by Lila Beckham
“Look, John, you are good at your job. You wrap this up out here; I am headed to inform Roy about Cassie-”
“So, Roy’s alive!”
“Yes. He was on his way to Houston, Texas, when all that went down at his house. He takes his daddy out there every few months to visit with Race McGregor, who is in prison out there for smuggling people and drugs across the border. I found Roy out at his daddy’s place; they had just got back from Texas.
I told him to stay put until I come back to let him know it was all right to leave.”
“Good job, Sheriff. You’re damn good at your job. That ought to help when reelection comes up.”
“I’m retiring, John. I’m getting too damn old for all this shit,” Joshua said placing his hand on his ribs. “Yep, too damn old.” About that time, Deputy Jim Davis came striding up to Joshua and John.
“Sheriff, I was just talking with the dispatcher and she told me that Pearl Carr came into the station today and filed a missing persons report on her daughter Emma. Seems she might have been missing for a few days now.
The dispatcher said something about Pearl working graveyard and the other kids being gone to school when she got home and they didn’t know she was missing until today, when her mama was off work.”
Joshua’s conversation with Pearl at the truck stop comes back to him as he listened to Davis give the details.
The thought had already crossed his mind that something wasn’t right with what Pearl had said about Emma’s employer calling about her not showing up for work.
“Davis, I hate to say this, but it will have to wait a bit. When you get through booking Johnny Treble, go have a talk with Pearl Carr. Get all the details she can give you on her daughter. Talk to her brother and sister too; maybe they will know something.
Tomorrow morning, go talk to any of Emma’s friends and coworkers that you can get up with. See if any of them know her whereabouts. I have to go talk to Roy McGregor.”
Joshua was about to pull out of the driveway when Cassie Bohannon’s car drove in. It was Roy and his father, Royce. Word had already reached them somehow.
Roy slammed on brakes and rolled his window down.
“I was just on my way out to talk to you.” Joshua told Roy.
“I am glad to see you’re alright, Sheriff. We heard you’d been shot!” Roy exclaimed and before Joshua could respond, he saw the reporter and cameraman fast walking toward them.
“Meet me out at the old hotel by the trestle,” he hollered to Roy and then took off out the drive.
Roy wheeled around, almost taking the cameraman with him, and followed Joshua to the river. Once parked, Joshua got out of his car and then stretched as best he could, considering how sore his ribs were.
While he was stretching, Roy and his father drove up, both got out of their vehicle too.
The first thing Joshua noticed was the fifth of whiskey that Royce held in his hand.
Joshua needed a drink; he needed it bad. He reached out toward Royce and Royce handed him the bottle. Joshua turned it up and took several swallows before he stopped to take a breath. He handed the bottle back to Royce and then turned to Roy.
“Roy, Cassie is dead” he blurted out. “She was murdered by Tom Stringer.”
“Motherfucker, I knew something was going on between those two,” Roy exclaimed, reaching for the whiskey bottle his father held.
“No, Roy, you’re wrong; it wasn’t like that. Cassie might have flirted with Tom, but she did not want anything to do with him, sexually. She was just flirting, probably trying to make you jealous; women like attention, Roy, especially from their men folk.
When Tom and Joe delivered the flowers, Tom made a pass at Cassie, she rejected him. Her rejection pissed him off, so he tried to take what he wanted. That was when Joe came in and tried to stop him.
Tom killed Joe, and then killed Cassie.”
“Do you mean to tell me that that nigger gave his life trying to save Cassie from being raped?”
“Yep, that is exactly what I’m telling you.. Joe Dyas was a good family man; he respected people.
He might not have been a very big man in the physical sense, but he had a big heart; it cost him his life.”
Joshua not only said all of that for Roy’s benefit but also for Royce’s benefit; Royce held a biased opinion of black folks.
“I hate to cut this short, you two, but it had been one hellava long day. I am ready to get to the house,” Joshua said as he tried to stretch his side once again. It felt as if it was drawing up into a tight knot.
“All right, Sheriff. I appreciate all you done, taking a bullet and all; saved me from having to kill that son-of-a-bitch myself!”
“It’ll be hard enough to pick up the pieces as it is, Son, you still got a long row to hoe,” Royce said, and Joshua knew Royce was right. People were not forgiving and they did not forget easily either.
Roy had had nothing whatsoever to do with Tom’s death, but some would blame him just because Cassie was his woman and she was involved.
“Worry about that when it comes to it. Just take it one day at a time, Roy, and try to stay out of trouble. I’m getting too damn old for all of these hard days and late nights.”
“Aw hell, Son, You’re still a pup,” Royce said friskily, “Suck it up and keep a goin’, you got many a good year ahead of ye.”
“I hope so, Royce, I truly do. I’m gonna head home, you two stay safe,” Joshua said as he got into his patrol car and headed home.
36
Home Sweet Home
Joshua let out a sigh of relief as he turned down the driveway to his house. Home sweet home, he thought to himself, glad to be about there.
He would have never admitted it to Bonnie, the nurse who had tended him, but his ribs hurt like hell. He still felt a sharp pain in them when he tried to take more than a shallow breath.
