Exit Blood (Barefield Book 2)

by Trey R. Barker

  In the middle of the church burning down, everybody shooting, running from the cops, Cope had managed to find fresh ice.

  I plunged my fingers into the cold, dug around until I found the foot. How in hell, I wondered again, had everything come to this? Fleeing the church with a man’s foot. And the crap of it was I didn’t even know where Fagan’s body was. I’d looked for ten, maybe fifteen, minutes before I’d boogied ass outta there. Left that tattoo joint and hid in a whiskey bottle for a few days. When I crawled out of there, it was only long enough to stumble my way to the first bus out of town.

  Should have kept my ass on that bus, too. Should have ridden that fucker straight to the Texas coast and found myself a job on a boat to anywhere. Or turn it around and grabbed a chunk of asphalt toward Mexico.

  On my chest was a burn scar.

  And that’s what stopped me from the coast or Mexico.

  The scar was raindrop-round, as large as a little girl’s thumb, as smooth as a sixteen-year-old girl’s ass. The pendant that had burned that scar had been the last thing I had. In spite of everything I’d done, it was that pendant that kept me awake more than anything else.

  Because it was gone.

  Because it was my fault it was gone.

  Ergo, I had to find the fucking thing.

  Find it and get it back to my step-father. Then, and only then, could I grab a boat or a bus and disappear.

  So, assuming I got out of Valentine, I would look a little more. A few more days, a few more tries. If I couldn’t find it, then I’d pack everything in and catch that ride to somewhere else.

  Good plan, but how many more gonna die before you hitch out?

  I snorted. “Yeah, there is that.”

  That single body—Fagan’s—had become lots of bodies. Everything was different now and I was pretty certain whatever luck had been traveling in my boots was just about done with me. Blood and bodies trailed me like heels knocked off—or shot off—my boots. A month ago there hadn’t been any bodies. Now they were everywhere and though I’d actually killed only one, all those corpses were at my feet.

  If I had brain fucking one, I’d opt out, Mama’s pendant be damned. Piss on getting it back. Piss on apologizing for letting Fagan steal it from Mama’s jewelry box in the first fucking place.

  “Damnit.”

  “Hey,” Esther said. “You gonna stand out there all day or what?”

  Through the open door, I saw her in the front room, buttoning her shirt. Cope wandered in a moment later, fidgeting with himself under his robe.

  “You need some ice for that?” she said, pointing at the cooler as I came inside. “There’s an ice machine downstairs.”

  When she reached for the cooler, I yanked it away. “I’m good.”

  She smiled seductively. “Got secret stuff in there?”

  “Uh...no, thanks. It’s...uh—”

  “Don’t tell me anything you don’t want me to know.”

  Esther and Cope went into a room that might have been a living room in any other house, but here had been transformed into a lobby. The wood was dark, the furniture coverings burgundy. Old fashioned light fixtures hung in the corners and tossed out an antique yellow glow. A carnival-style popcorn machine stood in the corner, next to a stairway that disappeared into a basement. A sign above the stairs said, Theater This Way. Nearly all of the flat surfaces were filled with props. Fake money. Purses and costume jewelry. Different kinds of liquor bottles, some empty, some not. There was a menorah and a two-foot tall silver Christmas tree. On an end table sat a revolver.

  “The Valentine Cultural Arts Playhouse,” Esther said. “It’s what I do.”

  “I had no idea this town had a theater,” I said.

  “That’s about the story. Most people don’t know.” She shrugged. “I do okay. Not great, I ain’t getting rich, but I make enough to keep me in sticky buns, coffee, and shotgun shells.”

  “I wouldn’t think there were that many actors in Valentine,” I said.

  She laughed. “No actors, honey, it’s all me. I do all the parts. Every show is a one-woman show.”

  Squeezing her shoulder, Cope said, “She talented, no doubt about it. She know how’d’a use those lips.”

  The room was filled with lobby cards. Last time I was in a theater was probably twenty years ago for something Shakespeare as a high school field trip. I stared at these cards, at the titles and art work, and had no fucking clue what any of these plays were. For all I knew, Esther could have made the entire thing up and I would never have known.

