“So, what did you see at the house in the woods?” he asked, as innocently as if he’d asked a little girl if she liked puppies.
“Nothing,” Halle said. “Honestly.”
“Now, Halle,” he said, a creepy grin on his face that caused a cold sweat to break on her brow. He crept the hunting knife across her leg, the razor edge scraping her bare skin. “We both know that isn’t the case or you wouldn’t have run. What did you see? And don’t lie to me because I don’t like people who lie to me.”
Oh, Christ. What should she say? She stared at the knife, the words stuck in her throat. Shane stopped the blade and pressed the edge into her skin, drawing a line of crimson. Halle stifled a scream.
“I saw your guys in yellow suits,” she blurted out.
“What were they doing?”
“Bagging up a bunch of red rock.”
“Who was doing it?”
She fought the panic, watching her blood trickle down her thigh and on to the bed. “I couldn’t tell. They both had masks on. But after they chased me in the woods and brought me back to the house, I knew it was Willie and Bub and Bennett. I don’t know who the guy with the bad teeth was.”
“Very good.” Shane released the pressure of the blade. “What did they do with the bags?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “They kept me in the back room until we came here in Willie’s truck.”
“You came straight here?” Shane asked, resting his hand on Halle’s thigh, the blade angled toward her stomach. Her throat tightened as she imagined Shane shoving it forward and gutting her like a deer. A sharp pang of regret sliced through her thinking about the last heated encounter with Mom.
“No, we stopped somewhere and Willie got out for a bit. He left me in the smelly truck with Bub.”
“Where?”
Hot tears ran down Halle’s cheeks. “I don’t know. It was dark. Looked like a barn. Willie was gone for a couple of minutes, then he came back and we drove here. It was a little ways. Took us a while to get here.”
“Willie or Bub say anything along the way about a warehouse?”
Warehouse? She shook her head.
“You’re doing great, honey,” Shane said, his breath hot in her ear. She trembled, scared his hand would slide up her thigh. Oh God, what would she do if it crept any higher? “What did they say in the truck on the drive?”
Halle wanted to lean away, but was too afraid to move. She smelled her own fear in the sweat trickling down her brow.
“They talked about you,” Halle said after a moment. Maybe she could deflect Shane’s attention off her. She had to keep his interest away from Willie who represented her one chance of getting out of here alive.
“Really? What did they say?”
“Bub said something about taking the stuff and splitting town, running away to Mexico or someplace where you couldn’t find them.”
“Mexico, huh?” The knuckles on Shane's hand holding the knife whitened with tension.
“But Willie told him to stop talking like that. That you’d find him and kill him. Willie stuck by you and said you were the boss and they needed to do what you said. Bub said he would run as soon as he could.”
“Did he now?” Shane took his hard hand from her thigh. He walked over to the window, twirling the knife with his fingers. “Did they…hurt you?”
“No,” Halle said. “I think Bub wanted to, but Willie stopped him.”
Shane stuck the knife in a sheath on his hip. The coldness faded from his eyes for an instant, like he really saw a scared girl sitting in front of him. He crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. His fingers were cold as ice.
“Thank you for your honesty, Halle,” he said. “I want you to know I’m not going to hurt you as long as you cooperate. Do you believe me?”
Halle nodded. Like she had a choice.
“Now,” he continued, “I’m going to have a little chat with Bub and Willie. I’ve got to figure out where things sit before we make our next move. You hungry?”
Halle shook her head. Her stomach was tied in knots and the thought of food made her want to vomit.
“Well,” Shane said, “I’ll have something brought to you anyway. You cooperate and this will be over soon.”
Shane opened the door and the black mountain stepped over. Shane said something to him and the man walked down the hall. Shane offered her one last look and closed the door behind him.
