Blood, Ash, and Bone

by Tina Whittle

  “Liar! They were there, I saw them, the same ones. I told you—”

  “You know them?”

  “What?”

  I licked my lips and spoke as calmly as I could. “Listen to me. We didn’t call those cops. They were already there. And they took Trey. So if you know who those men are, you’d better tell me and tell me quick.”

  Her voice wavered. “I don’t know who they are, but I know…I know…”

  “What?”

  “They’re cops, bad ones. One of them shot Winston. You can’t—”

  “I need that Bible, Hope.”

  “It’s not the Bible they want.”

  “Whatever it is. Give it to me. Now.”

  “I can’t, they’ll—”

  “I don’t goddamn care! I need it or they’ll kill him, and I swear to God, if they hurt him, I will track you down and I will end you!”

  “This isn’t my fault! I needed money, that’s all!”

  I closed my eyes. This was an opening. “I’ll get you money, however much you need. Just give me—”

  “I can’t! It’s all the leverage I have now! If they come for me—”

  “Hope—”

  “They’re dangerous!”

  “So am I. You have no idea.”

  “I can’t!”

  I took a deep steadying breath. “Hope, I will give you enough money to vanish. You don’t ever have to show your face around here again. But I need whatever it is you have, or they’ll kill us all. Me, Trey, you. You have to give it to me.”

  A muffled sob at her end, then her voice, almost a whisper. “Meet me at our old break spot behind the tattoo shop. One hour. Bring ten thousand dollars.”

  Then she hung up. I wanted to throw the phone against the wall, but I couldn’t. I closed my eyes and willed down the sick creeping horror. No official channels. No Phoenix. No best friends, no reluctant helpmeets. Not even Garrity could save me this time.

  Because the bad guys were cops. Trey had made sure I knew that, and Hope had confirmed it. I examined my phone. Could they be listening? Did rogue cops have access to that kind of technology?

  I didn’t know. I got angry then at all the things I didn’t know, at the situations I found myself in. Hope’s refrain was my refrain—I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen—and like Hope, I was in way over my head.

  But I knew where I needed to start. There was only one person who could help me now, and I was willing to pay whatever price he asked.

  I stood up and shucked the ridiculous dress, kicked it in the corner. I peeled the corset off, tossed it on the heap. I got jeans and a t-shirt. I went to the safe for my gun, but it was empty. Ransacked too. Luckily, I had Trey’s H&K with me, and a fresh mag.

  I dressed quickly, then pulled Trey’s new leather jacket from the closet. I put the ammo in one pocket, the nine-millimeter in the other. The jacket didn’t fit well, but it was tangible and comforting and smelled like Trey.

  I practiced a draw in front of the mirror. It was awkward and slow, and I knew I’d have to do better in the real world. I barely recognized myself—my eyes dark with smudged make-up, my hair tumbling from its bobby pins in tangles and tendrils. I looked haunted and strung out, wild and desperate.

  Like a woman capable of anything.

  Chapter Forty

  Boone’s place lay on a peninsula between Talahi and Whitemarsh Islands, at the end of a winding path that looked nothing like a driveway and everything like a dent in the underbrush. But the road was true, and it had only one destination once you were on it. The cat briars tangled thick at the edges, every foot I drove taking me deeper and deeper into the untamed.

  The rain came down harder, and the wind rose with it, thrashing the slender branches of the water oaks into a frenzy. I clutched the wheel, barely able to see six feet in front of me. Finally, I rounded the first curve and saw the dock stretching into the water. Another curve and the house came into view, a two-story Lowcountry, built on pilings so that the underneath was open to the marsh. Unlike most such houses, however, Boone’s was surrounded by a high stone gate with razor wire along the top.

  I drove the Camaro right up to it, got out, and banged on the doors with my fist. “Boone! Let me in!”

  The security camera to my right swiveled back and forth. I stood under it and looked directly into the lens. “I swear I will stand here screaming until someone opens this gate!”

  The side door opened, and Jefferson stood there. “Goddamn it, Tai, what—”

  “I need to see Boone.”

