“I swear to God, could I be any goddamn dumber?” Angelle fumed as she stormed up to the house, me at her heels.
“Stop being so hard on yourself. You were going through a tough time. Hell, you still are. I should have never asked you to bring me there. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Dunny. That fucker should be sorry.” We’d reached the front door by this time, and Angelle grabbed the knob, turned it, and kicked the door open. “Goddamn, I still can’t believe I ever asked that low-life sonofabitch for help!”
Poochie was sitting on the couch when Angelle burst into the living room, and she gasped in surprise. “Lord of Mary, what’s de matter? You scared me so bad my heart almost bus’ out my ches’. Which sumabitch you talking about?”
“Sorry, Pooch, didn’t mean to scare you,” Angelle said, closing the door with a lot less force than she’d used to open it.
“So what sumabitch?”
I started to say, “That wacko preacher,” but Angelle beat me to the punch.
“Woodard,” she said. “You should’ve heard what that bastard said about those kids. About his own niece for heaven’s sake! He was talking about that sweet little girl like she was some kind of prostitute or something.”
Poochie’s mouth fell open. “He called his niece a pew-tan?”
Angelle gave her a puzzled look. “I said he talked about her like she was a prostitute. Not a. . . whatever you said.”
“Pew-tan, dat’s de same thing as a ‘ho’. I can’t believe he called his own blood dat. He said dat? She was a ‘ho’?”
“Yeah!” Angelle said.
“To be fair, Woodard didn’t exactly use the word whore when he talked about Sarah,” I said. “But he just as soon have.”
“You’ve got that right,” Angelle agreed.
“I tol’ y’all he was cuckoo, didn’t I say dat?” Poochie looked over at me. “I said dat, huh?”
“Yep, you were right, crazy,” I said. “He ranted and raved so much he could’ve held church right there in the parking lot.” I shook my head. “And he thinks demons took over the town because Sarah was messing around with Nicky. How crazy and pathetic is that?”
Poochie tsked. “Bad.”
Angelle tossed her car keys on the coffee table. “He’s the demon if you ask me. I swear if that man is treating his niece that way, he should be brought up on charges. Child neglect or child endangerment, something. Whatever they can stick on him for screwing up that poor kid.” She cocked her head suddenly, and it was then I noticed all the shoes on and around Poochie’s lap.“What are you doing with all those tennis shoes, Poochie? Aren’t those my Sketchers?”
“Yeah,dem’s you shoes. Y’all come over here and grab each of y’all a pair. We gotta go do—”
“Wait a minute,” I said, something else suddenly occurring to me. “What are you doing here, Poochie? Aren’t you supposed to be at the Bucket?”
Angelle’s head snapped back in surprise. “Yeah . . . we were supposed to pick you up at . . . how did you get here?”
“Pork Chop. I had him bring me back to de house.”
“You did not have that alcoholic drive you over here!” Angelle said, incredulously.
Poochie batted the air with a hand. “Aw, de man wasn’t too poo-yiied when he drove me out here. He made de truck go pretty straight.”
“Damn, Poochie,” Angelle said. “Like we don’t have enough stuff—“
“Look, y’all need to stop running off at de mout’ and listen to what I gotta say. Y’all come see. I wanna show y’all something.”
Knowing we were probably going to be racing along the same old track until we did as she asked, I stepped over to Poochie. Angelle followed reluctantly.
“What?” Angelle asked, frowning.
With her lips folded in tight over toothless gums, Poochie handed me a pair of sneakers that looked very much like the Jordan’s I’d packed in my carry-on bag, only the laces were knotted together. She gave Angelle the Sketchers along with a pair of large, dirty black tennis shoes., both pairs with knotted laces.
“Okay,” Poochie said, “Here’s what y’all gotta do, and y’all gotta go fas’ about dis business. Bring dem shoes outside and put dem up in my prayer tree. I can throw dat myself, but I can’t throw too good. We gotta get de shoes all de way to de top in de branches. Dat’s’ where dey need to go.”
Angelle’s shoulders slumped. “Just put the shoes back in the closet, Poochie. We don’t have time for this.”
