Blood Appeal

by Lyle O'Connor

  Arriving in Tok after eleven allowed us a chance to get off the road and out of the motorhome for the remainder of the night. Anna pulled into a motel off Highway 1 as we neared Tok’s city center. Room accommodations weren’t much to look at, but Anna told me, “If it has a bathtub it has everything I need.” It had a tub, so we stayed.

  Anna’s routine never changed. I was able to time my bath after hers and still manage to be in bed before she’d finished. I stretched out in the queen sized bed and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, Anna nestled next to me. Her lips caressed my shoulders, neck, and chest. I’d fallen under her spell for sure. It wasn’t a bad thing. We were meant for each other.

  Before crossing into Canada, the Alaska license plates I had on my Avenger had to be swapped for my Oregon plates. Using my gloves, I removed the plates and tossed them in the motel dumpster. After we had grabbed breakfast in Tok, we topped off the gas tank and made a beeline for the border crossing. Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada lay a little less than four hundred miles to the southeast. We expected to make it by evening and get a motel for the night.

  The weather, warm with puffy white clouds toward the coastline, made for perfect travel conditions that brought out the scenic majesty. With Anna at the wheel, I leaned back and relaxed. I’d no sooner closed my eyes when Anna asked, “I thought we might find a house together.”

  “I opened my left eye and rolled my head in her direction before I responded, “What?”

  “If you don’t want to just say so!”

  “Easy baby, I’m weighing my options.”

  Anna took a good long look at me then laughed, “Honey if you have a better option on the table, you better jump on it.”

  “I think we can work something out.”

  We’d driven the Alcan Highway slow and easy, enjoying each other’s company. We shared ideas about how our life would be together. It was easy to focus on the positive, but we also had to be realistic. In some degree, we both were damaged goods, and our new life wouldn’t be without its challenges. All the same, our relationship was worthy of the attempt.

  Cohabitation wasn’t that scary of an idea, but maybe it was taking its toll internally. I thought if we talked long enough about our plans, the developing uneasiness that twisted tight in the bottom of my gut would abate. It didn’t.

  We crossed the border from British Columbia into Washington. It was good to be back on home turf. One more days travel, and we could put this project to rest. Although, satisfied we’d made those responsible for Dawn’s tragic demise pay for their transgressions, something continued to gnaw at my contentment.

  “Before we get to Seattle, I would like to find a resort where we could stay for a day or two,” Anna said.

  “Sounds good to me. We deserve time to rest and relax.”

  Anna had spent a majority of her time behind the wheel of a rig during our mission. She was due for a hot tub and massage, but upscale resorts were too ritzy for my liking. Given my nature as an ambush predator, I was better suited for inexpensive and out-of-the-way motels that dotted the landscape.

  We pulled off Interstate 5 in Bellingham, Washington and found a suitable diner. Anna telephoned a coastal retreat that she’d previously visited. Her eyes twinkled with the good news there was a room available.

  “Where to?”

  “We have reservations for tomorrow. Relax Walter, you will love it. It is a remote bed-and-breakfast with a breathtaking view out on the Olympic Peninsula. It’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, but where to tonight?”

  “It will be a surprise.”

  I wasn’t fond of surprises, and Anna’s choice of a place to stay wasn’t what I’d expected when she swung the RV into the Walmart lot in North Seattle. My jaw dropped as I uttered, “Here?”

  “You like to blend in with the people. Well, there is plenty of fellow travelers right here, so get out there and blend.”

  Anna had a sense of humor, but she wasn’t very funny. She’d parked on the outskirts of the lot along with a line of other travel trailers and motorhomes. I popped the side door of the RV open, had a firsthand glimpse of my neighbors and closed the door.

  “What’s wrong, Walter?”

  “I don’t have a gun!”

  Anna picked up her purse and patted me on the check. “Don’t fret, I will protect you.”

  “Probably need to from the looks of that bunch out there.”

  “I’m going shopping for a few supplies. Do you want to go?”

