by Robin Lamont
“It’s my fault. Vernon’s a psycho, but I put him back on the job. He’s the only one who can get them through fast enough.” Emmet raked the hair back from his face with both hands. “And then fucking Warshauer comes down to the floor and screams at me. You know why? Not because there’s a knife fight on the floor, not because some poor pregnant sow with babies in her belly gets cut open while she’s still alive – because I shut the goddamn line down. I stopped the chain.”
The words poured out of him, breaching a protective wall. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go,” he broke down. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. All I ever wanted was to provide for my family and the harder I try, the more they hate me. Alice is scared. And Caroline is so messed up – there’s something wrong with her. My son Will is the only one who still believes in me … but he won’t for long.” A single tear oozed from his eye and trailed along the scar on his face.
Jude went over and sat next to him. She touched the tear, feeling it dissolve into her skin, and then unable to help herself, she traced the vivid, white scar gently with her finger.
Emmet caught her hand and held it to his cheek – then to his mouth. He kissed her palm, the inside of her wrist, and began to move his lips along her inner arm with a tenderness and need that aroused something deep inside her. Jude weakened in the wake of his sensuality. God, how she missed being with someone who wanted her. So many nights in sterile hotel rooms, isolated as an investigator or camouflaged as an undercover. When his mouth found hers, she yielded. Their kiss was deep and long. But finally Jude pulled away and their eyes met – it was wrong and they both knew it.
“Please go,” she said, sure that if he didn’t leave now, it would be too late.
If he had reached out one more time, the night might have taken them both in its arms and rocked them onto a different path. But he didn’t. The bed creaked when he stood, the sound nearly covering the soft buzz of his phone. As he headed to the door, he pulled it from his back pocket and stared at the screen.
He closed his eyes. “What is it, Alice?” His back straightened and he swore softly. “I … I’m at the hospital checking on someone from work. Yeah, I’ll be right home.”
When he hung up, Jude asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not your concern.” Emmet walked out of the hotel room without looking back.
* * *
It felt like forever, but it was only minutes later that Jude’s phone rang. Entirely spent, she had no expectation, no intuition left. She didn’t even bother to look at the number on the screen, but answered it dully, “Yes?”
“Is this Jude?” She recognized the voice. “This is Jack Delaney. I think I know where your dog is.”
Chapter 24
Emmet walked into the kitchen where Alice paced restlessly, her cell phone clutched in her hand like a life line.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “Oh, right. The Lazy Cat again.”
“Alice, please,” he cautioned, closing his eyes to the overwhelming sense of isolation that enveloped him. Nothing new. Sometimes just walking through the front door was enough to trigger it. At home he had to be strong, he had to lock up what he did all day into a secret compartment where it festered and ate him alive from the inside. He couldn’t talk about it with his wife; she was stressed and anxious enough as it was. God knows, he couldn’t tell his children. He couldn’t talk about it with the guys at work – they were as ready as he was to leave the slaughterhouse behind each day. Clock out, then purge the smell of blood and fear with a hot shower and a six-pack.
It was funny, he thought, Jude Brannock was in all respects the enemy, and yet with her he didn’t feel quite so alone. She hated what he did – but she understood him. And that created a craving he had never quite felt before.
“Are you listening to me, Emmet?” asked Alice.
“Yes, yes. Caroline’s probably with that kid Jack,” he said, taking a plastic cup from the dish drainer and filling it with tap water.
“I told her that if she ever went off with him again without telling me, there would be severe consequences,” Alice said without conviction.
Emmet drained the water and smacked his cup down on the counter with a distinctive crack. “Well, she doesn’t listen to you, Alice,” he said harshly. “She doesn’t listen to me. She’s a selfish little shit who doesn’t give a good goddamn about anybody but herself.”
“Please don’t be angry.” Alice collapsed on a kitchen chair. “Please, not tonight. I just want to find her.”
