Walk In the Fire

by Steph Post

  Clive stood up and casually walked a few paces around the base of the stage.

  “I mean, he did put out her eye. With his thumb. That’s not the sort of thing you do to somebody you like, is it?”

  “No.”

  “So you think that maybe Sherwood Cannon hated your aunt?”

  Felton looked down at his brown loafers.

  “I guess. I mean, maybe he hated her. To do something like that.”

  Clive turned and took a few steps in the other direction, trying to keep his gaze on the church around him and not on Felton.

  “It’s funny, though. In my experience, it’s hard to hate someone, really hate someone, so much that you’d try to strangle them to death and then screw your thumb into their eye socket, if you don’t know them. Doesn’t that sound about right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “So what do you think Sherwood had against your aunt? Why do think he hated her so much?”

  Felton twisted his hands together in front of him and stumbled over his words.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I guess he had a reason.”

  “And to have a reason, he’d probably have some history with her, right?”

  Felton jerked his head up and the worried expression on his face began to disappear. Clive knew he had pushed it too far and Felton had figured out what he was getting at.

  “Aunt Tulah said that when she asked the man to leave, he attacked her. She didn’t know who he was. She’d never seen him before.”

  Clive came back around the stage again and stood directly in front of Felton.

  “But what was he doing here in the first place, Brother Felton? That’s what I really want to know. Why here? Why this church? Why did Sister Tulah just happen to be here at the same time as Sherwood and the Scorpions?”

  Felton shook his head back and forth emphatically.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Clive decided to change tactics. He pointed to the space on the stage in front of the pulpit.

  “That’s where they found Sherwood’s body, right?”

  Felton had his mouth clamped shut, his resolve clearly being not to answer any more questions, so Clive just kept going.

  “He had his head smashed in. You said you didn’t see what had happened to Sherwood. You said that you only remembered there being a person there, but that you couldn’t see who it was with all the smoke.”

  Clive pointed to the empty back wall.

  “There used to be a cross there, right? A big, heavy cross that was found on the ground next to Sherwood’s dead body. The forensics team on the case said they’re pretty sure the cross was used to bash in Sherwood’s skull. That’s what killed him.”

  Clive put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “But you know what’s funny, Brother Felton? No one knows who actually killed Sherwood Cannon. Now, the bikers claim they never even entered the church. When questioned, one of them said there were people they couldn’t see shooting at them from outside of the church, and yet Sherwood was found dead inside. The bikers said that maybe it was Sherwood’s son, Levi. He’s been MIA ever since the shootout, I hear. His wife and kid apparently skipped town, too. So maybe it was Levi who killed him. Or maybe it was someone else.”

  He stared hard at Felton.

  “What do you think?”

  Clive was surprised to see Felton staring back just as hard. Maybe there was a little backbone in him after all.

  “I think you should leave.”

  Clive smiled and took a step back.

  “All right. I suppose I’ve outstayed my welcome. But thank you, Brother Felton. I appreciate it.”

  Felton continued to stare. Clive turned to go, but then raised his eyebrows and pointed to the pulpit on the stage. A glass jelly jar half full of clear liquid was perched on the corner of it.

  “Mind if I ask? What’s in the jar?”

  Felton looked at the jar and then back to Clive.

  “Strychnine.”

  Clive jerked his back around to Felton.

  “Poison? What for?”

  Felton seemed genuinely surprised that Clive didn’t know.

  “For the faithful, of course. To demonstrate our certainty that God will protect us.”

  Clive was shocked.

  “You people drink that? Don’t you know it will kill you?”

  A smug smile played at the edge of Felton’s lips.

  “Not if you’re one of us.”

