True Light

by Terri Blackstock

  So he was right about them having their own stash of gold. Mark looked at Wheaton, saw him looking around the room. “Show me where the gold was.”

  She went into her closet and got out a shoebox, opened it up. “They were in here, what was left of them. I’m glad I spent so much of it. They only got a few. Laura said they got hers too. She’d spent almost all of hers, what with the kids and all. What did they expect us to do, taking off and leaving us at a time like that?”

  That explained it, Mark thought. They had come back for their coins, but when there weren’t very many, they’d come looking for his.

  The evidence was falling into place, giving their case a solid foundation. Now all they had to do was find Larry and Jack.

  When they finished searching the house, they got back into the van and headed over to Laura’s house.

  Mark liked her better than Grace. She had always been friendlier to him. More than once, he’d wondered why a nice woman like her had married a cad like Larry. Now, as they drove up to her ranch-style house, sprawling on ten acres, he wondered how she had gotten along all these months. There was no garden here, with all this land. How had she provided food for her family?

  As they pulled into the circular driveway, Mark saw his eight-year-old nephew shooting hoops outside, his little dog Scrappy running and jumping beside him. Mark smiled and called: “Hey, Trent, how you doing, buddy?”

  The boy caught the ball and peered at him.

  “It’s me, Uncle Mark.”

  Trent dropped the ball and ran into the house.

  “Nice to see you too,” Mark muttered under his breath. Scrappy ran to him, wagging his tail. Mark bent down to pet the Yorkie that had once belonged to his dad. He was glad they had taken care of him.

  Doug and Brad went around back, as they’d done at Grace’s house, and Mark followed Wheaton to the front door. It flew open before they reached it.

  Laura stood there with her toddler on her hip, her face anxious as she looked from Wheaton to Mark. “What’s going on?”

  Mark was stunned at how bad she looked. Abandonment had clearly not agreed with her. She looked anorexic. Her hair, which had once been thick, silky, and straight, was now frizzy and thin. Her skin was pasty, and dark circles sank into her face under her eyes.

  “This is about Larry, isn’t it?” Dread deepened the pain in her eyes. “Is he dead?”

  Wheaton frowned, and Mark stepped forward. “Laura, why would you ask that?”

  Her face almost relaxed, and she brought her bony hand up to her chest. “Because . . . you show up here with the sheriff . . .”

  “I’m Chief Deputy Wheaton.” The deputy showed her his ID. “We’re looking for Larry, but we have no reason to believe he’s dead.”

  Tears filled her eyes and a trembling smile crept across her face. “Oh, thank you, God.”

  She still loved him. After all he’d done, she hadn’t let him go. Mark suddenly felt guilty for not checking on her and the kids. He could have helped them out. He should have.

  “Laura, when’s the last time you saw Larry?” Mark asked.

  She set the baby down, and he toddled back into the house. “Seven months ago, when he and Jack disappeared.”

  “Grace told us he broke into your houses and stole the coins,” Mark said.

  Quickly, she shook her head. “Oh no, I’m sure it wasn’t them. If Larry were back, he would have told me. He would have wanted to see his children.” She looked over her shoulder. Trent stood behind her. He had a toy gun in his hand, and it was pointed at the door.

  “Tell us about the gold,” Wheaton said.

  Her face twisted. “Grace shouldn’t have told you that. It’s none of her business.”

  “How much gold did they take?”

  “I only had ten coins left. It could have been anyone, though. Lots of people knew I had them. I’ve used them all over town.”

  Mark looked at Wheaton, realizing that any merchant who’d gotten those coins could have paid Blake and Randy. Maybe his brothers weren’t the culprits, after all. But as that thought took hold, he remembered something else. “But why would a stranger write ‘Die, you cheating tramp’ on Grace’s wall?” he asked.

  That stumped her for a moment. “I don’t know.” She tossed a look back at him. “Maybe you wrote it. You’ve always been judgmental.”

  Mark’s breath hitched. “Me? Laura, you know I didn’t break into Grace’s house!”

