The door to the garage bays was both obvious, and unlocked. He went as quickly as he dared in a strange shop building using a flashlight. He didn’t move tactically, checking corners as he went. Kelton opted for speed, wanting to be on his way quickly in case it was bait.
There was quite a bit of stuff between the two bays, but even with the small light the scuff marks in the dust on the floor indicated which had been frequently dragged aside. Rebel apparently wasn’t much into housekeeping. Kelton muscled it aside easily enough, found and opened the hatch.
He shone the light downward and called in a normal tone, “Is anyone down there?”
Kelton heard a cough and then a croaking, “Please help me!”
He sprang down the ladder where Baylee Ann was trapped, still sprawled across the desktop. He examined the screws and bracket, and bounded back up to search the garage for tools. She cried out again imploring him not to leave her, but he was back to her side in under a minute. Moments later she was freed, crying and trying to dress in torn clothes with aching and cramping muscles. He removed his earmuffs and pulled up the dialer on his phone.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Ambulance needed, 643 Lowland Road. Injuries are non-life threatening, but require medical attention.”
A flurry of other questions came, but he put the phone in his left breast pocket.
“Can you climb out?” he asked.
She gave a nod that she would try. He stood beneath, pushing gently under her feet as she made her way up the ladder and crawled upon her belly on to the garage floor.
“Is there anyone else here?”
She shook her head side to side, making a grasping motion at her throat as she mouthed “no.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said grabbing her wrist and leading her back to the office. Glass cracked under their feet, but she had biker boots. He opened the front door so she wouldn’t have to climb over the window. Azrael lifted his head where he stood sentry.
“Come on, up to the road,” and then toward his dog, “Hier!”
The three of them made it up the gravel driveway, and Kelton removed doggles and muffs. Looking north, the sky was black, without the telltale flashing lights of approaching emergency vehicles.
“Just sit here by the mailbox. Help will be here soon. Do you want some water?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be right back. Just got to go get my pack. Azrael, find it!”
He was back within a couple of minutes and helped her work the CamelBak. She was clearly dehydrated, overdrank and doubled-over coughing. Kelton tried patting her back in a steady rhythm, so she could synchronize her clearing efforts, but she flinched away. Baylee Ann closed her eyes and sat back against the mailbox post. He let her rest and scanned up the road again.
“I see red flashing lights. That must be the St. Albans’ squad,” he turned toward her to see that she had heard.
She opened her eyes, but stayed curled up on the ground with her chin on her knees and arms about her shins.
“I probably don’t need help and they won’t want to waste their time on me anyway. And I don’t have no money no how.”
“I’m going to provide the help you need,” he promised.
Kelton removed his flashlight from its belt carrier and gave a few flashes across the pavement as they approached, being careful not to aim it directly at the windshield and blind the driver. The ambulance pulled up alongside them and the backdoors opened. A man and a woman, adorned in one-piece jumpsuits with rescue patches on their shoulders, wheeled over a gurney and collapsed it to the road’s surface. An older man with similar uniform and an orange windbreaker opened the passenger-side door and sized up both Baylee Ann and Kelton.
“Does she have insurance? It’s an expensive ride if injuries aren’t critical.”
“I’ll pay. I’ll pay for the IV fluids, too,” declared Kelton forcefully. Azrael walked to his side in heel position.
The man looked at Baylee Ann, and then back like he was going to argue. But he shrugged instead.
“It’s your money. You can ride in the back with her. Can’t say your dog is dirtier than her. I’ll let Doctor Fairborn know you are coming. He’s working the emergency clinic this evening.”
In short order they were loaded, the driver pulled into Rebel’s drive to turn around, and they quickly covered the three and a half miles to the St. Albans Clinic.
