The Rented Mule

by Bobby Cole

  Glancing down at the passenger’s seat, Grayson, wearing pajamas, was silently sobbing. The little boy dared not look up. The Client had terrified him when he stormed the house. A shock collar designed for a one-hundred-pound dog was fastened tightly around his neck, guaranteeing obedience.

  The Client said, “Grayson, when I tell you to, get down on the floor and stay there. If you don’t, I’m goin’ to shock the shit out of you.”

  The Client then smiled, thinking of the future and the woman in the trunk of his BMW. He wondered briefly if she was comfortable. He loved the silky Victoria Secret loungewear he found her wearing. This is my lucky night.

  CHAPTER 87

  Clarence felt unprepared, which was distressing. As he stood on the front porch of the shadowy old mansion, all he could think about was getting his money, and then getting home. He glanced at the area next to an old privet hedge where a few days ago he thought he saw the apparition. Must have been the painkillers. The old house was full of antique pictures, and Clarence had studied all of them. They gave him the creeps. He was ready to leave.

  Maynard was positioned inside the edge of the woods with a pistol in his hand, nervously refreshing his teeth-whitening strips like a chain-smoker. Clarence had faith in Maynard’s ability to cover him, and it occurred to Clarence that there was a need to have Maynard on the team full-time. For one, he had weapons skills the others didn’t possess, and at times like these, they could prove very handy. Clarence was assembling a team the way a college football coach recruits to meet his current and future needs. Since Clarence had grossed nearly $800,000 in the last year, he could afford more talent.

  Clarence was focused on the sweating of the old concrete walkway, which meant that it was sure to rain, when suddenly gravel popped and headlights rapidly approached the house. He watched Maynard disappear behind a giant oak just inside the tree line. Taking a deep breath, Clarence adjusted his black sweatshirt over his bulletproof vest and transformed his demeanor into Mad Dog.

  The car stopped in front of the house. The driver kept the high beams shining in Mad Dog’s face.

  “Hey, Bro!” the Client casually commented as he stepped out of the car and gently shut the door.

  “Don’t call me bro, asshole. I ain’t yo brother, and you ain’t black!”

  “I’m jus tryin’ to get along,” the Client remarked with an overzealous laugh.

  “You got my money?”

  “Yeah, I got it. Is she in the cellar?”

  “Sleepin’ like a baby.”

  “You’ve done a fine job. A. Fine. Job. I’ve never enjoyed the news like I have these last few days.”

  “Where’s my money?”

  The Client smiled and then opened the car door, reached in, grabbed a duffle bag and then tossed it at the feet of the big man. “As promised.”

  Clarence unzipped it and saw a bunch of bundles of twenty-dollar bills and asked, “It’s all here?”

  “Count it,” he said as he leaned against the car.

  “It better be.” Clarence reached inside, pulled out a bundle from the bottom of the bag and began inspecting it. He touched a random bill with a counterfeit detector pen.

  “And here’s your phone,” he said, tossing the small phone to Mad Dog. “I texted Cooper a few times from it—just to mess with his head.”

  Clarence stepped out of the bright headlights and focused on the wild-eyed Client for a moment. He recognized the signs of drug abuse. The Client was as high as a kite and appeared capable of doing anything, at any moment.

  “That does it for us,” Mad Dog said, zipping the bag shut and feeling the relief of being paid.

  “I didn’t plan on sending you a ten-ninety-nine.”

  “That’s mighty white of you,” Mad Dog said sarcastically and glared at the man. He could see his eyes were flashing wildly, and he had an odd purple stain on the side of his face and neck.

  “You’re on your own,” Mad Dog stated and started toward his Escalade, looking away from the BMW’s bright lights. He felt himself gritting his teeth with each step. The weight of the money helped diminish his nearly overwhelming desire to kill the Client, cleaning out the gene pool of one worthless contributor. He motioned for Maynard to meet him. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he tossed the phone to Maynard. Stopping in the shadows, Mad Dog looked back at the Client, “What are you fixin’ to do with her?”

