Dead Fall Back

by Tony Masero

  Bubba had guessed though. She had the bruises to prove it. No one could see them; he was very clever that way. But he beat her nonetheless, even though they had been so very careful. She, tampering with Brian´s time card so they could spend an extra hour or two together. Making love in the forest in hidden places. She was so in love with him and it tore her up. The first damned time she had given her heart to anybody.

  Now they had him hidden away somewhere, the old man had let it slip, the drunken bum. What they intended to do with Brian she had no idea but knowing Bubba Rose it would be unpleasant to say the least.

  She guessed they needed Brian on the loose. A distraction for the Chief. Something else to keep the police running around while they completed the deal they had going. She knew it was big. Very big. The whispered conversations and intense planning meetings in Bubba´s office all proved that. They had clammed up the minute she came into the liquor soaked tobacco smelling atmosphere but they could not hide the tension they all showed. And she had seen the mother lode. She shivered at the memory.

  Now they had locked down the town. She was trapped here and so was Brian. It broke her heart. He was such a stupid kid, stealing that toy lamb for his little sister. Not knowing in his innocence that that was where they kept the stuff. In Baggies hidden inside the lambs. He thought it was just another furniture delivery. A rich man´s removal with a simple toy that would not be missed, he never saw the full crate, he had just taken the sample Bubba had casually left lying there. Never believing for an instant that anyone would be interested in a kid´s fluffy lamb.

  Bubba must have seen it on one of the surveillance cameras. Had followed the little girl while she and Brian had slipped off for their clandestine lovemaking. And while they had been enjoying each other Bubba had taken the girl for a ride and sliced her throat without a second thought. Then he must have taken back the baggie before dumping the body by the roadside. She knew he would do such a thing in a moment of drink driven rage or just out of pure spite. Joline guessed his more practical side would have justified it by thinking the child would have complained or made some kind of fuss if he had just taken the toy. It was obvious to her that there was no way on earth that Bubba would allow a weeping infant to start making waves at such a critical moment in his planning.

  She reckoned the load had come in from the Far East via Japan. Hidden with so much other junk amongst the containers full of household goods. A heavy bribe here and there had assured a safe delivery, besides Rose Moving was a well-established and reliable company. Who could doubt them?

  She wanted to run. To get away from Bubba and his big whisky soaked body. Yes, she had gone for the money first. Seeing him as a ready meal ticket. Just another dumb redneck to fleece before she moved on. But slowly his other side had emerged and too late she came to realize that he was an extremely clever and evil man. A psychopath. Nothing was beyond him. Absolutely nothing.

  She had risked everything with that inventory in the Chief´s door. She knew that Bubba would kill her if he found out about it but it was the only way she could think of bringing the police to his door. She sat trembling in her office waiting for them to come. Recalling, to pass the time and comfort herself, the soft sheen of Brian´s skin and his clean bright smile. She ached for him now and hoped it wasn´t too late to save him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Oh, Chief. S´cuse me.”

  Stoeffel jerked awake. He must have nodded off over his coffee whilst sitting at the front desk. An old black man stood before him. Stoeffel recognized the man, it was Leban Griss, the witness who had first called in the girl´s murder.

  “Mr. Griss. What is it?” Stoeffel looked at his watch, it must only have been fifteen minutes or so that he was asleep. Even so he felt better for it.

  “Sorry to wake you, sir. But I guess you got a problem.”

  The old man had lain something on the counter and was leaning across it looking keenly at Stoeffel.

  “What is that you got there?” asked Stoeffel. “A dead rabbit?”

  Griss looked down. “Sure is. It´s dead right enough. That´s my supper there, y´re lookin´ at.”

  “Do you mind removing it off the counter, sir?”

  “No problem.” The old man took the corpse by the ears and stuffed it into the deep inner pocket of the long raggedy coat he wore.

  Stoeffel looked at his coffee, which was now cold and uninviting. “I got lots of problems right now, Mr. Griss. What’s your particular one?”

