Dumping Grounds (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 1)

by Lila Beckham

  No one who could take an innocent man and woman’s life, just because their pride had been bruised, deserved any sympathy at all as far as he was concerned.

  Johnny Treble had gotten to his feet and now was staggering over to where Tom was, but Joshua had no doubts that Tom was dead. Death comes quick to some. Joshua wished it had taken a little longer with Tom.

  He did not deserve an easy death.

  From the amount of blood in Roy McGregor’s house, Cassie Bohannon and Joe Dyas had probably suffered awhile before death greeted them. Joshua had not gotten the chance to ask Tom Stringer why he dumped Cassie’s body in the lake, but left Joe’s body in Roy’s house. That information died with him.

  Joshua tied to stand, but could not get to his feet. He was struggling to get air into his lungs. On his hands and knees, he began crawling toward his patrol car.

  Joshua knew if he could make it there, he could radio for help. Before he could make it to his car, he heard a woman begin moaning loudly. Tom’s wife had come from the trailer. She was on her knees in front of Tom and had her arms wrapped around him, rocking him back and forth. Joshua took it all in but continued toward his car.

  After he reached his car, Joshua used the steering wheel to pull himself into the driver’s seat, then he reached for the microphone. He keyed up and called for help. When the dispatcher asked the address, he did not know the street number. All he could tell them was “Tom Stringers.”

  Once seated, Joshua’s breathing came a little easier. He decided that the wind had been knocked out of him.

  He reached around with his left hand and felt his right side. It stung and felt sticky. His bloodied hand let him know that the bullet had hit him. It was just not as bad as it had felt at first.

  Taking as deep a breath as he could, Joshua sucked much needed air into his lungs, but it was not without pain.

  Joshua looked back over to where Tom, Johnny, and Tom’s wife were. Joshua did not know her name, but he did know that she had three or four younguns from a previous marriage and he thought she and Tom shared one or two. She was still crying and rocking Tom. Johnny Treble was sitting on the ground, looking defeated.

  Joshua reached for his smokes. He took one out, stuck it into his mouth, and lit it. The first draw made him cough, but the next went down a little easier.

  He wanted to crank up and drive home, but he knew he could not do that. As he sat there smoking, he heard sirens in the distance. Before he had finished his cigarette, Deputies Cook and Davis skidded into the yard. Both jumped from their patrol cars and ran to his side.

  “Are you alright, Sheriff?” Cook asked, breathlessly.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I need y’all to place Johnny Treble under arrest. We’re going to need the coroner for Tom Stringer, he’s dead.”

  “Damn, Johnny killed Tom; what for?” Cook asked.

  “No, I was placing Tom under arrest for the murders of Cassie Bohannon and Joe Dyas, that’s when Johnny shot me. I went down from the impact; Tom was going to finish me off. He attacked me while I was down on the ground. I managed to get my weapon unholstered and shot him.”

  “Joe Dyas… who, when, I thought it was Roy McGregor who was killed.” Cook was mumbling, trying to figure out what had happened at Roy’s house.

  “You was shot!” Jim Davis exclaimed.

  “I think it’s just a graze,” Joshua replied, adjusting himself in the seat.

  “Tom Stringer killed them; how in the hell did you figure all of that out, Sheriff?”

  “It’s called investigating, Cookie. What do you think I’ve been doing all day?”

  “Sorry, Sheriff; I was-well, I just wasn’t thinking,” Cook said, looking embarrassed. Deputy Davis had already gone to his patrol car and was on the radio.

  “Cookie, there is a 22-caliber pistol laying on the ground over there by that sweet gum tree. You need to get it and bag it while Davis places Johnny Treble under arrest. Be careful. I don’t know anything about Tom’s wife, she might cause a problem.”

  “Do you think we need to wait for back up?” Cook asked. Joshua knew his concern, but thought they should be capable on their own.

  “No. The quicker you get the situation under control, the better.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Cook replied excitedly, and for a split second, Joshua thought Cook was going to salute him.