  “It’s too late, he—”

  “Now!”

  Jefferson pulled out his phone and turned away from me. A hushed conversation ensued, then he held the door open. “Hurry up. Leave your weapons here.”

  “No.” I pulled Trey’s jacket tighter around me. “I’m family. I keep my gun. Now let me see him.”

  ***

  Jefferson took me through the house to Boone, who was sitting on his back porch, watching the storm roll in over the marsh. The interior was low-lit, but I caught the details—the IV pole next to the armchair, the rows of medicine bottles on the kitchen sink—and I knew like a punch in the gut why he didn’t receive visitors anymore.

  He was stretched out on a wooden lounge chair, a blanket at his feet. An oxygen tank stood sentry beside him, and although he wasn’t using it, I could still see the indentations against his nose where the clip had been. He looked yellow-gray in the dim porch light. In the shadows beyond that small illuminated circle, I saw a tall dark shape in the corner. Jasper. I ignored him and went right to Boone.

  “They took Trey,” I said.

  “They who?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I need money, and weapons, and I need them fast.”

  “Slow down, girl—”

  “I don’t have time for slow! Trey’s been kidnapped, and I have to get this document from Hope so that I can get him back, and to do that I need money! You have to help me!”

  Jasper didn’t like any of this. He hovered in his corner of the screened porch, antsy and combustible. Jefferson maintained his position, calmer. They both looked ready to shoot me and be done with it.

  Boone took the toothpick he was chewing from his mouth. “Were you followed?”

  “Of course not.”

  He pointed at the ottoman. “Sit down.”

  “There’s no time—”

  “Sit!”

  I glared at him, not sitting.

  He swore softly. “I need you calm, girl, because right now, you’re just meanness talking. You wanna hurt these people, I can see it in your eyes, and I can’t work with that. So sit.”

  “Boone!”

  “This is the place where we commit. And we’d better get that part goddamn right because we don’t get another chance. Now sit!”

  I sat, unable to fight the tears any longer. “They’re cops. The ones who took him. That’s all I know.”

  Boone blew out a breath. “Shit.”

  He swung his legs to the side, his face clean of all emotion. I knew the look. I’d seen it on Trey, when he’d close his eyes and count to three and then open them with that look, as fathomless and impassive as the ocean.

  I met it head on. Sink or swim.

  “Tell me what happened,” Boone said, “start to finish.”

  I did. He listened. I tried to include the details he needed, leave out the ones he didn’t.

  I wiped my eyes. “That’s all I know. Hope’s going to meet me in the alley behind the tattoo shop in one hour. I’ll get the document, give her the money, and then the kidnappers will call back with the location to make the trade.”

  “Tai—”

  “Don’t argue with me, I can do this. It’s a swap, one-two, that’s all. I’m not scared.”

  “Ain’t about scared or not scared. Look at me.”

  I did. His voice stayed steady.

  “I need you to listen, and listen good. This ain’t a ransom, probably never was. Th
ere won’t be any trade. You show up planning on that, and he’s already a dead man, you hear me?” He took me by the shoulders. “They’ll kill you too, on the spot. That’s why they want you to come. Because it’s a trap.”

  Tears pricked my eyes again, blurring the swaying palmettos, the porch light. “No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not—”

  “Look at me, Tai. Don’t quit on me.” Boone took my hands in his. “Tell me true, girl. Are you willing to do whatever it takes?”

  I raised my eyes to his. “I would burn down the world for that man.”

  He squeezed my fingers, and I felt it swell in me, the deep power of saying yes to whatever it takes. I squeezed back. His grip was still strong, and it sealed a pact as solid as any ever made at any midnight crossroad.

  I took a deep breath, blinked the last of the tears away. “Okay. What do I do?”

  He stood. “Whatever I tell you to.”

  He motioned for Jefferson and Jasper, and they met him in the corner. They talked, their voices low and urgent. I watched, numb. My hands were cold and wet. I resisted the urge to wipe them on my jeans. I resisted the urge to scream. Boone motioned me over, and I went to his side.

