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A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1)

Page 8

by James R. Callan


  She had already made it clear she had to go back to Dallas today because of the upcoming visit by the investors. She would take Nana’s car and arrange to get it back over the weekend. Eula was in hiding and wouldn’t need it. Besides, she could use Melva’s car if she got desperate.

  Crystal decided she would swing by The Park on her way to Dallas. She went back to talk with her grandmother.

  “Guess I ought to be heading back to Dallas, Nana.”

  “So soon? I haven’t even had a chance to talk with you about Mark. He looks like grade A.”

  “Yes. He’s nice to work for. Is your car——”

  “When I called you the other night, I talked with your roommate.”

  “Housemate. Is your car okay to drive to Dallas? ”

  “Of course. She didn’t sound like what I expected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not as educated as you.”

  “Well, she’s really nice. And funny. We get along great.” Crystal thought about Brandi’s assessment of Dr. Krupe. “Besides, she’s very smart. Smarter than I am about a lot of things.”

  “That was Friday night. She said you were over at Mark’s. Anything I ought ’o know? Or’d like to hear?”

  “No.” It came out sounding defensive. “I needed to ask him something about work.” That sounded weak, Crystal thought.

  “On a Friday night?”

  “Strictly business, Nana. Got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She gave her grandmother a hug, said good-bye to Melva and left.

  #

  She parked the car under the carport behind the house and made her way down to the lake. The cobalt blue water made the trees appear even greener. Once more, the lake cast a sense of tranquility over Crystal. Easily her favorite part of The Park, it might have been her favorite spot in the world.

  Why would anybody want to search the lake? Probably nobody does; just a dumb idea on my part, she thought. Nonetheless, she tried to imagine possibilities, even wild and silly ideas: a Loch Ness monster, a twenty foot bass, sunken treasure, the body of a famous mobster, the underwater entrance to a cave which had prehistoric drawings on its walls, the gun that killed Lincoln. None seemed even remotely possible.

  The ten-foot rowboat was beached a short distance from a floating dock. As Crystal untied the boat from a small tree, something on the ground caught her eye. She reached down to pick up a short, dark brown cylinder. The brand name was lost, but it was one of the cigarillos gaining popularity in Dallas. Not the kind of tobacco sold in Wooden Nickel. And it was relatively fresh. Crystal guessed it had been there no more than a day or two. Would she have noticed it when she was here Monday? Maybe; maybe not. Didn’t matter. This butt didn’t look like it had been here that long. She dropped it back on the sand, launched the boat and hopped in.

  For thirty minutes, Crystal paddled around, looking for any signs of activity, anything unusual. Across the lake from the dock, she checked an inlet where the tranquil reed-covered shallows and a marshy bank gave way to the steep, pine-covered slope. It offered no insight into the mystery. Near the east end of the lake, a small stream trickled in. Today, it was barely running, but the bed and banks gave testament to the greater volume of water it sometimes carried.

  Generally, the shoreline was dotted with bushes and small trees, in keeping with the manicured appearance maintained around the house and lake. Occasionally, there was a brushy area to contrast the predominantly tidy landscaping.

  Floating near the steep bank, Crystal’s mind drifted back to lazy summer days, sitting in the boat, her granddad teaching her how to bait a hook, cast the line under the shade of a cypress tree, and how to set the hook when a fish rose to the bait. She grinned, hearing in her mind her granddad saying, “If you want to catch a fish, you gotta get your line wet.” Crystal loved catching the big catfish, but always threw them back into the lake. Once she’d caught an eight-pounder not far from where she sat right now.

  She was smiling at that memory when the bullet ripped into her.

  Chapter 17

  CRYSTAL heard the shot and saw her blood on the side of the boat at about the same instant. Without thinking or looking around, she grabbed the side of the boat and rolled into the water just as another bullet ripped into the boat. Splinters showered her head as she went under the surface of the water.

  She’d hardly had time to get a good breath, but her dive was shallow and she quickly returned to the surface. The boat drifted between her and the shooter, rocking lazily from her sudden departure. Her arm throbbed, but her mind ignored it, focusing rather on staying alive.