“She’ll turn up,” said Emmet.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because she’s done this before,” he argued.
“Maybe if you didn’t always see the worst in her, she wouldn’t feel the need to run away,” responded Alice angrily. Tears that she had held back for hours began to slide down her cheeks. “I’m just so afraid that with all her talk about the end of the world and death and destruction, what if this time she’s gone off to … to make it happen?”
The thought that his wife could be right flooded Emmet with worry, but he slipped back into his role of steadfast husband and father, and he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’s just acting out. But I’ll go look for her. Did you talk to Verna? Maybe Sophie knows where she is.”
“No, she doesn’t,” replied Alice. “I’ve called Verna twice already. Caroline went over there after dinner, but Verna says that the girls had some kind of fight and Caroline left.”
“You tried to call her, I guess.”
“I’ve left so many messages. I don’t know, maybe she isn’t getting them. Verna thought that she might have gone looking for Jude Brannock. I think Caroline has some kind of hero worship for her, so maybe Verna’s right. Supposedly she’s staying at the Motor Inn.” Alice suddenly stopped herself. “Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I’ll call them.” From one of the kitchen drawers she dug out a dog-eared yellow pages. “What is it called … a motel, a hotel?”
“She’s not there,” said Emmet.
“Verna thought she was,” said Alice, paging through the directory.
“Caroline isn’t at the motel.”
“I’ll bet that’s exactly where she went.”
Unable to stave off the coming storm, Emmet said, “Trust me, Caroline isn’t with Jude.”
At his casual use of Jude’s first name, Alice raised her head from the directory, confusion furrowing her brow. “How … how could you know that?”
The answer seemed to drop from his mouth of its own accord. “I was just there.” He tried to avert his eyes, but the look of bewilderment then understanding and finally of betrayal in his wife’s face held him prisoner.
“I see,” said Alice, her voice barely audible. She let the directory slip from her fingers and went into the bedroom, closing the door quietly but with a finality that told him the hurt was too deep for any explanation … and he had none to offer.
* * *
A front had pushed the clouds eastward and cleared the skies, leaving a sickle blade of a moon slicing into the black night. Jude drew in next to the truck parked behind the gas station. No one got out of the truck at her arrival, but it did match the description Jack had given her – “a brown piece of shit with the rear bumper holding on by a thread.” In fact, the bumper looked relatively secure, tied to the undercarriage with baling wire and duct tape.
The cab’s passenger door opened and a hand reached out and beckoned. Jude slipped into the front seat and found herself next to Caroline. Jack was at the wheel, his ink-stained fingers balancing a can of Miller Lite.
Jude eyed Caroline cautiously. “Your folks know where you are?”
This elicited only a shrug and Jude let it go, unwilling to play social worker for the moment. She was more concerned with what Jack knew abou
t Finn. “Where is he?”
“We’re going to take you,” he said.
“Why don’t you just tell me,” Jude urged.
Caroline interjected, “You’d never find it on your own, and you can’t just waltz in there. Jack knows a back way.”
“Is he all right?”
“Wish I could tell you,” said Jack. “I don’t know for sure he’s even there. But I heard some things.”
“Maybe we should call the police,” suggested Jude. “Let them handle this.”
The two teens shared a look. “I wouldn’t advise that,” said Jack. “Besides, I really don’t want my name involved, nor do I want anyone with a badge even close to my truck.”
It was then that Jude noticed the unmistakable aroma of marijuana that permeated the cab. “Christ, have you been smoking dope?” she asked, wondering how reliable Jack was.
“No,” Caroline insisted.
“It sure smells like it,” said Jude.
Jack waved her concern away. “It’s old. So, you want us to help you or not? You can follow in your car, but once we get to where we’re going, you have to do it my way. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Jude stayed close enough to Jack’s truck to smell the exhaust as he wound through the rural roads leading away from town. Soon, he turned off and she bounced along after him on a rutted dirt road until it came to a sudden end. There were no houses anywhere in sight. Jack got out and stood peering through a thicket of pines.