I saw steam building in Poochie’s eyes and decided to jump in before she exploded. “Why do you want us to put the shoes up there?”
“Dunny . . .” Angelle snapped a hard look my way.
Taking advantage of the opening and opportunity to make her point, Poochie said, ’CauseI said to, dat’s why. We gonna need it.” She handed me a pair of faded, open-back house slippers. A hole had been bored through the sides of each, and a piece of twine bound them together. “Here, take dese, too. Dat’s mine. Now I need for you to throw dis one all de way to de tippy-top of de tree if you can.All de way to de tippy-top, you understand?”
Angelle held out the black sneakers. “If Trevor sees how you’ve screwed up his shoes, he’s going to have a fit.”
“Trevor don’t need to know nothin’ dat Trevor don’t need to know. And he’s not here anyways.”
Angelle glanced at her watch. “It’s not even one o’clock. His shift isn’t until three. Where’d he go?”
Poochie shrugged. “He said he was gonna pick up Allen, de man he was workin’ wit’ tonight, and dey was goin’ to check traps before work. Said he was gonna come back here before his shift and drop off de boat. He didn’t say, but I bet he’s bringing de boat back because de big boss over to de plant tol’ him he couldn’t bring Bullet back dere no more.”
Slightly confused, mostly because of her accent, I asked, “So is he bringing the boat back here?”
“Dat’s what he said. But you know how dem men are .Sometimes dey say one thing and do something else. So in case he don’t come back,I already got us another plan. “
“A plan for what?” Angelle asked.
“Listen up, and you gonna see. Now, de first thing we gotta do is pack us some stuff that we gonna need out dere in de swamp. You know, a flashlight, some rope, a knife in case we got to cut something. When we get de boat, I’m gonna ride in de middle, and Angelle you gonna drive de boat. Dunny, her, she’s gonna sit up to de front and hold de flashlight so—”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Angelle said. “What are you talking about? Poochie, you aren’t coming with us.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m comin’. If you think you gonna leave me here while y’all two go get youselves killed out in de bayou, you cuckoo. We got to go together to find dem babies, and we gotta go fas’. Dat’s why I came back here from de Bucket. When I was over dere I saw me a picture of de prayer tree in my head, so I made Pork Chop hurry me back here to see if de picture was true. And it was true. I come back here to look and sure ‘nough, just like de picture. Dat little girl’s shoes was gone. Gone out de prayer tree.”
“You mean, Sarah Woodard’s shoes?” I asked.
Poochie nodded. “Yeah, de little pink ones dat was up dere. Dey missin’ just like some of de shoes on de purgatory side of de tree is missin’. I’m scared for dat little girl bad. Somethin’ in my belly is sayin’ if her shoes is gone, maybe her life is gone it, too, you know?”
Something about the conviction in Poochie’s eyes, the way she kneaded her fingers as she spoke, made her words ring too true. It sent a chill up my spine. Angelle must have felt something similar because her face went pale.
“When did Sarah’s shoes disappear?” Angelle asked. “How long ago did you notice there were gone?”
“’Bout a hour maybe.All I know is we gotta get outselves out dere fas’. Dat’s why I got dis plan. You see, if people see me in de boat, dey gonna think y’all just taking me for a little ride out to de bayou. De
y already know how much I like to go fishing.” She nodded at Angelle. “You, dey know you go help Trevor wit’ de traps sometimes, so de already know you can drive de boat, but what you need is de reason to drive de boat. Dat’s why I’m gonna go me, so you can use me as de excuse.”
“But—”
Poochie didn’t let Angelle finish, she nodded towards me “And you, you, people gonna think you just wanna ride in de boat ‘cause you from out dere in Texas, and dey don’t got all dat water in Texas.” She held out her hands. “So you see how dat’s gonna work? You riding in de boat ‘cause you wanna see de water, me I’m in de boat ‘cause I like to fish, and Gelle her is in de boat ‘cause she’s drivin’ de boat. Dat way it’s gonna make sense to any of dem hard-legs dat want to stick dere nose to our business.”