  “Out there on Dead Fall Back.”

  Stoeffel spread questioning hands. He was tired and scratchy and he did not want to play mind games with the old man.

  “I was up there after brother rabbit here an´ I seen ´em. You got a coupl’a wrecks out there.”

  “A couple?”

  “Uhuh. One´s a police vehicle, the other some farmer’s pickup.”

  Stoeffel leaned forward. “They had an accident?”

  Griss raised his eyebrows extravagantly. “No way, man. They is blown to hell and gone. AP mines, brother. You been there, ain´t you, Chief? You seen the pattern. I know I cert´nly have. That ole zigzag layout with claymores along the side. Take out anything that rolls along, an´ then some.”

  Oh my God! thought Stoeffel. Not Ayleen. “Were there any survivors?”

  “Not a one. They is all KIA, jist like this here rabbit.”

  Stoeffel clenched his fist and banged it down hard on the desktop.

  “Damn!” he blurted out.

  “You wanna tell me what’s going on, Chief. You got some sorta Para-military thing going on out there?”

  Stoeffel looked hard at the old man for a long moment, an idea forming in his mind. “You know the woods pretty well, don´t you, Mr. Griss?”

  “Reckon I do.”

  “And you´ve seen some combat?”

  “Platoon sergeant. Silver Star an´ a Purple Heart. Not that it means a damn thing, no more. They had me on point more times than I care to mention. `Cos we was black, yuh see. No offense but they did that to all us men of color back then.”

  Stoeffel knew it was true. The high proportion of fatalities amongst the colored enlisted in Vietnam had often been cited as an example of racial homicide by the liberal cause.

  “Well, we´re in a bind here,” Stoeffel went on. “I´ve got three deputies down and all communications are out. Right now we have a gang of ne´er-do-wells out there busting our chops. I need someone to go fetch help.”

  “An´ your lookin´ at me, right?” the old man grinned.

  Stoeffel nodded. “S´right. You up for it, soldier?”

  Griss smiled thinly at the sideways compliment. He took a long moment of consideration.

  “Okay, I´ll do it. Reckon I´m still good enough to slip through them woods without no one spotting me. I can make it overland to the Interstate quicker than going to Minerstown direct. Should be online over that way or I get a ride into town. One thing you have to do for me though.”

  “What’s that?”

  Griss tugged out his dead rabbit and flopped it on the counter.

  “Keep this here safe ´til I get back.”

  Stoeffel had to smile, he pulled out an evidence bag and while the old man dropped the dead beast into the bag he scribbled a note to the station chief in Minerstown.

  “There you go,” he said handing the note to Griss. “And good luck.”

  Griss waved a vague approximation of a military salute.

  “Same to you, Chief.” And he was gone.

  Stoeffel went over to the front window and spread the blinds with his fingers. People were on the move out there. He could see a few early risers in the street, commiserating about the power outage.

  The two-way crackled. “Chief. Its Legrand.”

  “Yes, Jason. I´m here.”

  “Okay, I´m in. Had to bust a window to do it but I´m in. This thing is done up tight, Chief. And it weighs a might too much for me to lift alone. Can you get me some heavy-duty cutters up her
e to cut off the wire banding they got around it? I tried everything, short of a blast from my shotgun.”

  Stoeffel chuckled. “No, don´t do that. Listen I’ve got a strong suspicion this is going to be some real important evidence you´ve got there. I´ll get a couple of the other guys up to you and we´ll bring it down to the station. We´ve got tools here, we can open it up then.”

  “Right. I´ll wait on them. Out.”

  Stoeffel knew he was breaking every law there was. Disturbing possible evidence. Unlawful entry without a warrant. Property damage. Even downright theft. It might prejudice his case later on or even lead to his own indictment but right now he was up against the wall and he needed every little bit of edge he could get. He called up Summersby and Jimmy Luke.

