Resurrection Blues

by James, Harper

  He froze.

  The front door opened. He drew himself further into the safety of the trees. The guy stepped outside. His collar was still up, his baseball cap low over his eyes. Even in the light from the bare bulb above his head, his features were obscured. He turned to the left, away from Evan, presenting his back to him. Something tugged at Evan’s memory, like the name of a half-remembered song, just out of reach.

  The guy closed the door, left it unlocked. He went towards the Jeep, his face still hidden. But he didn’t get in, turned towards the outbuilding instead. A flashlight flicked on and he disappeared inside. Evan heard the sound of something heavy scraping across a dirt floor. Then silence.

  There was a sudden explosion of sound behind Evan just as the guy came out again. Four whitetail deer burst out of the trees into the clearing. The flashlight beam jerked up. The deer froze, four pairs of eyes glowing in the dark, the fifth pair, Evan’s, immediately behind them, squeezed tightly shut.

  He felt the brightness of the beam through his eyelids, expected at any second an angry shout or the sound of a pistol hammer cocking.

  ‘Shoo!’

  The deer scattered.

  Behind his lids, Evan’s eyes were suddenly in darkness as the guy chased them across the clearing with the beam of the flashlight. He opened his eyes, saw the guy get into the Jeep. He backed up, then drove forwards, turning to the right. With the Jeep side-on to him Evan looked up and stared directly at his face.

  The collar was still up, the hat down low, but Evan saw enough. He knew who it was now. It wasn’t Jake Kincade. He knew that even though he didn’t know what Kincade looked like. It was the guy in the photographs with Lauren. Spencer Waits. The son of the man that every road led to, Valentine Waits, the man whose other sons had thrown Kristina from an airplane.

  He stood stock still, listening to the Jeep as it made its way down the road. Soon it was swallowed up by the sounds of the night. He prayed it would turn left at the bottom without slowing or the driver looking right. He looked up at the clear night sky, the moon almost full. If Waits did look right, he’d see the Corvette instantly.

  Evan crept towards the cabin as if he was worried there was still somebody inside. Maybe there was. If Spencer Waits was here, how far away could Lauren be? He glanced at the outbuilding. He didn’t have long. Waits might only have gone out for milk or maybe a six-pack. He had to check out the cabin first.

  The two steps up to the porch creaked as he knew they would. The weathered old boards on the floor groaned under his weight. In the still night air, it sounded as if a tree had toppled over. His chest was suddenly tight as he imagined what would have happened if he’d stepped onto the porch while Spencer Waits was still inside. He’d been a split second away from doing it.

  Inside, he dug out his phone and turned on the flashlight. No point in turning on the lights and tempting fate. The stairs were directly in front of him. He ran quickly up them, the old wood creaking in protest. There were only two bedrooms. He went into the nearest one, straight to the closet. Empty. He’d been hoping for women’s clothes. He checked the dresser drawers. All empty. Nothing under the bed either. No shoes, no discarded underwear.

  He did the same with the second bedroom, found nothing. But he knew exactly where he’d find proof of whether a woman had been living here or even just staying for one night. He went into the bathroom, opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink. A toothbrush and a half-used tube of toothpaste told him everything he needed to know. No tubs of creams and potions, no brushes or contraptions to curl your eyelashes, nothing for filing your nails into shape. In short, no junk. It was conclusive. Unless Lauren was unlike any other woman he’d ever known, she hadn’t been living here.

  His search of the downstairs rooms—just a large kitchen and a living room—would have been quicker if he’d turned on the lights. He couldn’t risk it. If Spencer Waits came back, he’d hear him driving up, have time to get out again. If he turned on the lights, Spencer would see them as he approached. He’d park halfway and continue on foot as Evan had. Then he’d have the advantage.

