DarkHeart of Hampton House

by Joy Redmond

  Once she had all that she thought would fit into the saddle bags, she hurried for the garage, dropping her old purse in the chair on top of Lance’s jeans. Out in the garage, she stuffed her belongings into the saddle bags and was surprised at how much they would hold. Thoughts were racing through her mind. I’ve got to make this look right.

  She ran back inside and headed for the back bedroom. Her instincts led her to the bed. She reached between the mattresses. She dragged out a bag of cocaine, mirror and razor. She took it into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. “Where is your other shit?” she asked, as if Lance would tell her where to find it all.

  She went back to the master bedroom and lifted the top mattress. Ah, yeah. A tourniquet and one packaged syringe. She stood and turned in circles. Chest of drawers. She opened the top drawer and picked up three vials: Roxanol, Xanex and Valium. She noticed a picture of a woman. She studied the face and felt chills rise on her arms. Who the hell are you? She studied the face for a minute. “This is an old picture. Are you his mother?” She talked to the picture as if the face would answer her. “Well, it makes sense now. He took up with me because I look just like you, whoever you are.” She dropped the picture, reminding herself she couldn’t dilly-dally.

  She carried the vials into the living room and lined them up on the coffee table. Her mind was still racing. She moved her purse and picked up Lance’s jeans and ran her hands into the pockets, pulling out his pill pouch and a key ring. She reached into the back pocket and pulled out his wallet. She opened the pill pouch and scattered various pills over the top of the coffee table. She opened his wallet. “Shit,” she mumbled. “A twenty?” She left the twenty in the wallet and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. Holding the key chain, she noticed a small key. She remembered finding a briefcase under the bed one day when she was looking for her shoes. “Briefcase!”

  She ran back to the master bedroom and looked under the bed. It was gone. She opened every drawer of the chest. “Jackpot!” she said, as she opened the bottom drawer.

  She pulled out the briefcase and unlocked it. “Holy horse shit!” She ran her hands over the neatly stacked hundred dollar bills. She locked the briefcase, dropped the keys into her jeans pocket, then hurried out to the garage. It was a tight squeeze, but she managed to get the case into one saddle bag.

  Back in the living room, she surveyed things. Not good enough. She tied the tourniquet around Lance’s upper left arm. She opened the syringe package. She held each vial upside down, pushed the needle into the rubber caps and withdrew 2cc’s of each. She flipped the syringe back and forth, making sure the mixture was blended. Then she hurried into the kitchen, held the filled syringe over the sink, and pushed the plunger. When the syringe was empty, she ran cold water down the sink.

  Taking the empty syringe back into the living room, she squatted by Lance and stuck a vein. When she got a blood feedback, she knew she knew she was in. She pushed the blood back into his vein, pulled out the needle and placed the syringe in Lance’s hand.

  “I learned a lot from you, Joey. Now when the snoop-dogs find this, they’ll only find residue of what is on the coffee table.” One more time, she looked over the scene. Cocaine, Roxanol, Xanaex, Valium and empty syringe in hand. She stood over his body. “Yep, you sure had a party!” She eyed the bag of cocaine. “How about a little under the nose? One for the road to hell.” She stuck her index finger into her mouth, wetting it just enough for the coke to stick as she inserted it into the bag. She wiped her finger clean under his nostrils. “Looks good to me!”

  She stepped over his body and hurried back to the master bedroom. It was gonna be a long, cold ride. She pulled on another sweater, grabbed a jacket from the closet, and was thankful to find gloves in one pocket.

  As she passed the scene in the living room, she looked it over again. “You went out in style, Lance. Oh, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll help myself to a couple of ‘feel like a million dollars’ pills.” She bent and picked up two black capsules. She popped one into her mouth and put the other one in her jacket pocket. “I’ve got to stay awake.”

  As she headed for the garage, she looked back at Lance lying on the floor. “You sorry bastard. You picked the wrong girl to mess with. I’ve had to fight for my life for as long as I can remember. You didn’t leave me any choice. Your demise is not gonna be pinned on me. You did yourself in. Really, ya did.”