  Summersby answered and promised to go on up and help Legrand. From Jimmy Luke there was no reply and Stoeffel hoped he was still okay. George, Leroy and now Ayleen. He was losing troops without even knowing what or how many he was up against. Stoeffel was desperate for more Intel. Somehow it all linked, he knew that much. The little girl, the dead man in the woods, the drugs and the isolation of the town.

  Somebody needed the place shut down for a while and everything pointed towards Rose Moving and Storage. He was beginning to wonder just what Bubba Rose´s involvement might be. A shadow fell on the station doorway and Stoeffel jumped around nervously. Jenny opened the door and came in.

  “Morning, Paul.”

  Stoeffel relaxed and nodded distractedly, his mind still racing over possibilities.

  “I wanted to get you early before the day started,” she said. “Look, I hope I didn´t seem too abrupt last night. I wouldn´t want you to go away with the wrong idea.”

  “It´s alright, Jenny. Don´t worry about it. Can we talk later? I´ve got a major catastrophe building up right now.”

  “You mean the power cut?”

  Stoeffel shook his head. “That’s the least of it.”

  “Okay,” she said, obviously a little disappointed. “I didn´t mean to bother you. But if we can talk I´d be grateful.”

  “Sure thing. But listen Jenny, we have a serious problem in the town and I want you to stay inside today. Don´t open the store and advise your neighbors to keep off the streets. Can you do that for me?”

  Jenny swept hair back from her face, a frown crinkling her brow. “That bad?”

  Stoeffel nodded an affirmative. “That bad.”

  “Okay,” she said doubtfully.

  “Thanks. And we´ll talk later, I promise. There´s a lot to say.”

  People were starting to come in behind her. Their faces showing signs of concern and worry. Stoeffel knew he was going to have his hands full.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Summersby and Legrand grunted as they slid the crate over towards the garage doors.

  “How the hell are we going to open that damned door with the power out?” asked Summersby.

  “That is a problem,” agreed Legrand. “Let’s get this thing nearby first. Then we´ll figure it out. I wish that ass Jimmy Luke had shown. We could do with the extra help.”

  Summersby heaved his corner of the box another two feet nearer the doors.

  “What the hell is in here anyway?”

  The box slid reasonably easily across the flat concrete floor and shortly they had it stationed to the right of the doors.

  “Okay,” puffed Legrand. “Now, let’s go check the door.”

  It was a normal cantilevered design door with two, two-inch steel slip bolts that locked into responding steel rebates set in the concrete floor. The whole thing was operated electronically from switches set in the wall. There was no way they were going to move it without some heavy equipment. The door itself was manufactured from a standard lightweight aluminum and Legrand knocked a knuckle against it to prove to himself it was a thing of little substance. The sound echoed hollowly in the vast garage.

  “You know,” he said. “If we had a ram, this thing would fold like tissue paper.”

  As one, they both looked around at the fine collection of vintage cars stored behind them in neat rows.

  Summersby glanced over at Legrand, an evil grin creasing his face.

  “What do you think?”

  “Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,” Legrand observed wryly.

  Summersby laughed. “Going by what we found in the last lamb, you never spoke a truer word.”

  They threw off dustsheets one after the other looking for a vehicle with the right weight to do the job. It was a big Duisenberg that finally got the vote. A heavy, black, high-sided beast best known for its appearance in a multitude of gangster movies.

  “No keys,” said Summersby, opening the door.

  Legrand quartered the room and saw the metal box set in the wall beside the door.

  “There,” he said, pointing. “They´ll have them in there.”

  It took only a second for Legrand to smash open the locked box with the butt of his shotgun and as he’d surmised inside hung sets of neatly labeled car keys. He snatched the corresponding set and tossed them over to Summersby.

  “Hope we got gas.”

  Summersby turned the key and the car exploded into life.

  “R. B. Loville obviously believes in good maintenance,” he shouted over the roar of the powerful engine.

  Legrand gave him the thumbs up and waved him on towards the double doors.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Leban Griss left town at a steady pace. He was no fool; he knew he had a long hike in front of him and he was no longer in that age group who could run for an hour without stopping. Mo´ like five minutes, he thought grimly. But it felt good to have a mission again. Some purpose. It had been a long time. Say what you will about all the discrepancies in the army, there was something about having been there and survived.

