Coming Home (Norris Lake Series)

  “Hey Victor! Come over here! “

  “What’s up, man?” Victor yelled back from his post leaning against Tim’s 1980 maroon Dodge Mirada.

  “You gotta come see for yourself, man. I can’t tell you what it is.”

  “You are so full of shit!” Victor said loudly leaning in through the open driver’s window grabbing a Budweiser from the brown paper bag on the front seat.

  With one hand he twisted the cap tossing it into the thick bushes. Victor walked across the hard brown dirt to the edge of the cliff which rose about forty feet above the water and boulders below that made up the north shoreline of Norris lake. It was a popular place for all the kids from the local high school to come and park and party.

  It was late summer and still plenty warm enough to swim, though no one was swimming tonight. There were about three or four cars parked across the point, most with steamed windows and low romantic music. He would have been in one of those cars tonight, if he and his girlfriend hadn’t broken up last week. But, no, instead he was here with his best friend Tim, drinking a few brews and waiting for the rest of their friends to show.

  He peered through the trees, looking for Tim. “Hey, where are you?” Victor called.

  A silent wind blew through the branches of the trees and splashed silver ripples against the rocks. A beer hanging loosely in one hand, he walked down a well-worn path to the caves that bored into the walls of the cliff.

  With the other hand, he steadied himself against the large trees which rose up in the middle of the path. “Jeez Tim, where’d you go now?” Victor said under his breath, the liquor making him stumble a bit. He wasn’t angry just annoyed. Tim was his best buddy, but still was one of those that would wander off without a thought to where he was going. Skidding down the last few feet of the path, he put one hand against the cliff wall and peered into the darkness. Even though the moon was full, the cave wasn’t letting any light enter or leave.

  “Boo”! Tim yelled jumping out of the cave.

  “Aaaugh” cried Victor stumbling backwards so hard that he sat down hard. ‘Shit, man. You asshole you made me spill my beer!”

  Tim laughed holding his stomach. “Boy, you should have seen your eyes. They were this big around,” Tim continued choking and wiping his eyes.

  ”Well that wasn’t funny man. You could have given me a heart attack or who knows, I could have hit you in self-defense,” Victor said trying to regain some of his masculine cool.

  “Come on man, I have something to show you,” Tim said holding one hand out to Victor to help him up and still chuckling.

  “Yeah, whatever, but let’s make it quick. I gotta go get another beer.” Victor said brushing the dirt off the butt of his shorts.

  Tim flicked his lighter and held it out in front of him. “Come on. It’s just a few feet in here.”

  Victor followed Tim just inside the mouth of the cave. Swinging the lighter out in front of him, Tim turned toward Victor and pointed towards a figure sitting against the wall.

  “Who is it?” Victor asked.

  “I got no idea. Looks like some vagrant or homeless guy. I thought it might be a lost hiker, but he smells like a bar and that’s a backpack he’s laying on,” Tim mused.

  “Yeah, well, he doesn’t look like he’s got anything I’d want,” Victor said. “Let’s get outta here. This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Wait. He was awake a minute ago and had some weed. I figured we could get him to party with us and trade him a beer,” Tim suggested as a burst of wind blew out the flame from the lighter.

  “Oh shit. Turn that damn thing back on,” Victor shouted. “I don’t want to get stuck in here.”

  Tim flicked the flame back on cupping it with one hand. With one toe he nudged the sleeping figure. “Hey buddy. Wake up.”

  “Mamma,” the figure groaned as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

  “You want to party man or what? We’ve got some beer in the car. “

  “Sure” the man said as he held on to the cave wall with one hand and pulled himself to his feet. Grabbing the backpack in one hand he followed the boys back to their car. Victor reached into the front seat of the car, pulled the cooler from the front seat and carried it to a nearby picnic table where the other two already sat.

  “What’s your name man? Tim asked the older man as reached for the Budweiser in Victor’s outstretched hand.