  It didn’t matter much anyway. It doesn’t take long to get a feel for a place. And this place was empty, devoid of anything useful. He checked the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, came up with squat. There was a back door. He tried it. It was unlocked, same as the front door. Nice to know it was such a safe, crime-free neighborhood, although he felt a little uneasy that somebody might be sneaking up on him from that direction. He pulled a wooden chair out from the table and jammed it under the door handle. It wouldn’t stop anyone getting in for more than two seconds but they wouldn’t be able to do it quietly. He gave the living room a perfunctory once-over. On a whim, he stuck his arm up the chimney, feeling for a hidden nook or shelf. All he got was a handful of soot. He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for. Some mail addressed to Lauren Stone perhaps, or maybe from her with a handy return address. Whatever it was, it wasn’t there. The place didn’t even have a phone.

  With hindsight, he should have started with the old stable, found out what Spencer had been doing in there.

  The bare wooden floor creaked as he crossed the living room to the front door. Seemed like the whole damn house did, inside and out. He stopped by the door and listened, couldn’t hear anything. If Waits had seen the Corvette and snuck back and was waiting on the other side of the door, he hadn’t made a sound doing it.

  He opened the door and stepped outside, instantly aware that something was different. And different is never good. It was completely dark. The outside light had been on when he went in. He looked up at the bare bulb above his head without thinking. There was the soft click of a light switch behind him. The light came back on, dazzling him momentarily as he stared straight into it, ruining his night vision.

  He was aware of movement behind him, tried to bring his arm up to protect himself. Something hard hit the back of his head and the darkness came back with a vengeance, the old boards not creaking one damn bit as his face smashed into them.

  Chapter 45

  EVAN OPENED HIS EYES, blinked at the brightness of the room. Opposite him a fire was getting going in the stone fireplace he’d recently stuck his hand up. He was sitting in an old, sagging easy chair. He touched the back of his head, winced in pain. That told him two things—don’t touch the spot where someone just whacked you, and his hands weren’t tied.

  Spencer Waits was sitting in an equally old chair a few feet away. David Eckert warmed his butt in front of the fire.

  ‘Sorry about the head,’ Spencer said, ‘but you shouldn’t go creeping around other people’s houses in the middle of the night.’

  ‘What is this place anyway?’ Evan said, surreptitiously wiping the blood from his fingers on the chair. ‘It doesn’t look like anyone lives here.’

  ‘They don’t,’ Eckert said. ‘It’s been in my family for years. I never got around to selling it—’

  ‘You want a drink?’

  It was Spencer and it seemed to Evan that the offer came a little too quickly, cutting Eckert off, as if they’d touched on a subject he didn’t want discussed.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  Eckert moved towards the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll get it before my pants catch on fire.’

  ‘I saw your car,’ Spencer said. ‘I guessed you must have followed me from the airfield, so I called David.’

  Eckert called from the kitchen, ‘Sorry I didn’t ask what car it was. I would’ve told Spencer who it was, saved you a sore head.’

  If cats apologize to mice as they play with them before biting off their heads, they’d put more sincerity into it than Eckert.

  Spencer gave an apologetic shrug. Accidents happen.

  Evan saw Eckert opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen, a smug smile on his face. He disappeared from view momentarily. Then there was the sound of the chair Evan wedged under the handle of the back door being dragged across the floor to its proper place. Seemed Eckert wasn�
��t worried about anyone sneaking up on them. He’d have cause to regret his fastidious streak by the time the night was over.

  Eckert came back into the room, balancing three glasses. He handed them around, took up his place by the fire again.

  ‘What were you trying to do?’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you again. Then I saw Spencer leaving the airfield. I didn’t know it was him at the time.’

  ‘No? Who did you think it was?’

  The crinkle at the corners of Eckert’s eyes and the mocking tone told Evan he knew very well who he thought it was.

  ‘I thought it might be Jake Kincade.’

  Eckert and Spencer shared a look then burst out laughing.

  ‘Jake’s in the wind,’ Eckert said when they’d both calmed down. ‘I told you last time I haven’t seen him for twenty years. I don’t know why you didn’t believe me.’

