Breaking the Chain

by C. D. Ledbetter

  Dykes stirred, but did not awaken, the sounds of his snores echoing in the stillness of the night air.

  "You try waking him," Mary said. "We can't leave him out here all night." Her heart softened as the interior light of the van illuminated the pulpy mess that used to be a handsome face. "I'll bet his face hurts like hell. Poor guy. He must be exhausted."

  "Let's not forget his bruised ribs," Jack reminded her. He reached over and gently shook Dykes' shoulder. "Hey, wake up, guy. We're home."

  Dykes opened one swollen eye, yawned, then struggled to an upright position. "Sorry, I must've crashed."

  "You've been through hell this past twenty-four hours; I'd have been surprised if you hadn't," Jack said. "You want your bags now, or can we leave them till morning?"

  Dykes slowly edged out of the van. "Much as I hate to say it, I want them now. Could you give me a hand?"

  "Sure. Come on." Jack walked to the rear of the van, opened the back doors, then began pulling out suitcases. "Mary, can you give us a hand, please?" he asked.

  Mary was tempted to start clapping, but figured Jack wouldn't appreciate the humor, so she made her way to the rear of the van. "Here, give me a couple," she said, holding out her arms.

  The bags were surprisingly light, considering they held mechanics' tools. She thought about saying something to that effect, but the painful expression on Dykes' pulverized face told her he'd had enough for one day, so she kept silent.

  A few seconds later the front door swung open and Mrs. Milliron waved them into the house. "Welcome home," she beamed. "Did you have a nice trip?" It wasn't until the weary trio stood at the foot of the stairs that she noticed Dykes' face. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "What kind of ugly stick did you run into?"

  Grabbing Dykes by the arm, she pulled the protesting pilot down the hall and into the kitchen. "I have just the thing for that face," she said. "Sit down in one of those chairs while I pull a steak out of the freezer. I'll have you fixed up in no time."

  "Please, Mrs. Milliron. Don't go to any bother," Dykes said, to no avail. Realizing that it was useless to argue with the housekeeper, he sat meekly in a chair while she rummaged through the freezer.

  "Here you go," she said, wrapping a dishtowel around a slab of frozen steak. "Hold this against your face and it should take some of the swelling down." She patted his shoulder in a comforting fashion. "Your friend's here, but he's gone out for a walk in the moonlight." She glanced toward the back door. "He's been gone quite a while; should be back any minute."

  Holding the frozen meat against his face, Dykes stood up. "Thanks, Mrs. Milliron. I appreciate it."

  "Wasn't no trouble," she cooed. "It's been a long time since I had a handsome young fella to fuss over." She eyed him thoughtfully, then reached for the bags lying at his feet. "I suspect you'll be wanting to go to bed soon. You can have your same room, if that's okay."

  "Here, let me get that," Dykes said, grabbing the straps out of her hand. "I can carry them upstairs."

  "Don't be silly," she argued. "How can you carry both bags and hold that steak on your face? The least I can do is help you bring them upstairs." She lifted one bag and grunted at its weight. "What do you have in these? Cement?"

  He hoisted the remaining bag under his arm, grimacing when it made contact with his sore ribcage. "Tools, Mrs. Milliron. I always carry my tools around with me." His glance flickered one last time toward the back door as he followed her out of the kitchen. "How long ago did you say Sal went for a walk?"

  "About an hour ago, I think," she said, huffing and puffing as she slowly climbed the stairs. "I'm beginning to get worried; do you think we ought to go and look for him? He might've gotten lost."

  "I wouldn't worry about Sal," Dykes said quickly. "He's always taking long walks. Doctor's orders. He's probably on his way back to the house right now. Tell you what. If he's not back by the time I get this stuff unloaded, I'll go look for him," Dykes volunteered. "I wouldn't mention being concerned about him to Mary and Jack just yet. No sense worrying them when it's probably nothing. Don't say anything until after I come downstairs and take a look around. If I can't locate Sal, then we'll tell Mary and Jack. Okay?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. Mary and Jack might be mad if I don't say something."