“Whether it makes sense or not doesn’t matter,” Angelle said. “You can’t come with us. It’s too dangerous and—“
“No, no, hol’ up and let me tell you somethin’.” Poochie sat tall, her eyes snapping bright green fireworks. “Look here, I cut sugar cane for twenty-five years out in de middle of de Louisiana heat, and I can bus’ me a nutria trap faster den anybody in dese parts. I know dangerous me. I can work wit’ dangerous. But you, you too soft.”
“Now wait just a minute—”
“Non, you wait a minute. I’m not saying you soft like dat’s a bad thing You teach school. Me I don’t. So dat means y’all can’t go out in de swamp by youself. You don’t know de bayou like me.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Look, we don’t got no time to fuss about dis. I’m tellin’ you. I got me a feeling right in de middle of my belly. Dat little girl is in some serious trouble. We got to go find bot’ of dem fas’. If we not too late already.” Poochie looked at me. “And you, I know you understand what I’m sayin’. I know you feelin’ dat it’s coming close.”
Reflexively, I glanced at Angelle.
“No, no, I’m talkin’ to you, you. You got to look at me.”
I turned back to Poochie. “All I know is the direction we’re supposed to head, Poochie. I don’t have a handle yet on whether the kids are alive or dead.”
“We don’t need no handle, we need de boat. You hear what I’m sayin’? Dat’s de other side to my plan. You see, if Trevor don’t bring de boat back to de house, I know where we can get another one. Vern’s got a second boat over to de Bucket. I’m just gonna go borrow it.”
“What makes you think Vern or Sook’s going to let you borrow their boat?” Angelle had her hands on her hips. She looked completely exasperated.
“Dey don’t gotta know I’m gonna borrow it right den and dere. I’ll let dem know when we get back.”
Angelle’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Are you saying steal their boat?” I said, arching a brow. “Your worried about us going out into the middle of the water but you’re not worried about grand theft?”
Poochie shrugged. “Vern’s boat’s not but eighteen foot, if dat. Dere’s nothing grand about dat. Now if we was talkin’ about takin’ somebody’s shrimp boat, dat would be different. Dem things is almost forty foot—”
“You know what she’s talking about, Poochie!” Angelle snapped.
“Don’t you get loud wit’ me and—“
“You can’t steal a boat! And even if we get Trevor’s you still can’t come with us. Look, think about it. Those skiffs hold three people at best, and even then it’s a tight fit. If you’re with us and we find those kids, how are we supposed to get everybody back? Or what if we find the kids and there’s somebody around we have to deal with, like the person who took them? Then what are we supposed to do with you then?”
“Dat’s easy. If we find de chil’ren, all you gotta do is set me out by a cypress tree somewhere, then y’all come back and get me after you bring de babies back to de landing. And if somebody out dere gives us some trouble like you said, I can fight ‘em me too.”
Angelle threw a hand up in exasperation. “That’s ridiculous. As if I’d leave you stuck on some small piece of dirt out in the middle of the bayou.”
Poochie stuck out her chin. “You don’t got no choice.”
“Oh, I’ve got a big choice.” Angelle combed a hand through her hair rapidly. “I just don’t have to take you.”
“Yeah you do got to take me. How you—”
“Listen to me, Poochie . . .”
As their argument grew more heated, I detoured around Angelle and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. There was an empty feeling growing in my chest that although I didn’t get the significance of Sarah’s missing shoes, Poochie was right about the need to hurry. In fact, we might have already missed the proverbial boat. So much time had been spent waiting for the perfect time because I didn’t want anyone to see my extra finger and what it could do, that those kids could already be dead.
Having reached the kitchen, I got a glass out of the cabinet, then went over to the sink and filled it with tap water. Instead of drinking it, I set the glass on the table, walked over to the back door, opened it, and looked out at the prayer tree. It struck me that as ridiculous as it looked with Dockers, flip-flops, sandals, shrimp boots, and sneakers hanging from its branches, that tree was doing exactly what it was created to do: simply be. I studied it, letting my thoughts gather speed.
