Damage

by Mark Feggeler

  It was as though Billy had suddenly started speaking in French, but there were no subtitles. Ray wondered if his brain was working correctly, because he simply could not follow the thread of what Billy was telling him. Why would Billy have to call in to complain about loud noise coming from the car in the Wallace's barn?

  "You're not making any sense," Ray scolded.

  Billy looked him in the eye. With a grim expression on his face, he said: "Ray, I killed Evan Wallace."

  Ray heard the words. He understood them. His brain and body went numb.

  "I shot him through the heart with one of his own hunting rifles," Billy continued. He spoke in a soft, understated tone that betrayed no hint of remorse. Ray stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. "His wife got a running start on me. I chased her up to that attic room and she jumped out the window, straight through the glass and everything, to get away from me. Damnedest thing I ever saw. I never bothered to check if she was dead. I mean, who would've thought anybody could survive something like that?"

  "What about Jake?" Ray asked. "He was at their house. You found his knife. The neighbors saw his car."

  "Jake should have stayed away from my wife," Billy growled. "I drove his car out there, and him in it with me. I left him passed out at that fancy house after I put the rifle in his hand and fired off another shot to make sure he had powder on him."

  "And the broken glass?"

  Billy shrugged.

  "Why would you want to kill the Wallaces, Billy?" Ray whispered.

  "Orders," Billy matter-of-factly answered. "Redmond told me where and he told me when. I knew better than to ask why. If I had to guess, I'd say either he or his daughter figured out some way to get their hands on old Avery Lowson's money. They went ballistic when Wallace started developing the land around St. Thomas to build that country club. They were scared he might blow through everything before they had a chance to grab any of it for themselves. All that's just guesswork, of course. They might've wanted it done for no other reason than they wanted it done."

  "So what went wrong?" Ray asked.

  "That's a stupid question," Billy said. "Mrs. Wallace didn't die. That's what went wrong. And then Jake went MIA. Instead of a dead couple with a passed-out crackhead in their house, I ended up with one dead, one clinging to life who could identify me if she ever came to, and a missing fall guy. I think it's pretty fair to say I was panicked."

  "So," Ray started, getting to his feet. "What happens now?"

  "I can't undo what I've done," Billy said. "I've got to face a reckoning for my deeds in the next life, but I'm not the only one who needs to be reckoned with."

  "What do mean?" Ray said.

  "I mean Redmond and his daughter," Billy said. "You can take me out of the picture, but you still have them to deal with. You think that woman downstairs would still be breathing if I hadn't been camping out here watching over her? The sheriff sent Greevey down here a couple times already, but I made sure he never got the chance to be alone with her. And then there's old Avery. What do you think they'll do to him once all this dies down? If they've said it once, they've said it a hundred times, he ain't dying fast enough for their liking. They're the ones at the heart of all this. It won't be over until they're properly reckoned with."

  Ray needed a moment to balance what he was hearing from Billy's mouth with what he had just learned his cousin had done. It should have been easy to rally in support of bringing justice to a corrupt and violent man like Redmond, yet the man in the room with him was someone he'd never met before. He was a stranger who looked and sounded familiar. By his own words, he was guilty of murdering an innocent man and attempting to murder his wife. He also had framed one of their best friends from childhood to take the blame for it all, simply because he suspected Jake of having an affair with Amy.

  "What's your idea of a proper reckoning?" Ray asked. "More violence? We have a legal system. You could probably provide a world of evidence against them, probably enough to put Redmond away for the rest of his life."

  Billy turned to the window again and shook his head. "Some problems require a more direct approach. If I've learned nothing else during my years working for that man, he's taught me that. Anyway, it's time to stop talking and get moving. There's work to be done."

  "You mean killing," Ray said.

  "Whatever."

  Billy faced Ray and pulled him into a tight embrace. With surprising agility, the big man snapped cold metal around Ray's right wrist and then the left. With a tight grip on his shoulders, Billy stepped Ray back to the folding chair and pushed him down onto it.