  She walked out into the garage, pulled the string hanging from the ceiling and manually opened the door. She pushed the bike outside and put down the kickstand. As she pulled on her gloves she remembered that their new motorcycle helmets were still in the boxes they came in, unopened. She went back inside the garage and ripped open a box. The helmet looked to be small enough for her head. She put it on, pulled the chin strap tight, then flipped down the visor. I can do this. I have to!

  Her adrenaline was pumping and her legs were still wobbly. She pulled down the garage door, then pushed the bike out of the driveway and down the hill. Just as she reached the bottom, she turned to look behind her one more time. She eyed Joey’s house. “I’ll always love ya. Bye, Joey.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Joey had walked into his garage, kicked off his rubber boots and stripped out of his overalls. Wearing only a T-shirt and briefs, he walked into the TV room, which was also the kitchen, separated by a snack bar. He scrubbed his hands and arms above the kitchen sink, then raided the fridge.

  He was hungry but so tired he only ate one cold chicken leg. He fixed a strong drink, sat down on the couch and flipped on the TV. Suddenly, his body jerked, and he realized he had fallen asleep. He glanced at the grandfather clock. “Shit! I’ve been asleep for over an hour.” He got up and was headed to the bedroom when he remembered he had forgotten to bring in his black bag.

  He walked out of his front door and headed for the truck parked in his driveway. He noticed the lights were still on at Lance’s house, so he thought he’d go over and have a drink with Lance.

  Joey tapped on the front door. He waited a few minutes and when nobody came, he turned the knob, wondering why it was unlocked. He walked inside. “Lance. Lacy. Anybody up?” By the time the words were out of his mouth, he had rounded the corner and stepped into the living room. His eyes bugged when he saw Lance lying on the floor, naked.

  Joey ran to his side. “Hey, buddy. Are you alright? He tapped Lance’s face, then looked at the coffee table. “Ah, holy shit! What have you done?” He ran through the house, yelling for Lacy. When she didn’t answer, he headed for the garage. What the hell! Why did Lacy take off on the bike? Why didn’t she come for me? He scratched his head. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  He hurried back inside and knelt by Lance’s side. He pulled the tourniquet off his arm and noticed a small trickle of blood had run down his arm. “Lance, come on. Come around.” He tapped his face. Lance didn’t respond.

  Joey felt for a radial pulse. Nothing. He felt for an artery pulse. Nothing. He blew a deep breath, then felt the other side of his neck. “I found a pulse. Hang on, buddy. I’ll get help for you. You stay with me.” Joey ran into the kitchen, picked up the wall phone and dialed 911. The dispatcher said an ambulance was on its way. “Hurry, please!”

  Joey ran back to Lance. It was a struggle but he lifted him off the floor and laid him on the couch. He picked up the jeans in the chair and saw his T-shirt was on the floor. He managed to get Lance dressed, then he wiped the sweat from his brow.

  He ran into the kitchen and wet a paper towel. He saw a plastic bag that had been dropped by the pantry door. He picked it up.

  He hurried back into the living room, wiped the blood from Lance’s arm and the cocaine from under his nose. He cleared the coffee table, then took the bag to the garbage can in the garage. His hands and legs were trembling as he made his way back inside.

  “Come on, medics. Come on! His pulse is getting weaker.” Tears ran down Joey’s face as he held Lance’s hand. “Why, Lance? I taught you ho
w to mix the right stuff. I warned you not to overdo it.” He hung his head. “I guess finding you like this was more than Lacy could take. She thought you were dead and she just took off. I guess it was her way of dealing with it. She sure has been powerful mad at you for a long time for drinking and drugging. I thought you were cutting back. Damn, man. Those track marks are ugly. I didn’t know you were on the hard stuff.”

  Joey jumped when the paramedics opened the front door. “In here,” he called out.

  Two medics walked into the living room. “What happened,” first medic asked.

  “I think he had a heart attack. I’m his neighbor. I just came over to have a drink and I found him like this. He has a pulse, but it’s weak.”