  ‘Really? You told me a lot of things last time. That you didn’t recognize Valentine Waits, for one. And here we are, you and his son, best buddies.’

  Eckert gave a dismissive shrug. There wasn’t anything he could say. He’d been caught in a straight lie.

  ‘There were lots of things you didn’t tell me as well. Remember us talking about your jump plane? How I thought it must be dangerous flying with the exit door wide open? And all the while, you knew that was the exact same door Kristina Kincade was thrown out of.’

  Eckert took a step forward. His face was twisted into a scowl, glowing red as if it had been in the fire, not his butt.

  ‘And you think I should’ve come right out with it, do you? Somebody comes nosing around after twenty years and I’m supposed to say, oh let me tell you a story about that plane.’

  The scowl got worse when he saw his glass was empty.

  ‘Either of you want another one?’

  Evan and Spencer both shook their heads, an uncomfortable silence between them while Eckert busied himself in the kitchen. He marched back in with the bottle in his hand. Evan was surprised to see he still bothered with a glass in the other one.

  ‘Who wants to tell me what’s going on here?’ he said to both of them.

  Spencer held out a hand towards Eckert, the floor’s all yours.

  ‘Why was Kristina thrown out of your plane?’ Evan said, directing the question at Eckert.

  He put a lot of emphasis on the your, saw it hit home. Eckert sagged visibly, took another large mouthful of his drink. Spencer studied the bare boards between his feet, twisting his right foot back and forth as if he was grinding out a cigarette butt. The floor looked as if it wouldn’t have been the first time. Then Spencer stood up, gestured to the chair. Evan realized there were only two. Eckert sank into it and Spencer took his place in front of the fire. Eckert put his glass and the bottle on the floor, then rested his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

  He started to talk, the words aimed at the floor.

  ‘Despite your attempts to make me feel guilty, emphasizing that it was my plane, you have to remember it was our plane, mine and Jake’s.’

  A surge of disgust rose up Evan’s throat, thinking Eckert was playing with words, trying to shift the blame. He was wrong.

  ‘But it was all my fault. I don’t know how much you know about Spencer’s father, Valentine—’

  ‘He’s a fucking monster,’ Spencer spat. For a moment it looked as if he was about to hurl his glass into the fire. His fingers were white, his hand shaking. He closed his eyes, kept them shut, his chest rising and falling.

  Eckert had looked up at the outburst. Now he looked directly at Evan.

  ‘You get the picture. He, uh . . .’

  ‘He was blackmailing you,’ Spencer said. ‘You want me to tell it?’

  Eckert shook his head.

  ‘He was blackmailing me. It doesn’t matter why—’

  ‘And he threatened your wife.’

  Eckert acknowledged the truth of it with a small nod.

  ‘I . . . we had a plane. That made me very useful to him—’

  ‘What are you talking about? Drugs? Illegal immigrants? Body parts?’

  Eckert shook his head mechanically as Evan ran through the list of everything that crossed his mind. There was a slight hesitation when he mentioned the illegal trade in human organs, although it might have been surprise at Evan’s fertile mind.

  ‘It was illegal and immoral. I’m deeply ashamed to this day of what I did. But it’s over now and you don’t need to know. If you persist, I’ll leave now and you can carry on sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted without any help from me. See what that gets you.’

  Guilt and shame and anger chased each other in his voice. Evan didn’t miss the threat at the end, showed him his hands in surrender.

  ‘I didn’t tell Jake what I was doing. I knew what his reaction would be.’

  ‘And then he found out.’

  ‘He was always going to find out in the end. He said it had to stop.’

  Spencer knew the story, knew what was coming. He turned away from them and rested his forearms on the brick fireplace, buried his head in his arms.

  ‘I told Spencer’s father I wouldn’t do it anymore.’

  Evan saw his fists clench, the knuckles white in contrast to the liver spots on the back of his hands. He shook his head, a helpless gesture.

  ‘I don’t remember how it happened, how it came out. I let slip that it was because of Jake that I was defying him. That was the word he used. Defying him. So, he threatened Jake.’

