Shadow Witch

by Geof Johnson

  By the time Gundy had made it to his room, he had a crushing headache and was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. He dropped his suitcase on the floor, kicked off his shoes and flopped face first on the bed. This feels good, he thought. Think I’ll rest my eyes for a few minutes and then go into town and start huntin’ for Sammi.

  Now it was morning and he still had on the same clothes from the day before. He sniffed one armpit and frowned. Think I’ll shower and get some food.

  Gundy returned to his hotel room with two days’ worth of supplies and a map of Hendersonville. He’d bought a couple of frozen dinners, some sandwich meat and bread, donuts, coffee, beer, and cigarettes. Two days ought to be enough time to find Sammi, he figured.

  On a whim, he’d also bought a local newspaper. He spread it on the small table and flipped through it while he ate a donut and waited for the coffee to brew. On the last page of the A section, a small headline caught his eye: “Bicksby Woman Found in Shallow Grave.”

  Damn. How’d they find Brenda so fast? He thought he would have several days, maybe more, before anyone became suspicious and started looking for her. He read the short article and balled his hands into fists. They already got me as the main suspect. Damn damn damn.

  There was no picture, but there was a description of him: Five feet six inches tall, with brown hair and a short brown beard. This could be a problem. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the scratchy bristles of his whiskers and considering his next move. I’m going to have to do something about my appearance. After breakfast, I gotta find a drugstore or something.

  It was a twenty minute drive to the closest Walgreens. Now Gundy stood in front of the bathroom mirror of his hotel room, a pair of short scissors in his hand and a new razor on the sink. In the bag on the floor was a box of blond hair dye. He turned his head from side to side and stroked his chin. I’ve had this beard a long time. My scar is going to show real bad now. He touched the ugly line of light-colored skin that curled under his jaw. I can always cover this with some girlie makeup.

  He stared at his reflection for a long moment, took a deep breath and said, “Well, here goes,” and he put the scissors to his face and began snipping.

  * * *

  Sammi didn’t feel much like playing with the other kids at the Rivershire School when they went outside that morning. Instead, she sat at the picnic table with Mrs. Sikes and Mrs. Wallace and stared at her hands, twisted tightly together in her lap. The two women tried to cheer Sammi up, but Sammi didn’t feel like talking, either. After Sammi mumbled a few responses, they left her to her thoughts.

  In her mind, she pictured Mrs. Gundy lying in a grave, dirt covering her face and body. Poor Mrs. Gundy. She was so nice. Sammi imagined Mr. Gundy heaving shovelfuls of earth on top of her without any trace of remorse. What if she wasn’t dead yet?What if he buried her alive and she suffocated? He’s mean enough to do that. Poor, poor Mrs. Gundy. Sammi sniffed and tears began to fill her eyes. And it’s all because of me. It’s all my fault.

  She felt a light touch on her shoulder and she turned to see Leora standing next to her. “Why are you so sad, Sammi?”

  Sammi couldn’t speak. Mrs. Sikes answered for her, “We got some very sad news yesterday, Leora. We found out that Mrs. Gundy, Sammi’s former foster mother, has been killed.”

  “Oh!” Leora put her hand to her mouth and her eyebrows fell.

  “And we think that Mr. Gundy did it, and he may be somewhere in Hendersonville now, looking for Sammi.”

  Leora looked like she was about to cry, too. Mrs. Wallace said, “But we’re watching out for Sammi, and we’re not going to let anything happen to her.” She smiled reassuringly. “It’s not all bad news, though. Tonight, the Callahans have their last class, so tomorrow they can officially become Sammi’s foster parents. That is, if everything works out according to plan.”

  Leora’s face brightened slightly. “That will be good. It is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  Sammi nodded and turned her face back to her lap. “Won’t be any good if Mr. Gundy gets me.”

  “Why don’t you stay with me? My Ma and Pa will let you, I am sure.”

  “That’s kind of you to offer, Leora,” Mrs. Sikes said, “but Sammi will have to stay with the Callahans. She has to be there for unannounced home inspections by a county official, at first. It’s one of the conditions of the fostering agreement, I’m told.”

  “Oh.” Leora’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Is it all right if I sit with Sammi for a while?”