  “Make everything right. Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.”

  “We’ve covered our tracks, so don’t even think about tryin’ to contact us again or it will be very painful for you. Is that clear… brother?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mad Dog. I appreciate your good work,” the Client replied calmly as though he had just paid to have his grass cut.

  CHAPTER 88

  Cooper had just turned on his cell phone, checking for texts, when it rang. He recognized the number as Obermeyer’s. It didn’t surprise him, but this was the first time he had called when the phone was actually on.

  “I’m innocent, Detective,” Cooper answered.

  “I know… that’s why I’m calling, to let you know we found Kelly. We have her, she’s safe… we need you to come immediately to the station.”

  Cooper didn’t respond. From Longstreet’s heads-up, he knew Obermeyer was attempting a deception, but he now wasn’t sure how to play it. What if it’s true? What if they really found her? The thought was causing him to panic.

  “She’s askin’ for you, Cooper. Come on in. I’ll meet you at the back door, or better yet, just tell me where you are, and I’ll have a patrol unit pick you up.”

  “Prove that she’s there. Let me talk to her. Where’d you find her? Was Gates involved?” Cooper asked excitedly. He wanted to believe, but he couldn’t risk it.

  “I’ll fill you in on all the details when you get here. What’s your location?” Detective Obermeyer said by way of not answering. He was looking back and forth between the DA and his commander and shrugged to indicate that he didn’t know if the subterfuge was working.

  “Does the media know?”

  “No, not yet; we wanted to let you know before we went public. It’s SOP in situations like this to notify the family first.”

  “I’m gonna have my attorney come down there.”

  “Cooper, look, I’m on your side, but you’re actin’ guilty. If you won’t come in right now, it will pretty much seal your fate with us.” The DA was waving his hands and shaking his head at Obermeyer, hoping that he hadn’t just tipped their hand. Obermeyer immediately looked out the window.

  “I know that you’re just doin’ your job. It’s just that you’re not doing it worth a shit!” Cooper answered angrily and ended the call, tossing the phone on the seat beside him. He pulled down his baseball cap, low over his eyes, and paid the toll to cross the Tallapoosa River.

  “Cooper. Cooper! Damn it. He didn’t buy it,” the detective said, deeply exhaling.

  Cooper was headed back to the security of the Browns’ home. He tried to run through all the scenarios that could be unfolding, and he worried about what Gates had done. He really wanted to talk to Gates and considered calling his cell.

  Cooper jumped when the phone rang again and he saw the number. It was from the same area code but a different number from whoever had been texting him. He quickly pulled to the side of the road and hurriedly answered the call.

  “Hello! Who is this?”

  “Is this Cooper Dixon?” Maynard asked from the passenger seat as he watched Clarence drive.

  “Yes, who the hell is this?”

  “Listen carefully. I know where your wife is, and I’m willing to help you get her back, but only if you’ll do exactly what I say.”

  A chill shot down Cooper’s spine as he listened to the audacity in the voice on the phone. Controlling his emotions, he simply said, “Okay.”

  “She’s fine… for now. She’s being held in the basement of an old house in the country. I can tell you exactly—”

  “H
ow do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’ve actually seen her?” Cooper interrupted, shocked by what he was hearing.

  Maynard realized this was a legitimate question and thought about a response as he watched the lights of Montgomery off in the distance. Clarence’s furrowed brow suggested that he wanted to know what was being said.

  “That’s fair. She’s wearing a Jack Miner duck band on a silver necklace. Remember the verse?”

  Cooper’s mind raced. He was surprised to hear him mention the duck band. He had killed the banded mallard several years ago on the Tombigbee River. Kelly wore the band almost every time she had on any other silver jewelry. She said it was a conversation piece that no other woman had. This guy knows something. What’s that verse?

  “I can’t remember the verse! Just tell me where she’s at!”

