by Robin Lamont
“Or that,” she said. Then she bent down to speak directly into his ear and added, “And if anything happens to my dog, I will find you and finish the job. Do I make myself clear?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. But he couldn’t have given her one, not with his forehead pressed to the pavement.
Jude ran all the way back to the Chronicle, frightened not for herself but for Finn. If he was the one who had taken Finn, had she just provoked him further? With every footstep, regret for such an impulsive move dug itself deeper under her skin. It was beginning to dawn on her that she might not see Finn bounding around the corner – not ever. And the thought of him alone and injured or afraid was like being dragged under by a giant wave. The sky was turning orange and gray as the sun descended and the streetlights in town began to glow in anticipation of nightfall. She got to the house where the Chronicle had its offices and tried the door. It was locked.
“No!” screamed Jude. She grabbed the knob and rattled the door. “Jack? I have the money. Please open up!”
There was no sound from within. She pounded on the door, begging for it to open. But after a while, when it was clear that Jack’s father had shut the offices knowing full well that she was returning with cash, when it was clear that Bragg Falls had won again, Jude slumped against the door and let out a wail.
A few blocks away, a dog chained in someone’s backyard answered with his own lonely howl.
Chapter 21
The gathering dusk hadn’t dampened Bragg Falls’ school spirit. Nor had the fact that the home team was down by seventeen points to start the second half. The band hammered out snatches of a recent pop song while a flock of brightly-costumed cheerleaders fluttered their pom-poms as they danced in the glare of the stadium lights.
Caroline sat on one of the lower metal bleachers with her hoodie pulled sullenly over her head, hands tucked under her armpits. Sophie had settled herself a few feet away and was checking the wrapper on a granola bar for the number of calories.
“Why can’t we tell her?” Caroline tried again. Although they’d had the same conversation a few minutes ago, she hoped the snack she’d proffered might put her friend in a better mood.
“It’s a private matter, I told you.” Sophie unwrapped the granola bar and ate a third of it in one bite.
Caroline threw up her hands in frustration. “What is your problem, Soph? She’d know what to do.”
“No,” Sophie insisted as forcefully as was possible with her mouth full.
“Why not? Come on, your dad would want us to.”
“No, he would most definitely not, so just drop it! I don’t want to talk about my dad,” cried Sophie, her voice becoming shrill. “And by the way, Jude Brannock doesn’t walk on water.”
“I don’t think that,” Caroline said darkly.
“Yeah, you do. It’s obvious,” said Sophie, going on the attack. “Everything is Jude this and Jude that. You meet her in the park, she comes over to your house for dinner, she’s soooo intense! Why don’t you go live with her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Caroline.
Jealousy and anger hummed in the space between them as they watched the game in silence. Minutes later, two varsity cheerleaders strolled by. No doubt, thought Caroline, using their break to go fix their hair and makeup. One of them whispered to her friend and shot an undisguised smirk in Caroline’s direction.
“Yo, Nancy. You got somethin’ on your mind other than failing U.S. History?” Caroline threw out. She had to take it out on somebody.
Nancy stopped and leaned insolently into her hip, flipping a lock of blond hair over her shoulder. “Well, now that you ask,” she said, “I was just telling Raylene that my aunt is a hair stylist in town. She could, you know, fix your hair if you wanted.”
Caroline glowered at her. “I like it the way it is.”
“Suit yourself,” said Nancy, rolling her eyes. “I’m just trying to help.”
“No help to me if I end up looking like you,” Caroline retorted. To show her cool contempt, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crushed pack of Marlboros that she was holding for Jack. She lit one up and pretended to inhale.
Nancy’s comrade weighed in, “Ooo, you can get so busted for smoking on school property, you know.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Nancy happily reminded Raylene. “Caroline’s yearbook caption will be ‘voted most likely to fuck up.’”
