“For all that they've done for me?” Kori swallowed hard before continuing. “They didn't even show up for my brother's funeral service.”
Walter Ross waved a hand, dismissing the statement. “The Lord died for our sins, my boy. To save our souls from damnation. Your brother, he died as a result of his own sinfulness. Do you really expect the reverend to take precious time away from the Lord to bother grieving over some heathen?”
Kori saw red and snapped. Before he realized what he was doing, his hands were wrapped in a death grip around the doctor's throat. The aging man's eyes bulged, threatening to burst from their sockets. His normally pallor complexion had turned a deep reddish purple. Through it all the smile never left his face. A trickle of drool escaped past his lower lip and spilled onto his trembling chin. Todd and Jens rushed forward, struggling to wrench his hands loose. Todd pulled him back and held him in a bear hug. The doctor dropped to his knees and gasped for air.
“Get the hell off my property you brainwashed fuckhead!” Kori screamed, fighting to break free from Todd's grasp. “You think you can come here, talk your shit and expect me to just hand you my brother's farm? Are you out of your fucking mind? You can tell Clayton and my mom that they can both go to hell. I'll die before this land ends up in their hands.”
“Don't be so melodramatic, my boy. It won't have to come to that.” Walter Ross casually got back to his feet and dusted the dirt from the knees of his pants. He plucked the camera from where he had laid it down and pushed a button on the back. A recording of the last few minutes played loudly from unseen speakers. The audio was tinny, but the unmistakable sound of the threats Kori had spewed during his bout of rage were unmistakable. The doctor nodded his head in satisfaction as he watched the video play out on a small screen. He turned the camera around to share the last few moments with the others.
A painful knot manifested in the center of his gut as Kori suddenly understood what was happening. “You old bastard, you're setting me up?”
Dr. Ross shook his head. “No, my boy. You did this to yourself. Like every other foolish thing you have always managed to get yourself into. The supplies that you stole from me, your mother's car that you wrecked, the fire you started in the kitchen that nearly burned down your parent's home and now this. Your inability to evolve past your own genetic inadequacies always leads you to the same pathetic results, utter failure.”
Kori watched as his former employer gingerly pressed the buttons on his camera and slipped it into his pocket. “What do you want?”
Walter Ross ignored the question. He spread his arms out, gesturing to the farm around them. “You will fail at this too. Eventually you will get bored with the idea and slip into financial ruin. Or you will find some way in your sinful heart to screw it all up like you always have before.”
“What do you want?” Kori repeated. His words were barely audible.
The doctor's eyes narrowed for a moment and then he pulled a slip of paper from his breast pocket. He handed the paper, not to Kori but to Jens. “It's all in there. An offer of fair market value. My number and address as well as the Reverend's. I'll give you a week to respond.” He patted the lump in his pocket where the camera rested. “After that, this attack on my life will be made available to the authorities. Does assault and battery sound about right?”
“Attack on your life?” Kori scoffed. “Are you serious? That's bullshit and you know it. Either way, what's the worst that could happen to me? A couple days in jail? A fine?”
“Oh, believe me, your problems go far beyond today's little temper tantrum.” The smile vanished as he opened the door to his car. “I'm not sure that even you are aware of the amount of pharmaceuticals that you absconded from my practice, but rest assured that the Polk County prosecutor will know if you do not agree to our generous offer. He's a member of the church if you didn't already know that.”
Walter Ross shut the car door without another word and drove away, leaving the three of them watching after him in total disbelief. Jens tried to remain stoic as he pored over the paper, but Kori saw the look of worry on his face. He gently reached over and pulled it from his hand. The old man quietly walked back to the stockyard and continued his work.
“You think he's just blowing smoke?” Todd asked. “Just trying to scare you into selling out?”
“I don't think so, man.”
“What are you gonna do?”
Kori glanced around the farm that his brother had loved so much. He quietly thought it over before folding the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. He looked toward the calving shed and sighed. “I need you to open the safe for me and then let me borrow your car.”
“For what?”
“A little road trip,” he replied, already walking to the shed.
“I mean, what do you need in the safe for?” Todd ran to catch up.
“Remember that insurance policy, the one that Brenden left in the blue backpack? I just figured out a use for it.”
Chapter 33
They made a quick stop at the post office in Cameron and then headed west. The interstate was relatively quiet for a change. Kori hunched over in the front seat, scribbling addresses onto the prepaid mailers with his left hand. Between the rubber kitchen gloves and using his opposite hand, the task took nearly half an hour to finish. Todd's sketchy driving habits did not help. The penmanship was sloppy at best, barely legible and resembled nothing close to his own handwriting. That was the whole idea.
He divided the contents of the backpack into the four boxes, each package holding about a dozen discs. He closed them and carefully and studied his handiwork. One box was addressed to the Trinity church office, in care of his stepfather. Another was destined for the Trinity Ross clinic. The other two would go directly to the home addresses that Dr. Ross had left with him. It was a relief to finally seal them shut. Even through the gloves he felt dirty for having handled them. He placed the boxes on the floorboard, lit up a cigarette and stared out the window.
Todd never asked what the plan was. He didn't have to, because to him it did not matter. He just drove the car west, content to go wherever the flow carried them. That's what Kori loved so much about his friend. He was unconditionally loyal and willing to do whatever it took to stay that way.
