Things usually fared better with a boost of some kind. He reached across the table and took her hand. “Thank you. You look beautiful this morning.”
She didn’t look up from her plate. “Liar,” she said.
He laughed. “True, but never about you. You know that.” But her mouth did look pinched, formed by years of smoking before she finally quit a few years back. She had always had a hungry look, even back in college when he had wooed her. Like she was always on the lookout for something more. Whatever it was, he had never been able to completely provide. But they never talked about that. Ever.
Their sexual games were the closest thing to happiness they had found together. It had started back when they were both still young and beautiful. They had been in a five star restaurant in Dallas. Dell had noticed Viv giving the eye to the young maitre de. After dinner, Dell sat with a Remy Martin and espresso, waiting for her to return from the bathroom. He realized that she’d been gone nearly twenty minutes and grew concerned.
He knocked at the women’s room, even stuck his head in, but got no answer. He headed into the men’s room and was stunned to hear Viv and a man, moaning with pleasure. The sounds led him to the corner handicapped stall. Quietly, Dell went into the stall next to it and stood on the toilet, looking over the metal wall.
Vivian was leaned back against the wall while the maitre de was screwing her with an abandon that immediately turned Dell on. He had never seen Viv so alive and could not take his eyes away.
Then she had suddenly glanced up and caught him watching. Breathless, she nudged the maitre de and pointed Dell out.
The maitre de looked back over his shoulder at Dell. “Join us.”
Viv laughed. “The more the merrier.”
Dell had shocked himself by doing just that. It was the first time he’d been with a bisexual. His and Viv’s heat seemed to roll over Dell, and it turned into the most erotic experience of his life.
A far cry from this morning, as they ate in silence like old people. It was good to have the television distracting them.
“The rising young rodeo star remains in critical condition at Baptist Hospital in Oklahoma City,” the local anchor was reporting. Then her father came on and thanked everybody for their prayers and support.
“That’s that poor girl we saw on the ten o’clock news,” Del commented.
Vivian looked up but couldn’t make the connection. “I don’t remember,” she said.
“Police are now looking for a couple,” the reporter continued. “The man is described as white with dark hair, and the woman, also white, possibly with an unusual hair color. If anyone has any knowledge of their whereabouts…”
His voice faded away as Del stared at Vivian. “Jesus. It was them.”
“Who?”
“The couple they’re looking for. On t.v. They were the ones last night.”
Vivian still shook her head, not understanding his point.
“We probably should report them,” Del said.
A moment passed as Vivian studied him in astonishment.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she said, and took a big bite out of her omelet.
Chapter 64
Buck had lost all sense of how long they’d been driving. They had kept him in the hood and made him scoot down in the seat low enough so his head could not be seen. He heard city sounds fade away after what he guessed was fifteen minutes, and then they were gliding down a highway.
“You can take it off now,” Twigs said.
As Meatface pulled the rasty material away from his face, Buck took in a big breath of fresh air. He looked around immediately to gauge where they might be and recognized a familiar old railroad bridge that was about 15 miles west of Oklahoma City on Highway 152. It hadn’t been used for years, but the highway had built its bridge parallel to it, so he at least had his bearings. It would take forever for him to get back to the city on foot.
Twigs looked at him with mock pity. “Man, you look like shit. Be sure and get some triple antibiotic ointment for that finger now. That stuff really does promote healing.”
Beside him, Meatface turned toward him and did an imitation of Marlon Brando’s Godfather voice. “Fix up my boy for me…”
“Fuck you,” Buck slurred.
Meatface continued in the same raspy voice. “Do this so his mother can kiss him goodbye.” Then he slipped into giggles.
Jorge glanced at them through the rear view mirror. “Let us just kill him for you and be done with it.”
Twigs smiled and patted Jorge’s thigh. “Oh, that’s so romantic. But the boss was very specific.”
Meatface segued into Schwarzenegger. “He’ll be back.”
Twigs ignored Meatface as she continued. “The boss knows a pathetic gambling hump like this is always good for more money down the line.” She pointed to the shoulder. “Pull over here.”
The SUV stopped. They were going to toss him to the side of the road like some poor stray dog. But maybe not kill him.
Twigs nodded to Jorge. “Keep it running.” She turned around and reached one of her long arms to pat Buck’s knee. She nodded to Meatface, who cut the nylon flex bracelet binding Buck’s hands.
“This is goodbye, Mr. Dearmore. Now listen carefully, very carefully, to these parting words.”
When Buck didn’t respond, she continued, irritation in her voice. “This is the part where you show me you’re listening.”
Buck nodded.
“You ever tell anyone about our little party, even your family, even your simpleton cousin in Bumfuck—my boys here will disappear you. You understand? They will never find all your body parts.”
Meatface jumped in, pantomiming a chainsaw and mimicking the sounds of a motor. “Scarface, rrrum. Rrrrum.” Then he exploded into laughter as he reached over, opened Buck’s door and pushed him out of the SUV.