  "I don't want to have to knock you out again, so just stay there for a minute or two after I leave." Billy walked to the door, pausing for a moment. "See ya, Ray," he said, and disappeared into the hallway.

  Wednesday, Part VII

  Ray sat where Billy had left him for only a few seconds before dropping to the floor. On his back, he was able to slide his legs through his arms one at a time to bring his cuffed hands in front of him. The hallway was empty by the time he reached the door. Billy had gone to the right, which led through a dark hallway under renovation with wires hanging from the ceiling and construction debris scattered about. In the opposite direction was a stairwell. If the layout of this floor matched that of the fifth floor, it should be the stairs near Correen Wallace's room. A sign just inside the landing told him he was on the ninth floor.

  The handcuffs, the ebbing pain in his ribs, and a lingering headache caused him to take the stairs more slowly than he otherwise might. As he reached the landing three flights down, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. They were close. Peeking over the railing, he could see a figure two flights below climbing toward him. Ray proceeded another half flight and stopped to see if whoever was coming would continue past him or enter the fifth floor hallway. There was nothing he could do to hide the handcuffs. The only option he had was to stick both hands down his pants, but he figured that would probably draw more unwanted attention from a passing stranger than a pair of handcuffs.

  As he watched and waited, the familiar lanky form of Deputy Greevey stepped onto the landing and reached to press the release bar. He stopped and straightened, his hand on the bar, his face almost pressed against the door. Ray's entire body tensed. There was no way he could back out of sight without making noise on the rough concrete steps, so he held his breath and hoped Greevey wouldn't turn around.

  Slowly, Greevey lowered his hand away and backed away from the door. He stood still for several seconds, then gradually rotated to look behind him. That stupid, toothy grin spread wide across his long face as he locked eyes with Ray. The idea of running crossed Ray's mind, but his feet wouldn't have it. The longer he hesitated, the less point there was to retreating. Greevey walked to the bottom step and glared up at him. He noticed the handcuffs.

  "Who put those on you?" Greevey asked. "You didn't have bracelets when you skipped out on us."

  "Family heirloom," Ray said through gritted teeth. He held them up. "I don't suppose you'd like to uncuff me and let me be on my way?"

  "Not particularly," Greevey said. He took a step, then another, keeping Ray in his sights as he cautiously approached. With one hand, he unsnapped a button on his belt and removed a retractable baton from its holder. He extended it to full length with a gentle flick of the wrist. "You keep nice and still this time."

  The deputy was halfway up the landing when it occurred to Ray why he was moving so slowly. Ray had the high ground. Unless Greevey planned to shoot him right there in the hospital stairwell, which probably would be difficult to explain, it meant Ray temporarily had the advantage, and he was losing it with each step Greevey took. He needed to act if he wanted to keep from becoming another unsolved missing person report.

  With a sudden bolt forward that shocked them both, Ray lunged at Greevey, flying from his perch at the top of the steps with his cuffed hands thrust out in front of him. Greevey had no time to react. He barely was able to drop the b
aton and begin raising his hands to protect himself. Ray caught him in the face, the short chain of the handcuffs hooking Greevey's nose and pushing his head back. They fell together, clearing the stairs and hitting the concrete hard. Ray's head grazed the wall next to the door, enough to sting but not enough to do any serious damage. The rest of him landed on top of Greevey. Skinny as the deputy was, he made a fairly effective cushion for Ray.

  As he rolled away, Ray could see Greevey was in bad shape. A deep gash cut across his face between his nose and upper lip. His eyes fluttered, like he was trying to open them but couldn't, and he was moaning, his mouth moving as though he were trying to speak. The rest of his body remained perfectly still.

  The door swung open, almost hitting Ray. A dark skinned man in a light blue suit and bright white shirt held the door open and surveyed the scene.

  "What in the name of God happened in here?!" he said.