  Perhaps it appeared rosy in retrospect but damn he missed the edge. The bite in your blood as you set out on a dawn patrol like now. Yuh just an´ old fool, he laughed to himself, hell, as if yuh would´ve thought anything like this back then. Mo´ likely you´d´ve jist thrown up at the prospect.

  He chuckled.

  Leban left the town at a steady, cautious pace, finding cover where he could. He crossed the edge of outlying open fields and entered the southeastern tree line of the forest edge where it ran down to abut the railroad line. In the woods, Leban felt a different mold settle over him. He was no longer the sad looking old man in ragged clothes that bummed around town and lived off his daughter´s charity. His spirits lifted and his eye took on a keener edge, even his body moved differently. Sliding around branches and stepping carefully to avoid dry twigs beneath his feet. Leave no trail, that’s how they had taught him. Become a part of the forest.

  So like a chameleon he shed his town facade and entered into the old pattern as easily as if it were a fresh skin. For a moment he felt twenty years old again.

  He checked the direction of the rising sun where it glittered through the leaves above and struck off south until he came to the single stretch of Dead Fall Back. Mist still lay there, trapped by the valley slopes on each side. At a copse of hickory beside the road he paused, sinking to a crouching position in an overgrown drainage ditch. His eyes ran in both directions along the empty tarmac. Thin veins of white hung motionless in the still air cutting down visibility to a hundred yards either way. He was going to cross far down from the destroyed wreckage of Ayleen´s cruiser and the unsuspecting farmer´s pickup truck. There were too many hidden mines and claymore booby traps that far along. So he chose here, just south of town.

  It was risky. If the bad guys had set up a watch post, it might well be positioned close in to Lodrun.

  The forest was still. He could hear the soft and alarm free territorial calls of wood warblers and turkey. A good sign. Leban paused, readying himself for a scurry across the road. Then his perked ears heard it. Only a gentle rustle of movement amongst the bushes off to his right. But sound nonetheless, so he sunk lower into cover.
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  A white tailed deer slid out of the woods at the roadside, it paused and scented the air nervously. The creature sensed he was here somewhere and Leban feared it would give him away to any hidden observer watching the road. This one was late to be about though; the deer were usually nocturnal in their grazing.

  Leban reckoned he was probably a young one come in for the seasonal winter gathering. For no reason Leban could see, the deer took off. It ran wildly straight down the tarmac road away from him, its hooves pattering on the hard surface. He knew that white tailed deer could reach top speeds of thirty-five miles an hour and this one was bounding along with all the energy its terrified legs could muster. Leban watched where it skittered and turned, diving head erect into the woods on the other side and he marked the place carefully through the broken curtain of mist.

  He slid back into the deeper cover of the forest, he did not know if it was he who had startled the deer or some other forest denizen but he was taking no chances. Silently he paralleled the deer´s path. One thing was for sure, where it crossed into the tree line opposite the ground would be safe. Leban waited ten minutes at the crossing place. Finally, gritting his teeth he lunged up from the drainage ditch and ran across.

  Dead Fall Back was not a wide road but for the few seconds it took Leban to cross it seemed wider than the Mississippi River in flood.

  He slid down into the leaf mold on the other side with a gasp of relief. No gunshots. Not a sound followed him. He was safe. Leban knew he had to move on quickly; he got to his feet and began the long climb up the valley slope that enclosed the road. There was thick undergrowth to traverse here and rocks higher up. Once over the top a long descent down to the highway into Minerstown. Then a lift into town if he could get one, or a telephone call from a roadside diner.

  Leban wished he had thought to bring water with him; already his exertions were bringing sweat to his brow. He took off his long coat and tied it by the sleeves around his waist. Then pulling himself as best he could by using the tree trunks rising at an angle from the slope he dragged himself up the hillside.