Dead River

by Fredric M. Ham

  “I don’t want to hear it. Start calling.”

  43

  THE DULL BLACK SEDAN crept along the crumbling asphalt road. House trailers lined both sides, some appeared abandoned, others were tattered and faded but clearly inhabited. A chalk-white vintage trailer home with lime-green trim sat off by itself on the left side of the narrow road. The landscaping consisted mostly of knee-high weeds and grass, with two paths cutting through the overgrowth. One trampled trail led to a set of rickety wooden stairs positioned at the front door of the trailer, the other to a rusted and tottering swing set in the backyard.

  Gabriel checked his inside rearview mirror. No cars were behind him. Then he glanced out each side. On the left he spotted two children playing at the edge of the road in front of the lime-green trimmed trailer. A girl was pushing a smaller boy on a bicycle with training wheels. She threw her head back and laughed as she struggled through the tall grass, her long blond hair fanning out as she shook her head from side to side. The boy sat listlessly on the bike, gripping the handlebars with both hands as he was jostled about.

  Gabriel pulled down the bill of his ball cap until it hit his Ray-Bans. He continued down the road slowly. He was now alongside the two children. He glanced toward the boy. His eyes were hollow and dark. Gabriel then turned his attention to the girl. She smiled in his direction as he slowly rolled his car down the road.

  He felt a surging pillar of desire run through his body. The desire was as much a part of his life now as anything could be, the call from beyond piercing him, then vibrating inside like electricity. His head was spinning and his skin burned. A sinner, Gabriel thought, a blasphemous sinner! She must be saved!

  At the end of the road Gabriel turned his car around and headed back. The girl stopped pushing the bike, the smile had disappeared from her face. I’m the revealer of answers and the maker of change. The world must be rid of these sinners. God’s world must be saved!

  Gabriel was again beside the two children. He quickly glanced around. There was no one else in sight. He gave the horn a quick, sharp honk and leaned across the passenger seat, unlatching the door and pushing it open. The girl took a step backward and clutched the boy’s shoulders as he sat on the bike seat with his head down.

  “Have you seen a small dog running around here?” Gabriel asked, in a gentle, caring voice. The girl shook her head.

  He leaned closer and stared at the girl for a moment. “Will you help me look for him? He’s very scared.”

  A frown formed on the girl’s round face. She whisked her blond hair back over her shoulder.

  “I’ll give you five dollars if you help me. I have to find him. His name’s Skippy.”

  “Can I play with Skippy?” the girl asked slowly.

  “Sure.”

  The girl leaned over and whispered something into the boy’s ear then headed for the open car door. Gabriel smiled as she approached the car.

  44

  THE EARLY SATURDAY morning sky was sunny and humidity hung in the air. The first day of September offered no relief from the oppressive heat that had moved in early May and stayed for the summer.

  Adam sat in his study with the door shut. This man that called himself Gabriel had shattered his family’s world. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, slowly lowering his face until it rested on both his hands. He quietly thought with his eyes closed. Dawn wouldn’t be going back to FSU for the fall semester. She had bodyguards with her everywhere she went. He had to go back to work soon but wasn’t confident that he could do anything useful. Valerie had missed the first week of classes and was now being asked by the school principal to report back Monday morning. The security system was finally installed, and Detective Carillo was still at the house.

  This is maddening. Gabriel should die. He deserves to die. Adam massaged his temples and tried to imagine what this monster looked like, this freak of nature. No images came, only a storm of rage exploding inside his head.

  Goldman’s hotel had two power outages in the middle of the night from a violent thunderstorm that swept through central Florida. His alarm was an hour off, but it didn’t matter. His biological clock woke him at precisely six in the morning.

  After a short morning walk and a shower, Goldman ate breakfast in the hotel lobby restaurant. Fresh fruit, an assortment of granola muffins, coffee, and fresh-squeezed orange juice made up the continental breakfast. He finished and went back to his room. As he slid the magnetic card into the reader on the door he could hear his phone ringing. He rushed to the desk phone and picked it up. He noticed the red message light was blinking.

  “Goldman.”

  “This is Averly.”

  “You hit the phone number we need?”

  “No, but I got some bad news. It looks like our killer struck again.”

  “Shit. What happened?”

  “I just received a report that a nine-year-old girl, Tami Breckenridge, was abducted in the Orlando area yesterday evening. On the north side, in a trailer park. Actually a small town called Maitland.”

  “Orlando area … It could be him.”

  “I think it is. The m.o.’s the same.”

  “Go on.”

  “She was playing in her front yard with her four-year-old brother when a man pulled up in a car. A neighbor was supposed to be watching the kids while the mother worked. She heard a car horn honk. By the time she got out of her trailer, a man was driving off with the girl. She called the police immediately.”

  “Was the neighbor able to give a description of the abductor?”

  “Not really. She thought he had dark hair was all.”

  “What about the car? She get a license number?”

  “Nope. She wasn’t able to read the numbers, but she said the car looked like it was black.”

  “What about the girl’s brother, could he give any information?”

  “No, tough break there. The mother said the son is autistic. He won’t say a word.”

  “What about tire tracks, footprints?”