  “I got hit by a drunk driver a few years ago,” Esther said. “Put me in the hospital for about a year, killed my sister.” Her hands spread out, indicating the theater. “Got a pretty good settlement.”

  Went to the tattoo parlor, killed my father, got a shitty settlement. Want to see the pound of flesh?

  Cope took a deep breath. “Esther, we gotta problem.”

  She raised a single eyebrow. “Just one?”

  “Gotta get outta town. Quick but quiet.”

  Her face remained steady but something changed in her eyes. “You leaving me, Elmer? For real this time?”

  Cope took Esther’s creamy hand in his. “Yeah, baby. For a little while. I’ll be back, don’t y’all worry about that.”

  A single tear rolled down her cheek and I realized the enormity of her feelings for Cope. “Monea tell you to leave me?”

  “That’s part of it, babygirl.”

  “Monea the whore?” I asked.

  “That’s her,” Esther said. “He comes to get some of me, but always goes back to her.”

  “Other way around, babygirl. I get some’a her, but always come back to y’all.” He took her hand. “The cops are after us.”

  Esther’s laugh was laced with sadness. “The cops are after all you guys...that’s the deal, ain’t it? Church of Bloody Stools and all that.”

  “Bloody Souls,” Cope said.

  “Whatever.” She wiped away tears, cleared her throat, and sat as tall as she could, waving a hand at the church. “I heard the explosions. Figured you was involved.”

  “Only ’cause we was there, Esther.”

  “Esther, please,” I said. “It hasn’t been a great day and I don’t see things getting any better. Can you help us or not?”

  Her eyes were a penetrating green. Beneath her gaze, she laid me bare, stripped to my bone. She saw every flaw, every nightmare.

  “Yeah,” she said, drawing the word out like a length of hot wire from a punctured eye. She pointed a thumb outside as another squad car passed. “You can’t go anywhere just yet. There will be policemen everywhere. You can stay here. You can put the bike in the garage. Stay overnight. Darcy, I got a room you can use.”

  Cope grinned. “Where I’m gonna sleep?”

  She shrugged. “You probably won’t be sleeping much tonight.”

  Outside, beneath the sound of sirens that still cauterwauled, a car drove onto the theater’s cracked lot and didn’t stop until it seemed to be inside the lobby. The engine died, followed by a door slam and booted feet climbing the stairs.

  “Hey, Esther.” It was a thin voice that scraped hell outta my ears. Behind it, a hand banged on the door. “Lemme in. Open the damned door.”

  “Fuck me,” Esther said. “He’s got to come now?”

  “Open up for your little punkin.”

  Cope said, “The hell is that?”

  “Roy.”

  Tiny fingers of panic poked at me. “Who?”

  “Roy Guy.”

  Cope leaned down to take a look through the window.

  Esther jerked him back. “Johnny Law.”

  One Week Ago

  My nuts froze. “Johnny Law?”

  When Esther nodded, her breasts bounced. “He loves me but his timing ain’t great. Never is...if you get what I’m saying.” She pushed her tits higher up into her bra and went to the door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “Don’t open the door.”

/>   “Stupid shit, he knows I’m here. I don’t open the door, he’ll break it down looking for me.”

  “Got that kind of effect on him?” Cope asked.

  “Goddamned straight,” Esther said.

  The officer’s voice pealed. Rang in my head like the bells at St. Nicholas Episcopal when I was growing up. “Esther, lemme in.”

  Fucking hated those bells.

  “Y’all watch that language.”

  Esther’s eyes bulged. “My ass is hanging out ’bout as far as it can, which is pretty far in case you ain’t noticed...it’s a big ass. It’s out there for you, Elmer DiFranco. Can you keep your self-righteous bullshit to yourself for just a few fucking seconds?”

  Guy’s head, captured by the street light behind him, moved in an almost perfect square from corner to corner in the window. A thin hand rapped the glass. “What’s going on? Lemme in, Esther. Come on, I got a problem needs taking care of. Lemme in.”

