by Lila Beckham
Emma wandered back down to where she knew the old dock was. She was surprised by how deep and swift the river was. There was no way she was going to try to swim across; she was not that strong a swimmer. Floating down the river with the current was one thing, fighting against it, was another.
She turned her attention to the road leading to the plantation. She could follow it and see where it took her. It was overgrown, but she could still make out its path.
The heelless shoes were not the greatest for hiking through the thick underbrush, but they would have to do; they were all she had. After retrieving the jacket she had discarded the day before, Emma set out at a brisk pace. She loved the smell of the forest and its many different scents drifted into her nostrils as she walked.
After walking about ten minutes, the trail seemed to disappear and Emma did not want to become lost so she retraced her steps and headed back toward the plantation. There had to be another road. She knew that people frequented the old plantation, many, out of curiosity. That was why there were so many tales of the place.
When she got back to where she started, she turned right. She decided to walk around the circumference of the site with hopes of finding another trail.
About half way around the site Emma came upon another road; this trail was more defined. It appeared that it had been in use for quite some time; the ruts were deep. There were no tire tracks though; therefore, she figured it had been a while since anyone had driven that road to the plantation.
Again, Emma set out walking. She hoped that this trail would lead her to safety.
This route was not as thickly surrounded as the other trail was and Emma could tell that it had been cleared a few years prior. What trees were growing was not as mature as the others were. After a short distance, the trail turned and headed back toward the river.
When Emma reached the river, the road ran alongside it. She soon found herself standing at the end of the trail.
Emma saw an old cabin with porches, front and back. She could tell that the house was very old, but well maintained. There was an older model pickup truck parked in the front yard and from the looks of the road leading out, was well traveled.
Emma was not about to just flounce up to the door and knock. She was scared of who might be inside. What if it is a bad person or someone like her captors, she did not know if she could survive another ordeal like that. Emma found a good vantage point along the edge of the forest and squatted down to wait and watch.
After about an hour, she could wait no longer. Emma had not seen a single sign that anyone was home and her growling stomach was forcing her to seek food. There had to be something to eat inside the cabin, after all, someone lived there. She could tell from the fresh tire tracks that had to of been made after the rain from the day before.
When she reached the front porch, Emma suddenly stopped. There was an old dog laying in the porch swing. The dog twitched his ears, raised his head, and then flapped his tail a couple of times, but he did not growl or bark nor did he move, therefore Emma eased the screen door open and then reached for the doorknob. It was locked!
Emma was sorely disappointed, but she was not going to let it daunt her. She eased the screen door shut and then walked around to the back porch. Just as she was about to open the screen door, she felt something behind her.
31
Dissident
Tom Stringer had some explaining to do, and, as soon as he found him, they were going to have a heart to heart, thought Joshua as he headed toward Tom’s trailer west of Wilmer. Tom had always been contrary as hell, but ever since Willie and Lacey’s murders, he had not seemed right in the head.
Joshua had known Tom since Tom was in diapers, and he had always suspected that something was wrong with him. He and Willie were alike in many ways, but where Willie had always been loud and happy go lucky acting, Tom was sullen and quiet. One never really knew what was going on inside his head.
The body in the lake was Cassie Bohannon. She too, had been stabbed repeatedly. It was plumb overkill, on both she and Joe Dyas.
It did not take that much stabbing to kill a person.
Whoever killed them was extremely violent or angry, maybe both. A killing like that was what the profilers had begun calling, a crime of passion.
Joshua hoped his suspicions were wrong, but he doubted it. His gut instinct was usually right, and his gut was telling him that for whatever reason, Tom Stringer murdered both Cassie Bohannon and Joe Dyas.
When Joshua drove into Tom’s front yard, Tom was sitting in his usual spot under the oak tree, drinking beer with his cousin, Johnny Treble.
Joshua could see immediately that they were both about plastered. He unsnapped his holster, just in case they wanted to give him any trouble.
