by Ace Atkins
“Miss Jean making some margaritas?”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere, ain’t it?”
“I sure could use one of them right about now.”
“How about you head on down to the Southern Star then,” Boom said. “Happy hour starting right about now.”
Donnie nodded, looking over Boom’s shoulder at the front door and then back at his daddy’s GTO. Donnie had been riding around in Luther Varner’s prize machine like he owned it now. That was the thing about Donnie Varner, he never wanted to work a day in his life. Always acting like the world owed him an ass-pocket full of favors.
“I tried calling her back,” Donnie said. “Must have left her a half-dozen different messages.”
“She said she couldn’t find you,” Boom said. “Where you been, man?”
“Up in Memphis.”
“Memphis?” Boom said. “What’s up in Memphis?”
“Doing a little business.”
Boom nodded, still stroking down his beard. Donnie grinned back at him, hands on his waist, wearing an old yellow T-shirt that read DISCO SUCKS. Donnie thinking shit like that was funny as hell.
“I’ll tell her you stopped by,” Boom said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So it’s like that?”
“Just don’t think now is a good time for you to be messing with Caddy’s mind.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, Boom,” Donnie said. “Thought Quinn was Caddy’s brother. Not you.”
“All the same,” Boom said. “Doubt Quinn would feel any different.”
Donnie shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. His hair shaggy and blond, a dark five o’clock shadow on his face. He turned to Boom, a look of hurt in his eyes. Boom wasn’t buying it. Donnie had been pulling that hurt-my-feelings shit since they were twelve. Like that one time Donnie took Boom’s dirt bike to go mud riding and then acted all sad when he was caught, talking about how his daddy couldn’t afford such an extravagance. Country-ass twelve-year-old Donnie dragged out the word extravagance like he’d been itching to use it after hearing it on his momma’s soap operas.
“I did my time,” Donnie said.
“Didn’t say you didn’t.”
“Don’t see the problem, then,” Donnie said. “Sorry I’m late to the fucking party. But I didn’t get Caddy’s message till I was leaving Memphis. Holy hell, man. I can’t be on call twenty-four/seven. I got business like anyone else.”
“But you can be on call for Fannie Hathcock?” Boom said. “Trading favors and wares out back of the Rebel.”
“Who told you that?”
“Ain’t nobody told me,” Boom said. “I saw it myself.”
Donnie nodded. Damn, Boom loved Donnie like a damn brother but he was getting too old for his shit. And he sure as hell didn’t want Caddy mixed up with a man like that. Not after all that girl had been through in her life. Her home torn apart in that big tornado that hit Jericho. Watching Jamey Dixon die right in front of her. And then Bentley Vandeven’s trifling, privileged ass.
“Don’t play with Caddy’s mind,” Boom said. “This is goddamn Tibbehah. I know what kind of business you got. I heard you been at Vienna’s Place enough times to get your punch card filled for a free lap dance.”
“Man can’t look at titties?” Donnie said. “Maybe drink a cold beer or two? Since when did you get so damn judgy, Boom Kimbrough? I’m trying to make a fresh start. I got all kinds of pressures and obligations riding my ass. You got no idea. Since when are you too damn big to trust a friend? Maybe recognize I got the situation by the gonads and I’m working things out just dandy and fine.”
“Always had a way with words, Donnie.”
“Can’t deny that.”
“It’s only the deeds that I ain’t got time for,” Boom said. “How about you come and call on Caddy and the Colsons when you work all that shit out. Until then, you’re gonna have to go through me.”
“Shit,” Donnie said. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Boom nodded back to the gold GTO parked on the street. “See you around, Donnie Varner.”
* * *
• • •
Quinn drove Caddy north, a little more than an hour away to Byhalia and a little restaurant off 78 called the Whistle Stop. The waitresses had been looking out for Jason since he arrived, one of them letting him use her cell and another offering him anything he wanted on the menu. Apparently he’d already downed a large cheeseburger and French fries before they’d gotten there.