Joshua’s driveway was long and narrow; more like a pig trail than a road, and when he drove from the tree-lined drive into the clearing around his cabin, he could have sworn that he saw a light, but when he looked again, there were no lights on. Maybe the moonlight was reflecting off the tin roof. It was full and bright.
After he parked and got out of his car, Joshua felt that something was out of sorts… he’d felt this same feeling before his recent visits from the spirit world.
“All I want is some rest,” Joshua mumbled aloud, hoping that if the spirits were at work, and listening, maybe they would take pity on him and leave him be.
He started toward the front porch, but then changed his mind and headed around to the back of the cabin. When he stepped up onto the porch, he saw that Jack was holding down the fort from his favorite spot to lay, the porch swing. Jack flapped his tail several times, raised his head and looked at his master.
Out of habit, Joshua opened the fifty-gallon trash container he kept on the porch for Jack’s dog food and dipped out several cupfuls, which he poured into Jack’s feeding bowl. He decided he would check Jack’s water in the morning. If Jack was thirsty, all he had to do was walk down to the river to drink.
When Joshua reached to open the screen door, he noticed that the back door was ajar. He drew his pistol and stood there for several minutes, listening; he heard nothing suspicious. Joshua decided that maybe in his hurry to leave that morning, he must not have closed the door completely.
Stepping into the kitchen, he stopped again to listen before flipping on the light switch. Light flooded the room, temporarily putting him at a disadvantage.
He needed to put a lower wattage bulb for when he came in from days like today. The 100 watts flooding the small kitchen was much too bright for his tired eyes.
Joshua holstered his revolver then reached for the whiskey bottle and glass that sat on the kitchen table. He poured himself a stiff drink and then drank it in one gulp.
Emma sat on the bed with her fingers laced tightly together to keep her hands from trembling. She had been listening intently for whoever had driven up and
praying the husky voice would not whisper in her ear again; it had totally freaked her out.
Emma had never been prone to seeing or hearing things, ghosts or otherwise, until lately, but she knew that several in her family had issues with see “haints” as they called them. Emma did not want people to think her crazy too, as they did some of her kin.
She heard booted feet step up onto the back porch, and she heard them pause before coming into the house. Whoever had come in, was still in the kitchen.
Emma could not remember if she had shut the kitchen door nor did she remember closing the cellar door.
She heard the booted feet walking around in the front part of the house and then she heard them go back into the kitchen. All of a sudden, she heard the booted feet coming down the short hallway toward the bedrooms.
Emma held her breath, waiting.
She expected whomever it was to burst through the door at any moment and find her sitting there, but the footsteps stopped at the first bedroom. They paused before opening the door and entering the room.
A minute or two later, she heard the person grunt and then she heard them moan aloud. It sounded as if they were in some sort of physical pain.
Joshua stopped at the door to his bedroom. He never closed his bedroom door, but maybe he had and just did not remember doing it.
He walked on into his bedroom and looked at the window, wondering if he had left it open and the wind had blown the door shut, but the window was closed.
Joshua removed his holster and his boots, not without pain though. He was temped to keep his boots on. He would if he could, but he needed to change his jeans. The blood had soaked into the waistband of his jeans too.
He needed to shower, but knew he would have to wait until the next day because of the bandage.
Bonnie had done a good job of cleaning the wound and bandaging it, he did not want to have to try to bandage it on his own. Besides that, he did not have any materials with which to bandage his wound if he had to.
Joshua changed underwear, slipped a clean t-shirt over his head and then walked back into the kitchen.
He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and the glass off the table and then walked out onto the back porch. He sat down in his rocker, poured a drink and drank it.
His empty stomach growled loudly from lack of food.
Emma heard bare feet leave the bedroom and walk down the hall toward the kitchen.
Well, I reckon it’s now or never, Emma thought as she stood up and walked toward the door to the hallway.
At the door, she paused. She was scared, but knew that eventually she had to trust someone and if she was right, whoever was in the kitchen was a member of the Sheriff’s Office.
Emma reached for the door and turned the knob. Slowly she stepped into the hallway and turned toward the kitchen.
The light was on in the other bedroom and the door stood open. Emma saw the bloodied clothes lying in a heap on the floor. She realized that was why she had heard them moan.
Shouldn’t someone who had been injured be at the hospital?
Maybe, whoever it was, was just there to steal clean clothes. What if it was someone the cops were chasing? Emma remembered the shootout that had occurred just months earlier there along the river. She had not heard any gunshots, but that did not mean they had not occurred.
Emma swallowed hard and then continued toward the kitchen. She expected to see whoever it was in the kitchen, but when she reached the kitchen, no one was there.
Emma glanced around the room; the backdoor was standing open. The whiskey bottle was gone from the table and she smelt cigarette smoke.
Joshua lit a smoke; inhaled as deeply as he could and then blew it out slowly; his thoughts on earlier events of the day… he felt no remorse for killing Tom Stringer. Some one had to do it. If he hadn’t, Tom may have taken several more lives with him before his death. Joshua knew Tom would not have given up easily.