CHAPTER—17
Kelton waited on the front steps of St. Albans Clinic facing Smallwood Street. It was next door to the town’s fire department on the north side of the park opposite the sheriff’s office to the south. The squat cinderblock building was painted white, everything it was supposed to be but nothing more. He’d seen signs through its glass doors for an x-ray machine and a small lab for routine blood and urine work. The whole structure was on one floor for better access to the old and obese, and to save the costs of elevators.
The firehouse to his left appeared quiet, the rescue crew back in their ready lounge he supposed. He hadn’t been invited over. There was a small bay for the ambulance and a couple of other large ones he presumed for the “hook and ladder” trucks. It was in the brown brick of the rest of the town, but there was an array of antennas on the roof giving it a modern feel. He almost expected a sign out front bragging “Number of Cats Rescued from Trees this Month” given the small quiet town, but that was unfair. Unlike other areas around government buildings, the surrounding green space was impeccable and the walls devoid of pollen stains. The yellow curb paint was fresh and unblemished. Clearly, the men here had a special type of pride.
Azrael lay relaxed on a stone stair by his side and panted, watchful for anything of interest. Kelton had fed him and the meal, combined with lots of outdoor time, had mellowed the energetic dog. He’d also found a water spigot on the side of the building and filled the bowl for a clean fresh drink. With Azrael feeling a little docile, Kelton had also gone through the pads of his feet looking for any broken glass or gravel that he might have picked up but things were fine.
When the ambulance had arrived, the two of them were promptly banished to outside because they were inseparable and one of the wrong species. However, the receptionist had waddled out to him the billing paperwork on a clipboard. For things like medical history, HIPAA medical privacy compliance and such Baylee Ann had been on her own. Kelton hoped she’d been able to navigate that okay in her current state and suspected she was suffering from shock as well as dehydration and low blood sugar. The office visit was $200 alone, not including the ride or any additional supplies or services that would be required. He’d seen the dried blood in the pit and knew there’d be more. But he had the funds and it seemed like the right thing to do, so he made his credit card available for payment. The reward had been several pages of hospital and financial legalese.
Kelton spread the pages on the steps one at a time, and took a picture of each side with his phone’s camera. The next time he was on a wireless network, which was getting very common at most retailers or café’s, it would load to the cloud, the big data warehouse in the sky. Then he folded the papers into his pocket for when he could use them to start a campfire.
The night air began to get a little cool, and he opened his pack for his old army sweater. He pulled it over the top of his shirt. Then the brushed concrete steps began to get really hard and he balled up his jacket for a seat cushion. His eyes began to get heavy, and he rubbed them and blinked.
He studied some of the old homes across the street, but couldn’t see much given the trees and the darkness of the hour except that they seemed to be two floors with an attic and sweeping covered front porches. The nearby sidewalk along Smallwood Street was vacant as would be expected after midnight on Thursday in a small town. Some trees along it had grown large enough to heave it’s concrete.
Kelton considered if he should call Colonel Redigan, but decided not. He didn’t need legal advice. The sheriff would be a more appropriate cho
ice, but Fouche wasn’t too high on his list right now. He shook his head to scatter those thoughts away.
“Come here, Azrael.”
He removed his dog’s vest and began taking a shedding comb to the coat. The Belgian Malinois is a breed of constant shedding, heaviest with the change of seasons. Azrael sat proudly with tongue hanging as the tiny teeth of the brush carried away the hair in small tuffs. He cleaned the comb with his fingers, tossing the hair into the bushes beside the stairs. Some blew back on the night breeze to his face, making him try and spit it away after landing in his mouth. A half hour later, he gave up and dressed his dog back in his vest.
Finally, a noise inside made Azrael look up so Kelton turned to glance over his shoulder. Doctor Fairborn was behind the counter talking with Baylee Ann and the pudgy receptionist with her clipboard came out to him once again.
“Just wanted you to sign the receipt for the final charges,” she smiled.
Kelton looked at the figure on the clipboard.
“That’s a lot less than I was expecting,” he stated in a questioning tone.
