Every young man needs guidance from time to time. We didn’t target just anyone. Only those who never seemed to have problems . . . those who never came to me for counseling . . . the ones who kept all their feelings to themselves . . .” Realizing he’d slipped again, he changed the subject. “Let’s not talk about me. You’re more interesting. This is a bad situation, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been in dicey spots before and I’m still here.”

  “That sounds very confident. But honestly, how do you see your chances?”

  “Honestly? I’m surprised that’s a word still in your vocabulary.”

  “There you go wanting to talk about me again.” He crossed one leg over the other and balanced the juice bottle on his knee. “Seriously, how do you think this is
all going to end?”

  “You and Larry will be caught.”

  “How?”

  Thinking of the candy wrapper she’d put in the third kidnapper’s cuff and the glitter on his shoes, she said, “You’ve already made one big mistake.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before she regretted having said them, because Roy’s android eyes slowly shifted from her face to his raised shoe.

  Damn.

  She must have glanced at the shoe when she’d answered him.

  Damn . . . Damn . . .

  She was going to have to be more careful, much more careful.

  She kept her attention on Roy’s face, making sure she wore a blank expression. Finally, he stopped staring at his shoes and looked again at her, those pale bottomless eyes probing.

  Was a blank expression the correct decision? Or was that an obvious admission he’d been on the right track when he’d caught her looking at his shoe? Should she start talking to defuse the situation, or would that merely confirm his suspicions? She was spared a decision by Larry’s return.

  “What are we doing now?” he asked, coming in and putting the police scanner on the kitchen counter.

  “Shut that radio off and sit down,” Roy ordered. He looked at Kit. “Time for that penalty I mentioned.”

  “That’s not fair,” Kit said. “The money isn’t even due until tomorrow.”

  “Fair?” Roy said. “Does anything about all this strike you as fair? Now, what would be an appropriate penalty? It should be something with symbolic significance for both parties.”

  He thought about it briefly then reached in his pocket and fished out a half-dollar. He looked at one side, then the other. “Yes, this will do.” He held the head side out toward Kit. “The word Liberty for you and Ted, and In God We Trust for Larry and me.”

  He flipped the half-dollar to Larry, who caught it with both hands.

  “There’s a small pot in the drawer by the stove,” Roy said. “Put the coin in it, put the pot on the stove, and turn it to high.”

  “Oh, I see where you’re going,” Larry said, getting out of his chair. “Good one.”

  “The letters are in such low relief, there probably isn’t much chance they’ll transfer their pattern to skin,” Roy said. “And even if they did, they’d be reversed, but I don’t view those as important considerations. Do you, Kit?”

  Over by the stove, Larry pulled a drawer open and rattled among the contents.

  “You’re despicable.”

  “The question now is, who should the penalty be levied against, you or Ted?”

  Kit heard the coin drop into a pot. “This is pointless.”

  “What do you mean?” Roy said. “Why is there no point? I hope you’re not about to tell me you made up the story about the money coming in the mail, because that would make me very upset and the penalty would have to be much more severe. That isn’t what you mean, is it?”

  “No. I meant it accomplishes nothing. You’re exacting a penalty from us for an event we don’t control.”

  “So it’s not fair. We’ve already covered that.”

  “Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

  “The issue isn’t whether it will or won’t be done, but, rather, to determine the recipient. I know what your vote is and I’m inclined to disagree with you, but I’ll listen to argument.”

  Kit looked back at Larry. Still deluded by his appearance into believing he was basically a good person who’d been misled by Roy, she said, “Larry, don’t help him. This is wrong. It’s sadistic. People who do things like this aren’t human. Imagine yourself in our position. We haven’t done anything to harm you. Why hurt us? If you don’t want to think of us, think of yourself. Help Roy and you cross a line that will take you to the lowest levels of human existence—to a black hole with no self-respect and no meaning.”

  Larry had been staring into the pot. He turned now to look at Kit, and she saw he was puzzled. “But it’ll be fun,” he said sincerely.

  “I’m afraid Larry was born on the path you mentioned,” Roy said. “Do you want to plead your case or not?”

  “How am I gonna pick this thing up?” Larry said.

  “There’s a pair of pliers in the drawer by the sink,” Roy said. Then to Kit: “Your argument . . . quickly.”

  “Teddy has nothing to do with this,” she said. “He’s only here by—”

  “Accident?” Roy said. “See, it’s like I told you earlier.” He waved at the air. “Sorry, I interrupted.”

  “All right, by accident. The point is, you shouldn’t even be considering him. This is all between you and me.”

  “Is that it?”

  “I don’t want him hurt.”

  “Your plea to Larry was much more convincing. I’m sorry. . . . Larry, when you’re ready, take the coin into the bedroom and place it on Ted’s—”

  “Forehead,” Larry said. “I want to do it on his forehead.”