  He leaned back in the seat stretching his shoulder around to ease the discomfort in his ribcage. Damn, that’s two close calls in a short amount of time, thought Joshua as he took one last drag off his smoke before smashing it into the ashtray. “What the hell is next?” he mumbled aloud.

  34

  Can You Hear the Call?

  Emma awoke; her head and one arm hanging over the toilet bowl. The sour smell of vomit almost caused her to vomit again. She reached up, flushed the toilet, and then used the toilet bowl to hang onto and raise herself to her knees. She felt far weaker than she had before she ate the food. Now, not only was she weak, she was sick too.

  It was near dark in the small bathroom, which had no window. Emma turned toward the door, but from where she was, she could only see into the hallway.

  She reached over and took hold of the bathtub. She removed her soiled clothes, crawled into the tub, placed the stopper, and then turned on the hot water.

  After several minutes, she had to add cold water to the tub. Once the tub was full, Emma lay back.

  Soaking in the hot steaming water felt good on her sore aching body, lulling her to sleep.

  It was very dark and the water was cool when Emma woke. She thought she was back in the river, and fear gripped her heart, but then she realized she was in the bathtub. Emma leaned forward, pulled the stopper, and let out most of the water. She then refilled the tub and bathed the remaining grime from her body.

  The darkness, her friend at first, was beginning to spook her. She swore she saw shadows moving in and out of the room. The limited amount of lighting, came from moonlight that filtered into the hallway from somewhere in the house.

  Emma let the water out, and then got out of the tub and felt around the doorway for a light switch. In the mirror above the sink, all she could see was her eyes, nose, and the top of her head. She raised her hand and looked at it. It was shriveled up and as wrinkled as a prune.

  Emma turned on the water and used her hand as a dipper to fill her mouth with water. She swirled it around in her mouth, then spat it out; she repeated this several times and before the sour taste was gone. Her finger and a little toothpaste served as a toothbrush.

  Emma was tempted to eat the toothpaste, but knew it would probably make her sick.

  She wrapped a towel around her and stepped toward the door. To the right was the kitchen; to the left were several doorways. She went to the first one, reached in and turned on the light. The unmade bed looked inviting.

  There was men’s clothing scattered around the room and hung over a chair. Emma turned the light off and went to the next room.

  There was a smaller bed in this room; the closet door stood ajar. Emma went to the closet and opened the door. There were some clothes hanging there, but she could tell that the clothes had been there a very long time. There was a layer of dust atop them and the hangers. In the closet was a wooden trunk. Emma dragged it out of the closet and raised the lid. Inside, it smelled of mothballs and cedar. To her surprise, the clothes were women’s clothes.

  She pulled each piece of clothing out of the trunk one by one until she found a floral print shift dress. Emma pulled the dress over her head. It fit loosely and the material was thick enough to hide her nakedness. A light woven shawl lay beneath the dress, she pulled it out and gathered it around her shoulders.

  Emma decided to try the kitchen again. The first time she was so desperate for something to eat, she might have overlooked something. She turned off the light as she left the room, more out of habit than anything.

  In the kitchen, she once again opened the cabinet doors and the refrigerator looking for food. W
hen she turned toward the back door she noticed, what she thought was a closet door at the back of the room. Emma opened the door and discovered that it was a cellar, not a closet.

  Just inside the door was a light switch. Emma flipped the switch, but nothing happened. She looked down into the dark room, wondering, what if there was food down there, “I won’t be able to see it” she mumbled sadly, and after her last encounter with a cellar, she was afraid to go down.

  Turning back into the kitchen, Emma glimpsed headlights flash across the tops of trees out in the yard. She scrambled to find the light switch and turn off the kitchen light. In the darkness, she made her way down the hall. She heard a car pull into the front yard.

  Suddenly, Emma remembered the clothes she had removed in the bathroom, she ran in there, flipped the light switch on long enough to grab the soiled clothes, including the uniform shirt that was covered in vomit. She wadded them up and tucked them under her arm. Then switched off the light and made her way to the rear bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Emma sat down on the bed and waited. She was not going to let her presence known until she knew for sure whose house it was, and who was there.