  “Nothing. It’s an old asphalt road.”

  “Shit. I agree, sounds like our man.”

  “We got word the media’s making this a big story on all of the networks. Most Wanted in America on USBC, that airs Monday evenings, will have a segment on the abduction of Tami Breckenridge.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “I’ve been on the phone since early this morning. I called you the first chance I got.”

  “What about the phone numbers? How many have been called?”

  “About forty yesterday, but that turned up nothing. No one answered at some of the numbers we called, so we will have to try those again.”

  “Get back on it this morning.”

  “Jesus Christ, I will, I will. It’s crazy down here right now.”

  “When’s the team from Most Wanted in America going to be here to do the story on the Breckenridge girl?”

  “I heard either this afternoon or tomorrow morning. We’re supposed to receive a call from them around noon today—”

  “Call me immediately.”

  “I will.”

  “You and I’ll get together before they arrive and go over some details. Then I’ll give them the information for their story.”

  “Okay,” Averly said slowly.

  “Have you talked to Wilkerson?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call him. I’m going to call Adam Riley, too. He needs to know what’s going on.”

  45

  DAVID Sikes’s SPECIAL DAY had finally come, that magical day for every teenager. He was old enough to get his driver’s license. Uncle Hollis had paid David and his mother an unexpected visit the afternoon of David’s sixteenth birthday. Clara’s younger brother was no good, at best a step above a vagrant. David knew his mother would have to badger Uncle Hollis to leave their house. Otherwise, he’d stay until the next coming.

  Later that night, when dinner was over, David helped his mother rin
se and stack the dishes while Hollis sat at the kitchen table. He poked between his teeth with a toothpick.

  “We’re having cake and ice cream when the dishes are rinsed, Uncle Hollis.”

  “I’m ready for that right now, Davy.”

  David spun around with a dish in his hand. “My name’s not Davy.”

  Hollis ignored David. “I’m sorta between jobs, sis.”

  David watched his mother turn from the kitchen sink and sneer at Hollis. “How long did you have your last one, Hollis?”

  “’Bout six months,” Hollis said proudly.

  “A whole six months. Where was that?”

  “In Pearl River County.”

  Clara turned back to the sink. “What’d you do there?”

  “I was a custodian at the Pearl River Community College in Poplarville. That’s home of the Blueberry Jubilee. Poplarville’s off Interstate 59, ’bout sixty miles north of New Orleans—”

  “I know where Poplarville is, Hollis. So where’re you headin’ for now?”

  “I’m thinkin’ ’bout goin’ to Yazoo City. Hear they’re hirin’ folks at that chemical company. I reckon I can get a job there.”

  “No wonder you stopped here in Magee. I guess you’ll be headin’ out tomorrow, huh, Hollis?”

  “Probably, sis.”

  “I’m sure you want to get to Yazoo City to get that job.”

  “I reckon.”

  The three sat at the table and ate their slivers of chocolate cake with chocolate icing. Clara also served a single scoop of vanilla ice cream. David’s birthday cake had no candles, but he didn’t care. He was going to get his license and someday soon buy a car. That was all that mattered.

  “So, Davy, you’re sixteen today,” Hollis mumbled with a mouthful of cake.

  David glared at his uncle. “Don’t call me Davy. My name’s David.”

  “Geez, relax. I always called you Davy when you was a little kid.”

  “Well, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  “You’re right ’bout that, David.”

  A lock of Hollis’s gray hair fell onto his forehead as he took a bite of cake. He quickly swept it back into place.

  “I’m going to get my driver’s license, Uncle Hollis,” David said. His own words sent chills of excitement through his entire body.

  “That’s right, you can get your license now.”

  David looked over at his mother. Her icy stare froze him mid-bite, a piece of cake resting on the fork. After a few seconds her eyes shifted toward Hollis. “David’s not getting a driver’s license until he’s eighteen.”

  “But, Mother—”

  Clara’s head snapped in David’s direction. “Don’t but me.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Hollis clammed up.

  David’s excitement quickly turned to something else, something dark and unexplainable. It welled up inside of him like a steam vessel, quickly pressurizing him to his limit.

  When the kitchen was clean, David followed his mother to the living room where she sat in the tattered floral-print wingback chair with tarnished hobnails. She picked up her Bible. David stood at her side and watched her open it to the book of Romans.

  “I’m going upstairs,” David said. “I got homework to do.”

  Clara nodded. “Don’t be readin’ those library books of yours instead.”

  “I won’t.”

  David wanted to take a bath before tackling his homework. The bathtub was finally full of steamy hot water. He slipped his boxer shorts off and stood completely nude in front of the bathtub. He braced himself with his left hand on the edge of the bathtub and tested the surface of the water with his right foot. It was hot, but not too hot.

  He began to lower his right leg into the tub. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and then closed. Startled, he retracted his leg from the water and quickly turned around. I forgot to lock the door.

  It was Uncle Hollis. David quickly snatched the towel he had placed on the edge of the lavatory and wrapped it around his waist.

  “What’s going on, Uncle Hollis?”

  David’s face was crimson, embarrassed that his uncle saw him bare-ass naked.