Caroline blew smoke in her direction. “Yeah, and just like Paul Revere I’d ride ahead of you warning everyone, ‘the bitches are coming, the bitches are coming!’”
“You are so pathetic, Chapel,” said Nancy disgustedly.
“She’s not retarded like you,” said Sophie, finding her voice.
Affronted that the girl with the lowest status had dared to butt in, Raylene turned to her and snapped, “Why don’t you lose thirty pounds, then you can open your sorry, fat mouth.”
Sophie paled and looked to Caroline to shoot back a stinging remark. They were a pack – even if a small one – being attacked by the alpha girls. But Caroline wasn’t up to the task; she sat wordless, puffing away at her cigarette and allowing Raylene’s cut at Sophie to take full effect. Sophie waited for one more hopeful moment before grabbing her backpack and stumbling off like wounded prey. It wasn’t until Caroline saw the exchange of a victory glance between the alpha girls that she came alive. She tossed her lit cigarette at their feet. “Get out of here,” she warned, “before I knock you both on your ass.”
As they pranced off, Caroline shrunk into herself, knowing she had spoken too little, too late; loyalty was crucial against the dark forces in high school. But Caroline was still seething over her friend’s stubbornness. She looked around to track down a potential ride home and noticed a man sit down on the bench a few feet away. He was wearing a windbreaker and khakis, and with a pair of black framed glasses looked like any other parent, except a lot cooler, thought Caroline. His dark blond hair was cut stylishly long and he reminded her of an English movie star whose name slipped her mind.
He gave her an understated smile and asked casually, “How come Bragg Falls runs up the middle every single time? It looks like they’ve got a decent quarterback, why doesn’t he throw any passes?”
Programmed to be cautious around strangers, Caroline mumbled, “Apparently it’s the only play they know.”
“Ah,” he exclaimed, as if that was a satisfactory answer.
“They have a lousy coach, or so my dad says.”
“Your dad probably knows his football then.”
“Sometimes I wonder if that’s all he knows,” said Caroline.
The man laughed. “Aw, I’m a dad, too. Don’t be too hard on us. My name’s Dave, by the way. I coach up at the state university.”
He leaned over and held out his hand which was warm and strong, and when he flashed an infectious grin, Caroline blushed. “What do you coach?” she asked.
“Ladies’ track.”
She sat up a bit straighter. “I run track, well … I used to.”
“No kidding.” He sized her up. “Yeah, you look like a runner. What’s your name?”
“Caroline. Chapel.”
On the field below, it was third and eight, and the Bragg Falls offensive line ran a play up the middle for a gain of two yards. Dave stole a sideways glance at Caroline and made a point of trying to keep a straight face. Confederates now, she put a hand over her mouth to cover the smile that itched to break free.
“Excuse me, gotta call my wife,” said Dave, pulling out his cell phone. “Ah, shoot. No battery. And I promised I’d call her.” He looked to either side in case an answer to his problem lay within reach and then had an idea. “Say, Caroline, do you have a cell phone I could borrow just for a minute?”
“Sure.” She retrieved her phone from her hoodie pocket and handed
it to him.
He started to dial a number and then stopped. “I can’t hear myself think with all this noise. Would it be okay if I made the call over where it’s a little quieter? Maybe you would keep your eye on my bag. I’ll be right back.” He slid a leather attaché case toward her feet, then got up and walked out of sight behind the bleachers.
Caroline wasn’t too concerned. If he was going to steal her cell phone, he wouldn’t have left his briefcase with her, and even she could tell from its buttery-soft texture and gleaming brass clasps that it was expensive. Plus, he was a coach at the state university. In any event, he returned before she had too much time to ponder.
“Thanks. You’re a life-saver,” he said, handing back her phone. “Well, I told my wife I’d be home by dinner, so I better hustle.” He picked up his bag and gave Caroline a friendly wink. “Maybe I’ll see you on the track team.”