As Jude walked up to join him, he asked, “Do you have a flashlight?”
“In the car.” When she retrieved one that she kept for emergencies, he advised, “Use as little light as possible, and if you hear anything, turn it off and don’t move.”
Jude had to wonder where the hell they were going and only hoped that the two teens were overdramatizing the rescue plan. But she also remembered that Jack was a smart kid, and his abundance of caution gave her pause. He led them into the woods where the tall pines had laid down a carpeting of dried needles that deadened their footsteps. The landscape soon gave way to trickier footing with brambles grabbing at their lower legs. At the sound of a dog barking in the distance, Jack put out a hand. They listened for a moment until Jude shook her head; the pitch was too high to be Finn.
Slowly, the trio continued until they were at the edge of a clearing carved into a hill. Lights burned from the first floor of a gray split-level house at the top of the slope. A dirt driveway wound down from the front to a free-standing garage about a hundred yards below. Midway between the house and the garage was what appeared to be a small shed with a row of garbage cans hugging one wall. A young man wearing jeans and no shirt trudged up the steps to a covered porch at the front of the house where a wiry hound was chained. The dog strained against his collar, barking at the intruders only he could smell. The young man slapped his thigh in irritation. “Shut up, Hardy, or I’ll leave you out here all night.” The dog paid no attention.
A heavyset man carrying a 12-guage shotgun emerged to stand framed in the doorway. “What the hell is he making so much noise fer?” he groused.
“Beats me, Pop. He’s caught the smell of somethin’ out there.”
“Coyotes, probably.”
“Could be a raccoon sniffing around.”
Suddenly, the hound stiffened and the fur on his neck stood up. He trotted to the far side of the porch as far as his tether would go and sniffed the air. When he began to bark again, the larger man unhooked him and dragged him inside by his collar. For good measure he kicked the dog in the haunches, causing him to yelp. “Git in thar,” he thundered. Then Roy Mears came back out and stood next to his son, looking out over their property.
“I don’t know, that’s not his coyote bark,” said the young man cautiously.
“Who cares what it is. Keep yer freakin’ dog quiet ‘cause I’m going back to bed. Don’t think I won’t shoot him along with the coyotes.”
They went inside and closed the door; the lights went out. Jude released the breath she had been holding and met Jack’s eyes. Now she understood his precautions, guessing that she wasn’t the only one who had gotten on the wrong side of Roy Mears. At this moment it didn’t matter if Mears was a dog thief – they were on the private property of a man who would undoubtedly shoot first and ask questions later. And in this stand-your-ground state, he was within his rights to do so. “How did you hear that he took Finn?” she whispered to Jack.
“Just around,” replied Jack. “Somebody said Mears was bragging to folks about getting himself a new hunting dog that looked like a Rottweiler, so I figured it might be him.” He touched her on the arm and murmured, “I’ll be right back.”
Before she could stop him, he had slunk off through the ferns and crabgrass at the edge of the clearing. Jude now regretted allowing the two teenagers to get involved; confirming her misgivings, she became aware of Caroline trembling next to her.
“Are you okay?” asked Jude softly.
“No,” replied the girl in a small, quavering voice. “I’m afraid for Finn. Why did they take him? Was it because of the video Frank made?”
Jude turned her head sharply. “What do you know about that?” she whispered harshly.
Pulling her hoodie down over her head as if she could block out what she was thinking and feeling, Caroline began to sob. She could barely get the words out. “I have it.”
“You what?”
“I have the video.”
Caroline, the house, the night sky all faded into one crazy blur for a moment. Nothing was making sense. What was she doing with Frank’s video? Had he given it to her? Why had she waited until now to say something? There was a rustle in the undergrowth and Jack dropped to his haunches next to them. “The garage is locked,” he said breathlessly, “but I’ll go around–”
“No,” whispered Jude firmly. “Absolutely not. You guys are done, this is my show from here on out.”
