by Unknown
Watching him now chewing away on a large ham bone Brody had picked up from Harold’s together with a large bag of kibble, Brutus owned the couch and the entire atmosphere around him. Brody walked across the living room and down the hallway to Wayne’s bedroom door.
“Wayne.” He knocked softly.
“Yeah, I’m awake, come in.”
Brody pushed the door open and was pleased to see his friend fairly dressed this evening, at least wearing a shirt and sweatpants to hide his birthday suit, his otherwise preferred outfit, on the bed, watching another Dirty Harry film.
“Can you fix my printer? I need to print something out.”
“And it can’t wait for morning?” Wayne looked questionably at his friend then returned to eating another handful of popcorn from the bowl next to him on the bedspread.
“Sorry, no it can’t.”
“May I ask why?”
“Can’t you just do what I tell you without questioning everything?”
“Oh, so is that how it’s going to be here? You bossing me around?”
“Just do it.”
“Why?”
“Fine.” Brody pulled his large hand through his hair in irritation. He hated to tell anyone that he might be curious of where Sunshine was, and see if Brutus could help aid his problem. “I want to print out a photo of James Hemmerson, that’s all.”
“The dude who escaped from prison whom you still haven’t found? That guy?”
“Everyone has to beat it in, don’t they?”
“I’ll take the opportunity if I can, yes. Police Chief Jensen, unable to—”
“Knock it off!”
“Fine, I’ll set up your printer. But only if you do something for me.”
“And what would that be?”
“Introduce me to Melanie Orchard.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. And also, she’s gay.”
“I bet I can turn that around.”
“I think you can’t.”
“Maybe I can ask to be part of her and her special someone’s escapades. Just look, for all I care.”
“First, you’re an idiot. Second, I’m glad you’re back to being your idiot self. I’ll let the doctors know, and maybe you can find yourself your own place.”
“Kicking me out?”
“No, just fix my stupid printer!”
“Jeez, police. I will.”
Wayne tossed himself off the bed and threw the remote back on his pillow. “You sleep like a princess, with all that softness around you,” Brody teased.
“Hey, I didn’t buy it. You did. Who’s really the princess here?”
Brody followed Wayne down the hallway and into the office Brody had set up for himself in what used to be his parents’ dining room and which was still covered in the beige wallpaper with dainty red roses his mother had adored, with a dining room table moved against the back wall, eight chairs neatly stacked alongside of it. Wayne sat down in the rolling desk chair and moved himself between the desktop and the printer at the side, correcting the settings, and waited for the photo Brody wanted from the machine.
“Why is that bothering you?” Wayne said, interrupting his thoughts.
“What is?”
“Um, you readjusting the mouse and mouse pad every time I roll over here.” Wayne pointed at the printer spitting out ink across the white background.
“I just need things to be a certain way. My way.”
“Your way.”
“My house, my rules.”
“You can’t control everything, Brody.”
“It’s my job to control things. People. The city. The law.”
“So maybe do that instead of giving a shit about how I move the mouse.”
Brody swallowed hard and crossed his large arms over his chest waiting for the finishing product the machine was creating. Wayne and Brody both watched the rugged, mischievous face of James Hemmerson being expelled onto the desk, but neither of them picked it up.
“It looks like he’s smiling,” said Wayne solemnly. “It gives me the creeps.”
“Yep,” Brody answered, looking at the man on the photo.
“Why would he smile getting his mug shot taken?”
“He was pleased he was caught. He’d fulfilled his wish, prison would become his retirement.”
“What did he do, really?”
“Raped three girls for months, two escaped.”
Wayne swallowed and looked up at Brody. “And the third?”
“The third . . .” Brody chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Dismantled in a slaughterhouse next to pork chops. Her feet on the chopping board, her head in the deep freezer. Nothing else was found.”
Wayne said nothing and leaned forward, looking down between his legs.
“He’d painted her toenails after the feet were dismantled.”
Wayne’s vomit hit the floor in force and splattered the legs of the desk and his bare feet.
“I’ll get you something,” Brody mumbled and walked out of the room, rustling through the bathroom cabinet for a towel.
Wayne was on the floor, shirtless, cleaning up the eruption of internal fluids with his T-shirt when Brody came back to the office.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and accepted the towel from Brody’s hand.
“Go take a shower. I’ll clean this up.”
“No, no. It’s my vomit. With your job, I’m surprised there aren’t pools of your vomit everywhere. Things you’ve seen, people you’ve had to meet.”
“Your job was the same.”
“No,” Wayne answered, and sat back on his knees. “I saved people’s lives, you see everything beyond that.”
“The world is cruel, but it’s my job to not let it get close to Gass County.”
Chapter Twenty
The wooden floor of the office smelled of orange Murphy Oil. It had been scrubbed thoroughly and multiple times, until the vomit that had recently splattered the floor and the chair was nothing but a bad dream, vanished in the scent of fruit.