  After a few minutes, whoever had driven into the yard still had not come inside. Emma wondered if maybe it was someone stopping by for an unannounced visit and not the person who lived there.

  Emma was holding her breath, listening intently, when she heard a whisper. The whispered breath, when it came again, sounded near. Emma inhaled sharply. The voice scared her, and she began to tremble.

  “Can you hear the call,” whispered the voice, this time right in her ear. Emma wanted to scream. The voice reminded her of her captors whispering to her in the dark dungeon; but common sense took control. Emma knew if she screamed, she would be discovered.

  Placing an index finger in each ear to block out the voice, Emma closed her eyes and waited.

  What call, was the voice referring to, Emma wondered, squeezing her eyes tighter and poking her fingers deeper into her ear canals. Then, she realized that with her fingers in her ears and her eyes closed, she would not be able to hear as well nor see if someone turned on the lights in the house…

  35

  No Rest for the Wicked

  Wickedness abounds in this world, of that Joshua had no doubt. He had been in law enforcement far too long for his eyes to be blinded to it.

  Small children saw no danger; that was why there were grownups to look out for them. However, he felt grownups should know the difference, be able to see it in situations and people, and know to avoid it if possible.

  He was not saying dumb people deserved to be taken advantage of; dumb people were like children, they were gullible. Someone needed to look out for them too.

  For some people, even smart people, there was no learning the difference between good and evil, especially when it concerned people they cared about, they wore blinders.

  Some people were just plain evil, and folks who knew them well, still failed to see it.

  Part of human nature is that people wear blinders where there loved ones are concerned. Joshua felt that many wore blinders where Tom Stringer was concerned.

  In the last couple of hours, he had seen just how ruthless and uncaring Tom was toward others…

  Within twenty minutes of his call for help, half of Wilmer and Moffettville had driven by Tom’s house trying to see what was going on. Their desire to know what happened obvious on their faces.

  Some people were not the least bit reserved in showing their curiosity; they did not mind poking their nose where it did not belong. They outright stopped to ask what happened. Some of them had probably followed the deputy’s patrol cars, because they had the lights and sirens going as they sped to the residence.

  The only people’s feelings Joshua was concerned about, were Tom’s family, his sisters and his mother; the old man had died several years back.

  Joshua had a lot of respect for their father and their mother. He wondered how such good people could have spawned such rascals as Tom and Willie.

  Pearl was a notch under them by his estimations. The rest of them seemed stable. Joshua was glad he had never had any children of his own. He would hate to think how they might have turned out.

  “Lay back, Sheriff Stokes. I cannot treat this wound, if you don’t lie still,” Bonnie scolded. Bonnie Huggins was the emergency room nurse who rode the local ambulance. Joshua turned back on his side, grimacing as he did.

  He was ready to get up and walk around.

  “You are darn lucky it didn’t get past that rib and puncture your lung!” she exclaimed as she plucked the bullet out from under his skin and dropped it into a pan. “Darn lucky too, that there ain’t any bones broke. You have some tough ribs!” she exclaimed, “Could of been worse, a lot worse,” she said shaking her head. “You really need a couple of stitches in this wound, Sheriff. Turn the wrong way too quick and you might just bleed to death. You have to watch for infection too.”

  “Can’t you just stitch it up,” Joshua asked. He knew Bonnie was chattering so much, because she was nervous.

  “Why heck no, Sheriff, I ain’t no doctor.”

  “Well then, you will just have to bandage it good and tape it up; I’m not going to the hospital.”

  “I’ll do the best I can, Sheriff. Now, just be still a couple more minutes.” Bonnie said as she cut tape into small quarter inch strips, which she used to pull the two sides of the wound together. “This should pull it together and still let it get air. I will give you a shot of penicillin too, just don’t tell anybody; it could get me in trouble!”