  “Cliff,” he said curtly reaching out to accept the beer. In the distance, the dull hum of a motor boat rumbled against the dark hills and lay as the undertone to the sound of rock and roll music.

  The group of teenagers sat around a fire talking and laughing. The soft odor of rotting fish and algae mixed with the taste of woodsmoke and autumn. The three sat and listened to the night talking quietly every now and then about Vietnam and football as the sweet thick smell of pot hung loosely weaving its fingers through the leaves and around the legs of the picnic table drifting out toward the lake with the growing mist.

  In the distance, the dull hum of a motor boat rumbled against the dark hills and lay as the undertone to the sound of rock and roll music. A group of teenagers sat around a fire talking and laughing. The soft odor of rotting fish and algae mixed with the taste of woodsmoke and autumn. The three sat and listened to the night talking quietly every now and then about Iraq and football as the sweet thick smell of pot hung loosely weaving its fingers through the leaves and around the legs of the picnic table drifting out toward the lake with the growing mist.

  A pair of headlights split the night pulling up toward the group of youngsters.

  “Shit, it’s the law. Wouldn’t you know it?” Tim tossed the beer bottle across the car and out into the woods.

  Sheriff O’Donnell stepped out of the driver’s side of the Bronco leaving his door open. Deputy Moore stepped out of the passenger side. Sheriff O’Donnell reached back into his truck for a moment signaling the dispatcher his location.

  “How are you kids doing?”

  Most of the kids just groaned and started towards their vehicles.

  “Man, what are you doing out here?” Victor said.

  “You got a problem with it, son?” Sheriff O’Donnell, replied.

  “Naw man, he doesn’t have a problem with it,” Tim said.

  “You boys are too young to be drinking. You know that. Leave it where it sits and go home.”

  He walked up to where Tim and Victor sat all the while eyeing Cliff. “You look a little too old to be hanging out with these kids. Got any identification?”

  Cliff sighed and putting his hands up palms forward. “Don’t shoot me Mr. Law. I’m reaching for my wallet.” He pulled a black wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to the sheriff.

  Without looking at the wallet, the sheriff handed it to his deputy. “Run the license. Let’s see who we are dealing with.” Deputy Moore walked back to the Bronco and began talking on the radio to the dispatcher.

  “Your name?”

  “Cliff.”

  “Full name and occupation?”

  “Clifford Harrison. No occupation right now. I am making my way back up to my parents place in Johnson City. I just stopped here for the night. I’ll be on my way in the morning.”

  “Previous occupation?” Sheriff O’Donnell said shining a flashlight in to the front seat of the Mirada.

  “You other kids go on home. Victor, Tim. That means you. No, just leave the beer. I’ll take care of the fire.” He turned back to the drifter.

  “Marine corp. most recently Afghanistan with 2nd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division. Before that I was a truck driver. I lost my ride when I went overseas. I just got back to Camp Lejune, N.C. a couple weeks ago after fighting the War on Terror.”

  “You some kind of Rambo?” Victor said.

  “Leave him alone sheriff. He was here asleep. I found him in the cave. I am the one who woke him up and asked him if he wanted to party with us. Cut him some slack.” Tim pleaded.

  “Shut up, T
im and don’t you even think about chiming in Victor. You two are already on my shit list. I can understand you kids out here partying, hell, I was young once too, but I’ve got to put my foot down on the drinking and driving. One of you foolish kids are going to get yourself killed on my watch and I don’t appreciate it.”

  “He’s clean,” Deputy Moore said walking back over and handed Cliff his wallet.

  “You two kids, get in your car and go on home.”

  “Cliff, where you staying the night?”

  “You offering me a cell?”

  “No, I am offering you a ride to a hotel, my treat.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Chief Warrant Officer Blackhawk pilot retired Virginia 2nd Battalion, 224th Aviation Regiment 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing. Good to meet a fellow marine.” Ben said holding out his hand.

  “Well, damn if that doesn’t beat all. We’ve got two war heroes, here.” Victor grinned.