  Ray smiled up at the man, grateful to see a familiar and, with luck, sympathetic face.

  Wednesday, Part VIII

  With two butterfly bandages holding together a small gash on his forehead and ribs that still ached from earlier in the day, Ray sat on a faux leather chair in a surgical waiting room with Glen Meadows Police Chief Yeager on one side of him asking questions and Officer Hussey on the other side seemingly content the chief had someone to focus on other than him. Turns out while Ray was upstairs with Billy, Pritchard and Chief Yeager were busy grilling Hussey about why he kept letting people in to visit Correen Wallace unsupervised when the sole purpose of his being stationed at the hospital was to keep her isolated and monitor her safety. Fortunately for him, Ray's nearly killing a sheriff's deputy was serious enough to draw attention away from the lesser derelictions of Hussey's duties. With Greevey unconscious and heading to emergency surgery to repair his cracked skull, Ray had become the man of the hour.

  Following a quick search for Ray after he had disappeared in the stairwell, Pritchard left to meet up with members of the State Bureau of Investigation from Raleigh at the Sheriff's Department in Whitlock. Yeager wouldn't divulge any more than that. Ray figured it couldn't mean good things for Sheriff Redmond.

  Even though he understood the importance of an ongoing investigation, particularly one that had likely been going on or several years, it bothered Ray that Pritchard had left him behind. He really didn't care who got arrested for what at that point. Ray's top priority was stopping Billy from doing anything stupid or self-destructive. He'd already lost one of his oldest childhood friends, he didn't want to lose the closest thing he'd had to a brother in the same week.

  Yeager was at a bit of a loss when it came to what to do with Ray. Pritchard had provided enough information before leaving for him to believe Ray was defending himself in the stairwell, which was the only reason Yeager didn't have him in handcuffs, but that didn't change the fact he had attacked a sheriff's deputy and caused life-threatening injuries.

  "I'm sorry, Raymond," Yeager told him. "Officer Hussey here will need to take you over to the station for processing. We'll try to get you released before nightfall, and I'll get word to Detective Pritchard about your cousin and what he told you he's planning to do. I wouldn't be surprised if they have him in custody before too long, anyway. In the meantime, rest assured Mrs. Wallace will be under close supervision. And Jason," Yeager added as they were leaving the room, "stay put when you get there. We haven't finished our conversation."

  As Hussey led him through the winding corridors of the hospital following the green line on the ceiling to the lobby elevators, Ray ran through the different possibilities open to Billy. If Pritchard and the SBI made it to Whitlock first, which they could have since Pritchard left the hospital before Billy did, then they could handle anything that might happen there. Besides, he doubted even Billy would be dumb enough to take on the entire Tramway County Sheriff's Department at its home base just to get to Redmond. So, the next best option would be to go straight for Redmond's daughter, Mimi McGinnis. According to Billy, they both were responsible for ordering the attack on the Wallaces, and St. Thomas wasn't staffed with a small army of trained law enforcement officers. It wouldn't take much to get past one elderly receptionist perched outside Mimi's office off the lobby.

  Much as he disliked the idea of getting Hussey in any more trouble with Chief Yeager, he knew he had to figure out how to avoid spending the night in a police holding cell. If he could find Billy, talk to him some more, make him see reason.

  "Jason, I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with your boss," Ray said over his shoulder as they rounded a corner. Hussey did not respond. "I'm sure Billy feels the same. If it's any consolation, we were both trying to help make sure nothing happened to Mrs. Wallace."

  "It'll blow over," Hussey mumbled.

  "That's mighty big of you to say."

  Two nurses passed them carrying trays of food. They were nearing the cafeteria, which meant they were only a short elevator ride to the exit. Ray was failing to think up a way of stopping their progress until he saw a sign for a public restroom and realized it was the same bathroom he had used the night before. With doors exiting into two different corridors, he might be able to slip away while Hussey waited for him.