  "No they wouldn't. Besides, they're exhausted. Why worry them when it's probably nothing? Sal walks three, maybe four miles a day. Knowing Sal, he'll probably be back before I get downstairs." He wrapped one arm around the old woman's shoulder and planted a kiss on her leathery cheek. "Come on, Mrs. Milliron. It'll be our little secret. Okay?"

  "All right. But if you don't come back with him, I'm going straight to Mary and Jack."

  "Don't worry, I'll find him."

  "I hope so. The bayous around here are full of alligators looking for their next meal. At night they sometimes lie in the pathways. I'd hate for something to happen to him because he wasn't watching where he was walking."

  Dykes nudged her toward the hallway. "Don't worry, Mrs. Milliron. I can take care of Sal. Leave it to me."

  * * * * *

  Jack flopped on the bed and waited for Mary to come back from checking on Justine and Sadie. "Everything all right?" he asked when she returned.

  Nodding, she closed the door behind her. "Yeah. They're both sleeping like babies." She shrugged out of her lightweight jacket and hung it in the closet. "I don't know about you, but I'm bushed. You want something to eat before we go to bed?"

  Jack patted the bed beside him. "No, actually I want to talk to you about something."

  She climbed into bed and turned to face him. "Oh yeah? What?"

  "I've been thinking..."

  Scrunching up her face, she began to moan. "Oh, no. I hate it when you start a sentence out like that. It usually means I'm gonna end up doing something I don't want to do."

  Grinning lopsidedly, he reached out and ruffled her hair. "Don't be silly. I'm serious."

  "That's what worries me."

  Tweaking her nose gently, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I've been thinking about your talent. You know, if you could figure out a way to make it work when you wanted it to, we might be able to start our own business."

  "What do you mean, our own business? We have a business already. The plantation, remember?"

  He waved one hand through the air. "That's not what I'm talking about. What if we started a business using your talent? We could call it Retrieval, Inc. We could run an ad saying that we retrieve 'lost' items, like wills, jewelry, et cetera. and see what happens. Whenever you find something that's been lost, we could charge clients a finder's fee, or if the item's worth a lot of money, we could charge ten to twenty percent of its value. That's how insurance investigators work. They find lost or stolen items all the time. What do you think?"

  She rolled over onto her back. "I think you're nuts. First, my talent doesn't turn on and off like a faucet. I wish it did. Second, when are we supposed to look for this stuff? Not only do we both have fulltime jobs, we also run a bed and breakfast. When are we supposed to do this--in our sleep?"

  He slid off the bed and walked over to the door. "Well, it's just an idea. Think about it. Maybe we can work something out part-time, and if it pans out, then keep it up until we do it on a fulltime basis. It might be kind of fun to look for lost items or jewelry."

  Yawning, Mary climbed off the bed and padded into the bathroom. "We'll see. Ask me after I've had a good night's sleep. You going downstairs to lock up?"

  "Yeah. You want anything?"

  "Nah, thanks. I'm going to take a shower and climb into bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

  "Don't use all the hot water; I'll get my shower after I lock up." He paused, hand on the doorknob. "Did Mrs. Milliron say anything about Dykes' friend, Sal? I forgot to ask about him."

  "No. You might want to check and make sure he's not wandering around in the garden before you lock up. I'd hate to have him banging on the
door all night trying to wake somebody up to let him back into the house."

  Jack chuckled. "Yeah. He might not be too happy. The last thing we want is to have Sal mad at us."

  45

  The lit end of a cigarette cast a faint glow in the far corner of the yard behind the workshop. Being careful to keep the end of his flashlight pointed toward the ground, Dykes picked his way among the rocks and debris, nearly falling when a knurly root branch snared the toe of his shoe. "Sal, is that you?" he whispered in the darkness.

  "Who else would it be?" Sal snarled in tone that left no doubt about his displeasure. "It's about time you got here; I've been cooped up with those crazy old biddies for two days. Where the hell you been? You're late."

  "We had a delay getting out of Boston," Dykes explained nervously. "Is everything set for tonight?"