  “Shut up boy.”

  “Come on, Cliff,” the sheriff said. “I’ll even spot you a meal and see what I can do to get you a ride home.”

  “I need to get my bag. I left it in the cave.”

  “Victor, get the man’s bag for him.”

  “Aw man, get it yourself. I don’t want to go back into that cave.”

  “Deputy Moore go with him so he’s not afraid.”

  “Suck yourself, man. I’m not afraid.”

  “One more word, boy and I am going to have a discussion with your mother.”

  “Asshole, just because you’re dating my mom doesn’t mean you can order me around.”

  “Yes it does. Now go get the man’s bag.”

  “I’ll go with you man, but you gotta go first,” Tim said. They walked away with Deputy Moore. “It’s a drag having your mom dating the sheriff, man.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The boys disappeared down the trail.

  “He’s not a bad kid, just a little wild. His dad died when he was a toddler.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff for the help.”

  “How was it over there?”

  I felt it was my duty to join and help out. I decided the Marine Corps was the best,” said Cliff. “I wanted the challenge.” I’ve been involved in two combat deployments in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. My last tour of duty was with 900+ other Marines patrolling a volatile area in Iraq known as the H-K Triangle, so named for its location near the insurgent strongholds in Husaybah and Karabilah. Many friends of mine died. I decided to get out after a massive explosion from a suicide car bomb. Two cars loaded with explosives blew. First one then the second barreling through the smoke of the first explosion. I ran up the road which was covered with shrapnel. Several buddies were dead including my Sergeant. I thought I was going to die when it blew up and threw me to the side of the road. I took shrapnel through the hip and shattered my pelvis. It took me months of rehabilitation to learn to walk again. What about you?

  “I was flying a Cobra that went down. I was hit several times. Once in the right knee, another time in my arm, and a final hit from the aircraft breaking up; a golf-ball size piece of shrapnel hit me and was imbedded in my neck. My co-pilot was also hit and was out unconscious during the landing. I managed to wrap my arm around the stick and control the helicopter enough to land it, but the aircraft exploded and drew the attention of the Afghanis. I lay in the wreckage left for dead by the enemy. My co-pilot was captured and murdered while trying to find help for me. The rescue team found him about a quarter mile from the wreck. After the same team found me, I was told by my doctors that I would never walk again. What did they know? I am up and walking. The only reminder is here. You can see the burn on my face has left me a vivid reminder of the crash.”

  “Simpre fi. We made it out.”

  “Yeah, man, God and country.”

  Just then they heard a pair of feet running towards them from the direction of the caves. Victor, breathing hard stopped waving at them.

  Ben turned towards him. “What is it boy?”

  “You gotta come see. There’s a body in the cave. Deputy Moore says to hurry.”

  Ben turned toward Cliff. “What do you know about this?”

  “Nothing sheriff, I swear.”

  “Okay, follow me and let’s go see what we have.” He pulled a flashlight off his belt and strode towards the cave.

  The next day, Ben stood once again with Brian, the medical examiner, looking at a dead body. The skeleton lay upright on the stainless steel table; an array of instruments arranged at the coroner’s side. The bright fluorescent lights beat down on the antiseptic room making the scrubbed linoleum floor shine like a mirror. “So who is it?”

  “I can’t tell you that. It’s a young woman most likely between the age of 15 and 20. I am guessing on the gender. Gender is difficult to determine in a skeleton this old.”

  “How long has the body been down there?”

  “About 20 plus years. If I had to guess, I would say she was about 5’7, with black hair and blue eyes.”

  “How can you be so specific?”

  “The body had on a silver ID bracelet. The name on the bracelet is Beth. My guess would be that we finally found Beth Kane.” He pulled off his rubber gloves and dropped them on the edge of the table. He walked over to a small silver tray and pulled out a manila envelope. Here it is.

  Ben tapped the envelope on his hand and out dropped a silver filigreed bracelet with a pretty heart cutout and delicate feminine links. The rectangle ID was engraved Beth in cursive. On the back of the bracelet it said Michael.