She pressed the comforter against her bleeding thigh, counting out sixty seconds before combing through the room again searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She froze by the closet when shouts erupted from below, followed by glass breaking and a minute later a blood curdling scream from a man. She huddled on the floor and pressed her hands to her ears wanting to scream herself so she didn’t have to hear the never-ending, agonizing cries coming from downstairs. After a minute, a door slid open and slammed against the stops. The muffled screams moved from the floor below to the porch outside. Several thuds echoed and when the screams stopped, she crawled to the window and peeked over the ledge.
The shocked mouth of the creepy rat guard hung agape on the patio before he faced the woods and vomited over the brick wall. Halle leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the warm glass to peer below.
Shane modeled on the patio, bare-chested and covered in blood, holding a crimson-dripping axe. His once slicked back hair draped across the side of his face. His chiseled chest heaved as he took in the mess at his feet. The scream rocketing from Halle’s brain caught in her chest at what lay on the ground at Shane’s feet. A pair of legs stuck out of denim overalls with Bub’s worn brown boots at the feet, sliced muscle and white bone shards sticking out the top. A foot of bloodied patio separated the rest of Bub from his legs. Shane’s gaze crept up the house to her window, his eyes wild and wide, blood splatters dotting his face like freckles. His madness a stark contrast to his cool demeanor in the room with her minutes before.
“He ain’t runnin’ now, sweetheart,” Shane yelled to her.
Halle dug her fingers into her crossed arms, everything a haze. What had she done? She just wanted to get Shane out of the room. Though Shane had swung the ax, she realized she'd killed Bub by throwing him to the wolf. As her role in his brutal death sunk in, the scream sticking in her chest unleashed itself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Bear kicked him out of the police station to deal with the death of his inmate, promising to call Jake’s cell when Bear got free. Jake emerged under the worn, white porch railings of the red-brick structure. He read the etched stone on the front of the building that said it was originally constructed in 1856 as Benton County’s first bank called the Mechanic’s Bank of St. Louis, the most expensive bank building in Western Missouri at the time. Can’t have been much competition.
His cell rang. Keats. “Good morning.”
“Is he dead yet?”
“No. Getting close.”
Keats’s heavy breath crackled the speaker. “Close doesn’t count and your time is running out.”
Jake ran his hands through his hair, resisting the urge to tear it out. “What about all that bullshit about years of loyal service.”
Keats chuckled. “You’re trying to leave with all that knowledge turning around in that handsome head of yours. Those years of loyal service are the only reason you’re not tied to a fucking chain at the bottom of the Missouri River. I’m giving you a way out, Jake. You gonna to take it or make me do something I don’t wanna do?”
“I’m taking it.”
“Good. I’d better get a call by midnight.”
The line went dead and Jake pocketed the phone. This trip to see his dying father had evolved into a convoluted, A-1 clusterfuck. Caught dead in the middle of meth, kidnapping, murder. His mind still hadn’t wrapped around the fact he had a daughter. Why hadn’t he been able to put the timeline of Halle’s age together with the length of his absence? It seemed so clear now. His life wasn’t worth much, but he�
�d give it up to get Halle out of this mess. That much he could do. But he needed Bear to make it happen and ensure Jake didn’t end up in a body bag of his own. That would take a bit of work. Maybe he could see if those dumbasses he beat by the Community Center were around town.
He walked across the street, under the large oak on the courthouse lawn and stopped at the sidewalk, scanning up and down Main Street. Shit. Too early for the drug dealers to be out and about. He looked toward the shops, thinking of grabbing a bite at one of two open diners since he didn’t have a car. He wasn’t terribly hungry, but he once had an adventure in Colorado with an ex-army MP who drank more coffee than any other human being he’d ever met. The guy lived by the motto of “Eat when you can.” Jake found that to be sound advice, and headed to the diner.
He stopped in front of a store called Lyla’s Homemade Fudge, admiring the tasty looking treats and stained glass hanging in the window of the darkened store. Maybe he should’ve come clean with Bear about the reason he returned home besides waiting for his old man to die. What held him back? They shared the same goal, taking down Shane Langston. The only difference, Bear wanted Langston in a six foot jail cell. Keats wanted him six-feet under.
