by Glenn Trust
“Why? What the hell is all this about?”
“You heard Sammy. Not about anything. Just stay cool and everything’ll be okay.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I’m not surprised.” Mike smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m thinking you won’t be out here very long.”
Alone at his table in the dark, Bain’s balls shrank to the size of peas and his sphincter sucked the chair firmly against his ass. The bottle in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth and then thumped back down onto the table. Open-mouthed, he watched the deputy make his way to Sammy Tuss.
What the fuck, now? Eyes darting around the room, he wondered if he could make an escape without being seen. Calm the fuck down, he told himself. The deputy’s just talkin’ to Tuss. No big deal.
After a few minutes, one of the big bikers was called over to Sammy and then a minute later he and the deputy left. Now was his chance. Bain picked up the beer bottle, gulped it down and then dropped it on the table as he rushed to the door.
The thump as Bain hit the door with both hands, alerted Mike. The youngest Stinson almost fell on his face as he stumbled into the parking lot. He was on a mission. He had to…Shit!
“I’m warning you! You give me any more of your lip and I’ll put your sorry ass in the county jail!” Mike was shouting inches away from Swain’s face.
“What?” Confused and startled, the biker leaned back from the unexpected outburst.
“You fucking back talking me, boy?”
“Deputy, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“You son of a bitch! Show me some ID. Now!”
The disconcerted biker reached for the wallet chained to his belt, stuffed in his back pocket. From the corner of his eye, Mike watched, Bain stand bleary-eyed, his head swiveling from Mike to the biker, trying to get his fuzzy brain around what was happening.
Stay calm. Don’t do nothin’ stupid, was the thought written all over his face. Mike almost laughed.
Bain jerked his head away, tucking his chin down, scuffing across the parking lot towards the StarLite Motel. The deputy had the biker off to one side, hollering in his face. Maybe it was nothin’ but he had to let Albert know the law was around.
He fumbled with a key at one of the motel doors, glanced over his shoulder at Mike and Swain and let himself into the room. The chief deputy took note that it was the last room, farthest away from the shabby motel office.
“Here, deputy.” Swain held out his driver’s license, his big hand waving it nervously in front of the deputy.
Mike took it, looked at it absently, making sure that there was no more activity from the motel room across the road, then handed it back. “That’s fine,” he said mildly.
“Fine?” Swain looked around the now empty lot. “You mind tellin’ me what the fuck just happened.”
“You did good, Swain. You are a credit to the community and your biker friends. You can go back inside now.”
“But…”
“Go back inside,” Mike said mildly.
Swain began to speak. The piercing eyes above the deputy’s smile changed his mind. What the hell…there was no one else around…no one would know. He nodded and pulled the door open. Thirty seconds later he was at the bar telling his biker buddies how he told the deputy to fuck off.
Mike looked around to make sure there were no other loiterers outside. There were none. He went to his pickup, backed away from Sammy Tuss’ SUV and pulled onto the road running alongside Pete’s Place.
A dirt track cut across an overgrown field on the opposite corner. Cutting the headlights, he took the trail, driving slowly to an old shed, at a corner of the field. It wasn’t much more than a shack for tools and farm implements, but it had enough space for him to back the dark brown county pickup in where it disappeared into the shadows.
From there, he had a perfect view of the old StarLite Motel. The parking lot was lit by the sputtering neon sign that said ‘Vaca__y’. Dim yellow light filtered from the windows of a few rooms, including the one at the end where Bain Stinson had entered.
Mike kept his eyes on the room and took his cell phone out of his pocket. Maybe this would help.
67. Never Been A Hero
Cy nearly jumped out of his seat at the sudden sound of George’s cell phone playing ‘Beer For My Horses’, the volume turned up as high as it would go. George lifted his head from the seat rest. He had been dozing, waiting for word from Clay Purcell. The call on his phone was unexpected.
He punched the button and answered. “Mackey.”
“George, Mike here.”
“What’s up?”
“I found them?”
George sat up straight in his seat. “Found them?”
“Well one, at least. The young one, Bain Stinson. Saw him at Pete’s Place.”
“Follow him?”
“Didn’t have to. He walked across the road to the StarLite.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah. He went into the end room. My guess is his brother’s in there too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Want me to get them out? Do we have any charges on them?”
George was quiet. It was still too risky. Albert and the girl might be there…or might not. If he sent Mike in and the room was occupied by Bain alone, it would tip off Albert. The chase would be on then. Worse, it might force Albert’s hand. He would lash out at anyone and everyone. The danger to Lyn would increase significantly if he thought he was trapped. Better to get their ducks in a row before they made a move.
“No. Don’t go in. Are you sitting where you can watch and not be seen?”
“Yeah….perfect spot…in the dark…the old shed across the road at the edge of the field. They’re all lit up over there at the motel. They’d have to walk up on me to see me.”
“I know the spot. Good place.” George thought for a moment. “Okay. Can you watch them for me? Take me a few hours, but I’m headed your way.”
“I can.” Mike paused. “You ever going to tell me what’s going on, George?”
“I will…just not yet.”