  She eased along the boat until she could just peek under the bow. A man stood near the dock scanning the area around the boat. He held a rifle, clearly ready to fire again, looking for a target. Looking for Crystal.

  Another man came into view. He was armed with a handgun of some sort. From this distance, Crystal could not tell much about the weapons.

  Slowly she raised a finger and wiped water from her eyes. She had a rather poor view of the two men, but as far as she could tell, she couldn’t remember seeing either before. The shooter wore a camouflage tee shirt and cap. Crystal guessed he might be five feet eight inches tall. The other man, a little tallermaybe six feet or so, looked to be older, but at this distance, she couldn’t be sure.

  Now, past the initial terror and adrenaline surge, her mind acknowledged the pain in her left arm. She wiggled her fingers, then moved her forearm, and finally flexed the entire arm. It seemed to work okay. She paddled back near the middle of the boat, then pulled her left arm out of the water. Blood dripped from a gouge about two inches long that ran across the outside of her biceps. The bullet had missed the bone. And her heart, she noted. She reached in her pocket, pulled out a soggy tissue. It came out a wet glob and she started to drop it in the water. Instead, she pressed it on the bleeding wound and held it there. That’s a waste of effort, she thought. But it did seem to slow the bleeding.

  Careful not to rock the boat, she floated back to the bow of the boat. The taller man now had the rifle and still stood near the dock, but the shorter man was gone. Where? Crystal inspected the hillside but found no sign of him. Cautious not to touch the boat, she moved to the stern and looked around.

  He’s coming around the lake to look for me, Crystal thought, as she picked out the shooter moving east along the bank. I can’t stay here. I can’t stay under water very long. I can’t crawl out on the bank. He’d either see me or find my tracks. She peeked again at the stubby man trudging along the shoreline. He’s got a gun, he’s already shot me once, and now he’s coming to finish the job. And I’m waiting here like a fish in a rain barrel.

  A picture of Nana's burned house materialized in her mind. She remembered Mark's feeling that Bessie was murdered. They aren't trying to scare me off. A shudder ran through her body as her mind spelled out what, down deep, she already knew, but had refused to face. They mean to kill me.

  Her mind raced through various options, searching for some way to hide from these killers. He’ll have to go around that inlet, still ... .

  Crystal slipped under the surface and began swimming for the eastern inlet, where reeds poked up several feet above the water. If she could get there, they might provide enough cover. Her lungs began to burn and she struggled to keep from inhaling water. She eased her head up, barely exposing her mouth and nose, took a deep breath, checked her directions, then sank below the surface again.

  The next time she came up for air, she was at the edge of the inlet. The gunman was only three hundred yards away. Crystal submerged and carefully worked her way in among the reeds. She was crawling on the bottom by the time she felt the cover sufficient. With great care, she turned over and sat on the bottom, her eyes and nose barely above water. She scooped some mud off the bottom and slowly rubbed it on her forehead, cheeks and nose. My first mudpack. She started to smile at that, then the smile vanished. Maybe my last.

  The murky water provided excelle
nt camouflage for the blue and green plaid shirt she wore. Her legs, encased in blue jeans, were virtually invisible stretched along the bottom silt.

  Crystal listened to the gunman crashing through the underbrush surrounding the inlet. It sounded like he was less than a hundred feet away when the noise stopped.

  The sudden silence became more frightening to Crystal than the noise of the gunman trashing toward her. Why had he stopped? Was he at this instant taking aim on the back of her head? Her mind raced through various scenarios, all terrifying.

  Careful not to move her head at all, Crystal cut her eyes to the left as far as possible, trying to locate her predator. Not fifteen feet away, studying her, lurked a cottonmouth. The black snake raised its triangular head above the water and folded its jaws back, revealing the white lining of its mouth and its needle sharp fangs. Crystal recognized the snake’s primordial warning. This was its territory and Crystal was intruding. Sweat formed on Crystal’s forehead. A knot formed in her stomach. She knew cottonmouths were deadly poisonous. Worse yet, they were very aggressive.