  “Nothing, Davy. Oh sorry, David. I just wanted to—ah—talk to you.”

  “We can talk after I do my homework.”

  “Oh no. We’re gonna talk now.” Hollis reached behind his back and locked the door. His eyes never left David.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You sure have grown into a man. David. Why don’t you drop that towel and let me see again how big a man you really are?”

  “What’re you talking about?” Then it finally hit him like ton of bricks: his uncle was a queer! What is this? What’s he going to do?

  Hollis walked swiftly toward David with his right arm extended. He grabbed the white cotton towel, jerked it from David’s waist, and then stared between the boy’s legs.

  “Boy, oh, boy. You sure are a big man.”

  Hollis then reached for David’s crotch. That was enough. David made a fist with his right hand, cocked it back, and unleashed a furious blow to the side of his uncle’s head. Hollis didn’t see it coming. He was still staring between David’s legs.

  David watched his uncle wobble, then he fired another blow, this time the target was the nose. Blood instantly gushed from Hollis’ nostrils. His legs finally buckled and he went to his knees. Finally he toppled over on his side, hitting the linoleum floor with a dull thud.

  David heard the bathroom door rattle. It’s Mother!

  “David, open this door now!”

  He was almost to the door. It rattled again. “What are you doing in there?” she screamed. “Open the door!”

  David twisted the lock and the wooden door flew open. He stood completely exposed. Hollis moaned behind him.

  Clara brushed by David. He turned and watched his mother head for her brother’s curled-up body on the black-and-white linoleum floor. She stood with her hands on her hips, then suddenly wheeled around. Hollis groaned. A pool of blood covered one of the white linoleum squares.

  “David, go to your room! Now!”

  He obeyed without question.

  Hollis Wanamaker was gone the next day when David left for school. David never saw him again, and his mother never mentioned her brother’s name. David wondered for many years if Uncle Hollis got that job at the chemical company, or if he even made it to Yazoo City.

  46

  SATURDAY MORNING AT ELEVEN the Rileys’ phone was ringing. It was decided that Dawn wouldn’t answer any calls, but she instinctively picked up in her bedroom.

  “Hello, this is a collect call from—Sara Ann,” the synthesized voice announced. “If you accept this call, please press one.”

  Dawn’s stomach knotted and the surging adrenaline made her skin feel like fire. She pressed one on the phone.

  “Is this Dawn?” the metallic voice asked. It was the same voice that said Sara Ann.

  “It is.”

  “Good. I want to talk to you. You know you can’t be protected all the time?”

  Dawn closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her throat.

  “God wants you to join Sara Ann. I’ve been told to do this, I must comply. It’s simply a matter of time. It could happen this month or next month. It could be anytime, anywhere. But it will happen.”

  Her temples throbbed, and she felt short of breath. But she knew she had to keep him on the phone. I have to say something. Detective Carillo was downstairs trying to trace the call. Say anything.

  “Why—why are you doing this? My sister never did anything to you.”

  “Your sister was a slut and deserved to die. And you do too. It’s all part of God’s plan.”

  “What plan? What are you talking about? You didn’t know my sister.”

  “Fuck your sister and you too. By the way, fuck Tami Breckenridge. In fact, I did before I strangled her. One less sinner. The world will someday be free of them.”

  Dawn dropped the
phone on the bed.

  “Dawn, are you there?” the distance voice resonated in the receiver. “Don’t you and the police want to know where Tami can be found? Hello? I’m going to hang up. You’ll have to figure it out on your own. Pick up the fucking phone!”

  Dawn grabbed the receiver and put it to her ear. “You’re sick. You are so sick.”

  “That’s only one person’s opinion,” the voice roared with laughter. There was a moment of silence. “Listen if you want to know where to find Tami,” he said softly.

  The man gave directions and then hung up.

  Adam rushed into the bedroom. Dawn was sitting on her bed, streams of tears flowing down her face. He gently took her into his arms and stroked her hair. He had stood outside her door the entire time she was on the phone, but couldn’t do anything. It was hard not to storm into the bedroom and take the phone from her. Then tell this crazy asshole he’d be getting his soon.

  Adam lifted his daughter’s face from his shoulder. “Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Detective Carillo traced the call.”

  They helped each other down the stairs and to the living room.

  “Did you get a trace?” Adam shouted, before they even entered the room.

  Once inside Adam saw the detective was on the phone. Carillo held up his hand. “No,” he said. “Hold on, I’m calling in the directions to find the missing girl.”

  Adam took Dawn in his arms again and held her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go.

  47

  GOLDMAN THOUGHT HE’D seen it all until the drive out to where the Breckenridge girl’s body was found. Averly drove his dark blue Crown Vic slowly down the back roads, but the car still rocked left then right as he tried to negotiate the large potholes that peppered the road. They were driving through a mire of soggy saw grass, a mosquito-infested swampland that went on forever.

  “Goddamn it, I just ate lunch,” Goldman groaned. “You’re about to have it on your dashboard,”

  “Not my fault,” Averly countered. “These aren’t even roads out here. They’re just a way to get to the water. Air-boaters and druggies are the only ones that come out here.”