Tom looked at Joshua with disgust as Joshua got out of his patrol car.
“What the fuck you want, Stokes?” Tom asked, his lips curling into a sneer as he slurred his words.
“Yeah, you ain’t got no biz ness messin’ wit us, we ain’t done nuthin’ wrong,” Johnny Treble chimed in, slurring his words worse than what Tom had.
Joshua quickly assessed the situation, calculating how much they’d had to drink by the empty beer cans laying on the ground beside them, also noticing that there was a half empty jug of shine sitting next to Tom’s chair.
“You’re right, Johnny,” Joshua said softly, hoping to placate their drunken egos with soft voiced sincerity. “But I need to talk to Tom a minute and then I’ll leave you two to your drink.”
“What if’n he don’t wanna talk wid ya,” Johnny replied and was drawing another breath to say more, when he got the hiccups, then every time he started to say something he would hiccup.
After several failed attempts, Johnny got quiet. Then just sat there staring down at the fire pit.
Tom looked up at Joshua, sneered again, and then said, “You know sumthin’ Sheriff, I ain’t ever liked your ass a tall, not one bit. Just to have to look at you gripes my ass. You never cut us any slack when we was boys.”
Joshua knew that Tom was referring to himself and Willie, and he knew that Tom was incorrect in his remembering; he had cut them plenty of slack.
He’d caught Tom and Willie skipping school and drinking a number of times, before he hauled them home to their daddy. He had let them slide several times, because they were just hanging out at the river drinking beer with a few other boys, not really bothering anyone. All of that was before they were old enough to drive.
Once they started driving and drinking it was a different story. They were not only risking their lives, but others as well. He could not knowingly let that go on. While Joshua was still there that day, their daddy tore their asses up with a razor strap and then took the truck keys away from them.
Joshua felt at the time, that their daddy whipped them for his benefit, but maybe he was wrong. Bill, their father, was always straightforward. The next day, he saw Tom and Willie driving the truck again, but this time at least, they were at school and they were not drinking, he had checked.
Joshua looked Tom dead in the eyes and said evenly, “Well Tom, to be honest, I don’t like you very much either, but that is neither here nor there, that’s not why I am here. I need to talk to you about Joe Dyas.”
As soon as he said Joe’s name, Joshua saw Tom sneer again, his sneer pretentious and pompous, as if he himself was superior to everyone else.
“That stupid piece of shit, high-yeller niggra; alls he had to do was go on about his business, but no, he had to come stick his black nose where it didn’t belong. It got him kilt.” Tom’s words solidified Joshua’s gut instinct and Joshua wondered if Tom was just so drunk that he did not care what he said, or if he simply thought that he was above the law. Either way, he was going to have to take him in; he had as much as admitted to killing Joe Dyas. He was sure that Tom had also killed Cassie Bohannon.
“Tom, I am going to have to take you in, you know that, right.”
“You and what
fucking army, Sheriff. Looks like you’re on your own to me.”
“I might be on my own, but I have to uphold the law.”
“Yeah right, just like y’all done when Autry kilt Willie.”
“The circumstances were different—”
“Y’all didn’t lift a goddamn finger to help us look for Willie!” Tom exclaimed, his voice rising in anger.
“Willie was already dead—” Joshua began to say, before Tom cut him off again.
“But, we didn’t know that, neither did you, Jeth’row; you and that Barney Fife deputy of yours. If y’all hadda done your job and looked for him when we told y’all he was missing, at least Lacey might still be alive, but you sorry sumbitches wouldn’t even attempt to look for him. Y’all almost got Hannah kilt too!”
“You can’t go blaming all that on us; besides, we have protocols we have to follow, Tom. We are suppose-”
“Fuck your protocol, Sheriff,Autry’s death was justified.”
“Never said it wasn’t, but I can’t rightly see any justification for killing Joe Dyas or Cassie Bohannon, no matter what.”
