Dark Waters

by Susan Rogers Cooper

  Emmett picked up the phone and dialed Beth Atkins’ home phone number. A machine picked up, and Emmett remembered she was probably at the high school, teaching. So to the machine, he said, ‘Miss Atkins, this is Deputy Emmett Hopkins from the sheriff’s department. If I’m unable to catch you at school, would you please return my call at either of these numbers.’

  He rattled off the sheriff’s department number and his cell number and hung up, then got the number for the high school and dialed that. A school secretary answered on the third ring. It must have been between classes, because the noise on her end of the phone was deafening.

  ‘Sheriff’s department!’ Emmett said loudly. ‘I need to speak to Beth Atkins.’

  ‘Who?’ the woman shouted at him.

  ‘Beth Atkins!’ he shouted back.

  ‘Oh! She’s doesn’t have a class next period so she’s probably headed for the teacher’s lounge. Let me put you through there!’ the woman shouted.

  ‘Thanks!’ he shouted back, then heard the blessed silence of the phone being transferred and ringing on the other end. When a woman picked up, Emmett said, ‘Miss Atkins?’

  ‘No, she’s not in here right— Wait. Beth! It’s for you.’

  He heard the phone drop, then a new voice. ‘This is Miss Atkins.’

  ‘Hey,’ Emmett said. ‘This is Emmett Hopkins from the sheriff’s department.’

  ‘Yes? I thought I was through with you, Deputy,’ she said, but there was no rancor in her voice.

  ‘Just a quick question. I was wondering if you had a significant other in your life—’

  ‘Who would kill my birth father for me?’ She laughed. ‘No, Deputy. I have no, as you say, “significant other” in my life right now, and I hope I’d have the sense to pick one who wouldn’t kill a family member just because I didn’t like them much.’

  Emmett sighed. ‘OK, ma’am, it was just a thought. Sorry to bother you.’

  ‘No bother,’ she said. ‘Call me with crazy questions any time.’

  ‘How about this one: did you know your dad – I mean, Darby Hunt – had a girlfriend?’

  ‘No, I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. There are all sorts of women out there with self-esteem so low they feel the need to get romantic with murderers. I understand serial killers get love letters from women all the time.’

  ‘True enough, but you’d think an educated woman like Reba Sinclair—’

  ‘Who?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Reba Sinclair. She’s the principal—’

  ‘I know who she is, Deputy.’ There was a small silence, then Beth Atkins said, ‘We need to talk.’

  Milt – Day Seven

  There wasn’t much to see in the unoccupied cabin, except the unmade bed. Heinrich and I split up and I escorted the boys back to our cabin. Jean was propped up on her bed reading when we came in.

  ‘Hey, guys,’ she said with a big grin. I took a look at my wife. She has one of those faces that just make you wanna smile. Beautiful hazel eyes, a pert nose, a generous mouth with a smile full of straight white teeth like a toothpaste commercial, and freckles. I love her freckles. The woman I saw before me was my wife, all right, but something was wrong.

  ‘What did you do?’ I asked her.

  Her formerly beautiful hazel eyes, now dimmed by all the gunk surrounding them, got big. ‘What?’

  I studied her face. It wasn’t just the eyes. Her freckles were gone.

  ‘Gosh, Mom,’ Johnny Mac said, ‘you look beautiful!’ He threw his arms around his mother’s neck and she hugged him back.

  She did look beautiful, if your standard of beauty was a model in a magazine. My standards were a bit higher – I prefer real women. Ones with a little meat on their bones, a face you could see, wearing clothes that recognized their womanliness. I couldn’t see my wife’s face – all I could see was makeup.

  ‘After the facial I decided to get a professional make-up job,’ Jean said, looking at me with what seemed like a bit of fear in her eyes. Something I’d never seen before and hoped never to see again.

  And I realized that, after eleven years together, my wife might not know what a beautiful woman she is. That all her years on crutches had taken their toll on her self-esteem when it came to her looks.

  I removed my son and said, ‘My turn.’ I sat down beside her and kissed her. ‘You look beautiful,’ I said, touching her cheek. ‘But I prefer the freckles.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re weird,’ she said, smiling back.

