“And no sign of the occupants of the vehicle.” Decker finished the sentence.
“Let’s not forget the empty holster. Presumably there used to be something in it,” Chad surmised. “Although I don’t see any sign anyone fired a gun. No empty shell casings around anywhere.”
“I’m sure he didn’t use his gun. If there were gunshots someone would have reported them. We’re only a few miles from town, and the sound would carry pretty far.”
“Do you think the bottles got smashed before or after he abandoned the truck?” Chad asked.
“Floyd would never leave his hooch unguarded. He was here when this happened. Question is what made him stop in the first place?”
“Rival moonshiners cutting down on the competition?” Chad speculated. “Maybe he had no choice.”
“Maybe. It would certainly explain the smashed jugs and the missing gun. A man like Floyd would not take kindly to being waylaid.”
“So where is he then?”
“Good question.” Decker said, his gaze roaming back to the truck. “Do you have the camera in the car?”
“Sure do.”
“Good. We should document this. I’m not sure what crime, if any, has been committed here, except for the obvious one, the illegal transportation of liquor, but we’d better collect some evidence anyhow, just in case.”
“Right.” Chad sprinted past the pickup truck and leaned inside his police cruiser. He came back a moment later with a digital camera. He slipped the lens cap off and circled the vehicle, reeling off several photographs of the broken liquor bottles, adjusting the lens to take close ups here and there. Next he turned his attention to the bed of the truck. He lifted the camera to his eye, about to snap another picture, when he stopped. “Boss? You should see this.”
Decker rounded the back of the truck and looked inside. The bed was empty. “What am I looking at?”
“Right here.” Chad reached down, slinging the camera over his shoulder as he did so. “Look at this.”
Decker looked to where Chad was pointing and saw it. Stuck into the hard black plastic of the bed liner, buried in one of the grooves, was a curved white object. “Well that shouldn’t be there.”
Chad focused the camera and fired off a burst of three images in rapid succession. “What do you think it is?”
“I have no idea.” Decker pulled a napkin from his pocket and grasped the object between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it carefully from the truck bed, examining it.
“Well?” Chad asked. “What is it?”
“It’s a claw.” Decker spoke the words slowly, his attention focused on the talon held between his fingers. “It’s a really big claw.”
7
TAYLOR HURRIED FROM THE DINER, her phone clutched in her hand, eager to see Jake. A tingle of excitement fluttered in her stomach at the thought of spending the afternoon with him. They had only been dating for six weeks but somehow she knew he was the one.
This is going to be great, she thought, as she hurried along the sidewalk, looking out for his beat up junker of a car. It made her laugh that he was so proud of it, despite the amount of time it spent parked in his driveway with the hood up, unwilling to start. It leaked oil like a sieve, burned through a gallon of gas every five miles, and the trunk didn’t even lock. The thing had already left a large viscous black stain on the driveway that ran past the diner, to their house at the rear. Her mother was not pleased about that, but Taylor didn’t care. So what if he drove a moving money pit, he’d worked hard and saved for it all by himself. He’d earned every penny he spent on that car. That was why she let him drive most of the time, despite the fact that her own vehicle was miles ahead when it came to comfort and reliability, not to mention more economical. The only exception she made was if they were going out in the evening, and there was a chance they would be making out. Then she insisted on driving the Camry. It was smaller, and afforded them less room to fool around, but the seats were softer and there was no chance a spring was going to stick you in the butt just when things were getting interesting. Not that she ever allowed things to get too interesting, at least not yet. The way she was feeling recently about Jake though, who knew…
Taylor glanced down at the phone, tapping the buttons to unlock the screen, intending to text him to make sure he was on his way. Had she been paying attention to the sidewalk instead of playing with the phone, she might have noticed the old woman in her path instead of walking right into her.
Taylor looked up, startled.
She recognized Annie Doucet instantly.
A tight knot formed in her throat.
“Sorry,” she croaked, her voice refusing to cooperate.
The old woman fixed her with a cold stare but said nothing. The corner of her mouth twitched and a strand of wiry gray hair blew across her forehead.
“I really am sorry,” Taylor repeated, remembering the stories from when she was a child, the rumors that Annie was a witch, that she ate toads caught out in the swamps, and cast spells under the full moon. They said she could put a hex on a person easy as look at them. “I should have been paying attention to where I was going.”
“That’s okay child.” The old woman’s face lightened somewhat, the hint of a smile curling the edges of her mouth. “I’m sure you will not do it again.”
Taylor nodded in agreement and backed away, giving Annie a wide berth as she stepped around her, then hurried away, pleased to put some distance between them. She had no idea if Annie Doucet was actually a witch, but she didn’t want to find out. It was all probably nothing more than childish nonsense, but even so, she felt relieved when she saw Jake’s car down the road at the stoplight.
When she looked back the old woman was gone, the sidewalk empty, as if the whole thing had been nothing more than her own imagination. She suppressed a shudder and waited for Jake to arrive, feeling a sudden chill despite the bright sunshine.