  “Come on, think,” Maynard replied casually, toying with Cooper. “The verse says what you need to do.”

  Cooper racked his memory… it had been too long since he killed that duck. His mind was spinning. He finally blurted, “Have faith in me!” Cooper was breathing hard and continued, “Okay, you’ve got my attention. You couldn’t have known that without seeing her.”

  “That’s right. Now, you can have faith in what I’m about to tell ya. There’s one guy with her, and he’s pretty screwed up. You oughta be able to figure out a way to get her out. She’s been drugged, but she can probably walk by now.”

  “Drugged? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. You got some paper? I’ll give you directions.”

  “Tell me!” Cooper answered excitedly as he reached for a pen and paper.

  Maynard explained in great detail how to get to the house and exactly where Kelly was being held. He also suggested where Cooper should park to avoid detection. Cooper tried to ask questions but was stonewalled on most of them.

  “If you gotta pistol, you better take it with you and let me stress this: Do. Not. Call. The. Cops. Things will go to shit real quick if this dude’s confronted by the police. He won’t be expectin’ you, believe me. Get the drop on him, shoot that sonofabitch in the head like the rabid dog he is, and get your wife back.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Don’t matter. Now, listen to me. You can surprise him if you do exactly what I said.”

  Maynard explained, watching a wide smile develop on Clarence’s face.

  “Who are you?” Cooper finally asked.

  “Can’t say. Do exactly what I said, and it will all work out,” Cooper heard a muffled voice in the background.

  “Look, I’m not some kind of superhero. Why can’t I just call the police and then they can send in SWAT or someone who knows what the hell they’re doin’? I don’t know shit about this kinda stuff,” Cooper begged in frustration.

  “Because… it’s complicated.” Maynard replied, noticing Clarence was shaking his head vehemently.

  “No pigs!” yelled Clarence, using his Mad Dog persona, and continued, “or every last one of ya dies. We be watchin’ you and them kids of yours. Ain’t nobody we can’t get to… when we want to!”

  Clarence knew that it was unrealistic to think that Cooper wouldn’t eventually get the police involved, but he also knew that instilling this level of fear in Cooper would buy them enough time to get out of the area.

  “Who was that? Who are y’all?!” Cooper asked, losing his patience.

  Maynard eyed Clarence suspiciously and then grinned at the bluff and said, “You’re wastin’ time. Look, if you don’t want her back, then that’s cool with us. We can sell her.”

  “No! No! No! No! Wait! Of course I want her back!”

  “Good. Then shut the hell up and pay attention. I’m only gonna say this one more time. Do. Not. Call. The. Police,” Maynard stressed.

  “Shit! What’s all this about?” Cooper exhaled.

  “Are you retarded? You’re wasting your wife’s time to live… again.”

  “This is beyond crazy!”

  “Just shut up and pay attention! I’m gonna talk real slow, so maybe it sinks in to that thick head of yours. Here’s the deal, first, you…” Maynard carefully explained again in detail what Cooper should do and then without waiting for a reply hit End, terminating the call.

  “Wait!” Cooper yelled into the phone. “Shit!” Staring at his BlackBerry and knowing it probably had just betrayed his location, Cooper immediately turned it off. The call had floored him. Knowledge of the duck band proved to him that the caller was for real.

  He punched the accelerator and headed for the Browns’ house. He tried to remember what all he had in his truck that could be useful.

  Cooper grabbed his BlackBerry to call Detective Obermeyer but paused. His rational mind was screaming “call the police,” but the words of the kidnappers haunted him. As he drove, he kept glancing at the phone in his hand.

  As Maynard put his cell on the console, Clarence smiled with satisfaction and said, “That’ll teach that crazy cracker.”

  Maynard replied, “That was kinda fun, and it sure felt good to turn Cooper loose on the Client. Man, he reminded me of some dudes in prison that you knew just weren’t right in the head and that guy definitely ain’t right. He’s about to cross over some boundary line to the dark side… iffin he ain’t already there. And he had some wicked drugs in the frig, too, according to what Jesse Ray learned from searchin’ the Net.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s gonna be disappointed when he goes lookin’ for ’em, cuz I got ’em,” Clarence said.