“Brutus,” Brody had ordered the dog on the couch, the canine having a hard time detaching his attention from the ham bone. “I want to show you something.” Brody sat himself down on the living room table and waited for the dog to turn his head.
“You know you’re speaking to a dog, right?”
“Thanks for clearing that up, Wayne, at first I thought he was you: more hair but just as interested in meat.”
“You’re damn right about that. Orchard meat, preferably.”
“If you can’t shut up, then leave the room.”
Wayne held the towel around his waist shut and sat bare-chested down on the armrest of one of the chairs next to the table.
“Brutus,” Brody repeated. “Sausage, bacon!”
Brutus’s sneezed and for a short time stopped the tedious cleaning of the bone under his paws. “Brutus, who is this?”
The sound of the large bone hitting the floor, a minor noise in comparison to the vicious roar leaving Brutus’s throat as he launched himself across the opening between the living room furniture, biting the printed photo out of Brody’s hand, tearing it to nothing but sloppy paper strips of black and white.
“Fucking goddamn shit.” Brody stared at the mess on the floor.
“Damn, are you okay?”
“No, I’m not!” Brody roared and stood in haste, gripping strand of his hair in both hands. “Do you understand what that means?” he growled.
“That I should print out a new paper?”
“Dumbass,” Brody sighed in defeat and slapped Wayne’s bare shoulder. “It means Brutus knows who that is.”
“And that’s not good?”
“Who’s Brutus’s owner?”
“Um, Sunshine.”
Brody sighed and stared at his friend, watching Wayne’s eyes trail between the furious dog on the floor eating the paper strips and back to Brody.
“Get their faster,” Brody commanded and slapped Wayne again. “Why do you think Sunshine hasn�
��t come home? Why was Brutus left outside in the cage? Why is Brutus furious with the photo?”
“Um . . .”
“Because . . .” Brody urged, rotating his hand in the air, forcing Wayne’s mental wheel to spin faster.
“Hemmerson has Sunshine!”
Chapter Twenty-One
James Hemmerson inhaled the last of many cigarettes, crumbled the empty white carton still wrapped in plastic, and tossed it carelessly out the car window.
“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” He watched Sunshine from the side, studying her profile. Instinctively Sunshine steered her face away from his ogling eyes and focused on a spot at the horizon, pushing the gas pedal down in hopes of finding a place along the road less deserted.
“I don’t care for quiet ones. Maybe a reason why I take more, hopeful at least one will be a mouther,” he snickered and hammered his hand on the plastic console between them.
Sunshine said nothing. She didn’t mean to agitate, she was just out of words. At a loss for what to do she released the pressure on the gas pedal and let the car roll to a stop at the side of the road. “I’m not sure I asked you to stop, sweetheart.” James stared ahead, using his fingernail to pick his teeth, spitting on the floor between his legs.
“If you’re going to kill me, does it really matter if we go any further?
James swallowed and turned his gaze away from the road to look at her. “I like to prolong things: pleasure, pain, death.” He opened the door and stood outside, stretching his large body dressed in overused, faded jeans and a college T-shirt stating a Northern States Wolves favor.
“There is that moment of delight watching your body and mind erase an attempt of resistance just before accepting defeat. I want that moment to be mine.” He pulled the door open on her side and with force pulled her against himself before the handcuffs cut into her soft skin, giving a reminder she was still attached to the steering wheel.
He reeked of old sweat, the shirt damp around his neck and under his armpits. “Where did you get that shirt?” she heard herself say.
“As you well know, miss, I have been on the run long enough to have had a few . . . adventures, should we say.” He grabbed the front of her shirt and tugged her harder away from the car, the metal on the verge of breaking the skin around her wrists. “You see,” he whispered in her ear, “most people would scream soon. What is your breaking point?”
* * *
Brody walked the hallway of the police station, irritation and dread mixing in his mind. What to do, what to do? He didn’t have proof of his creative theory about Hemmerson, he had a dog’s opinion. But why else wouldn’t Sunshine be home? Why would she leave Brutus, whom she brought with her everywhere? Farmer Gert hadn’t seen her, nor had he seen her back at the trailer when Brody had asked him to check once more. Where else could she be? At the same time he didn’t know her well enough. Maybe she had just taken her car and driven off never to return and had left Brutus behind, but the more he contemplated that scenario, the more unlikely it seemed. Especially as she had thanked him for not giving her a criminal record with a steamy kiss outside the post office. She had seemed genuinely happy, and Farmer Gert had stated the very same.
“Hey, Bryce, you got a minute?” His cell phone was pressed to his ear as he left the police station and walked out to his cruiser parked on the side.
“What’s up? If you need help at an accident, you can just call the fire department instead of my personal phone, you know. I’m off duty.”