  “No, but I’ll be ready after I switch shoes.”

  We turned in early to get a head start in the morning. Following the road signs out of Seattle toward Port Angeles, we stayed with Highway 101 as it turned southward toward Kalaloch. Shortly after five in the evening we arrived at our destination in Larkspur Landing. The Peregrine House, a three-story beachside inn, was atypical of other B&B’s in the area. Strikingly picturesque, the guesthouse sat deeply nestled amongst a grove of red-barked Madrona trees.

  Inside the entry, Anna and I were greeted by a middle-aged couple who owned and operated the B&B. While Anna took care of our accommodations, I focused on an aviary viewable through a large glass window from the home style foyer. The owner, Ted, pointed out a pair of rescued Falcons that stayed in the aviary. The female, according to Ted, was the larger of the two birds and nested near the top of the canopy. The male sat perched on a limb ten feet away from the viewing window. I looked into the eye of this predator species that sat motionlessly. Empathy for this magnificent creature flooded my soul. He longed to live, not exist. Regardless of what Ted provided for his complete care, there remained a void. His natural predatory behavior could not be supplemented. It had to be fulfilled, or he had no life at all.

  Anna and I climbed the wood staircase to our suite. Once inside our room, Anna called dibs on the jetted whirlpool tub that sat directly under a three-panel skylight. I wandered around the living room until Anna was situated in her hot soak. Then it was my turn to stretch out for a catnap.

  As I transitioned from wakefulness to sleep, I’d entered into the borderlands between the two states of being. At first, I drifted in blackness, aware only that I wasn’t dreaming. Seemingly within seconds the blackness vanished, and thick whiteness appeared as if I were in the midst of a Cumulus cloud. I anticipated and prepared for the appearance of some creature or object that would ultimately require action on my part.

  I’d no sooner finished my thought to prepare for the worst when the whiteness gave way to a burst of light followed by the cloud separating and drifting apart.

  Amidst a dry, barren field, a gray, leafless, dead shrub stood alone, engulfed in flames. As I looked on, I marveled that the bush was not consumed. Surrounding the fiery vision, the bleached yellow prairie grass swayed in an otherwise undetectable breeze. My eyes were drawn to the ground in front of the burning bush as a small patch of soil quivered.

  Through the crumbling layer of sod came a spurt of red crude, followed by a second ejection, then a third. The pulsating flow continued until the ground had been covered red with blood.

  Awestruck, I questioned the meaning of this vision. Was I being summoned to another victim’s right to justice? I pondered my question.

  A dazzling energy of sorts, barely visible to the naked eye, appeared over the barren landscape. A child’s voice thunderously echoed in the distance, “My blood is my appeal.”

  I shouted into the skies, “Have I not satisfied vengeance?”

  The voice cried out again with a roaring intensity, “No peace without justice—no justice without truth.”

  The bubbling of blood produced by the ground prompted my action on Dawn’s behalf, and five men paid the ultimate price for their transgressions. But now, there remained a hidden truth.

  Anna’s presence woke me as she entered the room where I slumbered. “The tubs all yours.”

  Perhaps I looked confused as Anna stopped in her tracks and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Never better
.”

  “When you clean up, I’d like to mingle with the other guests.”

  It didn’t make sense why she wanted to waste her time jaw jacking about meaningless gibberish. I’d learned at the aluminum factory nobody cared about the opinions of others. The economy, politics, and wars were small talk and insignificant. Thirty minutes later we were in the foyer area visiting with the owners and fellow patrons. I fielded most of the questions that came my way with yes and no answers. It didn’t take long for the message to get around that I wasn’t a social guy, and they backed off.

  A half-dozen guests and the owners mingled until well past nightfall. When another couple left the group, I signaled to Anna it was time to bow out. We gracefully said adios to the group and turned in for the night. However, any idea of rest flew out the window when we got back to our room. We’d suddenly caught a second wind and, feeling fresh and energetic, we fell into bed to further explore our multifaceted relationship where boundaries have yet to be ascertained.