  “The boy’s a natural,” Roy replied. “Not this time, Larry. This time . . . his back. You should probably take some twine in there now and secure him.”

  Larry grabbed the ball of twine they’d been using and left the room.

  “What are you feeling?” Roy asked Kit. “Anger . . . guilt?”

  “Loathing,” Kit said, skewering him with her eyes.

  “That’s natural,” Roy said. He finished his apple juice, got up, and crossed the room to put the empty bottle with the others on the counter.

  Kit’s eyes widened. In the spot where Roy had been sitting was Teddy’s pistol. She thrust herself out of her chair, took one hop, and threw herself at the sofa. She bounced when she hit, but her hand closed on the pistol. Teddy had once showed her how to use it, so as she rolled onto her back and leveled the barrel at Roy’s chest, the gun felt familiar in her hand.

  16

  Kit wanted to scream with relief that this nightmare was finally over, that she and Teddy were safe, that Roy and Larry could no longer harm them. But she quickly realized this was far from being resolved. There was still danger. Inside, she was trembling like crazy and she fought to keep it from showing.

  Her gun hand began to waver and she raised the other hand and cradled it as Teddy had taught her. Her mind was racing. Larry was the wild card. Did he have his gun with him? If he did, he could threaten Teddy and it would be a standoff. She had to keep Roy from realizing that. Oh, God . . . there was only one way to be sure: Shoot Roy and then Larry when he came out to see what had happened.

  “Larry . . .” Roy slowly called his brother’s name, not taking his cold eyes from hers.

  Did she have to? Maybe in a standoff, one of them would fold. Certainly not Roy, but Larry might. . . . But if Roy told him not to . . . Oh, God . . . there was only one way to be sure. . . .

  Her finger tightened on the trigger and she steeled herself for the discharge. Roy could tell what was about to happen, but his expression never changed. She didn’t want to see the bullet hit him, but she didn’t dare look away. Oh, God . . .

  The click of the hammer falling seemed to echo through the trailer, followed a fraction of a second later by . . . Larry’s voice. “Be there in a minute.”

  The gun hadn’t fired.

  She pulled the trigger again, with the same result. Her eyes shifted focus from Roy to the back of the cylinder.

  Empty . . . the damn thing was empty.

  “A little test,” Roy said, walking over and taking the gun from her, “to see what you’re made of. You should be proud. You analyzed things correctly and had the courage to act. I can see I’m going to have to watch my step around you. Stand up.”

  “Drop dead.”

  “What do you want?” Larry said, joining them.

  “Let’s get her up.”

  Larry put the twine ball on the counter and Roy and Larry hauled her to her feet, Larry taking the opportunity to let his fingers stray to her right breast.

  “Retie her hands.”

  That done, they pulled her to th
e upholstered chair and pushed her into it.

  “I’m sure the coin is hot enough now,” Roy said, taking his seat across from Kit on the sofa.

  A moment later, Kit heard the coin slide along the bottom of the pot, followed by the clatter of the pliers as Larry went after the coin with them.

  “How long should I leave it on him?” Larry asked.

  “Until it’s cool enough to touch,” Roy replied. “And press it on with the pliers.”

  Larry headed for the back bedroom.

  Kit’s heart felt huge in her chest, its power too great for her fragile vessels. Every beat thundered in her ears and throbbed at her temples. Across from her, Roy was studying her like a child might watch an ant colony. And she finally understood. . . .

  He was an emotion parasite that lived off the reactions and experiences of others because he was incapable of feeling anything himself. Well, she wouldn’t allow it. He would not profit from his abuses.

  Kit reined in her thoughts and wiped away all emotion until her eyes were as cold as his. She flaunted her defiance, staring at him, letting him look where he would, knowing he would find nothing to feed upon.

  In this state, time ceased to exist for her, so that when Larry came back to the room and said, “He’s done,” she truly had no idea how long he’d been gone.

  “Put her back there with him,” Roy said. “And lock their door; then we’re going for a walk.”

  If Roy was disappointed, he didn’t show it.

  Larry cut the twine at Kit’s ankles and ushered her into the back bedroom, where Teddy lay on his side, his face toward the far wall. There was a long horizontal slit in Teddy’s shirt and a vertical slit up each side, forming a flap that could be thrown upward onto his neck. Kit had come back from the emotionless place to which she’d fled and she wanted to weep at the thought of what lay under that flap. Whatever means Larry had used to hold Teddy while he burned him was not evident.

  Larry pushed her onto the bed and retied her ankles.

  Kit longed to hold Teddy in her arms and whisper things that would make him forget what Larry had done. But her arms were tied, and even if she could think of words that sweet, Larry was still watching.