  "Hey," Ray said, stopping next to the bathroom door. "I've had to pee since noon. You mind if I make a quick pit stop?"

  "We'll be at the station house in ten minutes," Hussey complained. "You can hold it."

  "Or I can piss all over your car," Ray said. He put a hand on the door. "Just let me pop in here for a minute. I'll be right out."

  Hussey rolled his eyes. "Be quick about it."

  The door had barely closed behind him when he began slowly pushing open the door leading out to the other corridor. He squeezed through as soon as he could and walked in the general direction of the elevators. He could hear Hussey on the other side knocking and calling for him to hurry up. Down a corridor to his right and through a set of swinging doors marked "restricted," Ray eventually came to a pair of elevators marked in blue and pressed the call button. Two floors down he exited into a small staging area in the emergency room. A nurse at a station nearby called to him.

  "Sir, you can't be in here," she said.

  "I'm sorry," he said, smiling weakly. "I must have gotten myself all turned around after leaving my daughter's room. Can you tell me how to get to the lobby?"

  She pointed to a set of doors to his right. He thanked her and made his way through the doors, passed the green elevators, and into the main lobby of the hospital. Harold waved at him from the information desk as he scurried through to the large revolving door.

  Once outside, he maintained a brisk pace, fighting the urge to break into a sprint in the parking lot. A quick jaywalk across the busy road running along the west side of the hospital put him in a residential area sporting small houses and nicely kept duplexes that separated the hospital complex from historic downtown Glen Meadows. Halfway along the first block he came to a yellow bungalow on the right almost entirely hidden by overgrown camellias and crepe myrtles. A shiny yellow Volkswagen Beetle sat in the carport. A nondescript black car was parked off to the right in the shadows of leafless dogwood trees. Ray looked back to see if anyone was following him, then stepped up to the front door and knocked several times before he heard movement inside.

  "Who is it?" a woman asked.

  He said who he was.

  "What do you want?"

  "I need your help," he said.

  "Why?"

  "Becky! Open the goddam door, please."

  The door moved several inches, the chain still attached, revealing a sliver of his managing editor. Even so, he could tell her hair was more disheveled than usual and she wore a bathrobe that looked like it had been hastily tossed around her. The expression of annoyance on her face quickly changed to surprise. She unchained the door and pulled it open wider to get a better look at him.

  "Are you bleeding?" she asked, staring at his forehead.

  Ray reached up and found
the cut on his head had started bleeding again. "Yes, I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding and I need your help. Can I come in now, please?"

  Becky begrudgingly let him pass into the house. Her decor had changed somewhat since his last visit a few months back when she had invited the editorial staff over for a New Year's party. Several mismatched pieces of furniture and a large flat-screen television filled the small living room.

  "When did you get all this stuff?" Ray distractedly walked over to the television and examined it admiringly. He stooped down to inspect a game console when the muffled sound of a toilet flushing startled him. He looked at Becky, thought a little more about her appearance and the second car in the driveway, and instantly felt blood rising in his cheeks.

  "Oh..." he said.

  "Ya think?" she snapped.

  The flushing sound grew louder as the bathroom door in the hallway off the living room opened and the Citizen-Gazette's assistant editor, Charlie, stepped out. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, in full view and wearing only a pair of unflattering white briefs. He and Ray stared at each other for a moment in silence. Then he turned to Becky.

  "I didn't know we were having company, or I would have dressed for the occasion," he said.

  Ray laughed and rubbed his face. Charlie disappeared into a bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  "Please don't tell anyone at work," Becky pleaded. "We could get in a lot of trouble."

  "Who would I tell that doesn't already know?"

  Twenty minutes later, after Charlie resurfaced wearing proper clothes, Ray had summarized the events of the past few days, with special emphasis on the most recent activities at the hospital. Ray soon found himself caught in an argument between his two bosses about the next best thing to do. Becky didn't have specific advice to offer, but seemed to agree Ray should go look for Billy. Charlie thought differently.