  Ramey shifted the Cutlass into fifth and leaned back, dangling one hand over the top of the ragged steering wheel. It was late and they were driving west; the highway was glazed over with shimmering copper, and in the last rays of sunlight the trees and brush along the roadside seemed to swell and shiver with viridescence. This was Ramey’s favorite time of day. The world became quiet, soft and lush, but reveled in a moment of brilliance before winking into twilight. It was a stepping out of time, and if Ramey caught it right, for a few seconds, she could slip away with it.

  Beside her, Judah pitched his cigarette out the open window.

  “See? Isn’t this what normal people do? Get off work, go grocery shopping, come home and make Hamburger Helper?”

  “Tuna Noodle.”

  Ramey kept her eyes on the road.

  “And most folks don’t go to the Winn-Dixie armed to the teeth, watching their backs in the cereal aisle.”

  Judah slung his arm behind her headrest and stretched out in the seat.

  “In Silas? Where you been, woman?”

  Ramey finally cut her eyes over at him. His grin was infectious and Ramey could feel the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Busy trying to run a criminal empire. Or not run it, that is.”

  Judah tugged at a wind-whipped snarl in her hair and then slid his hand up behind her ear. His fingers pressed lightly against her neck.

  “But you’re so damn good at it.”

  Ramey glanced over at him again and this time she couldn’t help but return his look. This was the Judah she always wanted, with a sly smile and a devilish spark behind the eyes. A man with the world at his feet, or at least the sureness to think so. Ramey was acutely aware of the fact that she was the only one who could bring this out in him, and even then, it was rare. She hungered for this side of him. Craved it. Too often, by the end of the day, there wasn’t much left for her but the raw scraps of his ruminations. And since Lesser’s death, she had felt her narrow window to the inner workings of his heart closing fast. She didn’t know why; she didn’t know what was happening, only that at times over the past week she had met Judah’s eyes and sensed that the breath was being sucked out of her, sharply, leaving her empty and hollow. They were so very far away from one another.

  Judah dropped his hand to her thigh and picked at a loose thread on her jeans.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Ramey.”

  She knew that if she turned her head to look at him, she would hear the subtle change in his voice reflected in the cast of his eyes. Ramey focused on the nimbused tree line ahead.

  “I know.”

  “I mean it. I get it, things are crazy. And getting crazier every day, it seems. But we will come through this. And I will take care of you through it all, understand?”

  Ramey shook her head.

  “I don’t need you to take care of me. I just need you to be with me.”

  Judah removed his hand and twisted in the seat so that he was fully facing her.

  “All right. I can do that.”

  Ramey turned off the road and eased the Cutlass down the sandy, washboard driveway. As she came jolting around the curve, she could see the house up ahead, shaded by live oaks and slash pines in the dusk. The porch light was on and a warm glow came from one of the twin dormer windows on the second story. The house appeared to be winking at them and Ramey smiled. From this view, it could almost be a home.

  “And don’t you ever keep things from me. Don’t you eve
r shut me out, you hear?”

  “Ramey.”

  Judah sighed and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

  “I never have. And I never will. You and me, we’re in this together, all the way, right?”

  “Right.”

  Ramey pulled up next to Judah’s truck. She yanked the keys out of the ignition and sat staring at them in her hands for a moment.

  “I just…”

  She raised her eyes to Judah’s. The spark was gone, replaced now by smoldering ash. His eyes held hers for a moment and then Judah leaned forward, cupping his hands around her chin and then sliding them down to her collar bone.

  “Don’t worry, Ramey. Trust me.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead lightly. Ramey closed her eyes.

  “I trust you.”

  “Now come on, let’s get this food in the house. I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  Ramey shot him a half smile and slid out of the driver’s seat. She lifted a paper bag of groceries out of the back and kicked the door closed. The bag was heavy and she hitched it up on one side as she climbed the porch steps and fumbled with getting her keys in the door lock. She heard the passenger’s side door of the Cutlass slam behind her and Judah called out.

  “You got it?”

  Ramey wrenched her keys out and pushed the front door open with her shoulder.

  “Got it.”