  Sal flicked his cigarette to the ground and used the heel of his shoe to grind it into the dirt. "No thanks to you. If I didn't have so much at stake here, you'd be floating with the fishes, Dykes. You and your friends. Lucky for you, I got too much money tied up in this deal." He shined the beam of his flashlight toward Dykes, illuminating the pulpy mass that used to be Dykes' face. "I see my boys paid you a little visit. Maybe next time you'll make sure we don't have any last minute change in plans." His soft chuckle reverberated in the night air. "Don't worry. Unlike a bullet, bruises aren't permanent. You'll be back to your old pretty self in no time--providing you don't screw up again."

  "Yeah, well, thanks to your goons, I almost couldn't fly the plane." Dykes complained, rubbing his sore ribs. "You didn't have to send your boys after me, Sal. We've been doing business together for two years; I'd never double-cross you. I like living too much."

  "That's good, fly-boy. Because I got your number, and so do my boys." Sal playfully slapped Dykes' cheek, smiling as the pilot winced in pain.

  "When do we start?" Dykes asked, holding a hand to his face. He peered out into the darkness, straining to see any sign of movement. "I don't see anybody; I thought you said your men were in place."

  "What are you--stupid, or what? You aren't supposed to see them; that's the whole point," Sal pointed out in an ominous tone. "Don't worry about me or my men. You just keep your friends in the house busy; otherwise, there'll be more than cargo floating in the river tonight."

  Shivers raced up and down Dykes' spine when he realized that Sal meant every word he said. The man would snuff out a human life the way normal people would squash a spider--and he wouldn't think twice about doing it, either. Neither would any of his men. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Dykes racked his brain for the right words to convince Sal that he could handle the folks at the house--without bloodshed. "Everything's under control; there's no reason for any of them to interfere with our plans. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of Mary, Jack, and the others, without any help from your men."

  Dykes spun around to face the house, which was still ablaze with lights. "We better get back before the housekeeper sends out a search party," he suggested nervously. "Mrs. Milliron was getting worried; that's why I came out. If we don't get back soon, she's liable to call the cops." He shivered at the thought of Sal turning his thugs loose against Mary, Jack, Sadie, and Justine. They wouldn't stand a chance against any of Sal's men--especially the two older women.

  Sal switched his flashlight on and off several times; there was an answering flicker from the river bank behind them. "Get moving. I don't want nobody poking their heads around here while my guys are loading the stuff. I'd hate to have to shoot somebody."

  * * * * *

  When Jack didn't reappear, Mary pulled on her robe and slippers and made her way downstairs. She found Jack and Mrs. Milliron whispering in the drawing room; the housekeeper had a worried look on her face.

  "What's the matter?" Mary asked. "Is everything all right?"

  Mrs. Milliron patted her chest nervously. "I'm worried about our guest, Mrs. Windom. He went out for a walk over an hour ago and hasn't come back. Mr. Dykes went out to look for him, but he hasn't come back either. I hate to admit this, but I let Mr. Dykes talk me into me not telling you his friend was missing until he had a chance to look for him. I'm sorry; I know it was wrong. I was going to tell you earlier, but he said his friend was probably on his way back. He said Mr. Sal walked several miles a day."

  Tears welled in the older woman's eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. "Now both of them are missing, and it's all my fault. What could've happened to them? They should've been back by now."

  The housekeeper sank into a nearby chair and rubbed her hands together. "I'll never forgive myself if anything's happened to them. I never should have let Mr. Dykes talk me into not telling you about his missing friend." She looked up, a worried frown on her face. "What are we going to do?"

  Jack patted the old woman's shoulder while he exchanged worried glances with Mary. "It's all right, Mrs. Milliron. It's not your fault." He walked over to the antique bureau that covered one wall and rummaged through a drawer. "Mary, where's the big flashlight we keep for emergencies?"

  "I...I gave it to Mr. Dykes," the housekeeper confessed with a guilty look. "He said he needed a flashlight, and that was the only one I could find."

  "Great," Mary said, then bit her lip when the housekeeper started sobbing. She wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder. "It's okay, Mrs. Milliron. Any of us would have given him the flashlight if he'd asked," she lied. "It was the right thing to do. Please, stop crying."