  Another quick press of her bra and then hands down along the dress encasing her body and she popped the door open. Her voice was dramatic, the voice of an actor. “Roy the Poh-leece.”

  I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so deep-bone terrified. Actor or not, her accent was thick enough to clog an industrial drain.

  “Luscious,” he said, his accent equally twangy.

  Stepping across the threshold, he stopped immediately when he saw Cope. His frown deepened when his eyes caught me. “Oh. Uh...hello. Yeah, hi.”

  Faking a cough, I kept my back to him.

  In the midst of a tight hug, Esther rubbed her hips against his. “Oooh, I’ve been missing that gun, Officer.”

  But he wouldn’t be drawn in, not with me and Cope in the room. He stood formally, his face tight as stone, though his lack of uniform killed a measure of his authority. “I wanted to check on you after the fire.”

  “Are they getting it under control?” Esther asked.

  “It’s a mess, Esther, I won’t lie to you about that. You best keep a radio handy to listen for evacuation orders.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Formal now, as though he actually ran the show in Valentine and there was any chance a church fire on the outskirts of town was going to lead to an evacuation. “It’s a helluva fire. Most everyone’s dead. There are some we can’t account for; we’re assuming that’s who set the fire.”

  “Can’t account for?” My ears laid back against my skull.

  “We had a plant inside the church,” Guy said. “Trying to get the goods. We know exactly how many people were in there.”

  Esther shook her head. “I can’t believe all those men burned to death.”

  “Burned? No. We gotta lot of bullet holes in a lot of heads.”

  “Which means what?” I asked.

  Guy took a big breath, licked his teeth, and glanced around the lobby as though surveying a room full of rookie cops. “Well, we got us a murderer running around town. I don’t know why he did it, I just know some son of a bitching murderer is in my town. Keep your doors locked. I might even cancel the show tonight.”

  “There is no show tonight,” Esther said. “But you’ll come help me if it comes to that? I mean, even if you’re off-duty? If I need you?”

  A satisfied grin played at the edges of his mouth. All the while, his eyes moved between Cope and me. But I noticed they began to linger less on Cope and more on me. I’d seen that look before, not on this cop’s face, but on others’. I had something that was drawing Guy’s curiosity. Maybe it had gotten tickled initially by Esther with two men he didn’t know. Or by a black man covered in rings. But now it was all me; his world was narrowing down to just me.

  He knows. Or thinks he knows. Or thinks he might know.

  Esther caught Guy’s eyes hanging on me. “I’m glad you came by. You can meet some old acting friends of mine. They’re passing through, actually just finishing up their visit.”

  “Just passing through.... But wearing monks’ robes.” He let his eyes traveling in the direction of the burning church. “Hmmmm...ain’t that something.”

  I swallowed. This was going bad fast.

  “Roy, honey, that ain’t no thang at all,” Esther said. “I told you I was thinking about doing Nunsense. It’s all about nuns and monks and God-stuff. I was thinking it’d be good to have some other actors this time. I got the costumes ready and asked my friends here to model them for me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Guy stared at us a bit longer before letting his gaze linger toward the burning church. “Guess I didn’t know you had visitors.”

  “I told you they were coming.”

  Roy Guy nodded thoughtfully. “Did you? I guess I have to pay more attention.”

  I’d be happy if you paid less attention.

  Worst thing to do? When a cop is staring at you and frowning and you can see the fucking wheels turning in his head? Squirm.

  But I couldn’t stop it. Twitching and wriggling. Once, when I’d been a kid, I’d burned an ant to death with a magnifying glass. That fucking cop-stare on me was the exact same thing as that glass on that ant. I was the ant and he was burning me to death.

  I knew that stare intimately. How many times had I seen it on SuperCop’s face? Eventually, just like with SuperCop, Roy the Poh-leece would put everything together. From deep in the cobwebs of his brain, a wanted poster or a Locator computer bulletin or a Crime Stoppers flyer. That would come together with two strange men in his punch’s theater...wearing robes. Eventually, he’d get it all.

  Sweat broke on my forehead.

  “Yeah,” Guy said. “Pay better attention.” He stepped casually toward me. “Think I know you, boy.”