“I know, but this isn’t quite official, it’s more a personal matter.”
“Oh, now you got my attention. Is it the girl who kissed you outside the post office?”
“How do you know about that?”
“The entire town in buzzing with the rumor about the hippie girl grabbing the otherwise sour chief of police by the front of his shirt and demanding a kiss. Even heard you used tongue.”
“Oh for the love of Mike, can’t this town leave anything alone.”
“Not when it’s you, stone-face. I’m as surprised as anyone else there are feelings living inside the rock-hard body of yours.”
“I’m not talking about this with you. Let’s get to the reason behind my call.”
“Sure, fire away.”
“So,” Brody started, suddenly unsure of how to phrase his thoughts. “You know what, I don’t even know why I called. I’ll talk to you later.”
“No, no! You called for a reason, which is extremely rare, so you have to tell me now.” Bryce raised his voice.
Brody sighed and pinched the ridge of his nose. “Sunshine hasn’t been home, she doesn’t return her calls, her employer hasn’t seen her, she left her beloved dog outside, and when showing the dog a picture of a special person, he got furious and ate the printout. What should I make of that?”
“Um, seems like you really have a case here, to be honest. You don’t have to tell me twice. It’s obvious.”
“And it is . . .” Brody urged an answer out of Bryce.
“That the person on the photo is someone the dog hates, probably because he has either been hurt by that individual or his mom has. Sunshine, that is.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“Who was on the printout?”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I just wanted to hear your general theory. Excluding the chance of Sunshine having taken her own life or something else ridiculous. You being an EMT and all, you have more experience in that area than I do.”
“Brody,” said Bryce sternly in his ear. “Who was on the photo?”
“James Hemmerson.”
“Come pick me up.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sunshine was not the brightest person on earth but she sure as hell knew what Hemmerson’s intentions were. She only hoped he had already relieved himself of some aggression before heading her way, as awful as that wish might have seemed. But there was no chance she could ever defend herself against him; there had to be another way around it. Around him. She couldn’t jump him, a six-foot-four tree with at least hundred pounds weight on her and arms like the bags of flour she sometimes tried hauling. There had to be another way.
“At midnight you’ll stop by a house. I’ll tell you when to stop and I tell you what to do.” Hemmerson sat down in the car after having relieved himself in the ditch, with Sunshine cuffed to his wrist while he did so. Had she not needed to pee so badly, she would have much rather stayed in the car, attached to the steering wheel than to him.
“Stop being so quiet. Women are known for talking. Do so.”
“I . . . um . . . don’t know what to tell you?”
“Anything. Tell me about your mother. Your family. That’s always fun stuff.”
“No, that’s none of your business.”
“Aw, little girl, afraid I’ll get to know you before I kill you?” He reached over and stroked the side of her face. As she jerked away from his touch, the motion caused the steering wheel to follow and before she knew it, she had them both in the ditch. She looked over to Hemmerson, gauging his reaction.
“You’re dumber than I thought. Do you know what this will cost you? Do you?” He leaned over and yelled in her face, before he wiped the spit away from his mouth. His hand fell hard on her face and landed her in the hard plastic of the wheel.
“I thought we had a chance to have some fun, but then you have to go do something like this. Bitch, is what you are. Bitch!” he yelled from somewhere far away. Sunshine’s forehead lolled back and forth on the plastic, trying to gain some kind of awakened state.
Sunshine found herself on her back, staring up in a white ceiling. Her hands still linked by the hard metal of the handcuffs, her head resting on the seat of a car. Disoriented but awake she stared at the front seat of the car. Hemmerson’s arm rested like a heavy weight on the middle console of the vehicle, his head leaning on his large hand. Clearly asleep by the slow movement of his body as the car turned and jerked on the road. Sunshine’s eyes m
oved from Hemmerson to the driver’s seat. A stranger with dark hair driving the car, and in hope her heart sped up, thinking it was Brody who was driving. She focused on the rearview mirror and found herself staring into two green eyes and she gasped at the sudden connection.
“No, it is not you. It’s not you. It’s not you. Not you,” she repeated endlessly until she watched the driver’s hand appear between the seats, holding a baton high before it landed on her face. The world became stars and the evening turned into a darkness much different from the night itself.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bryce took a long gulp from his coffee mug and sighed deeply and leaned his head against the backseat of Brody’s cruiser. “Can I please move up to the passenger seat, Brody? You make me feel like a criminal.”
Brody sighed loudly and nodded his head at the passenger seat next to him. “Come let me out, oh hot officer,” Bryce teased from the back.
Brody stepped out and walked around the car and opened the passenger door on the opposite side. “Thanks, Stud Muffin.”
“If you keep this up, I’m putting you back there again.”
“Fine, just trying to make the best of what seems to be a tense situation for you. The only thing you seem capable of is breathing.”