  Slowly, the snake began floating toward Crystal.

  Chapter 18

  CONFLICTING thoughts flooded her mind, only to be shoved aside by sheer panic. Her eyes were so fixed on the snake, her attention so riveted, she could not manage a clear thought. Its slow movement hypnotized her

  The water was shallow. But if she got up and ran to escape the poisonous predator, she would face an even more deadly killer. If she stayed still, she would be bitten. And she would not even be able to rush to a hospital for antivenin.

  A slight tremor ran through her body and fear seemed to permeate the interior of her mouth. She wanted to cry, to scream “This isn’t fair. I can't deal with two threats at the same time.” But any sound she made could be fatal. Her stomach twisted, threatening to expel its contents.

  The sound was deafening. The bullet slashed through the water right above Crystal’s outstretched legs, sending droplets into her eyes. Then another blast. Weak, trembling and terrified, she sank beneath the surface of the water.

  Even as the water covered her, a ray of hope brightened her thoughts. Both shots were way off the mark—-if he were shooting at her. If he was shooting at the snake, he probably had not seen her.

  Crystal had little air when she sank into the water. She had to come up. But she knew the shooter might be looking to see if he had hit the snake, maybe even wading in, hoping to take home a trophy.

  Her lungs burned and threatened to suck in something, even if it was water. She pulled her hair over her face, leaned back until she was almost horizontal, then eased up until her nose barely broke the surface.

  “See her?” the man across the lake yelled.

  Crystal could hear the shooter breaking through the thick brush.

  “Naw. Just a goddamn moccasin.”

  She took a quick breath and sank back down.

  He hadn’t seen her. Thank you Lord. The guy had to be looking in my direction.

  With a jolt, she remembered the snake. Where had it gone? She inched up until her bronze eyes were above the water line and peeped between strands of wet, black hair, searching for the snake. The cottonmouth was nowhere in her field of vision. With infinite care, she swiveled her head to look in a wider arc. Still, she saw no cottonmouth. Far to her right, the shooter was moving away. She said a quick prayer that the snake kept moving away also.

  For several minutes Crystal could see the man thrashing through the brush, occasionally slipping on the steep slope and letting out a string of curses. Then she lost sight of him, but could still hear him yelling to his partner. “Think I got her. Blood on the boat, some in the water by it. Don’t see no body. Can’t see no place she climbed out on the bank.”

  “Get the boat.”

  “Naw. Get all wet. Don’t need it. Coming back.”

  “I said, get the boat. Leave it there, stupid, someone’s gonna start looking around and find the body. Bring it back. Now.”

  The chubby man began splashing out in the water, cursing all the way. Then, Crystal decided he must be swimming, since the complaining stopped. After a while, she heard him paddling the boat across the lake. Slowly, she eased up on her knees and turned her head to watch. He had reached the far bank. She shifted to get a better view. The two men beached the boat, turned their backs to Crystal and started up the hill.

  After she heard a car start and drive down Eula's road, Crystal washed the mud off her face and waded out of the water, all the while keeping a close watch for the cottonmouth. She plodded around the lake, feeling weak, her arm aching, still bleeding slightly, and water squishing out of her shoes with every step. She desperately wanted several aspirin and a hot shower.

  #

  Bill Glothe took one look at Crystal and shook his head. “You look like you been rode hard and put up wet.”

  “Thanks. All compliments accepted,” Crystal said. She was sitting in the emergency room of the Wooden Nickel Community Hospital. As soon as she had reached Eula's house, Crystal had called the sheriff and asked him to meet her at the hospital. She had located a towel and dried herself. In the closet of her old room she found some jeans and a shirt that smelled of smoke but were dry. She was thankful for that.

  The doctor was stitching her wound when Bill arrived.

  “If you had any doubts, forget them,” Crystal said. “Those men meant to kill me. Not scare me off. Not warn me. Kill me. And if the one guy had been a better shot, or a little faster, I’d be dead right now.”

  “Sounds like you’re luckier’n a three-legged chicken. You get a good look-see?”