The teenager was too young to spot deception, but old enough to be charmed, and when he left, she felt the weight of depression descend. To be on a well-coached college track team was like a dream, but she remembered that college wasn’t in her future. Fate had other plans … too bad, she’d never get to ask him how he lost part of his finger.
***
The stillness in the sanctuary enveloped Jude in a cloud of apprehension. She hadn’t been inside a church for a long time, unable to reconcile a Christian god’s call for compassion with the terrible things she’d seen some of these same Christians do to animals. The sign outside said it was a Methodist Church, and although Jude knew almost nothing about its doctrine, still she felt drawn to it in case some elusive deity might reside in an empty church and secretly care about lost animals.
Keeping her eyes on the giant gold cross behind the altar, Jude’s footsteps echoed on the flagstone floor and her fingers brushed against the ends of the wooden pews as she made her way down the center aisle. The doors had been left unlocked and the wall sconces were lit, so she supposed anyone could just walk right in. She slipped into one of the pews about halfway down the aisle. Before one prayed, did one have to atone for not coming to church? Would a simple apology do? From attending Mass in her early childhood, she remembered the words of several prayers, but felt like a hypocrite invoking them now. So she bowed her head and prayed the truth. God, I don’t know who you are or even if I believe in you, but if you’re there, please protect Finn. Maybe you won’t let him be with me again. I mean, I hope so, I pray so. But if not, just please don’t let him be in pain. Please don’t let him be in a cage or anything like that, he’ll be so scared. I … I really have nothing to offer you in return, but I’ll try to be a better person. Just don’t let him suffer. She tried to think of what else to say but couldn’t, so she ended with, Okay, thanks.
Footsteps from the back of the church interrupted the silence. Jude swung around, fearful that the man with the camouflage cap had come after her. But in the dim light she saw the figure of a small woman kneeling in the last row. Jude got up and tried to tiptoe up the aisle, so as not to disturb her. But the woman lifted her head as Jude brushed past her pew. It was Alice Chapel.
“Oh, it’s you,” she exclaimed, and then stammered, “I’m so sorry about … the other night. My husband was very rude.” She could hardly make eye contact.
“Please, no, I totally understand,” said Jude, feeling equally awkward. She had shared a beer with this woman’s husband just the night before. Nothing happened, but Jude could hardly deny the intimacy of their conversation.
“Emmet has not been himself since his friend Frank died, and he’s having a lot of trouble with Caroline,” Alice confided. “But that’s no excuse. He behaved badly, and that’s not who he is at all.”
“Mrs. Chapel, really, I–”
“Please call me Alice.”
“Okay, no apologies, please. I’m an animal activist. I get thrown out of a lot of places. Oh dear, that didn’t come out right.” As Jude tried to recover, she saw in Alice’s brief smile a glimpse of the young woman Emmet had fallen in love with and it made her feel as though she’d trespassed on their lives. “Well, I don’t want to intrude on your private time.”
“There’s nothing private in the eyes of God,” said Alice. “I actually came in to say a little prayer for Caroline. I think she needs more help than we can give her right now.” She looked searchingly into Jude’s eyes. “Do you mind my asking…” Jude was afraid Alice would make too much of her presence in church and request that they pray together, but she finished, “What are you doing here in Bragg Falls?”
Regardless of her beliefs, it seemed wrong to be dishonest in this place, so Jude told her that she was supposed to meet with Frank who had wanted to share certain information about animal treatment at D&M.
Alice looked away at the mention of the animals, unwilling to meet Jude’s eyes. “Is that what Emmet meant when he mentioned a video?” she asked.
“Frank documented some of the things that are going on with a hidden camera, yes.”
“Has … anyone found the video?”
“Not that I know of.”
Alice swallowed hard. “What do you think happened to it?”
“I really couldn’t say.”
Another question seemed to play on Alice’s lips, but after a moment, she dropped her head and mumbled, “Poor Frank. And poor Verna. I honestly don’t know what she’ll do without him.”