“All right, George. I’ll watch him.” Mike squinted into the dark as he spoke. “But you owe me, George.”
“I owe you, Mike. That’s a fact.” He disconnected the call.
“What?” Cy had listened intently to one side of the call.
“They’re still in Pickham County.”
“You sure?”
“One of them is…the younger one. My bet is his big brother is not gonna have him wandering around on his own. He’ll be near.”
“So it is a wild goose chase.”
“Yeah. They’ll lead Clay back to their trap when they figure the time is right and there’s no law on the trail.” He looked at Cy. “Like I said before. It’s your call. Just want you to understand how things are.”
“Let’s go.”
“Right.” George started the truck and pulled away from the closed garage where they had parked to rest while they waited.
“What about, Clay?” The thought occurred to Cy that his brother was sitting somewhere in Talladega, alone and worried.
“He’s safe where he is. They won’t expect you and me. He’s the one they’re looking for.” He looked at the young man. “I know it’s hard, but just let him be for now. They’ll run him around or head him back to Pickham. Either way, we need to be there first, ready with our own little trap before they can spring theirs.”
Cy listened to the engine rev higher as George accelerated south on U.S. 280 from Columbus. In the dark, surrounded by the hum of the engine, he wondered what the next few hours would bring. He was not like Clay. He’d never really been a confrontational person…never even been in a real fight…never been a hero. He was a carpenter and that was all.
68. We Make A Call
“What the fuck’s wrong with you? Look like you seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost.” Bain stood with his back to the motel room door, le
aning against it as if to prevent anyone entering from outside. “A deputy…that one what came by and told us about Carl.”
“Shit. Where?” Albert rolled off Danny and sat up straight.
“Across the road…Pete’s Place.” Bain whispered as if someone would hear him through the door.
“He follow you?”
“No…I don’t think so.”
“Then what the hell you whisperin’ for?”
“I’m fuckin, scared, that’s why. He’s right over there…we’re over here, and we got them.” He nodded at Danny on the bed and at the bathroom where Lyn remained a captive.
Albert stood up and put a booted foot on Danny’s rump, pushing her out of the bed. “Get dressed.” He looked at Bain. “You’re a fuckin’ dumbass. If that deputy had a wanted you, he coulda took you right then when you were at the bar.” He walked to the window separated the blinds slightly and looked across the road to Pete’s Place. “Ain’t there now. What was he doin’? When you saw him?”
“Came in the bar, then went outside and was jackin’ up some big biker when I come out.”
“Say anything to you?”
“No…”
“And you run scared over here.” Albert shook his head in disgust. “Goddamn, you’re one dumb son of a bitch.”
“Don’t say that!”
Albert turned his head to his brother, surprise and amusement on his face. “What you say?”
“Don’t…” Having opened his mouth in a rare moment of protest, Bain wished he could stuff the words back inside. “It’s just…you always sayin’ I’m dumb…ain’t right. I’m not the one got hisself killed, pullin’ a knife on that boy.” He looked down at the floor, away from Albert’s penetrating gaze. “Just ain’t right is all.”
Albert walked to the door where Bain still leaned bracing himself against whatever lurked outside. Reaching out a big hand, he jerked Bain by the collar, pulling him close. “You sound like a little girl whinin’…it ain’t right.” His voice mocked; his eyes bored holes into Bain’s. “You want me to treat you different…start actin’ like a man.” He pulled on the collar bringing Bain’s face closer to his. “We’re blood…you’re a Stinson, hard as that is to believe…and long as we’re blood, we look out for each other…watch each other’s back.”
He jerked the collar hard causing Bain’s head to wobble back and forth like a doll’s. “Are we blood?”
Bain nodded.
“Say it.”
“We’re blood, Albert. You know that.”
“You got my back…brother?”
Bain nodded.
“Say it, goddamnit!”
Eyes riveted on his brother’s, Bain’s managed to squeak out the words, “I got your back.”
Albert threw him back against the door. “Damn right you better.” He pointed at Danny, huddled by the bed, head down, hoping not to be noticed, holding the rags of clothing around her that Albert had torn off before raping her. “Throw her in the shitter with the other.”
Bain walked over, bent down and helped her up.
“Jesus Christ…” Albert said disgustedly. “You’re treatin’ that whore like she’s your mama.”
“I was just…”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Holding Danny under the arm, Bain half led, half dragged her to the bathroom. He opened the door. “You need to get in there now.”
Lyn looked up from her seat on the floor beside the bathtub, her eyes blazing with anger. “What’d you do to her?” She stood and reached out to Danny.
His blood heated, Albert bounded across the small room and kicked out with his boot, catching Danny in the small of her back. “Get the fuck in there!”
Gasping, she fell forward into Lyn’s arms.
“That’s how you do…like a man…like a Stinson!”
“Okay.” Bain nodded and pushed the bathroom door closed, avoiding the fury burning in Lyn’s eyes. He looked at his brother, wanting to change the subject and let things settle down. “What we doin’ now?”
Albert stood in the room glaring at his brother, his mind sorting things out. He had planned another day or so of running the boy around…send him to Savannah…Atlanta…maybe up to Tennessee…keep him goin’ until he was at the point of exhaustion. That would make things easier when they finally brought him to them.