8
JAKE BARLOW STEERED THE OLD Cadillac onto Main Street and came to a stop at the only traffic light in town. He gripped the steering wheel, anxious to reach Cassidy’s Diner and pick Taylor up. She was seventeen, a year younger than him, and had a body to die for. He drummed his fingers on the dash, willing the light to turn green.
In the back, hidden under a blanket, was a bottle of wine he’d liberated from the refrigerator at home, and a bag of Doritos he’d purchased at the gas station on the way into town. The wine was a cheap Chardonnay with a twist top. He’d panicked for a second after smuggling the booze into the car that he would need a corkscrew, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the metal cap. He should have known his mother would not buy wine with an actual cork. He was surprised she even had a bottle of the stuff. Usually box wine was good enough. Hopefully she would not notice it missing, but even if she did she would probably just assume it hadn’t survived one of her all night binge sessions, which seemed to happen more and more often these days.
Still, it was good luck that he came across it chilling in the fridge. He could not wait to see Taylor’s face when she saw it. Plus, it should loosen her up a bit. Get her nice and relaxed. He grinned, anticipating what might happen when they got up to Sullivan’s Pond.
A horn blared behind him. He jumped and glanced up. The light was green. The horn blared again, longer this time.
“Alright. Keep your shirt on.” Jake eased the car forward. It backfired and belched a puff of black smoke. He could only imagine what the jackass behind him was thinking now, with the front of his car engulfed in Jake’s fumes. He hoped the guy had his window open. It would serve him right for being so impatient.
He cruised down the street, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Taylor waiting at the curb. She was wearing a white cotton blouse and short shorts. The bottoms of the pockets poked out from beneath the denim, the pale fabric contrasting with the smooth sun kissed skin of her legs. He wondered how far up the tan went.
When he pulled up she jumped into the passenger seat, leaning over and ki
ssing him on the cheek. He felt a growing heat in his groin as her breast brushed his elbow.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” He hoped she had not noticed his reaction to her kiss. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. I brought sandwiches.” She held up a brown bag. “I didn’t want them but mom insisted.”
“At least we won’t get hungry.” Food was the last thing on Jake’s mind. “Why don’t you put them in the back.”
She twisted around and dropped the bag on the bench seat. “You brought a blanket. Good.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to sit on the ground.” Jake put the car in gear. “Look under it.”
She reached back and lifted the blanket, spying the bottle of wine nestled underneath. Her eyes sparkled. “Where did you get that?”
“I bought it,” he lied.
“Yeah right. You stole it from your mom more like.”
“Fine. I found it in the fridge.” He looked at Taylor, taking in the round beauty of her face, at her hazel eyes that seemed to brim with excitement. “I thought it would be romantic.”
“You’re so sweet.” She leaned in and gave him another peck on the cheek.
“I know.”
“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
“Right.” He pressed the accelerator and pointed the car in the direction of the swimming hole.
9
SHERIFF JOHN DECKER DROVE along the dirt road toward Floyd Benson’s camp, watching the trees zip by on both sides. After about half a mile he passed a weathered hand painted sign nailed to a rotting wooden pole.
NO TRESPASSING - PRIVATE PROPERTY.
Decker ignored the sign and pushed on, passing a junked out car sitting next to a rotten couch that had somehow found its way out into the woods, rusty springs poking through the torn fabric. Then he spotted a second notice.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT.
It seemed Floyd really hated visitors, and Decker knew why. The last thing the old man would want was people nosing around his business, considering what he did up here. Catching him at it was another thing though.
He pulled into the clearing and climbed from the cruiser, casting an eye around the space, noting the gin still, a mass of pots and copper tubing, under a battered tarp. Next to it, waiting to be filled, stood a stack of empty jugs. There was also what seemed to be a homemade latrine. On the other side of the clearing a small cabin sat nestled in among the trees. No doubt this was where Floyd lived when he was cooking up his hooch.
He walked over to the ramshackle structure and pulled the door open. A musty, rotting smell greeted his nose, but not much else. He peered in, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Inside he saw a bench, a small table, and a cot against the far wall, covered in stained and torn blankets. A kerosene lamp hung from a nail hammered into a roof beam. On the wall a faded calendar sported a photo of a topless girl astride a Harley. The wording below announced that it was March 2008. The calendar was years out of date. Aside from that the cabin was empty.
Returning to the center of the clearing he did a quick three sixty. The place seemed abandoned.
“Hello?” Decker shouted out. “Is there anybody around?”
Only the chirping of the birds and the hum of crickets answered him.
“Floyd?” He called to the empty clearing, straining his ears for a reply. “You up here? If you are you’d better come out.”
Nothing.
Wherever Floyd Benson might be, he was not here, that much was evident.
10
JAKE STEERED THE CAR off the road onto the narrow dirt track that led to Sullivan’s Pond. After about a mile the trail dead-ended in a turning circle. They would have to hike in from here. He pulled up next to a large oak tree and applied the parking break.