  ‘You look real pretty, Miz Kovak,’ Early said.

  ‘Thank you, Early! Now, tell me, where have you guys been and what have you been up to?’

  So we told her about the unoccupied cabin and the unmade bed and that we really found nothing at all.

  ‘No way for DNA testing?’ she asked me.

  ‘Mom! There wasn’t any hair!’ Johnny Mac informed her.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, looked at me, and then back at our son. ‘Right. Of course.’

  It was getting late and I was up for an early supper. Just as we were about to leave, the phone rang. I picked it up and heard, ‘Hey, Milt, it’s Mike.’

  ‘Hi, Mike, what’s up?’

  ‘Esther’s getting room service tonight. She doesn’t feel like facing people right now. So Lucy and I are taking the girls to the buffet for dinner. Janna asked me to call you and see if the boys could join us. Believe me, I won’t take my eyes off them for a second this time.’

  ‘You’d better not,’ I said. ‘God only knows what damage they could do.’

  ‘I hear you, I hear you!’ Mike said. ‘Besides, Lucy will be with me and she’s a lot more trustworthy than I am.’

  I laughed. ‘Let me check with the boss,’ I said, put my hand over the phone and said to Jean, ‘Mike and Lucy are taking the girls to the buffet for dinner and want them to come,’ I said, pointing with my head at the boys.

  ‘Oh, please, Mom! Please! I hate that fancy food!’

  ‘Yes, Miz Kovak, please!’

  I cocked my head at her. ‘Last dinner on-board,’ I said. ‘Romantic evening, just the two of us.’

  Jean looked at the boys, then at me, then back at the boys. ‘OK. But if you two do anything—’

  ‘We swear, Mom! Don’t we, Early?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, we swear!’

  Into the phone I said, ‘It’s a go, Mike. I’ll bring ’em to you at the buffet.’

  Twenty minutes later I found Jean at our designated table, sipping a glass of wine from a bottle. ‘How much did that cost us?’ I asked.

  ‘We have one free bottle of wine. This is it,’ she said.

  ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘Free? Good deal at twice the price.’ I poured myself a glass and picked up the menu, looking for today’s treat. Squab stuffed with wild rice and peeled grapes. Ah, shit, I thought. Peel me some grapes, baby! That was for me. When the waiter came, I ordered the squab, with a side of white asparagus, an appetizer of escargot (it was good the first time; what were the chances it wouldn’t be good the second? Slim to none, I figured), a wedge salad with bleu (that’s the way they spelled it) cheese, figs and pecans, and a dessert taco, which was like one of those taco shells they put salad in, except sugared and filled with flan and fresh fruit. That’s what the menu said. I figured there was no way it was gonna be bad. I hadn’t had anything on the ship yet that didn’t make me wanna slap my mama it was so good.

  After the waiter had gone, my made-up wife asked, ‘Do you know what squab is?’ She’d ordered the same thing, so I couldn’t have gone off too bad.

  ‘One of those little chickens, right?’

  She grinned at me. ‘No, honey, it’s a baby pigeon.’

  I was quiet for a moment. ‘A pigeon?’

  ‘Yep,’ she said, taking another sip of wine.

  ‘Like one of those flying rats that hang around in downtowns and shit on everything? Like that?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep.’ She laughed at the expression on my face. ‘Except these, I’m sure, are from sterilized fa
rms, and don’t grow up, so how can they shit on anybody’s downtown?’

  ‘I’m gonna eat a baby pigeon,’ I said under my breath, then took a big swig of my wine. ‘Don’t tell the boys.’

  TWELVE

  Johnny Mac – Day Seven

  The boys heaped their plates and followed the girls to a table one over from Janna’s parents. Her mom was facing them, so as to curtail any adventurous ideas. Janna, who was facing her mother, put on a phony smile, the one she used for her parents, and said, ‘I bet y’all are anxious to hear what we found in Josh’s cabin, huh?’