But now…a deputy at Pete’s Place…Bain runnin’ scared, ready to piss his pants…and the girls were a risk he hadn’t thought through when they started. Fuckin’ the whore was one thing, but no matter how they kept them locked up and out of sight, someone was bound to see them sooner or later and ask questions.
He turned, took a cell phone from the pile of prepaid phones he had thrown on the table and dialed the number he had committed to memory. “We make a call.”
69. I Won’t Leave Him
Arms around each other, the two young women sat huddled together on the bathroom floor, leaning against the tub. They were as far from the door as they could squirm in the tiny room.
“It’ll be soon,” Lyn whispered into Danny’s ear.
“What?” The girl shivered, holding her tattered clothing around her frame.
“Whatever they plan on doing. It’ll be soon.”
“You mean to your boyfriend…the one you was with.”
“Clay…his name’s Clay.” Lyn smiled. “Never heard anyone call him that.”
“That’s it, ain’t it? He’s your boyfriend.” Danny shifted so that she could speak into Lyn’s ear without being heard by the men on the other side of the door. “I been hearin’ bits and pieces…tryin’ to figure things out. He went to protect you from the one called Carl.”
“Carl is…was…my father.” Lyn nodded.
“Got in a fight with him and killed him…protectin’ you. Don’t that make him your boyfriend?”
Lyn was quiet. Boyfriend and girlfriend were not words they had ever used between them. Clay knew she was incapable of committing to such a relationship. He had never pressed the issue. He was just there…always there.
Lyn thought about that. Sitting with her eyes closed she could hear his voice…see his face…knew that he was looking for her. Something inside her moved, like curtains blown open by a breeze, letting the daylight in. She smiled.
“I guess you put it like that…” She nodded. “He is my boyfriend.”
“Then they’ll be doin’ it…whatever they plan…to him?”
“Yes, I think it’ll be soon.”
“How do you know?”
“Like I said, I been through something like this before. It happens fast. Especially at the end. We have to be ready.”
“You don’t think they’re really gonna hurt you, do you? You’re kin…blood like they keep sayin’.”
“Only blood they know is between them. It’s the way they are…the way my daddy was. I ain’t no more blood to them than somethin’ they’d spit out of their mouth.”
“What can we do?” Danny huddled close against Lyn, hoping for some answer that would take the fear away.
“I don’t know. Like I say, when it comes, it’ll be quick. We’ll have to act quick.” She turned her head and lifted Danny’s chin so that their eyes met, repeating her admonition. “When it starts, you move fast. Whatever it is, you don’t wait…you go. If you get the chance to run…you run.”
“What about you?”
“If I can, I’ll be with you, but don’t you count on it, and don’t you wait…you just get…and keep on goin’. Find the law somewhere and tell them.”
Danny nodded. “And you…you’re not comin’?”
Clay’s face still hovered in her mind…his touch, a memory that brushed against her skin…his ways, boyish but manly at the same time…steady. He had always been there.
She looked at Danny. “I won’t leave him.”
70. A Chance
The cell phone chimed and vibrated on the dashboard, and Clay pulled over to the shoulder. It was another call from the same 912 area code. Good.
“Yes.”
“That you, boy.” Albert’s taunting voice tingled in his ear.
“It’s me.”
“You make it there.”
“I’m here,” he lied.
“What’s it look like? The track?”
“You must know…if you’re watching.”
“Don’t fuck with me, boy. Talk.”
“Can’t see much of the track. Gate’s closed. I got there after hours. Just see the back of the grandstands.”
“Bullshit.”
“Like I said, if you’re watching, you know.”
“I’m fixin’ to let you listen to me cut that girl’s heart out and when that’s done I’ll hunt your ass down and do the same to you.”
“You won’t have to hunt me. I’ll be comin’ for you.”
“You little pissant son of a bitch! Who the fuck you think you’re talkin’ to?” Albert turned from the phone. “Bain! Bring her to me!”
“Don’t get all excited.” Clay spoke quickly, angry at himself for letting things get out of control. He’d gone too far and struck a nerve. “I got to the track…no problem. Like I said, the track was closed, but I found the Racing Hall of Fame, talked to the security guard until he ran me off. He said it costs $12 to get into the Hall of Fame…$16 if you go out on the track too.”
“You fuck with me again boy and I’ll kill her.” Albert looked at Bain, who stood before him holding Lyn by one arm. “Put her back in!”
Bain pulled at Lyn’s elbow. Eyes riveted on Albert, she did not move. Clay was on the phone. She wanted to shout…tell him not to come…not to do what they wanted. Her mouth opened and she started to speak. Albert’s arm flung out, his fist catching her in the chin.
He turned his eyes on Bain. “I told you to put her back in there!”
Bain pulled harder on Lyn’s arm and moved her slowly to the bathroom.
Albert shouted into the phone. “Where you at, now?”
“Let me talk to her.”
“This is not a goddamned negotiation! We’re done talkin’. Where the fuck are you?”
“Diner, out by the interstate…I-20.”