The diner hid behind a green awning across the street, a dozen heads sitting at tables. If the place was half full, maybe it wasn’t half bad. He waited for an old guy in a red Cobra kit car to rumble past and crossed the street. Already muggy at eight in the morning, his shirt clung to the middle of his back.
As he got to the door, he peered inside. Janey’s husband, Luther, sat alone at a table, scowling as he stirred his coffee and stared at the chipped Formica in front of him. It might have been sixteen years, but Jake recognized that slack-jawed look of stupidity. Older, balder and fatter, but definitely Luther. A plate of eggs and bacon lay untouched next to his cup. Luther’s black, thinning and rumpled hair looked like he’d either just got out of bed or finished with a long night. Jake had no desire whatsoever to talk to his brother-in-law. He spun back toward the courthouse before Luther could spot him.
The troubled appearance of Luther made him think of Janey. He needed to stay close in case Bear wanted to resume the search for Halle. But only two blocks separated her house from the jail, and Jake had his cell. He strolled north at the end of the block on Van Buren and down the hill, the courthouse on the right and the old Roxy Theater on his left, no movie posters or any other signs of life. When did it close? He followed the tree-lined, crumbling sidewalk past Jackson Avenue and veered on to Osage Street.
The cheap, tan vinyl siding covering Janey’s house hung crooked. Hardly surprising considering Luther probably did it himself. Sparse grass cropped up among patches of dirt and weeds. A broken walkway led to a front porch with a rusted, metal rocking chair that probably hadn’t seen any action since Reagan occupied the White House.
Jake cruised up the sidewalk, the wooden steps groaning under his weight. The front door stood open, a ripped screen door in place to keep out the flies. Did he really want to go in? He knocked, a faded “No Solicitors” sticker slapped to the chipped, white paint. The appearance of the house would eliminate anyone from trying to sell anything.
Inside, Janey’s head popped around the corner. She crossed a living room crammed with an ugly, beige couch and a recliner with cushioning threatening to burst through popped seams. Carrying a broom, she swam in a gray Disneyworld sweatshirt. She reached the door and pushed it open. An angry red welt stretched across her cheekbone.
“Jesus,” Jake said. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing.” Janey walked back across the living room and into the kitchen with Jake following close behind. She swept dirt from a broken, red clay pot holding a handful of shriveled, green leaves.
“Luther?” Jake asked. Janey didn’t confirm or deny it, but the slump of her shoulders solidified the truth. Jake resisted his first instinct to storm to the diner and beat Luther’s ass.
“Been awhile since we had a blowup like this,” she said. Jake picked up the pieces of the broken pot and searched for a trash can to dump them in. Based on the piles of dishes and crap everywhere, they could easily blend in just lying on the floor where they were.
“What happened?”
She swept up the last of the dirt and dumped it in a cardboard box on a round breakfast table. “It’s my fault. I haven’t been keeping up the house like I should because I’ve been dealing with Dad. He came home after being out all night and I started in on him.”
“That gives him the right to smack you around? Has it happened before?”
“Once or twice. Not a bad record considering how long we’ve been married.”
Jake could only shake his head at the stupidity of the statement.
“You should leave the dumb son of a bitch.”
Janey laughed; a sad laugh. “And go where? Live on what? I’m stashing some extra money away, but I don’t have enough to start over.”
He could give her some, but that could raise unwanted questions about the source of the funds. “Where are the boys?”
“School. At least they’d better be.” She sat at the messy table and took a sip of coffee from a chipped mug, “World’s Greatest Mom” on the side. “You want coffee?”
“I’ll get it,” Jake said. He grabbed a rag off the counter, got some ice from the freezer covered with pictures of his nephews who he hadn’t seen since Janey’s last Christmas card. They were getting big and, unfortunately, taking after Luther more than Janey. Poor little bastards. He handed the ice to Janey who winced as she laid it against her swollen cheek. He poured a cup of thick coffee into a relatively clean cup. It tasted as bad as it looked.