Buck broke his fall with his hands as he hit the gravel, causing a hot flash of pain up his right hand, where the bloody bandage around his missing pinkie was unraveling. He lay there for several moments, listening to the fading sound of the SUV’s motor as it drove away.
When he opened his eyes, the brightness was blinding. He closed them again, then slowly opened them a bit at a time to acclimate himself to the climbing sun.
He rolled over to his side, holding himself with his arms. The tension that had tightened every part of him for the past sixteen hours gave way to trembling.
A grassy field unfolded in front of his swollen eyes. It was the most brilliant green he’d ever seen. Then the earthy sweet smell of alfalfa swept through his aching senses.
It drifted him back to his childhood, when as a spindly, too tall 7-year-old, he would lie on his back, hiding in one of the hayfields near his house. The distant hum of combines would play in the background, the warm breeze tickling his sun-lightened hair. It took nothing from him, demanded nothing of him. Instead it reached out to caress him, luring him into its soft amber glow.
That comfort had never felt farther away than now. Salty tears rolled down his face as he burrowed against the ground and let the brick-red earth wrap its cool tentacles around him.
Chapter 65
Angie sat in her BMW at Stars and Stripes Park, at a point on Lake Hefner which overlooked the water. She couldn’t think of anywhere else to go after completing the funeral arrangements. The sound of water lapping on shore, the glide of sailboats on the lake, often calmed her when she felt lost. But now she just stared blankly at the lake.
The sun was arcing into the sky, and seagulls, hoping for day-old bread, hovered over the shore. Their cries finally caught her attention, and she looked around inside her car, wondering if she had anything to feed them. Her eye caught on a package of pecans she’d bought from somebody selling outside the supermarket for some kind of non-profit. Angie grabbed it and got out.
The air felt fresh against her face. The ripe smell of water and dead fish hit her nostrils as she walked closer to water’s edge. The gulls, sensing
her presence, swarmed around her. Before she could even open the package, they began to squawk with unabashed greed. When she finally tossed a handful of pecans into the air, the birds dive-bombed, scrapping over each priceless piece. She threw more nuts straight up into the air and smiled at the noisy, hungry dance of wings.
When she’d been sad as a small child once, her grandmother had said, “Angelina, when you feel blue, you know what you do?”
Little Angie had shaken her head. “No, Gram, what?”
“You feed the ducks.”
“How come?”
“Just do it, baby girl. You’ll figure out why.”
Angie often felt the gulf between that little girl and what she had become, but her grandmother’s admonition had never left her. When you feel blue, go feed the ducks.
And sure enough, there the ducks came, waddling her way, angling for their share. Nearby, a little boy ran toward them, his mother walking behind him and watching with a smile. He giggled as he tossed them pieces of bread.
At the end of the pecans, Angie stared at the gulls as they flew en masse to a fishing boat just offshore. Behind it, a regatta had begun at the other side of the lake. Life was going on all around her, even though hers felt as if it was grinding to a halt.
Angie jumped at the sound of her cell phone ringing.
The screen announced an unknown number but in her area code. Hesitantly, she answered.
“Angie?” The voice on the other end was raspy, exhausted, but she knew who it was.
She sucked in her breath. “Is that you?”
“I’m in trouble.” His voice sounded hollow.
“Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m hurt,” he said. It sounded like he was sniffling.
“Just tell me where you are,” Angie said, safety thrown aside. He gave her the location of an old rest area on 152 west.
“That’ll take me less than a half hour.” He didn’t respond. “Just hang on. I’m on my way.”
She jumped in the BMW and started the engine. A gaggle of geese were heading toward the car. She took a last glance out over the water, and an odd thought jumped into her mind. You’ll never see this lake again.
It was so out of the blue that she smiled and shook it off. She rushed away to pick up Buck.
Chapter 66
Buck sat slumped on the hard bench with his head lying on the cement picnic table, too bone tired to sit up, but too scared to drift off. It had taken forever to trudge from the edge of the alfalfa field into this roadside rest area.
Amazingly, he still had his keys and wallet intact, thanks to Twigs.
Jorge had lifted it and was slipping it in his pocket when she glowered at him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“He got no use for it,” Jorge had shot back.
“Put it back. You want to get caught with it?” She had shaken her head in disgust. “Unbelievable.”
Even though Jorge had slipped out the bills before complying, Buck had the wallet’s contents and even found enough change in his pocket for the public land line by the vending machines.
A glimpse of himself in the glass window of a candy machine had frightened him, however. He had no idea how bad he looked. Anybody seeing him would run away in horror.
One eye was swollen and difficult to see out of. His face was covered with dried blood from the beatings he’d taken. He had cuts on his face and a split lip.
That was why, even though it was extremely reckless, he had called Angie on her cell phone. He didn’t dare stay out here and risk exposure. A couple of truckers had already given him the once over.
“You see that guy?” one of them had said.
“Yeah, pitiful,” the other had answered.
God only knew if one of them had already called in to report an injured man at a rest stop, or, given his filthy, bloodied clothes, a derelict.
He had steeled himself but hearing Angie’s voice still made him break down. He had been mortified to choke up so he could barely talk. But she had sounded so relieved, even grateful, to hear from him.