It had been a big, emotional hug fest with Caddy when they walked in the door. Caddy cried and held him tight, trying to get the gathering of three other women to take her money for taking care of Jason. They all refused and showed them to a little table away from most of the other customers. Quinn grabbed some coffee, checking back and forth on his cell with Lillie Virgil, Lillie already making some connections with some cops in Memphis to be on the lookout for a van like Ramos used. Although they were all sure he’d dumped it by now.
“You sure you were up by Mt. Moriah?” Quinn asked.
“Yes, sir,” Jason said, now eating a slice of chocolate pie the waitresses brought him without asking. “That’s where we got loose and broke into that old car dealership.”
“You did good,” Quinn said.
“I stabbed that bastard right in the damn foot.”
“Jason,” Caddy said.
“I think he’s earned a little cussing,” Quinn said.
Caddy nodded, inhaling deeply, eyes closed and hands clasped in front of her. Quinn smiled over at Jason, the little boy still wearing the Buck knife he’d given him on the side of his belt. People in Byhalia, or Tibbehah, wouldn’t give him a second glance for carrying that knife.
“You have to find her,” Jason said. “I think they caught some of the other girls, too. Me and Ana Gabriel were just running so fast we didn’t even look back. I did like you said, looked for cover and tried to make myself invisible. You always told me I had a better chance of living outside a vehicle and I got gone just as quick as I could.”
“You did good.”
“Lord God,” Caddy said. “Please don’t ever do that again, Jason. We were so scared and sick with worry. You could’ve been killed.”
“I didn’t know.”
“But you know what you did is wrong,” Caddy said. “You lied to me and took off without my permission. If Ana Gabriel had to go find her mother, you know I would’ve helped. I would’ve helped right away. It hurts me that you didn’t even ask.”
“It all happened real quick, Momma,” Jason said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Quinn turned his head from the table, steam rising from his cup, as he spotted a black Dodge Charger zoom in and wheel hard into the lot. Lillie Virgil crawled out, dressed in a fitted white top, blue jeans, and boots. She had her Marshal’s badge hanging around her neck and Sig on her hip. As she walked toward the front door, she took off her sunglasses and headed on inside.
“Damn, kid,” Lillie said, standing over their table. “I heard you stabbed a pimp.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t think they make a merit badge for that,” Lillie said. “But they should.”
Lillie sat down and reached out for Caddy’s hand, squeezing it and smiling at her. Lillie shook her head and pointed her index finger right at Quinn.
“You coming with me back to Memphis?” Lillie asked.
“Planned on it.”
“Good,” Lillie said. “Time to hunt down these rotten motherfuckers. Anyone takes my godson and I’ll bag ’em and tag ’em before they know what’s coming.”
Jason looked up, straight-faced, and gave a big nod.
* * *
• • •
They locked Ana Gabriel and two other girls in a windowless brick building along with the white van. One of
the other girls, Marisol Gonzalez, kicked and screamed at the metal door long after Ana Gabriel and the other girl, Alida, had quit trying. The side door of the van was wide open, the two of them resting on the pillows and blankets the other girls had left. Marisol finally quit the banging and fell to a heap on the concrete floor, sobbing.
“What happened to the others?” Alida asked.
“They got away,” Ana Gabriel said. “Jason got away, too. He will find help. And they will come for us.”
“He is your boyfriend?”
“He is a friend who is also a boy,” Ana Gabriel said. “But yes. He is.”
“When you both ran, I became frozen,” Alida said. “I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move or scream. When I finally was able to control myself, Ramos was on me. He’s the one who did this to me.”
She pulled back the long hair from her face, a dark purple welt against her temple. “He said if I screamed or moved again, he would shoot me. Why are they doing this? What are they going to do with us?”
“Jason said they were going to sell us,” said Ana Gabriel. “He said the tall black man with the braids was going to take us somewhere. To make us all whores in cheap motels and the back of trucks.”