Janey lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke as she looked into the yard, lip curled in disdain as if she just noticed the clutter of rusted junk, like they tried to have a yard sale a decade ago and left everything that didn’t sell there. Jake leaned against the counter, anger boiling at what Luther did to his baby sister, despair at what she let her life do to her, and the ever present guilt for having put her in such a position in the first place.
“You stay at Hospice last night with Daddy?” she asked.
“No. Got him settled in his room. Been dealing with some other stuff.”
“Maggie’s missing daughter, you mean?”
He almost forgot she worked in the sheriff’s office. Hell, everyone in town probably knew about Halle at this point. Not much of a point in letting Janey know Halle was his daughter. She’d find out soon enough.
“What have you heard?”
She flicked the cigarette ashes into the box with the broken pot. “Nothing other than nobody can find her. It ain’t good though.”
“You don’t think she’s holed up with some hormonal teenager or a girlfriend?”
“Not Halle. She stirs up a little trouble here and there, but she’s a good kid. Spirited like her mom, but she wouldn’t do anything stupid like disappear on her own.”
“So what’s your guess?” Jake asked.
“Beats the hell outta me.”
“Tell me about Shane Langston or Willie Banks.”
She took a deep drag of her cigarette and dropped the butt into her coffee mug.
“Both drug dealing criminals,” she said. “Willie spent a few days in jail with us for possession. Langston is the one you have to watch out for. Mean as a snake.”
“You work yesterday? See the kid they brought in?”
“Howie Skaggs? Yeah, I saw him. Bear and Sad Dog talked to him for a while before some lawyer showed up. Bear took off when he went to see you. Howie was sitting alone in a cell when I went home around midnight.”
Best not to say anything about Howie still sitting in a cell, but without a pulse. He poured the horrid coffee down the drain and set the cup on top of a pile of noodle-crusted dishes.
“Where can I find Shane?”
“Why?”
“Don’t worry about it, Janey. I just need to find him. It’s important.”
> “What the hell have you got yourself mixed up in?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Do you know or not?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Not sure if I’d tell you even if I did. He’s a bad man, big brother.”
Goddamn it. He wouldn’t get anything out of her. “You working today?”
“No,” she said. “Thought I’d go spend some time with Dad. He can’t have more than a day or two. Bear told me to stay with him until the end.” She climbed to her feet. “You’re different, calmer. Figured you’d be out the door looking for Luther.”
Jake set his jaw. “Oh, I’ll deal with Luther. He isn’t getting away with smacking my little sister around.”
Janey set the makeshift ice bag in the sink. She placed her tiny hands on Jake’s chest with a wide-eyed gaze taking him back to when they were kids. “Leave Luther alone. You’ll make things worse for me and the kids. Go with me to Sedalia?”
“I should stay around here, keep looking for Halle. Just waiting for Bear to finish some things at the office.”
Janey’s brown eyes pleaded, like one of those weathered kittens from an animal shelter poster. “Please, Jake? You can come back quick, but I need you there when I see him. At least at the start.”
He couldn’t resist those eyes. “Can you drive? I rode in with Bear, and I gotta get Maggie’s car anyway.”
“Let me go change.”
She disappeared up a narrow staircase. Jake leaned against the counter. If his little sister believed he’d let Luther get away with this unscathed, she didn’t know him very well. But he had bigger issues to deal with like finding his daughter and Langston. Luther could wait.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Neither of them could think of much to say on the ride to Sedalia. The low volume radio filled the quiet, a local country station that faded to static past Lincoln. Jake called Maggie and let her know where they were going. Still no word from Halle. Maggie’s voice trembled and Jake could picture her sitting on the couch in the living room, rocking back and forth, biting her nails and eying the door. He also called Bear but it went straight to voicemail.
Poor Boy Road (Jake Caldwell #1) Page 17