  She hiked the grocery bag back up on her hip and blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. The living room was dark, but the kitchen light was on and she rushed through the hall, anxious to put the bag down before she dropped it. She came around the corner but froze, stunned, in the kitchen doorway.

  “What in the holy hell?”

  Gary, sitting on the kitchen counter, raised his beer up to her and grinned stupidly. Alvin had been leaning against the refrigerator, also with a beer in hand, but he stood up straight when he saw her and ducked his eyes to the floor. Benji was sitting at one end of the kitchen table, his crutches propped up against the wall behind him, and at the other end of the table sat a man with a gash over his right eye and a shiner around his left. The thick strip of duct tape over his mouth was caked with dried blood. His hands were zip-tied behind him and a length of nylon rope had been looped around his chest several times, securing him to the chair he was sitting in. He awkwardly turned his head to look at her. Gary waved his hand like a magician.

  “Surprise!”

  Ramey thought she was going to drop the bag of groceries at her feet. Benji raised an eyebrow and shook his head just as Judah stumbled through the door behind her.

  “What is it?”

  Ramey realized that her mouth was open. She clamped it shut and swallowed hard as Judah pulled up short beside her. She turned to see that his eyes were about as wide as she was sure her own were. Gary slid down from the kitchen counter.

  “Well, here you go! Delivered as promised. I was gonna stick a bow on his head for you, but I couldn’t find one in time.”

  Ramey’s eyes narrowed as she realized that Judah wasn’t so much flabbergasted, as simply caught unawares. She set the bag of groceries on the counter and slowly turned to him, letting the acid in her voice soak through every word.

  “Judah. Is there something you want to tell me?”

  JUDAH REACHED out to Ramey as she backed away from him.

  “I was going to tell you.”

  Ramey crossed her arms over her chest. Even in the dim light of the living room, he could see her nails biting into her skin. From the expression on her face, the way she was working her jaw, drawing the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, it was hard to tell if she was either scared or furious. Or both. Sometimes, there wasn’t much of a difference with Ramey.

  She cocked her head to one side.

  “You were going to tell me?”

  Ramey quit chewing on her lip and her eyes popped wide.

  “You were going to tell me that I would come home to the man who shot and killed Lesser, who almost killed you, trussed up at my kitchen table like a goddamn Virginia ham?”

  Judah let his arms drop to his side.

  “Well. Not exactly all that.”

  Ramey glanced over Judah’s shoulder, toward the light creeping around the edge of the hallway. She jutted her chin in the direction of the kitchen, where Alvin, Gary and Benji were waiting. Alvin and Gary were laughing loudly about something. Ramey dropped her voice down to a hiss and turned her blazing eyes back on him.

  “What the hell is going on here? When I asked you this morning, you told me that you hadn’t turned up anything on Weaver yet.”

  Judah turned slightly toward the kitchen.

  “Well, technically…”

  He was trying not to look at her.

  “Judah, I swear to God. You even think about going there and so help me…”

  Judah turned back to Ramey and gripped her shoulders. This time, she didn’t back away. He dipped his chin slightly and met her eyes. Some of the fight was leaving them, but something else, something even more disquieting, was brewing there. Something he wasn’t ready to see.

  “I’m sorry. Ramey, I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  She swayed lightly as he pulled on her shoulders, but then broke away from him.

  “Should have was a long time ago.”

  Ramey pushed past him. Judah raised his eyes toward the ceiling and then shut them tight. He’d deal with her later. Right now, he had to figure out what to do with Nash. Judah followed Ramey into the kitchen and tried to take stock of the situation. Nash tied up in the chair. Benji glowering in the corner with glassy eyes. Alvin and Gary grinning like cats and popping tall boys. Gary shook his head and whistled when Judah walked in.

  “Damn, Judah. We thought you’d be pleased.”

  Judah glanced over at Ramey, leaning in the doorway with her arms still crossed and the corners of her mouth still turned down. He turned back to Gary and grit his teeth.