Finding a public mailbox was harder than Kori had anticipated once they arrived in Des Moines. Locating a phone booth was even more difficult. It had not occurred to him how rarely people used things like that any longer. With e-mail and cellphones, they were rapidly becoming things of the past. It made him sad to think of how certain items that were once so easily taken for granted had become obsolete novelties. It was depressing how much he could relate to that, but not so much that he was foolish enough to consider using his own phone to make the call.
They drove around downtown until they discovered that the public library had several rows of each, lined up just inside the book return parking area. He prayed that there were no cameras directed on the mailboxes as he pulled back on the rusting handle with one gloved hand and stuffed the packages inside with the other. One by one they thumped against the bottom of the receptacle, sounding the fact that they were now out of his possession for good.
He pulled a slip of paper with a phone number from his pocket, one that he had Googled during the ride. The handset to the phone was slightly tacky and reeked of hair products and cheap wine. He held it away from his ear and listened as it rang for what seemed like forever. He was starting to worry that no one would pick up when a clicking sound came through the earpiece. A tired voice followed.
“First district, Jameson speaking.” It sounded like the Federal agent was eating his lunch as he answered the phone. His breathing was heavy and intensified between each chew. There was something faintly disturbing about the sounds coming through the MadDog scented receiver. “Hello, can I help you?”
Kori kept the conversation brief. He pretended to be a disgruntled teenaged son that happened to stumble on his father's collecti
on of kiddie porn. He told the agent on the other end that he suspected his father might be selling the stuff through the mail. He said he found mailers addressed to some doctor and a preacher in Des Moines. He rattled off the names of his stepfather and Dr. Ross. He made sure to repeat the names slowly so there would be no mistake when the agent ran a check on them. The strange information must have gotten the agent's attention because the obscene chewing and breathing stopped abruptly.
For a second Kori wondered whether he was still on the line. The shuffling of papers echoed through the earpiece. “It's a brave thing that you are doing, son. I know this must be difficult for you, but you are doing the right thing. Tell me, what is your name?”
Kori slammed the receiver down on its cradle and ran back to the car. Within ten minutes they were back on the road, headed for home. As he watched the city fade away in the side mirror, he made a promise to himself that he would never set foot in it again.
They drove east for nearly an hour without speaking a single word. Kori stared at the road ahead, reflecting on what he had just done. He knew he should feel at least somewhat sorry for the trouble that would surely follow. Guilty or not, a scandal like this was going to crush both Clayton and Dr. Ross. The court of public perception was the only one that mattered with the company they kept. They would become pariahs, socially and financially. No congregation or clientele would be caught dead associating with a couple of alleged sex offenders.
He felt no remorse, only an overwhelming sense of relief.
Todd shifted in his seat and rubbed his stomach in big exaggerated circles. He let up on the gas and turned his head to study a cluster of road signs. The next exit advertised gas, food and a college that he had never heard of in the town of Grinnell. He considered the idea of taking the off ramp for a moment before passing it by. “Man, we have got to grab a bite before too long. All this James Bond shit has got me famished.”
“You should have pulled off then. They have a KFC and a Taco Bell together back there. We could eat burritos and mashed potatoes all in the same place,” Kori joked. “Check out the hippy college chicks while we're at it. Maybe find you a nice girlfriend with longer armpit hair than you.”
Todd laughed. He pulled his sleeve up to examine his armpit and grimaced. His eyebrows rose up and he said, “You know what else is back there? That hottie I met in rehab. You know. The one I was telling you about.”
“The hand job chick?” Kori asked, excitedly. “No shit? She lives in Grinnell?”
“Yep, with her uncle. She moved in with him after her folks gave her the boot for mainlining in her grandmother's bathroom during Easter dinner. She said her uncle lost both of his hands in some kind of bizarre factory accident. Got them stuck in some metal press or something. I guess he raked in a sweet chunk of change from the company's insurance and now he spends all his time slamming piles of smack into what's left of his arms.”
“That's messed up.”
“No doubt.” Todd shook his head in agreement. “The worst part is that he can't do it alone 'cause of his having no hands. So he shares part of his stash with her and her friends so they'll hang out with him and help him shoot it. He doesn't even sell it. Just uses it to get high and keep chicks around to do his housework and jerk him off and whatnot. You know, stuff that you need hands to do.”
“Piles of smack, huh?” Kori replied after a few long moments of unsuccessfully trying to wipe the visual image out of his head. “That can't be cheap.”
They continued down the interstate for a while in silence. The only sounds were the whirring of the tires and the constant flow of cold air from the partially cracked windows. Smoke rose up from their cigarettes and floated up in gray ribbons before bending toward the pull of the outside air. Hunger slowly crept up in their bellies as they passed the next few exits that offered nothing in the way of food.
Finally, with no need for further discussion they both looked at each other and Kori asked, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”
“Let's go talk to a no hand man about a horse,” Todd replied. He took the next off ramp and they headed back west again.
Craig Furchtenicht lives in Iowa with his beautiful wife, Henrietta.
His other works include The Blue Dress Paradigm and Night Speed Zero.
He enjoys rock hunting, horticulture and spending time outdoors.
He is currently still searching for that angry giant in the old blue Mercury,
to whom he owes a serious car washing.
Contact him at [email protected]
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