“Doctor Fairborn gave you fifty percent off since you don’t have insurance. She’s all ready to go. There’s some prescriptions you can fill at the pharmacy in the morning on the west side of the square. It’s on this side of the church that’s next to city hall. It’s by the coffee shop,” she said gesturing. “Doctor Fairborn gave her a few pills to last until then. He’ll also send the rape kit on to the lab for DNA testing so she should expect to be contacted by the State Police. Have a nice night.”
“Thanks,” he said handing her back the clipboard with the signed receipt.
He wondered how rape kit and nice night could be in subsequent sentences.
Another quick photograph, and yet another piece of paper was in his pocket.
He didn’t harbor any hopes of reimbursement. It was more to defend himself against future accusations of nonpayment. And the army had been big on paperwork. As an ambitious young officer among many likeminded, with no real responsibilities, they had all tried to distinguish themselves with excess administrative prowess.
At last they finished talking inside, nodded heads at each other, and Baylee Ann came walking stiffly toward the front door in gray sweatpants and matching hoody. The torn jeans, the denim slit from cuff to waste on both sides probably while she was bolted to the desktop, was gone to an evidence bag. He stood as she approached, as a gentleman would at a formal dinner table, and Azrael rose also to sit at his side. She paused, a few steps before the door, and stared at him through the glass. Kelton guessed she was his own age, or maybe a year older, but life hadn’t been particularly kind. And that was from the perspective of someone who had been to war.
Her brown eyes were clear and bright, although the skin around them looked inflamed from rubbing. They looked him up and down, lingered on his gun, shifted sideways to his dog, and then returned to his face. She exhaled, and then tried to force a small smile. Baylee Ann then crossed her arms, hands grasping opposite elbows like she was giving herself a hug and resumed walking toward the door.
With a single big step, Kelton beat her to it and pulled it open while standing at attention like in an honor guard ceremony. She took a half step back in surprise, and then shuffled through the entrance brushing away moths and other small insects anxious to get at the lights inside.
“Ma’am, how are you feeling? Are you able to walk?”
“Not much, but I think I’ll be better after I get some food. They only gave me some nabs from the vending machine. The stitches don’t really hurt any worse when I move around. When I got to shit it will be another story. So you’re only going to get straight,” she declared.
There was a long silence while Kelton tried to decode what she had meant, and Baylee Ann figured out he wasn’t anticipating. Then she shrugged.
“I’m so tired. I’ve no money and nothings open anyway. And I’m cold. And I don’t know where Bambi is,” she began to cry, hands letting go of her elbows and coming up to her eyes.
He slowly extended his arm to wrap them about her, trying awkwardly to avoid contacting her other than his hands on her back. Baylee Ann was a buxom girl. Even the heavy and baggy sweatshirt hoody couldn’t hide it.
But she had no inhibitions and collapsed into him. Her large breasts, unbounded as all her own clothes were now gone, were easily felt through the fabric. Baylee Ann’s hips were substantial as well, the net result of unhealthy diet and little exercise constrained only by considerable smoking. He held her, but didn’t have to long.
“I’m okay,” she sniffed. “Thank you. Ain’t you a weirdo.”
“Come on, let’s find a park bench and get you off your feet for a bit. Things won’t open for a few hours and I don’t think you can make it to Ed’s.”
“The cops will ticket us for vagrancy if they catch us sleeping in the park,” she warned.
“You have absolutely nothing to fear tonight. Not even cops,” he declared as he took off his pack and sat down on the edge of a bench with his right thigh against the armrest. He knew she would be sitting down next to him and didn’t want his gun side wedged between them. The bench was flanked by a pair of stone planters littered with cigarette butts.
She nodded, remembering Jessie’s crew, and sat down next to him. Azrael, who heeled, sat and performed other commands based upon Kelton’s left side must have felt she was in his spot. The dog climbed upon the other edge of the bench, and sprawled across Baylee Ann’s lap to be able to get his head on his master’s thigh.
“Never had no dog before.”