And she was on her way. It was the first moment of hope or warmth he’d felt since Meatface had jumped him from the back of the Mustang.
Buck had lost his watch somewhere along the way—probably on Meatface’s or Jorge’s wrist—and had no concept of time. When he sensed about twenty minutes might have passed, he raised his head to check out the cars on the highway.
Finally, Buck spotted her silver BMW. He squinted and could just make her out behind the wheel. She turned and looked toward the rest area.
Only moments away now. It was going to be okay. He put his head back down on the table and waited.
For the first time, he wondered about his Mustang. Meatface had probably just left it in the alley. It had still been running though. At least Buck couldn’t remember turning it off. The cops had probably seen it and sent a tow truck. That was fine. It would serve to show where he had been mugged and robbed.
He would be able to relax as soon as he could get in Angie’s car. Together, they could attend to the loose ends and find their way out of this.
Buck could hear the car motor’s hum as it pulled into the area. He pushed himself up from the rest stop tabletop, willing his stiff knees to make it a few more steps.
Hoping his appearance wouldn’t scare her too much, he managed to stand and finally look up at the slowing car.
It wasn’t the BMW.
Instead, a dark sedan pulled up right next to him. It began to flash red and blue lights.
The driver’s door opened and a Highway Patrolman emerged. The officer pulled on his cap as he exited the vehicle.
Buck froze as the officer approached him.
Just behind the unmarked, Angie’s BMW rolled into the rest area. It slowed at the cruiser’s flashing lights.
When the BMW crawled past the patrol car, Angie turned and looked right at him. Their eyes met and locked for a helpless moment.
Then the BMW pulled back onto the highway.
Buck lowered his eyes so the officer wouldn’t notice he was staring at somebody behind him.
The patrolman seemed friendly enough, but walked cautiously toward him, as though approaching an uncertain element.
“Everything alright here, sir?”
Chapter 67
Angie slammed her fists on the steering wheel as she merged back into the highway traffic. Her heart was pounding with the close call, not to mention her shock at Buck’s appearance. Someone had beaten the hell out of him.
Rather than having the events of the night cleared up, things had gotten more confused than ever.
Her cell phone chirped. Its ring startled her so that she yanked the steering wheel, causing the BMW to zigzag out of the lane. In a panic, she corrected the car’s course and pulled off the road and stopped. She looked down at the readout on the phone’s screen. It was an unknown number.
Angie debated whether to answer, then finally did. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Wesner? James Edgars, Homicide,” the voice on the other end said.
Angie dropped her head, annoyed now that she had picked up. She struggled to sound normal. “Yes, I remember. Any news about my husband?”
“We need to talk with you about that,” Edgars said, sounding noncommital, neutral.
“Sure, fine,” Angie answered.
“If you could come downtown that would be very helpful.”
“When?”
“Now?”
As shook up as Angie was, she could see no benefit in putting it off. She could pull herself together by the time she got there. Maybe they could explain what was happening with Buck.
“I’m out in my car now. I’ll head that way,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am. We do appreciate that.”
Angie hung up and slumped over the steering wheel. The main thing was not to panic. They had barely talked to her this morning inside the bank. They probably were still needing bare bones information: money, legal
documents.
Angie hadn’t thought of smoking a cigarette in years, but she would have killed for one right then. She took in a few deep breaths. She leaned back against the headrest and blew out a long breath.
She watched the cars passing by her. With a start, she saw the same unmarked cruiser speed past her. She thought she could make out Buck’s head in the back seat.
A creeping sense of danger left her unhinged. A part of her considered running right then. But Buck was up there being hauled in by a patrolman. She couldn’t desert him now. If her love meant anything at all, she had to stick with him. Squaring her shoulders, Angie started the engine and pulled out into the stream of traffic.
Chapter 68
Horse and Edgars sat waiting outside the new M.E.’s office, hoping her preliminary report would steer them in a productive direction. When she hurried in, Sarah, the Vietnamese rookie examiner, was breathing heavily and removing a disposable pale blue dust mask from her mouth.
“Sorry I’m late, Gentlemen. Big day for delays.” The detectives followed her as she motioned them in, but they didn’t sit. Sarah turned back around from discarding her paper mask and was surprised to see them still on their feet.
Grinning, she motioned them into chairs. “Please, sit down. Honestly, I’m not used to such good manners.”
“Thanks for moving ahead so quick,” Edgars said with a warm smile. He was a sucker for porcelain skin and sculptured jawbones.
“Coffee?” Sarah asked, pouring herself a cup from a side area. The detectives nodded, and she poured two more.
Once they were set up, Horse leaned forward. “So, what’ve we got?”
Sarah shuffled through some folders on her desk, opened one and placed it beside her autopsy report. “Crime Scene did a rush as well. Wesner must be some mover and shaker to rate this kind of attention.”
“He’s an old time patriarch,” Horse explained. “Cattlemen’s Bank has done plenty over the years to promote Stockyards City. There’s plenty of buildings and parks with the name Wesner displayed in big letters.”
Here Comes the Night Page 12