The girl, a few years older than Ana Gabriel, looked as if she might get sick. She got onto her knees and then crawled out of the van, walking to a far corner of the big concrete room. Her shoes echoed on the floor against Marisol Gonzalez’s endless crying.
Jason would get back to his mother and Señor Herrera and both of them would find out what this boy Angel had done. How could she have been so stupid to trust a boy she barely knew and who so many had warned her about? They called him a drug dealer, a thief, but he spoke to her with such kindness. Saying his mother had been taken, too, and if they didn’t help their families they would be sent back to Mexico. How could she not help? How could she not act? She imagined her mother alone and in a place very similar to where she was now. Locked away and caged like an animal. Hungry, cold, and ashamed. Why was there so much shame in something you didn’t do?
“I’m very hungry,” Alida said. “When will they come back?”
“I hope never.”
“And then we will die here or be sold to the man with the long braids?” she said. “So they could turn us all into whores?”
“This place is impossible to escape,” Ana Gabriel said. “It’s hard for me to walk with this ankle and I believe I might have broken my hand pounding on that door. We can yell and we can scream. But they’ve taken us somewhere far away with no one around. All we can do is wait.”
“And trust your friend will find his way home.”
“He will,” Ana Gabriel said. “He has a very strong home and a very strong family. Would you like to pray? Perhaps that would make us feel better.”
“We are not alone,” Alida said, taking Ana Gabriel’s hand. “We must never believe that.”
17
By daybreak in Memphis, Lillie and Quinn had a pretty damn good handle on what was going on. They’d nailed down Ramos as being Ricardo Ramos, a known MS-13 shitbird who operated out of Houston and Memphis and Atlanta. His little brother, Angel, was lesser known since he was a juvie but he’d still had time to rack up a nice little record since moving to Mississippi two years ago. He’d been in Pontotoc and Lafayette County, going to school for a few months in Southaven. Mainly the Ramos Brothers ran drugs and girls. The older brother was a known associate of a fella called El Jaguar, who ranked high on the U.S. Marshals’ Most Wanted. Lillie didn’t have to do much to move finding the Ramos Brothers to a top priority.
Quinn and Lillie had spent most of the night running up to North Memphis and over to Summer Avenue to check in with some informants. Quinn was impressed, but not surprised, that Lillie had the town wired.
“Selling out your own people is the lowest of the fucking low.”
“We should know,” Quinn said. “A Tibbehah County specialty.”
“You hear why the Ramos Brothers ended up in Tibbehah?”
“Why do you think?” Quinn said.
“I can’t stand that damn bitch,” Lillie said, popping a stick of gum in her mouth. “I’ll shoot off fireworks on the Jericho Square when they flush her big-titted ass down the commode.”
“Ramos Brothers,” Quinn said. “Sounds like a car dealership.”
They were on Lamar, headed south from South Parkway, hitting that big epic lonely stretch of broke-ass motels, shuttered fast-food franchises, a couple all-night gas stations, and a big intermodal facility with thousands of Conex containers coming and going on semis and trains. Lillie turned into a dimly lit motel, the sign outside offering Elvis Week Specials, Memphis’s finest barbecue, and de-luxe rooms with hot tubs.
“Who’s your guy?”
“My guy is a gal,” Lillie said, double-parking in a slot behind the pool. The water glowing a bright shimmering green in the early morning light.
“Working girl.”
“Mm-hm,” Lillie said. “Hardest working girl in town. She’s the CI from my partner, Charlie Hodge.”
“You know Elvis’s right-hand man was named Charlie Hodge?” Quinn said.
“You’re starting to sound like your momma, Quinn Colson,” Lillie said, chewing her gum, tapping out a message on her cell. “Elvis on the brain. You can stuff all the romance down on South Lamar into a fucking thimble. Worst place for a working girl. Sadists, pedophiles, and killers prowling this road. Working girl prays like hell she’ll just make it through the goddamn night.”