  The night seemed much shorter than the nights I could remember before I’d met Anna.

  At breakfast, Anna struck up a conversation with one of the couples that was preparing to leave. They suggested ardently that we would be doing ourselves a disservice if we didn’t check out Ruby Beach while we were in the area. I thought a walk on the beach was an excellent idea. There wasn’t anyone there we had to carry on a conversation with.

  We wandered aimlessly along the soft sand, soaking in warm rays of the sun, and enjoying the fresh salt air on a beach otherwise void of people. Anna picked up the broken shell of razor-clam and said, “Let’s look for a seashell that resembles a heart.”

  What I thought and what I said were two different things as I answered, “Oh boy.”

  “It represents our relationship.”

  We exhausted the afternoon on our hunt. When we’d turned up empty-handed in our quest, all I could do was hope it wasn’t an omen foreshadowing our future together. Fortunately, on the pathway leading from the beach to the parking area, Anna spotted a small rock that had the general appearance of a lopsided heart and settled for that as our good luck charm. I was relieved.

  The following day, we were met with a gloomy brume that had rolled off the ocean during the night. Coastal temperatures had shifted cooler as a storm front loomed.

  “I’d like to come here every year, Walter. It can be our secret get-away.” The sparkle in her eyes caught my attention as she spoke. I nodded my approval.

  We headed south until we intersected with Interstate 5 that took us the rest of the way to Portland.

  Anna pulled the RV into an outlet mall on the south side of Portland, and I unloaded the Avenger from the tow dolly. Anna’s plan was to return the RV and take a cab back to her house. I made other arrangements for her. “How about I follow you to return the motorhome and give you a lift home.”

  “Why don’t you spend the night too?”

  “Okay, honey.” I found myself easily persuaded when Anna made suggestions that affected our relationship. Was it weakness on my part, or was she my kryptonite?

  I picked Anna up from the RV rental, put the Avenger in drive and threw on a blinker. I waited. After a moment, Anna turned and looked out the back window. “I don’t see any traffic.” It was an awkward moment.

  “What are you waiting for?” She asked.

  “I don’t know where you live.”

  Anna snickered, “Want me to drive?”

  “Just give me the address.”

  “It’s in the Dunthorpe neighborhood. Do you know the area?”

  “I know where it is.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  We turned onto Southwest Riverdale Drive and followed the road to where it curved along the Willamette River. Anna pointed to a six-story condominium building and said, “That’s it.”

  After a quick tour of her condo, I made myself at home. I threw off my shoes and propped my feet up on the sofa where I fell into a stupor. As I dozed off I could hear Anna clanging around in the kitchen, and I tried to say something, but I felt paralyzed. My mind was wide awake, but my body was not responding. I drifted deeper into oblivion and unlike any time previously, I experienced a true to life nightmare.

  Detective Brandon A. Ware, Multnomah County Sheriff’s Department, was out of retirement and hot on my trail. In the dream, he stalked my every move and discovered forensic evidence at a crime scene that linked me to the murder. He had proof that I was the vigilante he had hunted over the last years of his career. It was only a nightmare, and I knew it was, but my subconscious played into the dream and emotionally I felt the threat.

  I woke up in a sweat, looked about and saw Anna making dinner. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Five minutes, maybe.”

  “Man that was the longest five-minutes of my life.” Anna continued in the kitchen and hadn’t paid any attention to my comment.

  The next morning I planned a trip to my place in Portland to check on things. She insisted on tagging along. We took her ride, the Lexus—she drove. We might’ve been in a deep romantic relationship, but she reminded me she was an independent woman.

  We walked to the front door where Anna pulled a business card from my screen door that had been wedged into the metal frame. “Don’t worry about that. It’s that old detective snooping around is all.”

  Anna read the card out loud, “Brandon A. Ware, Private Investigator.”

  “Anything handwritten?” Ware had come back around since I’d taken his card off the door before my Alaska trip.

  “Nothing.”