  Sitting beside her, also facing Mrs Tulia, Johnny Mac smiled back. ‘We sure are. If we keep smiling like this will our face muscles freeze up and we’ll end up looking like Batman’s Joker?’

  ‘Just smile and nod, smile and nod,’ Janna said. ‘Anyway, we didn’t find the money. We did find a slip of paper in a woman’s handwriting—’

  ‘It looked just like the handwriting on your note, Johnny Mac!’ Lyssa said.

  Janna shot her a look. ‘Yes, it did.’ She got her smile back under control.

  ‘What did it say?’ Early asked.

  The two girls exchanged looks. Then, in unison, they said, ‘Meet me at the usual spot, lover.’

  Johnny Mac almost choked on a French fry. ‘Lover?’ he exclaimed. ‘Gross!’

  ‘Does that mean he was doing it?’ Early asked, not exactly sure what ‘doing it’ meant, but he’d heard his older brother say it and knew that that’s what ‘lover’ meant. Maybe.

  Janna frowned. ‘I dunno.’ She looked at Johnny Mac, who shrugged.

  Lyssa sighed. ‘God, y’all are such babies. Yes, “lover” means they were doing it. Now we just need to figure out who he was doing it with. Did anybody see him hanging out with any girls?’

  ‘Just us,’ Janna said. Then she and Lyssa looked at each other, grimaced, and said in unison, ‘Ooo!’

  ‘Maybe it’s not a lady’s handwriting,’ Early said.

  ‘It’s pretty girly-looking,’ Lyssa said.

  ‘Yeah, I have to agree with Lyssa,’ Johnny Mac said. ‘It looked like my mom’s handwriting. The way the letters sorta curled.’

  Early nodded his head. ‘You’re probably right. And, I wasn’t thinking. Since it said “lover” it had to be a girl, huh?’

  Johnny Mac nodded his head, while the two girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

  ‘Did you find anything else – interesting or not,’ Johnny Mac asked. ‘I mean, what might not have seemed interesting to you – as girls – might have seemed interesting to Early and me.’

  ‘You mean being boys and all?’ Janna said, with just a slight curl of the lip.

  Johnny Mac was bright enough to catch the sarcasm. ‘I wasn’t being mean, Janna,’ he said. ‘There are just some things girls know more about than boys, and some things boys know more about than girls.’

  ‘Like what?’ Janna demanded.

  ‘Don’t y’all think we’re getting off the subject here?’ Lyssa said, echoed by Early’s ‘Yeah.’

  Janna sighed. ‘OK, Lyssa, what did we see that only a boy can interpret?’

  Lyssa shrugged and closed her eyes. ‘OK. We saw Early’s boat that he bought sitting on the nightstand. Next to it was an empty root beer can. There was some change on the night stand, about thirty-seven cents. On the shelf over the bed were two baseball caps – one said, “Houston Oilers” and the other said “Jason’s Bit BBQ.” In the closet were hang-up clothes, obviously Josh’s ’cause they were too big for Ryan. On the shelf above that was a box. In the drawers were boys’ boxers and T-shirts and socks.’

  She opened her eyes to find the other three staring at her. ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Janna asked, awestruck.

  ‘What? Oh, listing off everything? My doctor said I have total recall. It’s a gift,’ she said and smiled sweetly, hands folded in front of her.

  ‘Cool,’ Johnny Mac said. ‘But what was in the box?’

  ‘Box?’ Lyssa asked.

  ‘In the closet. On the shelf above the hang-up clothes,’ Johnny Mac said.

  ‘Oh!’ Lyssa’s face turned red. ‘I forgot to look! Janna found that note in the second drawer – where he kept his shoes and belts and other crap – and I forgot all about the box!’

  ‘We need to see what’s inside that box!’ Johnny Mac said.

  All four turned and looked at Janna’s parents – who were looking right back at them.

  Meanwhile, Back In Prophesy County

  Emmett made plans with Beth Atkins to meet her at the Longbranch Inn at around five p.m. In the meantime, he headed back to the break room to check out what was happening with Mrs Hunt.

  The old lady had a Subway sandwich in front of her and a Diet Yoo-hoo out of the machine. And she and Holly were talking about quilting, a subject obviously dear to the old bat’s heart.