“Well, I could and I did. Her mouth overloaded her ass when it come to put up or shut up. Joe should have stayed out of it and done his job. He was supposed to be planting azaleas, not snooping around peeking through windows and listening to white folks business!”
“What happened, Tom?”
“That little hussy kept giving me the eye, flirtin’ and a smiling, and then when I made a move on her, she comes all unglued. Damn prick teaser, that’s what she was.”
“If she didn’t want to have anything to do with you, why didn’t you just leave, Tom? You didn’t have to kill her.”
“I didn’t plan on doing it, just sorta happened. She was all flirty til I made a pass at her, then she hauled off and slapped me, so I slapped her back. Several times, cause it felt good. Then I throwed her ass on the bed and was gonna take what she’d offered. That’s when that damn half-breed niggra come a runnin’ in there and tried to stop me. He was the one that got that butcher knife. I just showed him how to use it.”
“Why did you stab, Cassie?” Joshua asked again.
“After I stuck Joe, she started screaming and carrying on, trying to run past me and it just happened, I don’t know why it happened, it just did. I was mad as hell!” Tom said.
Joshua reached behind him, unsnapped the handcuffs from his belt, and stepped closer to Tom Stringer.
“Tom Stringer, you’re under arrest for the murders of Cassie Bohannon and Joe Dyas. You have the right-” Joshua could not get out the next word. He felt something hot penetrate his side and then he heard an explosion and smelt the acrid odor of gunpowder. All of his breath left his body; he could feel himself falling.
32
Trespasser
Feeling hot breath on the back of her calf, Emma gasped in fear and froze. She knew it had to be the dog, but he had followed her so quietly that she did not even know he was behind her, until she was about to open the door.
Emma was afraid to move, but knew she could not just stand there forever. She was trespassing on the dog’s territory and he may take offense if she ignored him. Finally, after several deep breaths, Emma was calm enough to speak. “Hello, old fella,” Emma said softly, slowly turning to face him.
The dog wagged his tail and sat down in front of her as if he was waiting on her to do something or to say something else.
Emma slowly extended her hand toward his nose.
The dog sniffed her hand and then leaned his head into it. She rubbed the top of his head and murmured to him as she did. She did not even know what she was saying, but whatever it was, the dog seemed to be responding positively.
“Are you hungry, boy? I sure am,” Emma said as she turned her attention back toward the door.
When she took hold of the knob and turned it, the door opened. Emma entered the kitchen and held the screen door open, inviting the dog to follow her, but he stood up, walked to the swing, then hopped up onto the seat. She was glad he did, because he made her nervous. Emma did not fully trust dogs she did not know well.
A dog bit her when she was about eight years old. It had taken her several years and her daddy getting her a puppy for her to overcome most of her fear of dogs.
Emma went straight to the icebox, but when she opened it, it was virtually empty. All she saw was a boxed food plate from what looked like the diner in Wilmer, some catsup, mustard, and a couple of co colas. Emma took one of the bottles of co cola out and then searched through the cabinet drawers until she found a bottle opener.
After searching though the pantry, which was also empty except for coffee, sugar, and a loaf of moldy bread, Emma opened the icebox again and took out the food plate. “Whoever lives here, must not cook at all,” she muttered aloud. When she opened the lid, it smelt ok, but there was a half-inch layer of grease around the edges. She would have to warm it up before she could eat it. The stove was a wood stove. Emma knew how to use one, because her great-grandmother had one, but if she started a fire in it, someone might see the smoke from the chimney.
Emma was starving. She went back, opened the pantry again, and stood staring at its sparse contents. She reached for the loaf of bread, deciding she could make a catsup sandwich if the bread was not too old.
After lifting it off the shelf, Emma saw that the entire loaf was covered in green, powdery, mold. The thought of eating it was worse than the idea of eating the greasy food.
