When Memory Fails

by L C Hayden

  “Let’s not do that. We don’t want to anger the police.” Bronson looked down the hallway. “Maybe you have a spare bedroom where we can dispose of the body? I’ll help you carry it there.” Bronson stepped over Honey as he headed toward Frank.

  “She does that all the time.” The Hermit’s face lit up as he talked about his dog. “She finds the place where she’s more likely to be in the way, and then lays there.”

  Bronson smiled. “What can I say? Heck of a dog.” He picked up Frank’s arms and tried not to think of the dead man as a human being. Bronson dragged the corpse and hit the end table. A large Greek vase on the center of the furniture piece wobbled. The Hermit bolted toward it and grabbed it.

  “Nice save,” Bronson said.

  “Yeah, I’d hate to lose that. It’s been with the family as long as I can remember. I don’t know if it’s really valuable or not, but I sure like it. I’d hate for it to break.”

  “I’ll be more careful.” Bronson glanced at the vase. It looked very much out of place in this predominately western themed room. Bronson thought it would be more comfortable sitting as a display in some historical museum. “It’s probably an antique. If I were you, I’d put it in a safer place.”

  “No, Sir. It belongs here. That’s why I put it there. It seems to be at home.”

  Yeah? Large paintings of desert scenes hung on the living room walls and complimented the chandelier made of deer horns. A cowboy boot, filled with autumn colored flowers, filled the room with color. Every nick-knack rang “I’m a Cowboy.”

  Everything pointed to a western theme, except in this area where Bronson stood. Here the room became a curved, sunken living room overlooking a row of tall windows with a view of the forest outside. A brown leather couch rested on the middle with two identical marble end tables at each side. The Hermit was right. If a Greek vase belonged anywhere, it did here.

  Bronson returned to the task of dragging the body out. “Have you remembered yet?”

  The Hermit shook his head and picked up the corpse’s legs. Together, they headed down the hallway. “At the end of the hallway, turn left. It’ll be the fourth room down.”

  Bronson nodded. Halfway there, Bronson realized that the Hermit had reached the age to stoop, and his step was often unsure. “Let’s set him down and rest,” Bronson suggested. They did, and both breathed hard through their mouths. “We’re not as young as we used to be.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Honey, who had been following them, let out a loud yelp and wagged her tail.

  “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to carry this dead weight.” Bronson looked at the Hermit. “No pun intended.”

  Honey yelped again and ran in a small circle.

  Bronson smiled and turned his attention to the Hermit. “Ready?” Bronson glanced down the hallway. They didn’t have much further to go.

  The Hermit nodded and grabbed Frank by his ankles. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They set the body down close to the entrance, and Bronson closed the door behind him. “Before I go, I want to see that rifle. I want to make sure it’s in good condition.”

  “I go rabbit hunting all the time. It’s in good condition. But I’ll show it to you just to ease your mind.” He headed toward the closet and opened its door. “While I’m here, help me with this throw rug.”

  Bronson grabbed one end and helped the Hermit place it over the blood stain. While the Hermit rearranged the furniture, Bronson checked the rifle. “It’s like you said, in good condition.”

  “Hate to tell you I told you so.” The Hermit straightened up.

  “Your rifle is fully loaded, but do you have any extra ammunition?”

  “A whole case.” The Hermit raised his hands. “Ammunition! That’s it. The dead guy told the Boss that Cricket had said that all the houses were going to be their protection and all the ammunition in the world wouldn’t reach them. The trees wouldn’t hide him, but the buildings would. You’ll probably find her somewhere in Sechrest Falls.”

  That was a lead worth waiting for. Bronson headed toward the door.

  “Is there anything you want me to do while I wait?” the Hermit asked.

  “Yeah. Make sure you have a cup of coffee waitin’ for me when I return. I’m dyin’ for a cup.” Bronson reached for the doorknob.

  “One more thing,” the Hermit said.