  “What are you gonna do with ’em?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing, probably. I just didn’t want him to have ’em,” Clarence replied.

  “I’m sure the Client’s gonna hurt that woman. Probably kill her when he’s done with her. May do it anyway, if her husband screws up,” Maynard added, sucking his teeth.

  “We’d go back and help Cooper if I knew that it wouldn’t get our asses thrown in jail. I’m allergic to prison,” Clarence said.

  Maynard said, “If he’s any kind of decent hunter… he knows how to be sneaky.”

  Clarence hoped Maynard was right about Cooper. Now that Clarence had full payment, he tried to think of this as just another completed job, but it didn’t feel finished.

  Maynard had helped Clarence scrutinize the decision to call Cooper and how to play it out with him. Thinking about that, Clarence looked over at Maynard and said, “You know, Larry, you’re all right.”

  “Call me Tim,” Maynard replied, inserting a whitening strip. “Jenny really likes Tim McGraw.”

  CHAPTER 89

  Huddled in the Situation Room at the police headquarters, twenty different officers from various departments argued about what to do next. It was organized chaos—their way of fleshing through ideas and scenarios. For the uninitiated, it looked as though they were fighting, but most law enforcement officers would recognize it as a typical exchange.

  “He didn’t buy it,” Obermeyer said. “But as much as I like him for this, it doesn’t mean he did it.”

  “What the hell are you thinkin’, O? If he thought there was even a chance that we found his wife, he shoulda broke the sound barrier getting his ass down here,” a cocky young detective remarked.

  Obermeyer disagreed, and his face turned red. His spastic colon was about to go into overdrive. He said, “Y’all can think what you want, but it doesn’t prove his guilt. Think it through. You’ll see the logic.”

  “Okay, everybody, let me have your attention. We are about halfway through the list of his friends and associates. I’m authorizing overtime. See what every one of these folks knows. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find him hidin’ in somebody’s tree house,” the weary commander said. “Let’s tighten up.”

  Suddenly, the door flew open and a young officer waved her hands at Obermeyer and then looked at the commander. She said, “We just pinged him. He’s movin’ and two different towers juggled his call. We triangulated him; he was movin’ out Wares Ferry Road. Way out on Wares Ferry Road
. In the boonies, before he turned it off.”

  Obermeyer jumped up to grab the sheet of paper with the details. This was the break they needed.

  “So we have his location?” the commander asked, not wanting to continue the chasing of moving pings.

  “Well, at least we know what part of the county he’s in. If we could get him one more time, it would help. But he could move miles before he turns his phone on again. He’s been so sporadic. Anyway, I thought y’all would want to know. This is the longest his phone has been on since we flagged it.”

  “Thank you. Let us know the moment you have anything else,” the commander politely ordered; then she turned to another officer and said, “Put out a radio alert for his twenty. Watch all roads in and out of that area. Stop every white male even close to his description. Don’t focus on the vehicle. Go! The rest of you, just stay the course. Let’s find this guy.”

  “Stand by,” Obermeyer said as if in a trance. He was staring at a television monitor in the corner. Gates’s interview was being replayed by CNN. The camera cut to Gates sooner than he expected, catching him drinking a small bottled Coca-Cola with an odd-looking label. The shot was gone just as fast as it happened. Obermeyer tried to comprehend what he had just seen. Where have I seen one of those bottles, he thought, while listening to Gates ramble.

  CHAPTER 90

  Driving his pickup as fast as he dared, Cooper thought about the Jack Miner Migratory Bird Foundation band. It was from his first banded duck. At the time, he didn’t know the significance of this particular band. And now, that band had greater importance—it was conclusive proof that the caller had been with Kelly. Whether or not she was still alive was another question. I just gotta have faith!