Emma eased toward the backdoor. She stood at the screen door a moment before she spoke.
“Excuse me, Sir. I really hate to bother you, but I need some help.”
Joshua bolted upright out of the rocker. The first thought to enter his mind was his revolver, which he’d left in his bedroom. He usually brought it outside with him when he sat on the porch, because of wild animals.
He could not tell from what direction the voice came and he strained his eyes looking out into the darkness.
Shadows played among the trees and bushes, with each one he saw, he thought he saw a woman, but then the shadows would change.
“Who’s there?” Joshua asked, looking around for something to use for protection.
“It’s me, Sir, Emma Carr. I’m behind you in the kitchen.” Emma was trembling so bad she felt her knees giving away.
Joshua turned toward the kitchen door. The woman he saw standing there, looked exactly like Francine had looked when they were married.
Memories of Francine standing there in the same dress and shawl came flooding back to his mind, but it could not be Francine; Francine was dead.
She died in a car wreck shortly after he discovered she was cheating on him.
Her and her lover had straightened out a curve on Firetower Road. The impact had killed her, and left her lover crippled for life, paralyzed from the waist down.
It was quite fitting Joshua thought, and punishment enough for wrecking his marriage.
Joshua saw Francine’s lips moving, but her words were interwoven with his thoughts and he could not clearly make out what she was saying.
He stood there, dumbfounded, staring at her.
He thought she was a ghost…
Emma had told him who she was, but she could not understand why he just stood there staring at her. Therefore, she repeated her words. “It’s me, Emma Carr. Some very strange men have held me captive.
I was camping along the river. I heard something and went to investigate, that was when I saw them killing someone, and then, they saw me.
When I ran away, they chased me through the woods and caught me. I escaped one day while they were doing something else and I managed to get here.
Please help me!” she begged.
When Emma said, please help me, her words finally began to make sense to Joshua’s brain. He opened the screen door, waiting for her to step outside. Once his brainwaves began to level out, Joshua could see that the girl standing before him was not Francine. This girl was little more than a child.
“I’m sorry, but what did you say. I have had a few rough days and you caught me off guard. I thought you was a g-well, I thought you was a ghost. I have a few of them around here,” Joshua said, explaining himself as best he could.
“Oh, yes Sir, you sure do!” Emma exclaimed, remembering the raspy voice that whispered in her ear.
“Did you say you name was Emma?”
“Yes, Sir, I am Emma Carr, but I do not know who you are. That was why I was afraid to approach you at first.” Emma tried to say the words as if she was no longer afraid, but she was still unsure of him.
She did not know who he was.
Joshua could tell the girl was afraid of him and he could not blame her. He must have seemed like a complete idiot staring at her as he did, but he thought she was the ghost of Francine.
He motioned for her to come out onto the porch and have a seat in the other rocking chair. Then he sat back down in his rocker, reached for his smokes and the glass of whiskey. He did not know what went with the cigarette he was smoking.
Emma eyed the glass of whiskey he held in his hand. From her experience, whiskey and men did not mix well. Most men she had known in her life, became lecherous lunatics when they drank, so did her mama.
She was glad her mother stopped drinking and became her mom again, but that did not last long. Emma was sure that Pearl was up to her old ways since her father had left them and she had gone to work at the truck stop. Pearl was never home, except to sleep.
Joshua lit a cigarette and took a long draw
before he spoke again.
“Emma, my name is Joshua Stokes; I am the sheriff of this county.” Joshua saw her sigh with relief when he told her who he was.
“Thank God!” Emma exclaimed. “I have so much I need to tell you, Sheriff, I don’t even know where to begin. It has been a rough few days for me too.I need to let my folks know that I am all right. I am sure they’ve been worried sick about me.”
Joshua listened attentively. He did not want to miss anything she said; it could potentially be information he would need for his investigation. Her words though, brought with them the knowledge that no one, except her employer, had immediately known she was not where she was supposed to be.
Joshua sipped the whiskey, smoked several cigarettes, and listened as Emma told him of her harrowing ordeal.
He asked one or two questions he deemed important, but he did not want to stop the flow of information coming from the young girl who sat there chattering away.
From what she was saying, she just might be the only surviving victim/witness of whoever was decapitating women and dumping their mutilated bodies for the whole world to see.
Joshua had felt from the beginning that the killer or killers was taunting him, a catch me if you can sort of thing. They wanted him to see the mutilated bodies; it was their artwork, some sort a work, they were a piece of work all right, which was why he delayed putting himself in their space, their frame of mind. They were some sick fuckers.
There were millions of acres of woodlands, in which to bury a corpse in in Mobile County. Many of them, such as the riverbanks and bayous had lain undisturbed since the beginning of time, and probably would for another eon.
As a matter of fact, Joshua was as sure as he breathed that there was many bodies buried along the river, in the swamps and along the bayous and many a murderer had gone unpunished for his deed too.
When Emma finished, Joshua had one more question for her.
“Do they know who you are, and where you live?” the question was a valid one and it caught Emma by surprise. She’d never even wondered about that… What if they did know? What if they went to her house and harmed her family.Emma began trembling again, so badly that she felt faint.