  “Don’t think so...sir.

  Guy shrugged. “Well...maybe not. If you’re a cop long enough, the faces tend to blur together.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” I moved from foot to foot. Again, the wrong thing to do, but hell, my nerves were on fire and I didn’t know how to put them out.

  “Roy? Uh...Roy? Can I show you the new set?” Esther lowered her head until she was looking through the tops of her blazing green eyes. The seductiveness of the move surprised me. “I’ve got that new costume, too.” A grin, almost a smirk, hooked one end of her mouth. “You know, the one you asked about?”

  Hot red burst into Guy’s face. “Uh...yeah. I just wanted to see if it passed the local ordinances. Can’t have too much skin showing on stage.”

  “Y’all absolutely right, right as the rain. Too much skin might be a sin.” Cope chuckled.

  “Go on down, Roy,” Esther said from deep in her throat. “Let me say bye to my friends and then I’ll be...going down.”

  Officiously, he disappeared down the stairs.

  “Christ on a shingle,” I said. “He knows. He fucking—”

  “Darcy,” Cope said. “Please with the language.”

  “Shut the hell up about the language, Cope. That fucking cop knows who I am. He knows what I’ve done.”

  “How y’all figure that?”

  “You see how he looked at me? He knows. Probably got me off the Locator computer.”

  “The what?”

  “Locator. National network, most cops have it anymore. I’m sure they’ve flashed my name and face a few hundred times since—”

  “Since?” Esther asked.

  “Since the boy got his church membership.” Cope said it discreetly. “Esther, give it a rest, the boy don’t wanna tell.”

  The front door was closest, but through the backdoor was the motorcycle. Hate it or not, I needed to leave Roy behind quick. “I’m out. Gimme the keys. I can’t stay here he knows everything I’ve done and Christ I didn’t—”

  It happened in a flash. Cope’s hand shot out, smacked me. It stung like the whips across my back at the church.

  “Y’all pretty sure the world centers on you. Cain’t never be about nobody else. What makes the planets and asteroids and all the rest of that shit spin around you? Y’all ain’t the only one got
troubles with the police.”

  “Esther?” Guy called from downstairs. “Everything all right?”

  “Just fine. I’m coming.” She stared at Cope and me. “Don’t go anywhere, don’t say anything, don’t even breath. Give me ten minutes with him and we’ll be fine.” With a flick of her wrist, she directed us to the kitchen. “The laundry room.”

  With a grumble, Cope led me into a tiny room, only enough space for the washing machine and the dryer. With a shrug, I hopped on one while Cope climbed on the other and pulled the folding door closed behind us.

  ***

  “What the hell are you humming?”

  “Gospel. It gettin’ on y’all’s nerves?”

  “No more than I am on yours.”

  Cope grunted. “Pretty bad, then.”

  “Look, old man, I didn’t ask you to bring me here. Or save me.”

  “Shut y’all’s hole,” Cope said, his voice a river of annoyance. “Don’t give me no shit about better off dead. Nobody better off dead.”

  “Why’d you bring me here?”

  Cope sucked his teeth. “Had to bring you somewhere, didn’t I?”

  “Did you? Why me? You didn’t snatch anybody else.”

  For a while, Cope said nothing. His hum faded in and out, back and gone. “Y’all got what y’all done and I got what I done and right then, when that place was burning down, saving you seemed the right thing.”

  I frowned.

  “That ain’t a good enough answer?”

  “Sure...I mean...yeah. I just expected something ...I don’t know...more exotic.”

  “Awright, how ’bout this? Monea told me to save your skinny white ass.”

  “The whore? She knows about me?”

  “She’s knows ever’thang, White-Boy Darcy.”

  “You are one strange man, Elmer Cope DiFranco.”

  “Y’all don’t know the half of it.”

  We fell silent for a few more minutes, then the folding door whooshed open.

  ***

  The three of us stood backstage, near two dressing rooms. One had Esther’s name painted garishly over a tiara while the other had no sign at all. The hallway was narrow, packed with boxes of crap, set pieces, props, and thousands of old programs from theaters stretching all the way across the U.S.