  Laura thrust her chin out. “How do I know that? Maybe Jack told you where his gold was. Maybe Larry told you where mine was.”

  “They never told me anything! They hated me, and you know it!”

  “Maybe for good reason,” she said. “Larry and Jack had nothing to do with your father’s crimes, but maybe you did.”

  He hadn’t expected such a slap-down from her, but as it sank into his gut, he told himself he shouldn’t be surprised. Larry and Jack’s poison had infected the whole family.

  Wheaton showed her the search warrant. Reluctantly, she let Wheaton in. Mark went back to the van and waited, knowing he wasn’t welcome inside.

  Now he realized why he hadn’t come to help her before. He had sensed how he would be received. He wondered if she believed the things she’d said.

  It seemed like an eternity before the three men returned to the van. Doug again took the seat next to Mark.

  “Nothing?” Mark asked.

  Doug shook his head. “He’s not there. Looks like he came in and got what he wanted. Laura seems close to a nervous breakdown.”

  Wheaton and Brad got into the front seats, and as they closed the doors, a rock hit the windshield.

  Trent stood across the yard, another rock in his hand. He flashed them a profane gesture.

  “Sweet kid,” Wheaton said. “In a few years, I’ll probably be back for him.”

  Mark looked at the kid who seemed so angry. “It’s not his fault. He’s just mimicking his dad. Doing what he was taught.”

  “Hating cops?”

  “No. Hating me.”

  The boy reared back and hurled another rock at the window. This one left a nick.

  “Come to think of it,” Wheaton said, “I might just put the fear of God into him now.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Brad said.

  Mark watched as Wheaton and Brad got out and chased the boy around the house.

  Doug chuckled, but Mark didn’t find it amusing. Doug’s smile quickly faded. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just sad, that’s all.”

  Doug nodded. “Yeah, it is that. So how did your brothers treat you when you were a kid?”

  Mark’s throat was tight. “Jack was twelve, and Larry was fourteen when I was born. I can’t really blame them. My dad had dumped their mother for a string of other women. My mom came a few years after the divorce. She wasn’t like the others. That’s probably why he married her. When I came along, Larry and Jack felt replaced, I think.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  Mark leaned his head back on the seat. “I remember one time when I was nine or ten years old, my dad took us all hunting. There was a deer camp over near Tuscaloosa, and I thought it was going to be a great time. And the first day, it was. I shot my first rabbit, and realized I was a good marksman. But that night, things took a turn.”

  “What happened?”

  “They all started drinking and playing poker, and all three of them wound up drunk. Larry and Jack got into a fight, rolling around on the floor like idiots, and my dad just sat back and laughed his head off. Then they turned on me. Told me I had to be initiated into their hunting club. Took me out and tied me to a tree in the middle of the woods. Made me spend the night there.”

  Doug gaped at him. “At ten years old? Your dad didn’t do anything?”

  “No, I think he was passed out drunk by the time they went back in. Next morning, I guess he realized what had happened, because he came and found me and untied me. He told me I needed to be more of a m
an. I decided I wasn’t going on any more hunting trips with them.”

  Doug was silent for a moment. “So how did you learn to hunt so well?”

  Mark looked down at his cast and adjusted his sling. “There was this man who was my Sunday school teacher all through junior high. My best friend Jason’s dad. He used to take me hunting with them. He led me to Christ and showed me there was a better way to live.”

  “Thank God for him,” Doug said.

  Mark couldn’t believe he was telling Doug all these things. He’d never felt free enough to talk this way with anyone else.

  But Doug reminded him of Jason’s dad. He knew Doug would understand and not see him as some kind of victim who’d never gotten over his past.

  He’d gotten over it long ago. He thought of all the times after that that his dad tried to talk him into going hunting with them. He wondered if that camp still existed.

  Then a thought slammed him.

  “Oh, I can’t believe it,” he whispered, sitting straighter. “I never even thought of it. They’re probably hiding there.”