  Shaking her head, Mary moved closer to Jack. "Do you know where the other nine-volt battery flashlight is?"

  "No, that's why I asked you," Jack replied in a disgusted voice.

  "What about a hurricane lamp?" Mrs. Milliron suggested, wiping the tears from her face. "We have plenty of those around here. Why don't I go get a couple?"

  "Good idea, Mrs. Milliron. And you might want to make a pot of coffee after that. If both men turn up missing, it could be a long night," Mary suggested. She watched the sniffling housekeeper shuffle out of the room. "God, of all the stupid, idiotic things to do..."

  "There's no sense blaming Mrs. Milliron, Mary," Jack said. "It wasn't her fault."

  "I wasn't talking about her; I was talking about Dykes," Mary answered tartly. "Why would he ask Mrs. Milliron not to tell us his friend was missing? The man knows absolutely nothing about this area, which is infested with bayous, not to mention alligators; it was stupid to go out looking for his friend. Now, instead of one missing guest, we have two." She moved toward the hallway, her slippers flopping on the wooden floor. "Give me a few minutes to go upstairs and change and I'll go with you to look for them. We'll need to go out together, in case they're hurt. That way, one of us can go for help while the other stays with them."

  Jack nodded. "Good idea. Hurry up, okay?"

  "Five minutes, max" Mary promised, disappearing into the hallway.

  While he waited for Mary to change, Jack dragged the first aid kit out of the bureau and checked to make sure it had been restocked. Luckily, the kit was full, and after thinking about where the men might have gone, he stuffed another couple of bandages into the box for good measure. With two men missing, they'd probably need more than one.

  A flask of coffee laced with whiskey might not be a bad idea, either, if the men were lost for any length of time. The whiskey would help to ward off shock, especially if either of them needed medical attention.

  Mrs. Milliron burst into the room, carrying two hurricane lanterns. "Here's the biggest ones I could find," she said, handing them to Jack. "Do you want me to wake Sadie and Justine?"

  "No, let them sleep. Just put the lamps on the bureau, please," Jack requested as he closed the first aid kit. "Would you mind making another pot of coffee and putting it in a thermos for me? We'll need to take one with us, in case it takes a while to find our guests."

  "Right. I've got one brewing; won't take a moment," the housekeeper promised, rushing out of the room.

  "I'm ready," Mary called soft
ly from the hall, taking the last two stairs in one jump. "Where do you want to search first?"

  "I'm just waiting for a flask of coffee to take with us," Jack said. "We probably should do the backyard first, then head for the river after that. If I was going to take a walk, it would by the river, because it's cooler."

  She nodded. "Good idea. I was going to suggest down the drive, but your idea makes more sense."

  Mrs. Milliron appeared, thermos in hand. "Here's your coffee," she said, handing the thermos to Mary. "It's hot and black."

  "You might want to add a few drops of whiskey," Jack suggested. "It couldn't hurt, and it might help ward off a chill."

  Mary carried the thermos into the living room and unscrewed the lid. Taking a whiskey bottle from the cabinet, she poured some into the thermos. A noise outside the drawing room caught her attention, and she nearly dropped the bottle when Dykes and another man entered the room through the French doors.

  "What's going on?" Dykes asked, scraping mud from the soles of his shoes.

  Mary set the thermos on the bureau, then walked into the hallway. "Jack, they just came in," she announced in a relieved voice. "They're in the drawing room--both of them."

  "Thank you, Lord," Mrs. Milliron said, covering her mouth with her hands. "My God, I'm so thankful they're back in one piece." She paused, looking at Mary for confirmation. "They are all right, aren't they?"

  Although furious at the two men, Mary managed to paste what she hoped was a smile on her lips. "They're fine, Mrs. Milliron. Thanks for all your help. I appreciate it."

  "I'll take the thermos back to the kitchen," Mrs. Milliron volunteered after staring at Mary for a few moments. She patted Mary's arm. "You could probably use a drink right now, after all that excitement." Shaking her head, the housekeeper fled down the hall to the safety of the kitchen.