  One medic placed a stethoscope on Lance’s chest. He moved it to several places. “His sinus rhythm is way below normal, but at least it’s regular. Step aside and we’ll get him loaded on a stretcher. We’ll slap the oxygen to him once we have him in the ambulance. Let’s hope we can get him there in time.”

  Joey watched from the front porch as the ambulance drove away. He looked toward the heavens and cried, “I can’t take this. Lance and Lacy, both gone. How am I gonna live without them? You’ve gotta make it, Lance. I need you, buddy. Lacy, please come to your senses and come home. The three of us were a family. We had a good life together.”

  It was then that Joey realized he didn’t know Lacy’s last name. He didn’t know where she was from. “She meant to keep it that way. What are you hiding, Lacy? Where did you go?”

  Joey went back inside Lance’s house. There had to be something that would give him a clue on where to find her; anything that could tell him something about the little redheaded vixen who had pulled the wool over his eyes.

  He emptied all the drawers. He searched through all of Lacy’s purses. He checked the pockets of the outfits she left behind. Nothing. It was like she made sure that nobody would ever find anything that was a link to her. “Why, Lacy? Didn’t you know how much Lance and I loved you? We would have protected you from the world. Even the law. Are you on the lam?”

  Joey headed home, shaking his head and mumbling aloud as if he thought listening to himself talk would help him figure things out. “Something tells me I’ll never know the truth about this night. My gut tells me I’ll never see Lacy again. My gut also tells me I’m missing something. I’m too tired to think, tonight.” Then it dawned on him that he had to get to the hospital and find out what he could about Lance. Lance Jackson was his brother. Lacy was his sister. “Maybe I don’t wanna know what really happened. Maybe I’m better off by leaving things as they are.”

  When Joey got back home, he fixed two strong drinks. After his nerves had calmed down, he took a shower and dressed in nice clothes. His hands had stopped shaking by the time he got into his car and headed out. When he was out of the subdivision, he realized he didn’t know which hospital Lance had been taken to.

  He assured himself that he would find his brother, bring him home and take care of him. He scolded himself for supplying Lance with cocaine. He felt responsible for Lance’s near death. Maybe his actual death. Tears streamed down Joey’s face. “Forgive me, Lance. Forgive me, Lacy.”

  ***

  Lacy was exhausted by the time she had pushed the motorcycle out of the subdivision and onto the main highway. She didn’t dare fire up the bike and wake anybody. The pill had curbed her appetite but her mouth was dry from nerves, pain and exhaustion. She badly needed water, but she knew she had to keep going.

  When she reached the main highway, she cranked the bike and took off. It was dark but the moon was bright. She was dehydrating and she didn’t want to become delirious and wreck. She saw a 7-Eleven and pulled into the parking lot. She took her purse out of the saddle bag and slipped it over her head. She went inside, looking for the Rest Room sign. Every bone and muscle in her body was hurting, and she wished she had grabbed a pain pill off the coffee table. She went into the restroom, turned on the cold water tap, cupped her hands and drank from them. Water had never tasted so good. She continued to drink until her stomach felt full.

  She went into a stall. She pulled her jeans down and saw the bleeding had either slowed down or stopped. She reached inside her bra and took out the pad. There was no blood on it. She emptied her bladder, then put the other pad into her panties.

  She didn’t bother to lift the Band-Aid and check her nipple. She figured it would hang on and hopefully heal in time. It sure would be embarrassing to have to go to a doctor and explain a dangling nipple. She came out of the stall and washed her hands. She walked to the counter, picked up two candy bars, then went to the soda case and grabbed a bottle of Coke.

  When she went to the counter to pay for the items, she picked up a bottle of aspirin. This will have to do for the pain. Here goes part of my money, Lance. That’s okay, because you sure left plenty in the briefcase. I told ya I was a thief when you picked me up. I stole your money and your bike. What’re ya gonna do about it from the grave?