  “Don’t you want to play with the other kids?”

  “I’d rather stay here.”

  Mrs. Wallace said it was okay, and Leora sat on the bench next to Sammi and held her hand.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time Duane Gundy could begin his search for Sammi, and the first street on the list was Applewood Drive. When he reached it, he made a slow trip up and down its length, looking for any house that seemed promising, then parked the Camry on the side of the road at one end, lit a cigarette, and watched the cars drive past him.

  It was a perfect time to be there because people were coming home from work, and Gundy eyed each vehicle carefully as it went by, hoping to find Sammi in one of them. He had a hard time focusing, though, because his gaze kept being drawn to his startling reflection in the rear-view mirror.

  Damn, I look different. His hair was bleached almost white, and he’d cut it short on the sides and spiked it with styling gel. His face was bare and it still stung from several nicks from the razor. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he examined the results, his scar covered by makeup. Won’t nobody recognize me now, but this is gonna take some getting’ used to.

  A car slowed and pulled into the driveway across the street from where he was parked. The driver and his passenger, who must’ve been his wife, gave him suspicious looks as they stepped out and walked to their front door. A few minutes later, an older woman, wearing exercise clothes and carrying a bottle of water, came by on the sidewalk and stared at him as she passed.

  Think it’s time to move the car before somebody calls the cops. As he turned the key in the ignition, he yawned cavernously and felt a sudden wave of fatigue sweep over him. Man, I’m tired already and it ain’t even five thirty. I gotta get me some more of them black pills, fast. I need to find some tonight.

  * * *

  Fred was watching television in the living room that night when her parents came through the front door.

  “You’re home already?” Fred said, “It’s only eight o’clock.”

  Lisa dropped her purse on the coffee table. “Miss Francesco let us go early. We finished the class material and talked for a while, and she said we were done.” Lisa rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. “Finally.”

  “I think Miss Francesco’s worn out.” Larry shook his head slowly. “We all are.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Sammi?”

  “She’s in the bathtub. She just got in.”

  “Good.” Lisa rested her hands loosely on her hips. “Is there anything for dinner? I’m famished.”

  “I’ll get it. Mrs. Sikes made a big salad with all kinds of good stuff in it.” Fred stood and headed for the kitchen. “You guys just have a seat at the table and relax.”

  “Are you going to serve us?” Lisa said. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Nothing special. I know you’re tired.” Fred pulled the salad and the dressing from the refrigerator, grabbed a couple of bowls, serving tongs, and forks, and took them to the table. She set everything out as her parents took their seats, then Fred joined them. “So, how was your class?”

  Lisa shrugged and began filling her bowl. “We mostly just talked about Sammi and Mr. Gundy. Miss Francesco is really concerned about him, but she’s glad that Carl is our neighbor, ’cause he’s a cop, and she also likes the idea of all of us women having these Stupeyin’ pendants.” She tapped the small gold cross that hung around her neck.

  Larry took the tongs from Lisa and began s
erving himself some salad. “You should make a pendant for Miss Francesco, Fred. She has to go into some bad neighborhoods sometimes. It’ll make her safer.”

  “Oh, sure,” Fred said. “First chance I get. I’ve still got to put a hex on the permanent doorway at John Paul’s house, too.” She rubbed her lower lip with one finger while she regarded her parents. “Did, uh, Sammi say anything to you this morning?”

  “As a matter of fact, she did.” Lisa set her fork down beside her bowl and looked directly at Fred. “She told me she loved me. Me and Larry both. I almost cried. Did you put her up to that?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Been a long time since a little girl told me that.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, and I realized that I should probably say it more often, so...here goes: I love you, Mom and Dad.”

  “Wow,” Larry said flatly. “So heartfelt.” Then he forked some lettuce into his mouth.

  Lisa shot Larry a harsh look, then turned back to Fred. “We love you too, Fred.”

  “I guess that wasn’t exactly a Hallmark Card moment, was it?” Fred laughed weakly and then cleared her throat. “But...um, what I really wanted to say is that I think it’s just awesome what you and Dad are doing for Sammi, giving up your nights for the last two weeks, and taking her in to our family and everything. I know it’s a big hassle and it’ll probably be expensive, too.”