  Bronson stopped.

  “I know why they are here, and even why you are here,” the Hermit said. “Tell Sandy that I told you that what she’s looking for really exists and it’s hidden in the Heart of the Land.”

  Bronson nodded. “We’ll talk later.” Bronson dashed out of the house.

  One down and three to go.

  Chapter 22

  Think. Think!

  Sandy had promised Bronson that if anything happened to her, she would leave him a hint, specifically a handprint. At the time she mentioned it, she knew she was being silly, and everyone knew she had said it in a lighthearted way. Now she wished she had taken the moment seriously and had chosen a better way to communicate. Nothing she could do now. She was stuck with leaving him a handprint, but how? And where? Think!

  Sandy stopped. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Quit stalling.” Cricket’s harsh tone clearly told Sandy he meant business. “But if you’re so curious, I’ll tell you.” His tone softened, but that softness filled with an underlying current of threat, frightened Sandy.

  Cricket continued, “I’m taking you to a little cabin to give you exactly what you want.” He smiled that shark-teeth grin that sent shivers running down Sandy’s body.

  She hesitated for a second. A cabin! A ray of hope. That’s where she could leave Bronson a handprint. But how? She shivered and covered her mouth and nose with both of her hands. She pretended to sneeze, but she actually spit out as much saliva into her hands as possible. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “It all depends on you…Baby.” Again, that evil smile.

  Sandy let out a small cry and tumbled down to the ground. Her hands dug into the dirt as she wiggled them, making sure her hands held as much dirt as possible.

  Cricket stared at her. “Get going or I will hurt you, and I don’t like damaged goods. So you choose. You want to do this, or do you want to die?”

  Sandy scrambled to her feet. “I’m coming. You don’t need to hurt me.” She took a step and cried out. “I must have sprained my ankle when I fell.”

  Cricket moved forward as though attempting to pick her up or drag her along, and Sandy wasn’t sure which. “But I can walk.” She spoke quickly and through tight lips. Last semester when she was enrolled in Drama 101—not her favorite course—she learned how to walk realistically with a limp, at a slower pace. Thank God for elective courses she thought she’d never use.

  Before continuing, Sandy cast a look around her. Daniel. Bronson. Where are you?

  At the end of the block, Cricket forced Sandy to turn left. A block later, they executed another left. He stopped in front of a structure that seemed to have weathered the time better than the others. Although in desperate need of repairs, the house still stood firm. Cricket made a beeline toward it and dragged Sandy along until they were inside.

  Sandy stood in what once had been the parlor, a place to greet guests, enjoy, and relax. Now, all it hovered was fear. Sandy wet her lips as she glanced around, desperate to find something—anything—that could serve as a weapon.

  She noticed that unlike the other places in this town, the windows in this house still remained as they had for so many years. They were grimy, but still intact. The perfect place to leave her handprint. She slowly started backing up toward the window closest to her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Cricket grabbed her by her blouse and pulled her toward him. Any inches she had gained, she had now lost. “I…I was just going to…to look out the window. It’s so pretty out here, and this…this house, it’s so grimy and dirty. Why can’t we get a bla
nket and go outside?” She did her best to flash him a seductive smile. “Please.” She fought the urge to take a step backward.

  Cricket threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “You really do want it, don’t you?”

  Sandy shrugged. “You’re so…so muscular.”

  Cricket pushed her down into the broken couch. “You wait here. Don’t you move. I’ll check the bedroom for a blanket.”

  Without giving her his back, Cricket slid toward the bedroom. He glanced in. “I see one on top of the bed.”

  Soon as he disappeared into the bedroom, Sandy bolted to her feet and took two steps back. “Grab it.” She considered her two choices: dashing out of the cabin or heading toward the window.

  She might not make it out, but she could reach the window. Soon, he’d take her outside and once there, she stood a better chance to ditch him. She spat on her dirty palm and placed her hand on the window, leaving a clear handprint.