  Lacy went back outside and stuffed the candy bars into her pocket. She uncapped the aspirin bottle and shook two into her palm, then washed them down with Coke. She stuck the bottle into her other pocket before she climbed back onto the bike. She pulled out of the parking lot and hit the throttle, thankful for her great sense of direction. She drove as fast as she dared, wanting to put as many miles behind her as possible before day break.

  Six hours and later, Lacy arrived in Little Rock. The sun was coming up with the promise of a nice day. She took an exit when she saw a sign for the Marriott.

  No more slumming for me. No more being shunned by the snotty rich. I’m gonna beat the shitty hand that life dealt me. Lacy Leifer is a survivor!

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Joey drove to the nearest hospital. He went to the emergency room and asked the lady at the desk if Lance Jackson had been brought in by ambulance.

  “Are you kin?” she asked.

  “No, I’m not blood kin, but he’s my neighbor and best friend. I just want to know if he’s here and if he’s alive.”

  “The only thing I can tell you is, he was here but he isn’t now.”

  “You mean he died?” Joey felt fresh tears flow down his face.

  “I can’t give you any more information. I’m sorry.”

  Joey thanked her and headed outside. You told me all I need to know. He didn’t make it. Now what am I gonna do? He walked to his car as if he were a zombie. He slid under the steering wheel. “Wait a minute,” he said. I know some doctors that work at this hospital. I’ll get all the info I want from them. All I wanna know is where they took his body. I wanna have a decent burial for him. It’s the least I can do.

  ***

  Lacy checked into the Marriott. Her body was aching and the aspirin wasn’t helping. She filled the bathtub with water, hoping a hot soak would help. It had been a cold, brutal ride. The black beauty was wearing off and she was hungry. Before stepping into the tub, she unwrapped a candy bar and ate as she soaked, letting the hot water relieve her aching body. As she thawed out, she felt sleepy. Her eyes closed and her head went under the water. She sat up, spitting and coughing.

  Sweet Jesus. I escaped a killer only to kill myself by drowning. She stepped out of the tub and towel dried. She pulled the wet Band-Aid off of her nipple. The bleeding had stopped and the nipple looked as if it was trying to adhere to her breast. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought.

  She wrapped a dry bath towel around her that was big enough to make a nice robe. She walked into the bedroom-sitting room, fished through her bags and found her toothbrush, thankful the Marriott was kind enough to have toothpaste in the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, barely able to hold her eyes open. She stumbled over to the queen sized bed, pulled back the comforter, slid under it and fell into a deep sleep.

  When she woke up, her stomach was growling. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. She glanced around the room. She’d always said th
at someday she’d stay in a fancy-shmancy hotel and order room service. And she was going to hole up there until she could figure out what she was going to do next. She had enough money to hold for a long spell.

  She got out of bed and picked up her jeans and took the key ring from the pocket. Let’s see how much money I have. She unlocked the briefcase, then picked up the first stack of bills and began to count. “Holy mother of God! There’s a thousand dollars in a stack. She began to count the stacks. “Twelve! Holy shit! I’ve got twelve-thousand dollars,” she cried out before she realized she might be overheard by people in other rooms.

  She sat for a few minutes holding a stack of money to her heart, reminding herself she had to be frugal. It was a lot of money, and she had no idea how long she was going to have to make it last. She put the money back into the briefcase and locked it. Smiling, she walked over to the table in front of the large windows and picked up a menu. Then she headed for the phone to order room service.

  She got dressed as she waited for her food and she remembered seeing two spiral notebooks in the briefcase. She unlocked the case, took out the notebooks and laid them on the table, then she pulled back the drapes. The sunlight lit up the room and she felt as if it were telling her she had a brand new life in front of her. One that she had only dreamed about, but her dreams were on the horizon.

  She stretched her arms over her head and smiled. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Just as she picked up the first notebook, she heard a tap on the door.

  ***

  Joey had made a call to Dr. Howell and found out that Lance had been revived, then he had gone berserk, almost choked a nurse to death and knocked a doctor across the room, giving him a severe concussion. Security had been called and it took three large security guards to subdue him, while another doctor sedated him. He had been put into a straightjacket and shipped to Central State Hospital.