  Perhaps my dream was a premonition but I didn’t see the need to worry Anna with it. I played it off, “Persistent, I’ll give him that.”

  “I’ve known Detective Ware for a few years. He’s a tough cop.”

  “Was. He’s not a cop anymore?” I didn’t mind playing a game of cat and mouse like I had with Duke. But, I was in no mood to play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, with me being the ass. As long as Ware was in the game I was going to make myself small and hard to find.

  Anna and I went through the trailer quickly. I picked up a few personal items to take with me then lit out before Ware knocked again.

  Later in the evening, I leveled with Anna my feelings about the unfinished business in Shell Knob. We’d pulled together strong evidence with the photographs incriminating Duke in the murder of Dawn Simmonds. I’d promised myself to repay Landers for taking me into his confidence with a scoop for his newspaper. As of yet, no one was the wiser concerning Duke’s demise. I wanted to capitalize on the time frame and get the packet to Landers. I’d chosen to drop it in the mail from a nearby post office, so it bore a local postmark. Using our normal precautions for handling material, we’d made sure none of our fingerprints would be found on the packet. It was certain to end up in the hands of the cops.

  It was necessary to meet with Minnie and tell her what we’d discovered and that Duke would never bother her again. She deserved closure. It was a risky step. She might tell Joyce or perhaps the police that she’d seen me and what I’d said, but I wasn’t concerned. I was a missing person. If I was considered a person of interest by police, the photos of the guilty party would lessen any focus on me. Also, I had my doubts Minnie would be a credible witness.

  Anna’s travel agent had hooked us up with airline tickets on the red eye to Dallas.

  “Why Dallas?”

  “Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport is a large complex with hundreds of flights daily. Less traceable is the best option. It will put us within a reasonable drive to Shell Knob.”

  “Makes sense. What about weapons?”

  “Do you plan to shoot someone?” She jested.

  “The killings are all done. Just some loose ends to tidy up.”

  “Also, I booked us a suite at the Marriott in Dallas for a week. We can travel as needed from that location. Shell Knob is about four-hundred road miles northeast from there.”

  “Why not get a little Motel
6? That’s what I’ve always done.”

  “We can if you want but if the police get a lead it might spell trouble. The Marriott is large with hundreds of people coming and going daily. No one’s going to remember your face. At a small motel, they might take notice of you. I think bigger is better.”

  I considered coming back with an innuendo, hoping for an ego boost but thought better of it, and I nodded in agreement. Anna had put a great deal of thought behind each move. She’d successfully planned other trips in the past; I saw no reason to distrust or question her judgment this time.

  Booking the flight on short notice left Anna and me separated by three rows. I was the lucky one to get a window seat. But it had come at a price. Next to me sat a little squirt probably two years old with a snotty nose that stared at me for most of the flight. I hoped the little tyke would fall asleep, but she was kept awake by the crying baby her mother held. But they weren’t the worst kids on the plane. It appeared that the airlines had hand-picked the back of the cattle car to house all the babies.

  We picked up our checked bags and headed out for the shuttle bus to the car rental. Although early in the morning the temperature soon soared into the seventies and the humidity grew thick and muggy.

  Anna and I squabbled over which midsize car would work best. There was a red Avenger up for grabs, but Anna didn’t like the color or the car. Anna liked an Audi, but I felt it was too small. Finally, we agreed on a full-size Ford Taurus. It was a familiar everyday car, roomy and sporting a metallic silver color. I knew Anna would like the Taurus. It was similar to her Lexus in size and color.

  We checked into the Marriott and headed to our eighth floor room. It was a little too ritzy for my blood, but Anna had been right; there were hundreds of people bustling about in the hotel. While Anna plotted a route, I took the elevator to the first-floor concierge desk. He pointed me in the right direction to pick up a complimentary newspaper. I sat in the lobby and looked through the want ads for a cheap throwaway pistol. There were plenty of them listed. It was Texas after all. Then a thought struck me that I should’ve thought of before. Duke had fire-arms in his house. If I needed a loaner, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.