  “Yes, Ma’am, I mean no Ma’am, I won’t say anything.”

  Someone walked up to the back of the ambulance drawing Joshua’s attention. He leaned his head to the side so he could look at them; it was Hannah, Tom’s sister.

  “Are you alright, Sheriff,” Hannah asked. Joshua could tell that she was genuinely concerned, even though her brother lay dead, killed by him, not fifty feet from the ambulance. Tom’s body lay covered with a blanket waiting the arrival of the coroner.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. I never meant for it to go down like this.”

  “I know you didn’t, Sheriff. I’ve known you all my life. I know you wouldn’t a shot Tom if you didn’t have to. I just hope Mama understands that too.”

  Joshua did not know how to respond or even if he should respond. Hannah may have been thinking that last sentence aloud or it could have been a forewarning of some sort, he was not exactly sure what she meant by it.

  “I’m fixing to go tell Mama. Tom’s wife called me and I told her under no circumstance to call Mama.”

  “Like I said, Hannah, I hate that it happened, but I had no other choice.”

  “I know, Sheriff, because I knowed Tom. It’s like the old saying goes. Ain’t no rest for the wicked. Tom was wicked. He was always contemplating something bad to do to others. Willie, he was just troubled and liked women and drink, but Tom, Tom is… was, evil. Sometimes, I believed he was the devils own spawn. I think Willie was the only person Tom ever really give a shit about.”

  “Tell your mama that I’m real sorry, Hannah. I hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me,” Joshua said sadly, and he truly meant it. Without another word, Hannah turned and walked away. Joshua laid there, his mind going over the events of the shooting. He knew he was going to have to write a report and he dreaded it.

  He still needed to go out to the McGregor place and tell Roy that Cassie was dead, and that she was not fooling around with Tom, but that Tom had killed her because she rejected him when he made a pass.

  He also needed to make sure that Joe Dyas’ family, his children knew that he was a hero, and that he died trying to protect Cassie Bohannon.

  He also needed to notify Mister Bohannon about Cassie, but that was something he could assign to his deputies. Joshua knew that no matter what he wrote in his report or told folks, the facts would be twisted around to fit whatever folks wanted t
o fit them to. People had a habit of making up stuff to seem more important than they were.

  “Ain’t no rest for the wicked… I reckon I might be wicked too, seems I never get enough rest,” Joshua mumbled aloud without realizing it.

  “Aw, you ain’t wicked Sheriff. You’re just a servant of the people. Servants don’t get no rest you know,” Bonnie said softly, patting his side, which made him grimace again.

  “Are you about done with me?”

  “Yes, Sir, done as much as I can do; the rest is up to you and the good Lord.”

  “Thank you, Bonnie. I appreciate your patience with me. I know I’m a pain in the ass, but I don’t like doctors or hospitals.”

  “But, nurses is fine, huh?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, mighty fine,” Joshua said, mustering a smile and giving her a wink, which caused her to blush.

  “You take care now, Sheriff, and if you need me you just holler.”

  “I will indeed, if I need to.” Joshua climbed out of the ambulance just as a news crew drove into the yard. “Damn buzzards, they even beat the coroner out here,” Joshua mumbled as he walked toward John Metcalf.

  “Glad to see you didn’t get yourself killed,” Metcalf said as Joshua neared him.

  “It was a close call though, Hoss. Closer than some of the others if you ask me; but what I wanted to tell you was that Joe Dyas died trying to keep Tom from molesting Cassie after she rejected his advances.”

  “Sheriff, what do you want us to do about this news crew?” Deputy Cook asked as he walked up, interrupting his and John’s conversation.

  “Just tell them there was an altercation and alcohol was involved, and that is all we know at this time. Keep it brief and simple, and under no circumstances try to answer any other questions. You hear me,” Joshua said firmly, making Cook have eye contact.

  Joshua knew how the reporters were and some of them would blow it all out of proportion if it suited them.

  “Yes Sir, will do,” Deputy Cook said, pivoting on his heel and heading in the direction of the waiting press.