Emma retrieved a spoon from one of the drawers, walked out onto the porch, then scooped the grease off the food, and fed it to the dog.
She then went back inside and sat the plate in front of her at the table. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table and a short glass. Emma had never drunk hard liquor before, but most adults she knew did. She opened the bottle and smelt the whiskey. It did not smell the way she thought it would; it smelt better. She turned the bottle up and took a big swallow. It burned her throat and almost took her breath. The burning was not what Emma expected. She replaced the cap on the bottle, and then sat it back where it had been. She then turned her attention to the food.
The first few of bites were delicious, but as soon as they settled into her stomach, she felt sick. She tried taking a few more bites, figuring it was because she had been so long with food that her stomach was rejecting it.
After the second attempt, Emma pushed the plate away from her, and then took a swallow of the co cola. The nauseous feeling did not go away. Instead, her stomach felt as if it was bloating, swelling until she felt it would explode. She stood up and attempted to go to the bathroom. Before she could make it to the toilet, she vomited!
Emma tried to catch the vomit in her hands, but it was hopeless. The vomit flowed through her fingers and splashed onto the floor. When she looked down, she saw a sheriff’s uniform shirt on the floor of the bathroom.
The sight of the sheriff’s uniform was a relief to Emma, but at that moment, she was too sick to fully comprehend her good fortune. She sank to the floor and then crawled to the toilet. Emma vomited several more times before she lost consciousness.
33
Careless
As he collapsed to his knees, Joshua turned toward the side where he had felt the sharp burning pain.
Johnny Treble was still seated across the fire pit from where he and Tom were. In his hand, Joshua saw a 22-caliber pistol. He could not believe he had been so careless.
He should have realized that Johnny might potentially cause a problem when he arrested Tom, but Johnny was just a drunk. He never caused any trouble, just ran off at the mouth most of the time.
“Damnit, Johnny. What’d you do that for, I coulda took him.” he heard Tom say.
Joshua was trying to get his revolver out of its holster, when he felt a booted foot stomp his other hand. Looking up, he saw that Tom was now standing over him.
“I reckon the hell I’ll have to kill him now,” Tom said flatly, as if he would be putting an injured
animal out of its misery.
“I didn’t want him ta take you in, Tom,” Johnny slurred and then hiccupped. “We cousins got to look out fer one another.” While they were preoccupied talking with one another, Joshua managed to get his gun out of its holster. He looked from Johnny to Tom. Tom was nearest, but Johnny was the one with the gun. Either way, he would be taking a chance; it was a damned if you do, damned if you don’t moment.
If he shot Tom, Johnny would shoot him and if he shot Johnny, Tom would stomp the gun out of his hand. If he did not get more air into his lungs, then he would die from that.
Joshua pointed his gun toward Tom and squeezed the trigger just as he heard Johnny yell, “Watch out Tom!”
He saw a blackened hole form in Tom’s shirt. The hole was just below his left shirt pocket. Suddenly, the area around the hole turn red with blood.
Joshua swung his pistol toward Johnny Treble, but Johnny Treble had tried to stand up. In his attempt, he fell backwards over the chair and the pistol he was holding went flying across the yard.
Joshua turned his attention back to Tom. Tom had stumbled backward and collapsed into the chair he had been sitting in. Joshua could see the disbelief on Tom’s face. For a moment, Joshua thought Tom was going to jump back upright, but when he tried, he was unable to stand. With each beat of Tom’s cold heart, Joshua saw blood spurt out the hole in his shirt.
Tom looked at Joshua, their eyes locked. Tom sneered, then opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but before he could speak, death swept in.
Tom’s face contorted in the reapers firm grip. Joshua watched as the blood stopped spurting out the hole in Tom’s shirt and slowed to a dribble. The life force that was Tom Stringer departed this world.
Joshua could almost envision the hounds of hell that come to drag Tom’s soul into its fiery depths.
He knew he should feel something, compassion, pity maybe, but he only felt contempt.