“Here we are.” He reached into the back and retrieved the blanket, the Doritos and the wine. The alcohol was a little warm but it would still be good. They would have to drink it out of the bottle of course, since he had not dared try and sneak wine glasses out of the house, but beggars could not be choosers. “Shall we take these?” He eyed the bag of sandwiches.
“Nah. Leave them here,” Taylor said. “We can come back for them if we get hungry.”
“Right.” Jake opened the car door and jumped out, relishing the feel of the sun on his face. It felt like a hundred degrees.
“It looks like we’re the only ones here.” Taylor slammed the passenger door and stretched.
“Good. We’ll have the place to ourselves.” He watched as she lifted her arms in the air, her blouse riding up past her ribs and revealing the bare, silky skin of her belly. Just a little higher and he would catch a peek of her bra. The ache in his crotch grew worse.
“Are you checking me out?” Taylor laughed.
“No.”
“It’s okay if you are.” She walked around the car and took the wine. “I’ll carry this.”
“I wasn’t checking you out.” Jake felt his face flush with embarrassment. He hadn’t realized he was making it so obvious.
“Don’t worry about it. I check you out all the time when you have your shirt off.”
“You do?”
“Of course.” She took his hand in hers. “Come on. I can’t wait to dip my feet in the water.” She guided him toward the trail that led up to Sullivan’s Pond.
The swimming hole was a circular pool of crystal clear water nestled in a clearing deep in the woods. Fed by a natural underground spring, the water was cool and clear, even on the hottest of days.
Jake threw the blanket on the ground and opened it up, making sure there were no pinecones underneath.
Taylor twisted the top off the wine and took a swig, then handed it to him. He gulped some back, trying his best not to cough as it went down.
“So what now?” He gave the wine back to her.
“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m going to make myself comfortable.” She reached up and undid the top button of her blouse, watching as Jake’s eyes flew wide. She moved on to the next, then the next, until the garment fell open. Underneath she wore a pink Bikini top that she’d changed into before he’d picked her up. She slid the blouse from her shoulders and dropped it on the blanket.
“Wow.” Jake knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. He let his eyes roam from her belly up to the bikini top. It barely covered the swell of her breasts. “When did you get that?” Last year she had worn a one piece when they came up to the swimming hole, but that was with a group of friends. This time he had her all to himself.
“I bought it at Wal-Mart last week.” She sat down on the blanket and motioned for him to do the same. “What do you think?”
He flopped down beside her. “I like it.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” He looked into her eyes.
“Good. I got it just for you.”
“I don’t know what to say.” His eyes wandered back to her chest. He felt a familiar rush of heat in his groin.
“Take your tee-shirt off.” Taylor took another swig of the wine, gulping it down.
“Why?”
“I want to see what you look like.”
“You’ve seen it before.” They had been coming to Sullivan’s Pond since they were kids so it wasn’t like he’d never taken his shirt off in front of her.
“Not recently.”
“Well, alright.” He peeled of his tee, feeling a little self-conscious.
“See, that wasn’t so bad.”
“I suppose not.” Jake took the wine. It was a third empty already. He should have stolen two bottles.
“Come here.” Taylor plucked the bottle from his hand and set it aside. She leaned in, her arms snaking around his neck, and pulled him close.
Her lips brushed his in a lingering kiss.
He shivered, a delicious tingle coursing through him.
She kissed him again, harder this time, her lips pressing against his with an urgency that surprised him. When the kiss finally ended s
he jumped to her feet.
“Let’s go swimming.”
“Now?” Jake didn’t want to go swimming. He wanted to kiss her again.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Taylor kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her shorts, slipping them down to reveal bikini bottoms as skimpy and revealing as the top. She stepped out of the shorts, pushing them aside. “Still want to stay here?”
“Yes.” Jake could not tear his eyes from her tight, tanned body.
“Your loss.” Taylor padded to the water. She dipped a foot in. “Yow, it’s cold.”
“So come back over here.” Jake wished she would sit down again. He wanted to keep kissing her. He wasn’t complaining at the sight of her round rump as she hesitated at the water’s edge though, especially since the thin fabric of the bikini bottoms barely covered anything.
“I want to swim.”
“That water’s going to be colder when you get in.”
“Only one way to find out.” Taylor took a deep breath and stepped from the bank, wading in to the cool, still water. She gasped as the water reached her waist.
“See, I told you,” Jake said.
“It’s fine. Come on in.” Taylor put on her best come hither face. “Please?”
“I can’t. I forgot my trunks.” They were halfway out of town by the time he realized he’d left his swimming trunks next to the front door. He was so engrossed in sneaking the wine out to the car that he’d neglected to pick them up on the way out.
“So what?”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Then don’t wear anything.” Taylor grinned.
“I’m not going skinny dipping.”
“Aw, come on.”
“No way.”
“I’ll go first.” Taylor reached around and pulled at the straps of her bikini top, releasing the knot. She held one arm over her chest and pulled the top loose with the other, then threw it back to the shore. “There.”
What Vengeance Comes Page 3