  Doug frowned. “Where? At the deer camp?”

  “Yes. I mean, think about it. It’s out in the woods on a lake. They could hunt for food and get water, and no one would think to look for them there. They’re close enough to make it home in a couple of hours if they want to, and then they could disappear again.”

  Doug opened the van door to get Wheaton. “Do you remember the way to the deer camp?” he asked before he got out.

  Mark thought about that for a moment. “No, but my dad owned it. There’s got to be a record of it somewhere in the house.”

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  MARK FOUND THE DIRECTIONS TO THE DEER CAMP TUCKED away in a folder in one of his dad’s massive file cabinets. In the garage was a pegboard with a dozen keys. Mark took them all, hoping one would open the door.

  Then they armed themselves with AR – 15s in addition to the .40-caliber Glocks the department had already issued, and drove as fast as the old van would carry them.

  On the way, Mark tried to work through what was likely to happen. It might come to a shoot-out, and he knew his siblings wouldn’t hesitate to shoot their little brother.

  As they turned down the dirt road to the deer camp he hadn’t seen in twelve years, he began to wonder if he could shoot them. He thought of all the times he’d looked up to them, even though they hated his guts. The times he’d sought their approval in spite of their treatment of him.

  Would he really be able to pull the trigger? He honestly didn’t know. God, give me the strength to do what I have to do.

  He read out the directions — fourth dirt road after the radio tower; go five miles down, then the third dirt drive past the Feed Mill.

  “I think we’re close,” he said as they turned onto a gravel path. “The camp is less than a mile from here. Leave the van here, and we can go the rest of the way on foot so they won’t hear us.”

  Wheaton pulled the van over. The road from that point on seemed overgrown, but fresh bike tracks were imprinted in the dirt, along with wider tires.

  When they came to the little house on the lake, it was just as Mark remembered, only smaller and dirtier. Wood was chopped and piled beside the house in a loose mound. An ax blade was stuck in a stump where someone had recently left it.

  And off to the side of the yard was the bike trailer with big tires, just like his.

  The four of them stayed in the shelter of the trees but made their way to the back of the house. Mark gripped his pistol in his sweaty hand as he moved.

  A dozen or so homemade rabbit cages, built with chicken wire and fencing pickets, stood four feet off the ground behind the house.

  “Your rabbits,” Mark whispered.

  Doug nodded. “Looks like it.”

  “No smoke coming out of the chimney,” Wheaton said in a low voice. “If they were here, there’d probably be a fire. Spread out and go around the house. Look for bicycles, fresh footprints. Count the windows and doors and see if any are open. Meet me back here.”

  They spread out. Mark kept to the back side of the house, staying in the trees as he counted the windows. None of them was open. His eyes raked over the landscape, down to the lake with a small pier.

  What if Larry and Jack were in the woods, waiting to ambush them? He looked through the barren trees. No, it wouldn’t be that easy for them to hide in the winter forest.

  The three men returned to their starting place.

  “I saw some towels hanging on a line on the south end of the house,” Doug whispered. “They were dry. No open windows that I saw.”

  “I got a look through the windows,” Wheaton said. “I didn’t see movement, but they could still be in there. Let me see those keys, Mark.”

  Mark pulled the keys out of his pocket. “I don’t know which one.”

  “I got close enough to see the doorknob,” Wheaton whispered. “It’s a Yale.” He sorted through the keys and found one that had the word printed on it. “This is probably it.”

  “So what are you gonna do?” Brad whispered, keeping his eyes on the house. “You can’t just walk in there.”

  “I could kick the door down if I wanted. I have an arrest warrant.”

  “But that could get you killed,” Doug said.

  “That’s why I’m going to use the key. If I can get the door unlocked as quietly as possible, we may be able to surprise them.” Wheaton looked back at the house. “Now, I know you men don’t have any police training, so listen carefully. You lead into rooms with your weapon. You don’t go around corners until you’ve looked carefully to make sure no one’s about to ambush you. Keep your firearm pointed at the ceiling or the floor to make sure you don’t kill each other.”