  “It’s not all that expensive,” Lisa said. “Social Services will give us money to help support Sammi, and Rachel and Adele and Evelyn have been buying her clothes, so it won’t be bad.”

  “Still, it’s a lot of work, and it’ll be a big change in your lifestyle. You were probably looking forward to having the house to yourselves when I go away to college.”

  “Actually,” Larry said, “I think it would be too quiet. We’re not used to that, and with Sammi here, things will still be lively.”

  “Really?” Fred said. “I’m surprised. But I’m glad to hear you say that.” She cleared her throat again. “But I still think it’s great that you’re doing all this for her, and, uh...I’m proud of you.”

  Lisa’s eyes grew wide and she laid her hand flat against her chest as if she were trying to keep her heart from flying out. “You? Proud of us?”

  “Yes, I am, and you don’t have to be so sarcastic.”

  “Hold on,” Larry said. “Can you wait here ’til I get the video camera? I’d like to document this. I don’t think anybody will believe me if I tell them you said it.”

  “Ha ha. Funny, Dad.” Fred frowned at him for a moment. “But it’s true. I think you guys are...I dunno...amazing, I guess.”

  Lisa wrinkled her brow. “But you always say that we’re dorks.”

  “Well, yeah, but you’re amazing dorks.”

  * * *

  It had taken Duane Gundy until almost midnight to locate the right place to buy the little black pills that he so desperately needed, and when he saw the dozen or so chopped and chromed Harleys lined up outside of a bar called Wild Riders, he knew he’d found it.

  The muffled music of David Allen Coe could be heard from a jukebox inside the rectangular concrete-block building. A handful of small round holes, bullet holes, Gundy figured, pocked the metal front door, and broken glass littered the ground near the street.

  Gundy stood in the parking lot with two men he’d met inside, one tall and burly, the other about Gundy’s size. Both of them had on jeans and black T-shirts, but the burly one wore heavy motorcycle boots, and the other sported expensive cowboy boots, with finely tooled designs in the leather and silver caps on the toes.

  They faced each other warily, sizing each other up, until Gundy finally said, “You got it?”

  The shorter man pulled a clear plastic bag from his pocket and offered it to Gundy while the big man looked on silently. The bag was full of little black pills. “Fifty for fifty,” said the shorter man with the expensive boots.

  “Fifty bucks?” Gundy scowled. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

  “Nope. That’s the deal.” Then he shrugged. “We don’t know you from Adam. Could be a cop, for all we know.”

  “Do I look like a damn cop to you?”

  “Look more like a fairy. What’s with the hair?”

  “Never mind.” Gundy clenched his jaw and eyed the pills in the bag. I gotta have ’em. I’m so tired right now I could sleep standin’ up. “Um...all right, what the hell. I’ll take ’em.” He slipped his wallet from his back pocket and withdrew two twenties and a ten from it. “They better be good.”

  “They are.” The shorter man gave a half-smile. He took the cash from Gundy, eyed it for a second and folded it into his money clip, then he and his companion turned and walked back toward the front door.

  Gundy took a black capsule from the bag, broke it open, and poured the contents into his palm, examining it closely by the glow of his Bic lighter. The grains of the white powder seemed too large. This don’t look normal. He put his fingertip to the little pile and then touched it to his tongue. This tastes like laundry detergent. “Hey!” he shouted. “This ain’t right. You’re tryin’ to rip me off.”

  He started after the two men, who had not yet reached the door. They spun to face him and the big man reached into the waist band of his pants and pulled out a pistol. He aimed it at Gundy’s chest and shook his head. “Wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

  Gundy raised his hands and took a step back. “That’s laundry detergent in them capsules, and you know it. I want my money back.”

  “Sorry, you’re too slow,” the shorter man said with a smirk. “A deal’s a deal. You bought ’em, they’re yours.” Then he grunted a laugh and the two of them turned away and went inside.

  Gundy stared at the bullet-riddled door after it closed behind them and ground his teeth. I’ll get my money back. You wait and see.