  “Bitch! What the hell are you doing? Thought I told you to sit.”

  Sandy allowed her smile to linger a little bit longer than normal. “I was just looking outside. That’s all. It is such a beautiful day, I thought—”

  Within seconds, Cricket stood in front of her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her. “You’re not here to think!”

  “I’m…sorry.” No, I’m not. If I could kill you, I would. “I’ll do what you say.” Yeah, sure.

  “Then get your ass outside. Now.”

  “Of course, but please remember that I hurt my ankle. It might take me a little bit longer than normal to get there.”

  “Then start now.” He showed her the knife. “Or you’re dead, slowly and painfully.”

  “No, please. I’ll do as you say. Maybe you could help me so that I can get out faster.” She blinked twice and smiled at him.

  Cricket stood still, staring at her.

  I need you in front of me. “If you could come over here and stand in front of me so I can lean on you. That will be a tremendous help, and you want me to be at my best, don’t you?” You rat. She bit her lip as though she were in pain.

  Cricket grabbed the blanket and headed toward Sandy. Soon as he was within touching distance, Sandy swung her leg as hard as she could, making solid impact in his groin.

  Cricket let out a loud hmph. He bent over and slowly sank to his knees.

  Sandy wasted no time. She dashed toward the door and gasped when the knife Cricket had thrown embedded on the door frame, missing her face by three inches.

  “Get back here!” Sandy heard him scream. “I swear I’ll kill you.”

  Not knowing which direction to head, she bolted toward her left. She lost precious seconds when she dared to catch a glimpse behind her to see if the monster was following.

  In so doing, she failed to see the man standing in front of her. She ran straight into him.

  Chapter 23

  Daniel opened his eyes, and a bolt of lightning shot through the back of his skull. He tried not to grimace as the sharp pain volleyed between his temples. His forehead beaded with sweat. He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of his wounds. What had happened?

  He remembered. He’d been hurrying toward the store to find Sandy. Had he tripped and fallen? No, someone had come from behind him and placed a strong smelling handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

  Chloroform? His stomach took a nosedive.

  The realization fully awaked him. He tried to stand up. He couldn’t. His hands were tied behind him, and the thick rope around his chest and the tree prevented him from moving.

  Sandy! Was she okay?

  He squirmed, desperately trying to loosen the binds that held him prisoner. If anything, his moving around made it worse. No. No! Noooo! The words fluttered around him like frightened birds, disturbing the otherwise deathly silence surrounding the forest.

  Before he had a chance to react, he saw an arm coming from behind the tree he was tied to. His hand carried the same handkerchief that had knocked him out.

  Daniel tried not to breathe in the chloroform, a task he found impossible.

  * * *

  Bronson shoved the revolver in his waistband and headed for the broken town.

  His gaze drifted between seeing the rugged landscape under his feet to studying the town. His frustration rose when he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. From here, it still looked like a ghost town.

  He reached the bottom of the hill. The best place to begin was at the beginning. He had left Sandy at the store. Logic told him to go there. With any luck, he’d be able to trace her footsteps.

  As he dashed between the buildings, he searched for this Cricket guy. Cricket. What kind of a name was that? What kind of a man was that? The possibilities chilled him. He hastened his step and came to an abrupt stop.

  His gaze jumped to one of the house windows and remained there, stuck like a fly to sticky glue. The handprint on the window screamed at him. He pulled the dead man’s revolver from his waistband and advanced toward the cabin at the ready position. He plastered his back against the wall and snuck a peek through the window.

  The opened backdoor swayed in the wind, and a man—Cricket?—kneeled, holding his crotch, rocking, and screaming. “I’ll get you, you bitch. I swear I’ll get you.” No sign of Sandy.

  Good for you, Sandy.

  For a fraction of a second, Bronson considered crashing through the door and grabbing Cricket while the thug was still at a disadvantage. Instead, Bronson bolted around the cabin, searching for Sandy. He spotted her running toward the woods.