“Looks like some of the working girls are dudes,” Quinn said, nodding up to a broad-shouldered woman with a square jaw and an ill-fitting blonde wig.
“Oh, yes,” Lillie said. “When I was a rookie, patrolling down here, we busted this big old corn-fed country boy from Red Banks. He’d come on up to the city to unwind and find a little loving, swearing to us we’d just rolled up on a little fun between him and his date. When we got them out of his truck, my captain yanked down his date’s skirt to prove that hooker was really a man. That old country boy fainted out cold. Took us twenty minutes to revive his sorry ass.”
Quinn laughed and reached for a Styrofoam cup of coffee. The light was coming up a dull, hazy gray over the old motel and down Lamar Avenue, the potholed road that led south out of Memphis and on to Tupelo, eventually back to Tibbehah County. He promised Jason he’d bring Ana Gabriel back and he wouldn’t leave until they found her.
“How’s Rose?” Quinn said.
“Wondering why her mother works so damn much,” Lillie said. “I promised her I’d take her to the zoo this weekend and maybe over to the Pink Palace. They’re showing a movie about dinosaurs on that IMAX screen. She’s obsessed with dinosaurs these days. I’ve had to watch fucking Jurassic Park so many times, I hear that theme song in my head. I’m thinking I’m no different than those crazy folks trying to corral those animals, get them back in their cages, and out of harm’s way. I swear to you, Quinn, some of these people we have roaming free out here need an electric anal probe to get them to pay attention and get their mind right.”
“You don’t mean that,” Quinn said.
“Hell I don’t,” Lillie said. “You know anyone in law enforcement who thinks they’re communing with God’s great and wonderful master plan? We’re just running a zoo that most civilians don’t even know they’re sharing with the animals.”
Quinn noticed a slim, brown-headed girl coming down the steps of the motel. She had her hands in the pockets of a gray hoodie, her hair greasy and slicked back, eyes darting around the parking lot. She didn’t look like she’d quite reached eighteen.
“That her?”
“Don’t know,” Lillie said. “Never met her.”
She flashed her lights, reminding Quinn of times long ago when he and Lillie met up with girls working for Johnny Stagg at the Rebel. Those days almost seemed quaint and i
nnocent compared to what they had now. At least with Johnny Stagg, you knew where you stood.
Lillie let down her driver’s-side window. “Brandy?”
The young girl nodded and leaned down toward the window.
“Mr. Charlie said you had cash.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lillie said. “Heard you know a little about where those Ramos boys keep house up here?”
The girl had big brown doe eyes, her face scrubbed of makeup but still looking dirty. The girl reminded him of Caddy when she first went off the rails, dead to the damn world and without any fear. Feeling no pain and not giving a damn about herself or her brother when he was sent over to the other side of the world to make America a safer place.
“One of their buddies sliced up a friend of mine.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Lillie said, reaching into her shirt pocket for a wad of cash. “You got a fucking address, Brandy?”
* * *
• • •
Fannie was waiting for Brock Tanner as soon as he walked out of room twenty-three of the Golden Cherry Motel. He wasn’t dressed in the sheriff’s uniform he’d stolen from Quinn Colson, instead looking like a goddamn insurance salesman in a red polo shirt and pleated khaki pants. Leaving the room with two of her top girls with a little wave and a joke, closing the door with a soft click as if not to disturb anyone. Tanner about jumped out of his pants when he spotted Fannie sitting on the hood of her white Lexus, smoking down the back half of a cigarillo, looking at him up and down, taking in his whole sorry ass.
“They’re good, aren’t they?” she asked. “Belinda and Destiny could make a dead man raise up his head.”
Tanner didn’t answer, a pair of sad brown loafers in his left hand, red polo untucked and wrinkled. His black hair unplastered and sticking up wild over those damn ears that reminded her of two wide-open car doors.