It didn’t make that tree a bit of difference how ridiculous or it looked. It didn’t cringe in embarrassment or hide in fear. Poochie was out there in the living room, wanting to throw another four pairs onto its branches, and that tree couldn’t care less. Shoes or Christmas ornaments made no difference. They could all hang from its long, leafy branches.
That’s because it’s just a goddamn tree, my brain argued. A tree doesn’t know pain, doesn’t feel it.
It was easy to fall into the logic of that, but I knew if I did, I’d only be hiding again. Making excuses for myself. And my excuses had already wasted enough time. Because of them, those kids probably suffered more than they had to—or worse.
The weight in my chest dropped to my stomach, deepening, widening. Shame will do that to a person. That tree, as simple and insignificant as some people might consider it, didn’t care whether somebody called it a freak or called it anything at all. And here I was hiding. Over a stupid finger. While two kids sat, hopefully, out in the middle of nowhere, crying for their parents, both of them probably hungry and thirsty. And God only knew what other horrors they were going through.
“You dumb fuck,’ I muttered.
My voice reverberated in my ear. I was a dumb fuck. I couldn’t believe I’d let so much time go by without doing anything.
Turning on my heels, I marched back into the living room, a surge ofadrenaline heating up my feet, working its way up my legs, into my belly, across and through my chest, up to my face, making it burn. I felt like I was on fire. Burning . . . burning.
By the time I reached Angelle and Poochie, I must have looked like a mad woman because they turned to me, eyes widening.
“Poochie, give me all the shoes you’ve tied together. We’re going out back and toss them up into the tree.”
She looked stunned. “We are?”
“Yeah, and—”
“What’s gotten into you?” Angelle asked, frowing deeply.
“Sense. It’s time to stop dicking around.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’, Gelle. I came to help, and you let me come here on my own terms, and I appreciate that, but as of now, those terms have changed. I’ve got to get off my ass.”
Poochie clapped, her face beaming. “Now we talkin’!”
“Gelle, get a flashlight, some bottled water, rope, whatever else you think we’ll need out there.”
Angelle nodded hesitantly. “What about a boat?”
“If Trevor was to bring his back after work, what time would you expect him to get here?”
“By two thirty at least.”
“What time is it now?”
She glanced a
t her watch. “One forty-two.”
“Okay, we’ll give him another half hour, forty-five minutes tops. If he’d not back by then, we get Vern’s, just like Poochie said.”
Poochie nodded vigorously. “Dat’s right.”
“We can’t just steal Vern’s boat, Dunny,” Angelle said. “What if we get caught?”
“Then we get caught.”
“Just like that, huh? What about that whole grand theft thing you were griping about earlier?”
“I thought about that and figure with Sook and Vern being Poochie’s relatives and all, we shouldn’t run into a problem. I mean, do you really think they’d press charges?”
“Does it matter? It’s still—”
“Do you? Seriously, do you think they’d have us arrested?”
“No . . .but somebody will see your—”
“Stop with the buts already, will ya?” I stripped off my gloves and threw them on the couch next to Poochie. “I don’t care whose boat we use or how we get it. And I don’t give a fuck who sees my hand!” The expletive flew out of my mouth before I could catch it. “Sorry, Poochie.”
“Don’t be sorry to me,” she said. “I say dat bad work me too sometimes.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m sure I’ll let loose a few more before this is all over. And it will be over, got that? Both of you? It will be over.” I held out my left hand and splayed all six fingers. “However we find them, dead or alive—those kids are coming home tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Somebody shut the dog up . . .all that barking, loud barking . . . and the cat, too much meowing . . . way too much meowing. Call the neighbor. Call them and tell them to turn off the lawnmower. I have to sleep, have to go to sleep. School tomorrow . . . school. Don’t they know I have an important spelling test? If I don’t get a good night’s sleep, I won’t pass the test. Big test . . . Applesauce, A-p-p-l . . .somebody stop the cat from meowing, okay? Please! The dog barking . . . barking. Somebody check on him, see what’s wrong. Barking too loud. The lawnmower, the buzzing. The barking. The meowing . . .stop all that noise! I have to sleep . . .sleep! Test tomorrow . . .
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