by An Anthology
“You didn’t answer my question.” A.J. glared at him. “How did you get in?”
“Utility room.”
“I didn’t see a door in there.”
“You weren’t supposed to.” He removed the hurricane lantern and slipped his coat off gingerly, as if the effort hurt. “It’s something my great-granddad dreamed up back in his moonshine days, so I’m told.” He gazed down at her. “You were going to hack off those limbs for me?”
“No. For me, so I could get out if I had to,” she snapped, annoyed at herself for having been concerned for his welfare, lying about it and at him on general principles. “As for you, like you told me, I figured you could handle it.”
His grin was a slash of white in the gloom. “Yeah, I could have. Anyway, thanks for the thought. Nice move, by the way. I’m going to be good and sore tomorrow.”
“Honest, I’m really sorry. What more can I say?”
“Nothing that will make my breastbone feel any better. Forget it. Let me get rid of these wet things and start the generator.”
“He’s got a generator,” she grumbled, remembering her terror when the lights went out. “I should have known.”
“Everybody’s got a generator. It’s in the cellar.”
“Don’t tell me. You’ve got a rec room down there, too.”
“Nothing that fancy, just a plain old root cellar.” He disappeared into the utility room, Duke leaving his post at the window to click along after him.
A.J. was tempted to follow, curious about having missed both access to the outside as well as a door to the cellar. At least she hadn’t had a clue about either one, further proof that she’d never been here before.
She waited in the kitchen, sipping her now lukewarm coffee until the lights popped on again. Hallelujah.
Jake reappeared, rubbing another towel over his head and face. “The Rands’ phone’s been disconnected, so our only option is to go into Adamsville and alert the locals about the accident and your missing driver. We can leave once this squall’s over. Thanks to Duke, the pickup smells a little like dog, but it’s better than walking.”
So he has a truck, A.J. thought. She should have realized there might not be a phone on the property but there had to be some means of transportation. And Jake could leave her in Adamsville. But where would she go from there? 1422 Main Street, Any-town, USA?
Moving to the sink, Jake washed his hands. “How’s your head?”
“Better. I could use an aspirin.”
“Should be some in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom you used. And new toothbrushes.”
“Thank God,” A.J. said, dumping the remains of the coffee in the sink. “I can’t get this weird taste out of my mouth.”
Jake eyed her, head tilted to one side. “What’s it like?”
“Slightly metallic, slightly salty. I can’t imagine what I could have eaten.”
He left the sink and leaned down to examine her, his expression intent. She would have preferred that he wasn’t quite so close, but she was backed up against the island.
“Your pupils look better but they’re still…” He frowned, then straightened. “Does your head hurt in front, too? Like, behind your eyes?”
“Even worse than the back.”
“How’s your memory? You remember the accident?”
“No.”
“How about yesterday morning or the night before?”
As much as she hated to reveal how much she seemed to have lost, she needed his help. The least she could be was truthful. “No,” she said, reaching down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. The dog leaned against her in ecstasy, his bulk a welcome distraction. “I’ve got these holes in my memory, big ones, about basic stuff.”
“Like your name.”
So he knew all along. Heat rose in her face. “Yes, like my name. Birthday? Age? No idea. I remember where I grew up, the street and number, but not the city. And nothing recent at all. I get flashes, tidbits, but everything’s disjointed. There wouldn’t happen to be a shrink in the neighborhood, would there?” She tried for a smile but the tremble in her lips betrayed her.
Jake backed away, eyes narrowed in thought as he gazed at her, then went to fill a glass of water and hand it to her. “You don’t need a shrink, you need flushing out. Drink it down. Your problem is you’ve been drugged.”
A.J. stiffened. “I told you, I don’t do drugs.” At least she was almost sure she didn’t. She was thirsty, though, and emptied the glass.
He refilled it, watched her drain it, absentmindedly massaging the spot where her kick had landed, “What I meant is that someone slipped you a drug, hopefully Rohypnol, or roofies, mixed with—”
“The date-rape drug? Hopefully?” Horrified, she backed away from him. “No. It must have been something else. I mean, I haven’t been raped. I’m sure of it.”
“I think someone just wanted to put you out of commission for a while. Roofies wipes out your memory for a few hours, and you rarely regain whatever happened during that period. But it usually doesn’t do a number on your past and who you are. A new designer drug popped up on the streets for a while that matches what you’re describing, plays hell with your memory, which is why it wasn’t a big seller. It sort of dropped off the map but it sounds like that’s what you’ve got in your system.” His eyes lost focus, his expression one of deep thought. “I wonder…”
A.J. considered telling him he could wonder on his own time, but instead asked, “How long does it last? The effects, I mean.”
His attention snapped back to her. “It varies from person to person. For some, hours. Others, days. It may depend on body mass and level of activity. That whack you took on the head probably didn’t help any either. Time to put something on that open place.”