  “Jasper will take you to the dockhouse,” he said. “You go inside, lock the door, and stay there. That leaves you alone, which I don’t like, but I need all hands on deck. He’ll leave the boat keys with you. Take it if you need it, but if it comes down to that, get the hell away and don’t come back to the house, got it?”

  I nodded.

  “And you stay there until I come get you myself, understand?”

  “But…” I gestured toward the ankle cuff.

  “Jefferson can cut it off in five minutes, but not until it’s time. No sense letting them know what’s up until we have to.” Boone touched the side of my face. “I’ll come for you myself, or I won’t be coming at all, you hear me?”

  I nodded. I could feel the beginning of tears again. If I let them, they’d ambush me. But I wasn’t giving them an inch.

  Boone moved closer. Something young and vital sparked in him despite the pallor and shortness of breath. His eyes gleamed bright like the mouth of a spring.

  “I won’t come back without him,” he said. “One way or another. I promise.”

  I stared at him, this killer and thief and smuggler, the raw-boned rebel, this man who was my kith and kin, all the history I’d tried to whitewash. Who was fighting for me. Who was showing up.

  “Whatever it takes,” I said. I didn’t recognize my voice. But I knew it was me talking.

  Chapter Forty-one

  I followed Jasper out toward the dock. He was all business, and angry to the point of fury. “Daddy shouldn’t be messed up in this thing. I told Jefferson that, but does he ever listen to me. No.”

  He moved quickly down the trail. I was having a hard time keeping up. I’d known this land once, a long time ago. But Jasper moved fast, without any consideration. The rain didn’t help either. It beat a steady tattoo on the ground, on the wide palm leaves, on the two of us.

  “What’s the plan?” I said.

  Jasper pulled his rain hood lower over his face and kept walking. “Make the meet with that Hope woman. Get the document and give her the money. Wait for the kidnappers to call back. Then Boone makes the trade while me and Jefferson make sure they deliver their end.”

  “What if they just take the document?”

  “They won’t.”

  “What if Hope doesn’t show?”

  “She will.”

  “But—”

  Jasper spun around and faced me, flinging raindrops. “You act like we ain’t never done this before. That’s why you’re in the dockhouse, and we’re dealing with the hard stuff. Now shut up and keep moving.”

  He wasn’t happy to be mustered on my behalf, but he’d soldiered up. He’d always been clever in a mercenary way, and I suspected he saw an opportunity to move up in his father’s ranks, usurp Jefferson even. I fell in beside him, huddled inside Trey’s jacket.

  “They’re cops, you know. Bad ones.”

  “I know.”

  “Why would cops want an old Civil War document?”

  “There’s paper worth killing for. Dying for too.” His voice dripped with contempt. “You wouldn’t know, though, would you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You abandoned your people. Now you want back in when things get tough. It don’t work that way, cuz.”

  I didn’t take the bait. He could dangle that KKK propaganda all he wanted. He was helping get Trey back; the rest didn’t matter. But there was no way in hell I was standing around waiting while Trey’s life hung in the balance. And it was time Jasper knew that.

  I stopped. “I’m not gonna do it, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Stay locked up in that dockhouse.”

  Jasper kept walking. “Daddy said—”

  “Boone thinks I’m still twelve. But you know better. You know what I can do.”

  Jasper stopped. He examined me over his shoulder. “I reckon I do.”

  “I can drive, I can play lookout, I can shoot, I can fight. Let me help get him back because I swear to God, Jasper, nothing means as much to me as that man. Nothing.”

  He didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but I saw him nod.

  “Sure, cuz. Whatever you say.” He started walking. “Come on. But you gotta do what I tell you to do, you hear me? None of this go-your-own-way bullshit.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  As we neared the next clearing, a group of Boone’s other men were coming up the path from the dock. They were ready for action too—dark rain slickers covering a multitude of weapons, heavy boots, gloves.

  Jasper held out a hand. “Wait here. I’ve got to get some things straightened out.”