  If he headed south, he could cut her off at the crest of the smaller hill. Like a bull charging, he dashed that direction.

  Seconds later, she ran straight into him. She gasped.

  He signaled for her to keep quiet as he wrapped his arm around her.

  He led her up the rest of the hill where the thick trunks of several trees offered protection but still provided a way for her to see below. “Stay here. I’ll take care of Cricket.”

  She nodded and squatted down. She wrapped her shaking arms around her shaking legs.

  “Do you know where Daniel is?”

  Sandy’s eyes widened. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find him. He’s probably still looking for you.” He started to leave but stopped at the last moment. “Keep an eye out. If you see Cricket or anybody else heading this way, stay low and run as fast as you can and zig-zag. Don’t go in a straight line.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be back for you.”

  Sandy bit her lip. “I’ll…wait here. I’m…okay.” Her words came out sounding like those of a frightened child.

  Holding on to his gun, Bronson headed for the house where he had last seen Cricket. As Bronson once again descended the hill, he kept an eye for any unexplained movements. The clear sky above him gave him the impression that the town below had been sucked dry of any atmosphere, leaving behind only devastation, death and evil.

  Once he reached the few structures that still remained standing, he used them to hide. Not wanting to waste a single second and as quiet as a ghost, he reached the cabin. He plastered his back against the wall and peeked through the open door.

  Cricket had disappeared.

  Shitttt.

  Chapter 24

  Using her foot, Bobbi nudged Daniel’s head. No response. Good. He was out again and wouldn’t be creating any problems

  She glanced at the duct tape in her hand and wished she had thought about taping his mouth before he had regained consciousness. After all, she wanted him with a clear head when he and Sandy talked to the Hermit and got all the information they needed to locate The Ledger.

  She cut a strip of the tape and taped it over Daniel’s mouth. Then to be on the safe side, she cut another piece and taped it over the existing piece. There. That should do it. When he came to, he could squirm and mumble, but no one would see him or hear him.

  She looked up and saw both of her neph
ews approaching. She walked toward them, away from Daniel’s hearing range, just in case. “What did you do with the car?”

  “Drove it off the road, just as you said. We found a cluster of trees that hides it nicely. No way Bronson and his nephew are going to see it.” Leonardo pointed to Pablo. “We also found a bunch of branches and used them to cover the car, just to make sure.”

  “Yeah, it was cool, man. We did a bang up job.” Pablo beamed.

  Bobbi smiled. “I knew I could depend on both of you.” She glanced at the backpacks each carried. “Are those the explosives?”

  Leonardo nodded. “More than enough to blow the Ol’ Hermit’s house from here to kingdom come.”

  “And you know how to set them?”

  Leonardo frowned. “Need you ask?”

  Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need or want your lip. Is that understood?”

  Leonardo cast his eyes downward and nodded.

  Bobbi continued, “I want to make sure the explosion doesn’t go off until the Hermit has told Daniel and Sandy where that ledger is located.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Pablo said. “We can dig that.”

  Bobbi bit her lip. She knew this was Pablo’s way of speaking, but it still irritated her. “Good. Then go do your job. Set it and bring me the detonator. I’ll stay here and watch Daniel. When you get back, we can discuss our next strategy.”

  “We can do that.” Leonardo nudged Pablo, signaling him to follow.

  * * *

  Over half an hour later, Bobbi watched Leonardo and Pablo approach. She walked toward them. Daniel was still out, but she wasn’t about to take a chance on him hearing.

  As she neared her nephews, even before she had a chance to ask, Leonardo anticipated her question. “It’s done.” He offered Bobbi the detonator. “Just push that button and watch the house disintegrate into a million little pieces.”

  Bobbi smiled and accepted the piece. All was going according to plans.

  Both Leonardo and Pablo must have noticed how she felt. They too smiled.