  He shook his head. Who was there to tell about the discovery of this young woman who was lost so long ago? Her mother dead, one brother disappeared, father in a vegetative state. There was only one answer, her surviving adopted brother, Stephen.

  “How did she die? Can you tell me that?”

  “She died of a blow to her head, I would guess. There was also a circular skull fracture that drove bone a short distance probably into the brain. One way or another she died of violent causes.”

  “I will go show this bracelet to Stephen. Let’s see if it’s her.”

  Chapter 33

  He sat in the semi-darkness of the local tavern, the Hitching Post. A glass of Bookers bourbon sat in front of him. The neon beer signs, the fried food, the pool tables and the pictures of local hunters were contrary to his normal surroundings.

  He longed for a piano bar, an expensive chardonnay and a well cooked meal. His tailored suit, white starched shirt, tie and obvious look of money marked him as an outsider. There wasn’t a person in the bar who wore a tie except him.

  He gestured to a tall bald man with a beard a mustache who worked behind the bar. The man walked out with a white towel in hand, “What do you need, sir?”

  “Another Bookers,” He waved the man to lean closer. “Point out Jimbo and Randy. There’s a C note in it for you.”

  “What do you want with those two losers?”

  “It’s personal.”

  “I’ll let you know when I see them come in, he said, pocketing the roll of money. I’ll be right back with the drink.”

  He sat nursing a drink waiting. Just waiting.

  After about an hour, the bartender, walked over to his table. “There’s one of them. That’s Randy. Jimbo’s not with him.”

  Dominic picked up his drink and walked over to where Randy and two others sat. “May I have a word with you, Randy?”

  Randy looked at the suited man as if he were the law. “What do you want? He snarled.”

  “Just a moment of your time. It will be worth your while if you will grant me a moment,” Dominic played the sniveling beggar.

  Dominic walked out on to the back porch of the A-frame toward the benches that stretched out over the black lake water. Randy followed him. Dominic took a seat at one of the picnic tables and gestured to Randy to sit opposite of him.

  “Tell me, Randy, what you know of a woman and a houseboat. Make it the truth and I will rewar
d you. I am sure you can tell, but I have money. If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll make your life very painful.” Dominic smiled sardonically.

  “Man, I don’t care if you have money or not. I don’t know nothing about a woman or a houseboat. Now, I am going to get up and leave. You stay the fuck away from me. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Randy,” he snarled, “you should be afraid, very afraid.”

  “Man you’re crazy.”

  “Randy,” Dominic said in a soft tone matching the sound of the lapping of the waves on the bank. Randy had to lean forward to hear the words. “You have no idea how right you are. I am crazy…crazy, mean, and rich. Listen carefully to my words. If you walk away, I will make you sorry you did. There will be no witnesses. I won’t necessarily be the one that does the deed but I assure you that in the end you will be dead, you and your family. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and trying vainly to protect those I love, from a crazy man.”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about,” Randy got up to leave. “You’re not the law. I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “You’re right. I’m not the law. That’s a point you should consider carefully.”

  “I’m out of here, man.”

  Dominic stood up and blocked his way. He leaned in close and whispered in Randy’s ear. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and pulled him close, cheek to ear, I know exactly what I am talking about. “ I won’t kill you. Instead I will find your family and make them pay for your mistake. You will watch your wife, your parents and your children suffer if you don’t tell me what I want to know. My wife is in the hospital and I don’t care about my own life. I don’t care about the law. I have a personal attorney on retainer and grew up on the streets. I’ve been in jail and even if they were to convict me of killing you, it’s not important. What’s important is finding who hurt my wife and my unborn child. Do you understand me? If you help me your family will live. If you don’t, well, I’ve made that pretty clear. It is that simple.” Randy looked into Dominic’s dead eyes and suddenly understood. He knew that if he didn’t cooperate, Dominic would make death look like the easy way out.