  ‘No.’ It was Spencer, the word barely audible, his head still buried in his arms. ‘He threatened my mother. Get it right, David.’

  Eckert swallowed thickly.

  ‘He threatened to do something to Kristina if Jake didn’t step into line. I don’t have to spell out what the threat was.’

  ‘And Jake ignored it?’

  Eckert leaned back in his chair, his head thrown back, eyes on the smoke-stained ceiling. The pose was easy to interpret.

  If only we had our time over again.

  ‘Jake was a risk taker. Anyone who flies is a risk taker. Anyone who jumps out of a plane trusting his life to a parachute, more so.’

  ‘But his wife?’

  ‘He thought Valentine was bluffing. Full of shit, to use his words. As you now know, he wasn’t.’

  Nobody said anything for a long time, two of them re-living past horrors, Evan knowing it wasn’t his place to intrude. He stared at a clock on the wall above where Spencer rested, long since stopped. Some ticking would have been nice to break the oppressive cloak of silence that smothered everything in the room.

  ‘I’m going outside for some fresh air,’ Spencer said and left the room.

  ‘Valentine Waits wasn’t directly involved, of course,’ Eckert continued. ‘People like him never are.’

  Evan shook his head, feeling like he hadn’t moved a muscle for ten minutes.

  ‘I was flying the plane the night it happened. Spencer’s half-brother Garrett was standing behind me with a gun held to the back of my head. Kristina and Jake were in the back with his brother, Ira. Jake was cuffed to the grab rail.’

  Eckert gripped the arms of his chair, every tendon on the back of his hands rigid. Evan knew he didn’t feel the worn fabric of the arms in his hands, felt instead the yoke of the Grand Caravan jump plane.

  ‘Everybody was shouting and screaming. It was hard for me to hear with the wind noise from the open exit door. Every time I tried to turn around Garrett jabbed me in the head with his gun. I didn’t see what happened. I heard Kristina scream at Jake, over and over, telling him not to give in to them. I remember her exact words. They wouldn’t do that.’

  Evan was in the cockpit with him. His own hands gripped the arms of his chair as if he held the other yoke. He heard the angry shouts, saw faces distorted by fear and anger, felt the movement of the plane under him as the wind buffeted it.

  ‘Then there was that awful scream. I still wake in the middle of the night hearing it. The calm after
wards was worse. As if even the wind was shocked into silence as we all stared open-mouthed at each other and thought, what have we done?’

  Eckert lapsed into silence himself. Then Spencer came back into the room, swatting at the air and bringing the smell of cigarette smoke with him. It wasn’t what Evan would’ve called fresh air.

  ‘There’s critters out there even God regrets making,’ Spencer complained, slapping at something on his arm.

  Didn’t matter he was only talking about bugs, a shiver still went through Evan as an image of Tomás came to mind, a life form God surely regretted making. He glanced into the kitchen. He couldn’t see the back door. But he’d have sworn he heard the handle turn.

  ‘At least the bastards didn’t get away with it,’ Eckert said, some small satisfaction in his voice. ‘I squawked 7500.’

  Evan nodded like he knew what he was talking about. A faint smile curled the corners of Eckert’s mouth.

  ‘I sent an emergency signal on the aircraft’s transponder. 7500 is for hijacking or other unlawful interference. The police were waiting when we touched down. Garrett and Ira were arrested.’

  ‘Garrett got fifteen years,’ Spencer said, some of the same satisfaction in his voice, ‘and Ira got twenty, seeing as he was the one actually pushed her out.’

  Again, Spencer and Eckert shared a look. Eckert nodded to Spencer, go ahead.

  ‘Ira tried to say it was Jake who pushed her out.’ He shook his head, a gesture of disgust at the depths to which a man would sink to save his own skin. ‘Can you believe it?’

  Evan found it hard to believe any of it.

  ‘That was another reason he got twenty years, the fact that he wouldn’t admit to it.’

  ‘And now he’s out,’ Evan said.