  The three men met Jasper in a huddle under the single light. Two were brawny hard men, but one was small and slim. Unlike the others, his face was pale and tight, and he looked sweaty, maybe even sick. Jasper talked, they listened. They nodded, agreeing to do what he told them. They did it resenting the hell out of me, but they did it.

  They continued on to the house, leaving Jasper and me to head for the dock alone. I turned to watch them walk up the narrow path. The biggest one was laughing, but his friend was serious. The pale one shot one last look over his shoulder, glaring at me with more than resentment, more than hate even.

  Satisfaction.

  “Come on,” Jasper said.

  He hurried down the path into the woods, out of the light. I followed, Jasper’s shape indistinct in the diffuse darkness. He moved swiftly and surely, accustomed to being in charge.

  The realization came like a jolt of electricity. It left me heady, dizzy, almost paralyzed.

  I stopped. “Wait.”

  Jasper turned around. “What’s wrong?”

  I put a finger to my lips, Trey’s gun heavy at my side. The night and the wind and the rain played tricks. Half-light and half dark, shifting and impossible to trust. I moved closer to Jasper.

  But not too close.

  I lowered my voice. “Did you hear that?”

  He froze. “Hear what?”

  “Somebody’s coming.” I pointed. “Over there.”

  He peered into the dark marsh, his face obscured by the rain hood. I took one deep breath and slammed my heel sideways into his knee. He screamed and went down, one hand going for his gun, the other grabbing at me.

  I snatched free. And I ran.

  Chapter Forty-two

  I ducked into the dark woods, branches slapping me, Spanish moss sloppy and wet in my face. I tripped and wrenched my ankle, dragged myself up, kept running. I heard Jasper behind me. The first shots rang out, and I ran harder, trying to get my bearings.

  The dockhouse lay ahead, the main house behind, my car outside its gates. But the three men were there too, and Jefferson. And Boone, I admitted, whose allegiance I could no longer trus
t.

  So I ran for the dock, lungs burning, chest tight. Behind me, Jasper crashed through the thickets.

  The woods opened into the cove, and I saw the dock, Boone’s sport fisher tied up at the end. I bolted for it, my footsteps pounding the wooden slats, just as Jasper cleared the woods. More bullets, two of them at my heels.

  Too late for the boat. I ran for the dockhouse instead, yanked open the door and threw myself inside. I slammed the door shut, dead-bolted it. The dark loomed thick and heavy, and I crashed to the left, into the gear room. I heard Jasper’s boots on the dock, his footsteps uneven from the injury, but leisurely now, no hurry.

  I had to move quickly. I slid open the outside window and squeezed through the spider webs and dust, scraping my skin. I couldn’t jump—the splash would have been a dead giveaway—so I shimmied down the piling into the dark water. It was high tide, but still the splintered wood and oyster shells tore the flesh of my hands.

  I lowered myself into the water as lightning flicked cloud to cloud downriver. A few strokes took me under the dockhouse, then under the dock, where I surfaced beneath the slatted wood. Here it was shallow enough to stand, submerged up to my nose, the river bottom sucking at my sneakers.

  Jasper limped down the dock. “I know you’re in there, cuz.” He reloaded, racked the slide. “And when I find you, you’re dead, you hear me?”

  Shaking violently, I put one hand on the butt of Trey’s gun. I remembered the cell phones, both of them ruined now, and tears welled again. I prayed Jasper wouldn’t look down.

  He remained calm, relaxed. Boone’s boat bobbed in the fractured waves, a thirty-footer with enough space to hold fishing gear for ten or marijuana for a hundred. Weapons too, guns and ammo and knives. And Jasper had the keys.

  His voice echoed on the lake. “You run and your boyfriend dies, you know that?”

  A crack of lightning, a roll of thunder, the rising wind, bladed and cold. The boat’s bumpers rubbed against the dock, and I heard the slap-slap of water against its hull, the ticking of its engine.

  “He’s still alive, you know. For now. We had to hurt him pretty bad. And if you don’t get your ass out here right now, we’ll do worse.” Jasper raised his voice against the wind. “I will make him die so hard, cuz.”