  He returned to his car and rummaged around in the trunk until he found what he needed among his selection of disguises: a wide-brimmed, Indiana Jones-style hat, and a blue Atlanta Braves jacket. It was too hot for a coat, but since it was baseball season, he wouldn’t attract attention by wearing it, and he needed to quickly change his appearance.

  He put on the jacket and pulled the hat low on his head, went back into the loud, smoky bar and headed straight for the bathroom. Once inside it, he locked himself in the only stall, removed the heavy ceramic lid from the toilet tank and held it in both hands while he waited, sitting on the edge of the commode.

  A few minutes later, someone came in and jiggled the stall door until Gundy said, “Somebody’s in here.”

  They left, and soon Gundy heard the click of heavy heels. He took a quick look under the stall and saw the expensive cowboy boots with the silver toe caps, but no other feet nearby. He’s alone. Perfect. Gundy eased the latch open and waited until the footsteps stopped in front of the urinal. He crept out and found the short man who had ripped him off, relieving himself, facing the wall with his back to Gundy.

  Gundy stepped toward him, both hands gripping the ceramic tank lid, and he swung it as hard as he could at the back of the man’s head. It smashed into his skull and he collapsed in a heap on the floor, while pieces of the lid fell around him. Gundy kicked him hard in the temple for good measure, then quickly locked the bathroom door.

  He stood over the inert body and sneered. “Who’s too slow now, Mr. Fancy Boots?” Gundy knelt and rummaged through the man’s pockets until he found his money clip. Gundy pulled it out and held it aloft as a prize. “Yeah, that’s right. You are.”

  Gundy shoved the cash into his coat and left quickly, keeping his chin tucked low until he was safely in his car, driving back to his hotel.

  Chapter 23

  Sammi sat on the couch the next morning, sandwiched between Mrs. Wallace and Mrs. Sikes, her little knees bouncing up and down and a thumbnail between her teeth. Jamie stood at the front window, watching the street.

  “Okay,” he said. “John Paul’s patrol car is pulling in the d
riveway now. Are you ready to go, Sammi?”

  She nodded but didn’t stand up. “Are you sure Mr. Gundy isn’t out there? I mean, really, really sure? What if he’s spying on the house from a secret spot?”

  “John Paul drove up and down the street twice. Gundy would’ve high-tailed it out of here if he were watching. He probably knows he’s wanted for murder by now, so he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near a cop.” Sammi poked her bottom lip out and lowered her eyebrows so far that she could barely see. Jamie sighed and said, “Do you want me to hide you behind my invisibility shield while we walk to the car?”

  “Yes, please.”

  John Paul came in, wearing his dark blue uniform, and had a steely look in his eyes. “I don’t think anybody is watching the house. It’s time to go, Sammi.”

  Sammi stood with Mrs. Sikes and Mrs. Wallace, and her legs suddenly felt week and her stomach squirmed like it was full of eels.

  Mrs. Wallace handed Sammi her backpack and said, “It’s got your colored markers and some books, and I put some cookies in it in case you get hungry.”

  Sammi could only manage another nod.

  “Good luck, Sammi,” Mrs. Sikes said, and she and Mrs. Wallace hugged her together. “We’ll be thinking about you while we’re at the school.”

  Sammi squeezed them back, unwilling to let go, until John Paul finally opened the door and said, “We really should be going.”

  Sammi pulled away and tucked her lips firmly into her mouth to keep them from quivering. She felt jittery all over, like she might vibrate apart, with bits and pieces of her frightened self falling to the floor.

  “Sammi, walk right next to me so my shield will cover both of us,” Jamie said. She stood beside him and he held out his hands.

  The air shimmered briefly and Sammi said, “Is it working? I can still see everybody.”

  “It’s working perfectly,” Mrs. Sikes said and walked with Sammi to the door. “You’re completely invisible.”

  John Paul went outside with Sammi and Jamie to the patrol car while the two women waited on the stoop. John Paul held the back door open and Sammi slid inside and slumped low in the seat while Jamie stayed on the driveway, still hidden behind his shield. Jamie said in a low voice, “Remember, Sammi, if Mr. Gundy or any stranger tries to snatch you, use your stupefyin’ charm and run to a phone and call me. I’ll be at work. Do you remember my cell number?”