  “I didn’t think you’d bring him here.”

  Gary shrugged.

  “Went by the garage, but you’d left already, I guess. We figured you’d want to see him ASAP. I mean, I don’t think he’d spoil or nothing, but you never know.”

  Gary smirked over the top of his beer can. Judah couldn’t look back at Ramey; he knew she was seething behind him.

  “You never hear of a phone?”

  Alvin, obviously getting bored with the whole situation, cracked open another beer and held it out to Judah.

  “Well, he’s here now.”

  Judah shook his head at the beer. He walked slowly around the table until he was able to look at Nash straight on. In addition to the cut over his right eye, the left side of his face was already swelling in a patchwork of bruises and there was a thin red band of mottled skin circling his neck. His shoulders were slumped and his head cast down. Judah narrowed his eyes.

  “And you weren’t followed?”

  Gary jumped down from the kitchen counter.

  “Hell no, Judah. Plan worked like a charm. That Kristy girl was a sure thing. She called Alvin up this afternoon and we lit on over to Palatka. Nash was having himself a happy hour and he and his jarhead friend played right into the trap. She texted Alvin when she told Nash she’d buy a bump off him, but Alvin had already jimmy-rigged Nash’s car and was waiting like a ninja in the backseat. Guy couldn’t even move once Alvin got that extension cord ’round his neck.”

  Judah frowned. He had been distracted by the shock, by Ramey and then by the details of the story, but he tried to push it all from his mind now. The room fell silent around him and as he stared at Nash, everything slowly dialed down into pinpointed focus. Judah pulled out a chair and sat down in front of Nash. It was just him, this man and the weight of Lesser’s death hanging between them. Judah leaned forward and took hold of a corner of the duct tape. He ripped it off and Nash gasped. Judah looked at the strip of tape dangling betw
een his fingers and then he wadded it up and flicked it at Nash’s face. It bounced off his cheek.

  “You killed my friend.”

  Nash licked his split bottom lip and looked up at Judah.

  “I’m sorry. Really. I wasn’t trying to kill nobody. I was just being stupid. I didn’t mean to shoot that kid.”

  Judah studied Nash, with his slumped, awkwardly tied body and his bloody face. He was disgusting. Pathetic. Abject.

  “You’re sorry.”

  Judah’s voice was flat and he barely moved the rest of his body as he kicked his leg out. Nash toppled over backward, smacking the back of his head on the linoleum floor. The sound was sickening. Judah waited while Alvin and Gary hauled Nash up and righted his chair. He was vaguely aware that neither Benji nor Ramey had moved a muscle. Nash’s eyes were bulging with pain and he seemed disoriented for a moment. Judah rested his palms on the thighs of his jeans and leaned forward.

  “Who is Weaver?”

  Nash shook his head slightly. The cut over his eye was oozing and he blinked through the strings of blood.

  “I mean it, man. I’m sorry, I really didn’t…”

  Judah kicked again. This time, he could hear Ramey inhale sharply behind him. Alvin and Gary stood on either side of Nash’s head, staring down at him. Gary put his hands on his hips.

  “Want us just to leave him there? Can’t do a damn thing laying there like a turtle on its back.”

  Alvin picked up his beer from the counter and cocked his head as he looked down at Nash.

  “If you want him to quit whining, I got a welding torch in the Jeep.”

  Gary shook his head.

  “Nah, use a car battery.”

  Alvin knit his brows.

  “You know how to do that without killing him right away?”

  Gary frowned.

  “Well, I could try it, anyway. I saw this rerun of 24 the other night and they did this thing where they put a wire down the guy’s pants and—”

  “Weaver’s my boss!”

  Nash thrashed his head furiously from side to side. Alvin looked to Judah, but Judah only shook his head slightly. Alvin turned back to Nash.

  “Nah, car battery won’t work. Too much risk. What about a drill?”