“You might need help,” protested Jack. “What if Finn is in the house?”
“I don’t think Mears would do that,” said Jude. “He’s already got a dog and they might not get along. He wouldn’t risk a fight. Both of you go back now.”
Jack began to protest, but Jude grabbed his arm. “No,” she said into his ear. “Caroline’s shaken up, you’ve got to get her out of here.”
She seemed to have prevailed upon his protective nature, because after looking at Caroline’s tearstained face, he agreed. He took her by the hand and they disappeared into the darkness.
Jude took a deep breath then crept along the edge of the tree line toward the garage. A familiar adrenaline began to shoot through her system. In her late teens, she’d joined an animal activist group that had put her through a training course designed for midnight entries into testing labs and fur farms. She didn’t have the night goggles or tool belt with her now, but she remembered how to stick to the shadows and how to rely on her ears and nose … most important, she remembered to clear her mind of expected outcomes, keeping it open for any and all possibilities.
She dashed across the grass to the garage. Jack was right, the doors were padlocked. Jude put her head against the wood and made a low whistle that Finn would recognize. What came back was the most beautiful sound she ever heard – his soft, familiar whine. But it didn’t come from the garage. It came from the shed.
Forgetting for a moment the danger they’d both be in if Mears heard, Jude sprinted to the shed. It, too, was padlocked. The doors rattled as Finn jumped up from the other side, his nails scrabbling on the wood trying to get to her. “Easy, Finn-boy, easy now,” cooed Jude.
The house remained quiet and Jude moved around the perimeter, looking for some way to get him out. On one side was a paned window that faced the house. It was maybe thirty inches square. She peered through the glass, brushing away cobwebs, heavy with dead insects, but couldn’t make out an
ything but Finn’s dark shape. The ledge was level to her chest and she doubted that even if she were able to break the window without rousing Mears that Finn could jump through, not without a running start and not without getting cut by broken glass. Jude crept around the back, running her hands along the wood to feel for loose or rotting boards; maybe she could kick out an opening. As she rounded the next corner, she didn’t see the galvanized garbage cans tucked against the side and her foot kicked one of them, loosening the lid and sending it into the other cans.
She froze and waited to see if anyone responded to the sound. Sure enough, a light on the second floor blinked on. Knowing she might have only a minute or two, Jude made a quick decision. She reached down for the garbage can lid to use as a battering ram to break the window. The first time, she made light contact, hoping the noise would scare Finn into the farther reaches of the shed, away from splintering glass. Then angling the edge like a Frisbee, she struck the window as hard as she could. On that blow, the glass shattered and sent shards flying. It sounded like an explosion in her ears. She swung the lid again. More glass broke, but the window casing and crossbars remained intact.
Inside the house, the hound began to bark furiously and all the lights went on. With renewed effort, Jude hit the window again. A piece of glass flew out and punctured the webbing of her hand. She cried out in pain and dropped the lid, while poor Finn mewled in terror inside the shed.
A flood light flared on the front lawn and Roy Mears appeared in the doorway, his shotgun ready. Jude reached down to pick up her battering ram. But her fingers were slick with blood, making it hard to grasp the only weapon she had. Panic set in when she realized she was running out of time and in the rush of fear, she fumbled the lid again.
Suddenly, Jack was beside her. He whipped off his t-shirt, wrapped it around his fist, and started punching at the remaining pieces of the window frame. Caroline appeared with a rock in her hand and the two of them knocked out chunks of wood and glass with each blow.
Then without warning, Mears fired. Two shotgun blasts, one right after the other. The sound was deafening and echoed off the hill. Jack grabbed Jude by the arm to pull her down to safety. A silver dollar-sized hole appeared near the roof of the shed. Jude didn’t want to think about how big the exit hole was. But when she looked up, she saw that Jack had knocked out the last of the window.