“He just wants to keep you warm. And you don’t. He has you.”
He pulled out the poncho from the pack at his feet and draped it over the three of them as a blanket, putting the center hooded hole over Azrael’s head. He then offered her a protein bar.
Baylee Ann tore the wrapper and then sniffed at it uncertainly. Azrael eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t dare move for fear of being banished to the ground below.
“What is it? It smells kind of nasty,” she protested.
“It’s an energy bar, and yes they are sometimes a little greasy from all the calories they try and pack in.”
She bit into it, chewed and shrugged at him before taking another bite. A few more chews and it was an empty wrapper. She crumpled it and coughed. Kelton handed her the CamelBak hose for a drink of water and took the wrapper from her before she could litter.
Shortly after she fell asleep. She had a bit of a rasping snore, but nothing really loud. Kelton dozed himself some, in and out, but each time his eyes searched around all was still and quiet.
Toward dawn, just a couple of hours later, he thought he saw a figure watching them. While it was getting light in the east, the park was still really dark and the town just as quiet as before. His right arm went to the butt of his gun, but Azrael and Baylee Ann still slept fast. He stared back, trying to make up his mind if there was a threat. A few more minutes and rays of sunshine he realized he was looking at a bronze civil war soldier by a marble slab in the middle of the square. He let go of his gun and rubbed his eyes.
Baylee Ann stirred, and then awakened but made no move to get up. Seventy-five pounds of dog may have influenced that.
“Why did this Rebel guy let Dixie go, but hold you and Bambi?”
“You mean, why’d he want us skanks instead of prissy stuck-up?”
“Something like that,” Kelton confirmed.
“Dixie is Buck’s girl. Rebel throws his weight around, but even he won’t tangle with the law. She was going to be more trouble than she was worth.”
“Any idea of where Rebel is now, or where your friend Bambi might be?”
“I don’t know for sure where they are and what he was going to do. But Rebel most likely took Bambi to sell her at Shep’s place.”
“Then that’s where I need to go next,” declared Kelton.
“No it’s not. Those are some real rough dudes. Rebel is nothing compare
d to Shep. And there’s a bunch of ‘em. They don’t take to outsiders poking around in their shit very well. Some of them might even be killers.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Kelton with cold steady eyes, “but I am a killer. And I’m going to find your friend Bambi. And I don’t really care how many thugs get buried in the process.”
She shivered and then made to get up. Azrael hopped down dragging the poncho and looking like a lion with an oversized camo mane. As Kelton helped him out of it, he heard peeing and a soft fart. Baylee Ann had squatted behind one of the planters.
“Would you like a tissue?” asked Kelton keeping his eyes averted.
“Naw, I’ll just give my ass a shake.”
Kelton stood, considered and found a tree himself. It could be a few hours before things opened and soon people would start moving about.
“Think you can move about?”
“If we take it slow. I really stiffened up on the bench. Where are we headed?”
“The pharmacy opens pretty early so we can get your pills. Then, I think we head to Ed’s. Even at a slow pace we’ll get there long before anything here opens. Get you some real food, and a room for a real rest. Then we can plot our next move to find Bambi. Sound like a good plan?”
“You’re the man. I just follow.”
Right, thought Kelton. They started toward the west side of the square where the church steeple was visible above the scattered park trees.
CHAPTER—18
While Kelton waited on the clinic steps in the small hours of the night, Rebel rolled in his truck on I-85 North. He watched the headlights of the pair of hogs that were following him, making sure their riders hadn’t gotten cold feet and backed off. Bambi, anyway you wanted her without a time limit, was proving to be sufficient motivation. She’d started crying as Shep took her a second time in the middle of the planning meeting, and these two had leered. Rebel took the Virginia 903 exit well north of St. Albans and turned left at the top of the ramp, to pass over the interstate heading away from the scene where Jessie and his gang had fallen.
K-9 Outlaw: A Kelton Jager Adventure Book 1 Page 15