  “I think I could pick one of them out of a line-up. I only saw the other one from across the lake.” Crystal twitched a little.

  “Sorry,” said the young doctor sewing up the wound. “That should be the worst one.”

  “What kinda car were they driving?”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “Well, give me a description of the man you saw.” Glothe took a pad and pen from his pocket.

  Crystal described him as best she could, aided by some prompting from the sheriff. Maybe five feet eight inches, dark hair, potato nose, right-handed, fatigue pants, boots, camouflage tee shirt and a cap. Without a doubt, she could give a better description of the snake. Its image was burned into her brain. But she didn't think Bill would appreciate it.

  “Anything else?”

  “Only that they also had some sort of handgun. Had a long barrel. I don’t know much about guns.” Crystal thought for a minute. “There was some writing on the cap. Can’t remember what it said. Something about a bar, I think.” She shrugged. “That’s about it. Oh, maybe one of them smokes cigarillos. Maybe.”

  “And that’s about it for me,” the doctor said. “You need to have your regular doctor check it in a couple of days, make sure no infection sets in. Other than that, keep it clean, don’t use this arm too much. If the pain bothers you, any over-the-counter pain reliever will do. I don’t think you’ll have any problems with it. But do have your doctor look at it.”

  “Thanks. Looks like a neat sewing job.” Crystal didn't have the heart to tell him she didn't have a regular doctor—hadn't seen a doctor since moving to Dallas. She slid off the table and followed Glothe into the hallway.

  “Called your grandmother yet?”

  “No. I’m not going to. And you aren’t to call her either. She’s had enough. What can she do if she knows, except worry?”

  “Don’t wanta be around when she finds out we didn’t tell her.”

  “I’ll handle her. On the ...,” Crystal searched for a word. “... thugs. What can you do, Bill?”

  “Truth is, not much. We’ll keep a lookout for the guy you described. But it’s a pretty general description. Don’t know what kind of a car to look for. We can swing by Eula’s once or twice a day.” He sighed. "Just don’t have the manpower to put someone out there. Could be days or weeks ‘fore they come back. Course, could put a chain ‘cros
s the drive.”

  Crystal shook her head. “That’d only slow them down and make them wary, not keep them out. Better to let them in, then catch them.” She looked at the sheriff and her eyes were suddenly moist. “Bill, these criminals tried to kill Nana and they’ll try again.”

  “I know. Wish you’d gotten a look at the car. While I’m wishing, wish you’d got the license plate number.” The sheriff put his arm around Crystal’s shoulder. “Hell, we’ll get by there more often, but I just can’t promise too much. There’s always something pulling us in some other direction.”

  Crystal stopped at a vending machine, purchased two items, said good-bye to Glothe and headed for Dallas. Glothe was right, Crystal knew. There was no telling when the gunmen would be back. The Park needed continuous surveillance, long-term, and not subject to gun shot wounds.

  She had just crossed into Dallas County when she decided what to do.

  Chapter 19

  SUNDAY afternoon, Crystal drove Eula’s car from Dallas to Wooden Nickel. Mark and Rod followed in Mark’s truck. When they got to Melva’s house, Crystal and Eula got in the truck with the two men and drove to The Park.

  Bill Glothe met them there. “Place is clean. I’ll just wait here ‘til you folks finish.”

  Mark drove up the drive and stopped near the bridge.

  “This will be perfect," said Rod. “But why is there a light pole out here?”

  “Some fool drove off the bridge one night,” Eula answered. “I said good ‘nough for him. But Dan, Crystal’s grandfather, put the light in anyway. Said it's okay to make the road easier—for the other fellow.”

  “Well, it certainly makes my job easier.”

  With Mark’s help, Rod installed their surveillance system. Near the road, he placed a weathered log, a wire extending from a hole in the bottom. With a small pick, he scraped a shallow ditch about ten feet long to a bush. He laid the wire in the ditch and covered it with dirt, then scattered pine needles over that. When he had finished, the area looked undisturbed. “You’re sure your phone is still hooked up?” Rod asked as he started climbing the pole.

 

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