He retrieved a big first aid kit from the utility room, which made A.J. wonder just what else she had missed back there. After enduring the application of the antiseptic and the bandage without a whimper, even though it hurt like the dickens, she downed a couple of aspirins and a bowl of Dinty Moore stew and allowed as how she felt a little better with something solid under her belt.
Duke hovered nearby at first, watching her intently, whether out of concern for her welfare or in hopes of a chunk of beef was a toss-up. Jake watched her every bit as intently as the shepherd, his inky black eyes seeming to burrow straight through her.
She took the empty bowl and glass to the sink and rinsed them out. There was a dishwasher, but if he was anything like her father, he would prefer to load it himself.
Startled, she spun around to Jake. “I remember my dad! He was so proud when we got a dishwasher, insisted that no one else knew how to load it properly!”
“A man after my own heart.” He opened a cabinet door and used a measuring cup to scoop kibble from a giant-sized bag of Alpo. Next to the bag was a sizeable Sig Sauer.
Why did she recognize what kind of gun it was? A.J. wondered.
“Any brothers and sisters?” Jake asked, Duke standing by, tail waving at warp speed.
“I-I’m not sure. I wish I could remember my mom.”
“Don’t push it,” Jake said, dumping the kibble into a bowl. He sat it next to the dog’s water supply. “Okay, dog, bon appetit, no pun intended.”
Duke’s response was to rush to the window, prop his big front paws on the sill and growl, ears flat to his head. Once again, he pawed and sniffed at the frame.
“What’s the problem, boy?” Jake joined him at the window. “What the heck… ?” He examined the frame, strode to the utility room, and returned with a monster flashlight. He nudged the shepherd out of the way and focused the beam on the spot Duke had found so interesting. “I don’t believe this. A.J., bring me a steak knife. Please,” he added, still focused on the frame. “The same drawer where you got the cleaver.”
As if she needed a reminder. A.J. selected a knife and handed it to him, saying, “Something hit that wall just before the tree in front came down. Sorry, I forgot to mention it.”
<
br /> “Everything’s still standing out there,” he said, digging into the frame. Whatever he was after came free and dropped into his hand. “Goddammit!” He held up his find. What was left of a bullet, its point mangled beyond recognition, gleamed in the light.
A.J.“s eyes widened. ”That looks like a nine millimeter!!“
“You’ve had experience with firearms, have you?”
She looked up to find Jake’s eyes boring through her. “1… I guess I must have. And stop looking at me like that. Seems to me you’d be more concerned about where that came from.”
“Oh, I know where it came from,” he said, a vein in his temple throbbing. He shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. “It’s Newt, that stupid son of a bitch back on Walston Road. I’ve warned him before about target practice without the least regard for where he sets it up. When he’s drunk, he’s lethal, just doesn’t think. Shot out a window in the Rands’ cabin a couple of years ago.”
A.J. shook her head. “What kind of idiot would even carry a weapon in the middle of an electrical storm, much less aim one? He’d be a walking lightning rod. Plus, it was dark. And—” She stopped, as realization dawned. Chill bumps erupted on her arms.
“And what?” Jake asked.
“He just missed me.” Her throat seemed to close, reducing her voice to a whisper. “I was pacing the floor when he fired,” she said, a sudden burst of rage loosening the hold around her neck, “back and forth past this window like a duck in a damned shooting gallery!”
“And he had to be on my property when he fired.” Jake’s swarthy complexion darkened with anger. “This came from a handgun, not a rifle, his usual toy. I’m putting a stop to this tonight.”
Duke snarled, diverting Jake’s attention. The dog was at the front door, circling and pawing at it.
“Something’s still got his hackles up. I’d let him out but it might be a bear. This is the way he acted the last time one wandered into the yard.” With a guiding hand on the shepherd’s collar, Jake led him back to his bowl. “Eat, boy. We’ve got errands to run. And since it’s stopped raining, we might as well see if we can find A.J.”s car—“
“It wasn’t mine,” she interrupted.
“I didn’t mean it literally.” He moved the bowl under the dog’s muzzle. Duke gazed with longing at the door for a second, then seemed to give up and take comfort in his dinner. “But first,” Jake continued, “I’ll stop by and return this slug to Doby Newton. He doesn’t understand nice so it’s time to get nasty. Let me get you settled for the night first. I’ll leave pajamas on the bed in there and—”
“Wait!” Spend the night here? Her blood pressure spiked. She couldn’t. Even if there’d been a lock on that bedroom door, she’d still be uneasy. “Thanks, Jake, but if you’re going into Adamsville, I might as well go with you.”
“And stay where?” he asked, head tilted to one side.
“I don’t know. A hotel or motel or something.”
“Okay, Adamsville does have a motel, but then what? It’s not like you can hop a bus in the morning and go home. You don’t remember where home is.”