  Mark began to think this was a bad idea. His brothers weren’t stupid. Wheaton might be dead before he let go of the key. He and Doug and Brad weren’t experienced enough to do this right.

  There had to be another way.

  “I have a better idea,” Mark said. “If Larry and Jack see you at the door, they’ll kill you without a thought. But if I go to the door and they see me, they might not shoot right away. Remember, they want my gold. They’d have to keep me alive long enough to find it.”

  Wheaton shook his head. “I don’t want them taking you hostage, Mark. That’s the last thing I need. You’re injured, and they might overpower you.”

  “But I have a gun. If anything happens, I can defend myself. And you guys can cover me.”

  Wheaton thought it over for a moment.

  “I don’t like it,” Doug said. “It’s a real bad idea.”

  “But it could work,” Brad said.

  Finally, Wheaton made a decision. “All right, Mark. We’ll do it your way.”

  FIFTY-NINE

  MARK’S HEART WORKED IN OVERDRIVE AS HE STEPPED OUT of the trees and headed for the front door. As he approached the house, his eyes shifted from one window to another, looking for movement.

  He stepped quietly onto the porch and felt the filthy boards giving beneath his weight. He listened, trying to hear footsteps — a shifting of weight, a creak of a board. But there was nothing.

  Blowing out his tension, he brought the key up and slipped it into the lock. Wheaton had been right — the key fit. Slowly, Mark rotated the lock, and the doorknob clicked.

  The others joined him within seconds, their weapons ready. Wheaton took a breath, then plunged the door open. Silently he led through the house, careful as he passed doorways, looking for some sign of life.

  The beds were unmade but seemed recently slept in. Two pairs of muddy alligator boots cluttered the bedroom floor. The bathroom was empty, but toothbrushes lay on the sink. They moved about the house quickly, cautiously, looking in closets and behind furniture, under beds.

  “No one here,” Wheaton said finally as he came back into the living area.

  Mark looked at the sparse furnishings in the room — the table where his brothers and his dad would play poker
at night. The couch where Vic would pass out after too much to drink. They’d found a different use for the refrigerator than Mark had. They had turned it on its back, placed it under the window, and filled it with dirt. A small crop of beans grew there.

  “Interesting use of the fridge,” Doug said. “Looks like they’ve turned it into a mini-greenhouse. Wonder why they didn’t just clear a place to plant a crop outside. All they’d have to do is cut down some trees and clear an area for a garden.”

  “Too lazy,” Mark said. “Why work that hard when they can steal other people’s game?”

  Doug touched the soil. “The plants are a little dry, but not too bad. They probably watered yesterday or the day before.”

  Wheaton checked the fireplace. The ashes were cold. No one had had a fire in here today.

  Disappointment rivaled the adrenalin pulsing through Mark. He had so hoped to find them here. “Maybe they’re back in Crockett.”

  Wheaton shook his head. “If they are, they’re up to no good.”

  The men didn’t move anything in the house or leave any evidence that they had been there. It wouldn’t pay to tip the brothers off that the law was on to them. What Mark wouldn’t give for surveillance cameras, working radios, and enough men to stake out the place and wait for them to return.

  But Wheaton’s small force was stretched too thin as it was, and without technology, they were too limited. There were still almost two dozen escapees on the loose . . . and way too few men to look for them.

  FOR THE RIDE HOME, MARK SAT ON THE BACK BENCH SEAT ALONE, and Doug took the seat in front of him. Over the rumble of the old engine, Doug caught pieces of Wheaton and Brad’s strategizing up front, but couldn’t hear well enough to join in.

  Besides, he was tired, and he had no brilliant schemes for luring the brothers out. Still — as tired as Doug was, he knew Mark was even worse off.

  Doug leaned back against his window and set his arm on the back of the seat. He looked back at Mark, who was staring out the window as if looking for his brothers. Doug knew Mark wouldn’t rest until they were found.