  ‘Now I’m into them crazy quilts. Where you don’t have a real pattern? At least not one of the traditional ones,’ she was saying. ‘And you can make ’em real bright colors all over! I made two so far.’ The look of pleasure on her face faded. ‘Got no one to give ’em to now. Now that my boy’s gone. They woulda made real good wedding presents.’

  ‘Ask her how well she knew Darby’s girlfriend,’ Emmett said into the walkie.

  Holly did. The old lady replied, ‘She took me up to see him at the pen a couple of times, but I didn’t know her well. She didn’t talk much on the ride, and I usually got me some shut-eye. But she was nice enough. I mean, he got that motorcycle and that big-screen TV, didn’t he? Now that’s true love, donja think?’

  ‘That’s true,’ Holly said.

  ‘Ask her who all Darby’d seen since he got out. Anybody come to the house? He get any calls?’

  Again the mere movement of Holly’s head in acknowledgement. ‘Did Darby have a lot of company once he got out?’

  The old lady shook her head. ‘No. Not even kin. My husband’s brothers’ boys used to be all over when Darby was young, but nary a one of ’em showed up when my boy got out!’ She shook her head. ‘I called ’em to go pick him up from the pen but they wouldn’t do it! Trash, the whole lot of ’em, just trash. My poor boy had to take a bus home. And me! I had to drive to the bus stop in town to get him. I don’t hardly drive at all anymore, but would that worthless Hunt bunch do a goddam thing to help me? Not so’s you’d notice!’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Holly said. ‘You’d think they’d be more accommodating, being kin and all.’

  ‘Yeah, you’d think so!’ the old lady said, tears starting in her eyes again.

  Emmett said into the walkie, ‘What about phone calls! Ask her about phone calls!’

  ‘How about phone calls?’ Holly repeated.

  ‘I think that girlfriend of his called a couple of times. He’d always rush for the phone when it rang. Only rang like maybe two times since he got back. I don’t get a lot of phone calls myself. Got no kin left. Not even my boy,’ she said, put down her Subway sandwich and began to bawl.

  ‘When she calms down,’ Emmett said into the walkie, ‘tell her we’re confiscating her shotgun but not pressing charges for shooting at a deputy. Then get somebody – somebody armed, Holly, not you! – to take her home. Got that?’

  She nodded her head and Emmett left the break room to head to the Longbranch Inn for his meeting with Beth Atkins.

  Dalton wasn’t much use that afternoon. His eyes were either on his beloved or on the clock, willing it to be five o’clock and time to leave. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket. Anthony had come in for his late shift at noon and Dalton wanted to tell him what was going on, but he figured he shouldn’t. This was just between him and Holly and he should keep it that way.

  Finally, five o’clock came and Dalton went up to Holly’s desk. ‘You ready?’

  ‘I have to get Mrs Hunt back to her house,’ Holly said.

  ‘Anthony can do that,’ he said.

  ‘OK, that�
�s good. Why don’t you pick me up at my apartment in an hour? I rode my bike in today,’ she said.

  ‘Plenty of room for your bike in my car,’ he said. He drove a Ford Explorer, four years old and paid for.

  Holly laughed. ‘You’re really anxious to show me something, huh?’

  Dalton grinned big and blushed. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

  ‘OK, fine.’ She picked up her purse and her bag she carried with a book and her lunch and other stuff in it, and headed first to Anthony’s desk to ask him to take Mrs Hunt home, and then for the jail cells where she kept her bike. When she walked out to the lobby with it, Dalton took it and walked to the parking lot.

  His hands were shaking. He hoped Holly wouldn’t notice. He opened the back of the Explorer and put the bike in, closed it and got in the driver’s side. Holly was already sitting in the passenger seat. She hadn’t waited for him to open the door for her. That’s just the way she was – real independent. When they went some place, she never would sit in the car and wait for him to come around and open her door. She always said she didn’t know what she was supposed to do, just sitting there. Stare out the window? Do her nails? It made sense to Dalton. He always wondered about that, too.