That wasn’t her only problem. She had no money to pay for a room for the night. “My ID will have my address. I dropped my purse on my way up the hill by the car. It was too dark to find it, but with your flashlight, we should be able to. Please, Jake. I need to know who I am. You want to mix it up with this Newt? Fine, I’ll wait in the truck. But, please, let me go with you.”
He shrugged his resignation. “If that’s what you want. There’s a small clinic in Adamsville. This late I’m sure it’s closed but you could probably see the doctor on a walk-in basis in the morning, maybe get something to flush that stuff out of your system faster. Make sure he examines that place on your head. Hate to tell you, but you may need stitches.”
She winced, but she’d rather look forward to sutures in the morning than the prospect of staying here all night. She wasn’t certain whether it was Jake or the cabin itself, but something was wrong here. “I’m a big girl,” she said. “I can take stitches.”
His lips twitched. “I believe you.” He looked down and saw that the bowl was empty. “Since Duke has finished, it’s time for him to make a call of nature. I’d better take my rifle and go with him, just in case whatever got him riled up is in the vicinity. Then we can leave.”
She started for her coat and soggy shoes. “What about my clothes? They’re still in the dryer.”
“When you remember your address, let me know and I’ll put your things in the mail.”
“Let you know how, Mr. No-Phone-For-Me?” Try as she might, she wasn’t able to stifle her sarcasm.
He was silent for a second. “Tell the clerk at the motel that I’ll be by to get your address and that it’s okay for him to give it to me. How’s that?”
She rolled her eyes. Jesus, was he hard-nosed about staying unreachable. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’m ready when you are.” More than ready, she thought, still unable to shake the conviction that she was in danger, and not necessarily from Jake’s idiot neighbor.
Chapter 4
Exiting the cabin from the utility room was a tricky maneuver, entailing A.J. flailing her way from behind a tall bush with foliage as densely packed as a pad of Brillo. Jake’s bootlegging ancestor had been a wizard. No one would suspect the bush hid a door.
She settled in the passenger seat of the truck, a model with an extended cab that gave Duke plenty of room to move around behind them. “Geez, it’s dark out here,” she said.
“No streets, therefore no streetlights,” Jake said, getting in. “No need for them anyway; I know this place like the back of my hand. Besides, the porch light is usually on, but it needs replacing. So does a section of the porch roof. That tree did a real number on the front. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Buckle up. This will be a rough ride, but it’s the fastest way to Newt’s place. Duke, settle.”
Evidently this translated to Sit in Caninese since the big shepherd plopped his rear on the backseat and propped his front legs on either side of Jake’s headrest, his ears brushing against the roof of the cab. He looked like one happy dog.
A.J. secured her seat belt, suddenly anxious at the prospect of facing the unknown again. Jake’s cabin had been a haven for just a couple of hours, but it was the only anchor she had. She almost dreaded leaving it, but she had to go. She needed answers and the only way to find them was to revisit the place where all the confusion had begun.
Jake, it turned out, hadn’t exaggerated when he’d warned her about a rough ride. By the time they got to Newt’s cabin, she felt as if everything from the waist down had been shaken out of place. After ordering the shepherd to stay put, he left the pickup, torch in one hand, a sizable automatic that appeared from nowhere in the other. But the shack was dark with no sign of life. She waited, barely breathing until he returned a few minutes later.
“Weird,” he said, stowing the torch and the automatic under the dash somewhere. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here since summer.” After one last look around, he started the engine and pulled away. “It had to be Newt. Nothing else makes sense.” He lapsed into silence, clearly puzzled by the state of the cabin.
Once he’d reached the road, he turned right. “I’m guessing that the car probably missed the curve just after the turn onto Simpson’s Creek Lane. It’s damned near a U and people overshoot it or spin out at least once a season. What kind of car was it again?”
“A late model Taurus, dark color.” She shuddered, having returned to its backseat for a second. “Four doors.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t your car?”
“That’s the only thing I am sure of. I had a Miata but sold it to Billy.”
Jake stole a glance at her. “Billy who?”
“My God.” A.J. jerked upright. “Bill Malachi. A— a neighbor! Twenty-something. He wanted a Miata so badly he was always threatening to steal mine. Why would I remember him, of all people?”
“No point in try
ing to figure it out,” Jake said, downshifting as the road began a steep decline. “Memory’s a weird thing, files away all sorts of stuff. What’s important is that it’s slowly coming back. Hold on. Pothole.”
The warning came just in time. The nose of the pickup dipped and hit bottom. In spite of her seat belt, A.J. went flying, the crown of her head meeting the roof of the cab as if it was the magnet and she was metal. “Owl”
Duke too yipped and moved to the other side of the seat.
“Sorry.” Jake slowed to a crawl. “There was no way for me to miss it. You okay?”
“Oh, just ducky.” She waited for the pain to subside. For a second, she’d actually seen stars.