“They were very close?” asked Jude sympathetically.
“Goodness, yes. More than any couple I know.”
Chapter 22
Jude rapped again on Verna’s door, louder this time. There had been movement inside the house, she was sure of it. “Verna, it’s me, Jude Brannock. Please open the door.”
A cold, light rain had begun to fall, beading up on the metal railing of the front steps and plastering leaves against the sidewalk. Jude blew on her ungloved hands, then balled her hand into a fist and pounded on the door. “Verna! Come on. I know you’re in there. I have to talk to you – it’s important.”
Next door a curtain moved aside, revealing a disapproving, wary face. When Jude responded with a forced smile, the curtain dropped back. Finally, Jude heard the chain on the lock and let her shoulders drop, only to realize that Verna had put the chain on to keep the door from opening more than a few inches.
“Go away,” said Verna gruffly.
Matching her brusqueness, Jude said, “You lied to me, Verna. You told me you didn’t know anything about Frank’s video. But I keep running into people who tell me how close you and Frank were, how deep your relationship was, and it got me thinking. That’s why you never seemed too upset about Frank keeping it a secret from you … because it wasn’t a secret, was it? You knew all along.”
The widow stared through the door opening like an animal trapped in a cage.
But Jude felt the same way and wouldn’t back down. “Look, somebody took my dog, and maybe they’ve killed him,” she said. “If it has something to do with the video, I deserve to know, and I’m not leaving until I find out. Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t know who you were,” Verna replied bitterly. “Frank told me he’d contacted someone at your organization. But he got the number from a website, for goodness sake. How was I supposed to know?”
“Who did you think I was?” demanded Jude.
“I thought maybe … from Marshfield.”
“And now?”
Verna conceded, “I believe you.”
“Would you let me in then?”
“I can’t.”
Jude leaned her forehead against the door frame trying to tamp down the frustration building inside. “At least tell me what happened.”
When Verna next spoke, she sounded less obliging than bone-deep weary. “I knew what Frank was doing. I’m the one who suggested it. No one was responding to his letters or his phone calls. He lost hope – the only thin
g he had that kept him going. No one would listen. His drinking got worse, he was angry all the time. One night we had an argument and he hit me. I told him, ‘Next time it’ll be Sophie, so you’d better find a way through this to save your soul.’ He decided to take them on himself, so he got one of those little spy cameras and started taping. I saw some of it – men beating the pigs with iron pipes, kicking them, putting their cigarettes out on the poor animals’ faces, and all the brutality of getting the hogs up on the chain, some of ’em still alive and struggling.”
Jude knew there was more and tried to draw Verna out, saying, “You know as well as I do, that kind of abuse goes on all the time, and not just at Marshfield. Frank captured something else. He said it was something explosive.”
“Yes, it was some conversation between Bob Warshauer and someone from the corporation. It made him furious and he was sure that it would really hurt Marshfield. He was going to play it for me but he never got the chance because Bob found out. He came to Frank and told him he was going to have to give it up – the camera and all the footage. He threatened him, threatened us.”
Jude broke in, incredulous, “He physically threatened you?”
“Not in so many words. But Frank got scared.”
“Why didn’t he go to the police?”
“And say what?” demanded Verna. “I’ve been secretly taping the operations of D&M – the industry that employs half this town – and now they’ve found out and are demanding I turn the tape over so I can’t give it to an animal welfare organization?”
“So they knew about me?”
“I think they did, but I don’t know how. Frank was supposed to meet someone that the company had sent from Raleigh last Friday night after work. We knew he was going to get fired, but he was going to try to get some severance out of them. Afterwards, he was supposed to call me and let me know what happened, but he never did. And I couldn’t reach him. I figured his phone died again.”
Jude wished that Verna would open the door and let her in, but as wet and cold as she was, she didn’t press it as long as Verna was talking. “The parts of the video that Frank showed you … how did you see it?”