Demons Shemons

by K. B. Draper

  “Jackass that fights like a Cadillac truck-driving pussy,” I added, a second before I grabbed his wrist and twisted it away, forcing him to release my hair as I wrenched. When he stepped back to release the pressure on his wrist, I rammed a knee into his boy pebbles. He buckled. I stepped around him, leaning to whisper in his ear. “Haven’t you heard no means no, dickwad?” I took his head by a fistful of hair and bounced his face off the sink. He dropped to the floor, curled into a ball, cupping his crotch as he writhed.

  “And just for clarity, don’t put your mouth anywhere on me is code for don’t put your fucking mouth anywhere on me,” I said right before booting him hard in his gut.

  I met Earl in the bathroom hallway. He was heading in my direction, fear melting to relief when he saw me.

  “You okay? I saw him follow you.”

  “I’m fine, but I can’t say the same for him.” I patted his shoulder as I passed.

  I went to the bar and downed the double whiskey that was waiting for me.

  Cowboy hat spit and asked, “Wanna ’nother?”

  “I’m good. Cashing out for the night.” When he started to dig in his pocket, I held up a hand. “Keep the change.”

  He spit and tipped his hat. “Thank ya, pretty lady.”

  I hit the bar door heading for the parking lot just as Ashlyn was coming in. I caught the swing of the door as she jumped back. “Hey. Sorry. I was-”

  “Leaving so soon? Too much local culture for you?” she asked.

  I looked back, seeing Wayne Jr. being helped down the hall by his posse. They were holding him up while he was trying to hold half a roll of bloody paper towels to his face while pointing in my direction. I let the door shut behind me.

  “A tad.” I grabbed Ashlyn by the elbow, pulling her quickly toward Woody. “How about we take a ride instead?”

  “But my truck-” she started to protest.

  “We’ll come back for it.” I opened up the passenger door and all but picked her up and threw her in the seat. I started to close the door and thought better. “You might want to … umm, you know …” I made a bend-over motion with my arm.

  “What? Why?”

  “Might not be the best time to be associated with me,” I offered.

  “AJ, what did you do? Why-”

  The bar door opened with a slam. Ashlyn’s eyes went wide, and I took the opportunity to put a hand on the back of her head, coaxing it to her lap. “Just cause.”

  I slammed the door, ran around to the driver’s side, hopped in, and was peeling out when I heard what I assumed was a beer bottle hit Woody’s tailgate. Normally, I would have turned around and added two more ass-kickings to my resume, but I wouldn’t let Ashlyn get caught up in my anger management issues.

  “Can I come up out of this extremely embarrassing position now?” Ashlyn asked.

  Though I could still see Wayne and his cowboy mafia crew standing in the dust, I knew we were well out of their eyesight range. “Yeah, coast is clear.”

  Ashlyn sat up, finger combed her hair back in place, and glared at me. “Please enlighten me as to exactly why you just kidnapped a federal law enforcement agent.

  “Kidnapped? I think someone is exaggerating just a tad. I simply, softly persuaded you into actions for your own best interest.”

  “My own best interest?” Ashlyn asked.

  I tried the sheepish grin thing.

  “Don’t even try to pull that on me.” She added a pointed finger for emphasis.

  Ashlyn was apparently not a fan of the sheepish grin thing. “What?” I smiled again to test my theory.

  “That.” She swirled a finger at my face. “That ‘I’m innocent and sexy’ grin thing. It’s not going to work. Now spill it. What or who are you running from and why did you feel the need to take me hostage?”

  Theory tested and proven. “Hostage?”

  “I’m in your truck, aren’t I? And I’m pretty sure we’re driving away from the scene of a crime. So, hostage.”

  “Or accomplice?” I went with a teasing smirk this time, just to see if it would get any play.

  “Hard to be an accomplice, when I have no idea what’s happening. And you can knock the playful shit off too.”

  No go with the smirks either. Dang, that’s like half my charm arsenal.

  “Take this road up here on the left,” Ashlyn ordered.

  “Hostages usually aren’t so bossy,” I muttered as I took the road she’d indicated.

  “There’s a park entrance on the right.”

  I pulled Woody up to the wooden gates that blocked the entrance to the park service road. “Park here?” I looked at the dense woods around us. “Because now I feel like we’ve gone from captor and hostage to teenage parkers.” I looked back at Ashlyn. “Not that I’d complain or anything.”

  Ashlyn’s pulse reacted to that little comment. “I’m still going with hostage. We need to get off the road in case your problem is following us.” Ashlyn opened the door and started to jump out, but got yanked back.

  I released her seat belt. “Be free, hostage.”

  She turned around to glare at me.

  “I take it Stockholm syndrome hasn’t kicked in just yet?” I asked.

  Ashlyn sighed. “Good lord,” she murmured. “How am I-” She slammed Woody’s door on the rest of her sentence, not knowing I could still hear the “supposed to keep my hands off this woman” ending.

  Ashlyn unlocked and swung the gate wide. I pulled Woody through and waited for her to secure it.

  She guided me to the small parking lot where I pulled in the first space and killed the lights and engine.

  Ashlyn fidgeted in her seat, undoubtedly remembering my earlier parking comment. “This place looks beautiful. Want to get out and show me around?” I asked, wanting to ease her nerves.

  “Yeah, sure, but it’s pitch black up here.”

  I, of course, wouldn’t have an issue seeing in the dark, but that would bring up questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. “I have a flashlight in the glove box.”

  I turned the overhead light on so Ashlyn could dig around. She pulled out Betsy, my small but very effective switchblade.

  “Fish knife,” I explained.

  “Uh-huh.” She returned Betsy to the glove box and pulled out the flashlight, flicking it on and off. “Ready?”

  There was a path at the corner of the parking lot leading up a slight incline. “So what’s the story with this place?” I was interested, but also figured Ashlyn would relax a little if she was talking about something familiar.

  “It’s the ruins of the Dilbeck mansion. The Dilbecks were a wealthy family and made their money from horse breeding, cotton, and soybeans. Jarrod Dilbeck was one of the first people in the area to use the cotton gin in the early 1800s. By the late 1800s they had the biggest operation in the area. Jarrod’s eldest son built this mansion for his parents and his new bride, who was actually the fourth Mrs. Dilbeck.”

  “Commitment issues?” I asked.

  “Committing wasn’t the problem. Staying committed, however-” Ashlyn shined the light on a fallen branch. “Watch out.”

  “Got it.” I bent and flipped the branch off the path. Maybe a tad too easily as Ashlyn flashed the light over the limb and back at my face. “Hey.” I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

  She shined the light back over the branch. It was about eight feet long and at its thickest was about ten inches. Oops. “So son and new fourth bride?” I prompted.

  “Right.” Ashlyn started walking again. “He built this mansion with each stone brought in from up north; it took nearly five years to complete.”

  The path’s incline increased as it veered to the left. “They moved in on December 20, 1880, just in time for Christmas.”

  “I’m guessing this doesn’t have a ‘happily ever after’ ending,” I said, stopping at the ruins of a once grand structure.

  Ashlyn shined her light across the stones of the still partially standing walls, window arches, and a fire
place chimney. “I guess it’s whose perspective you want to go by?”

  We started forward again. “How’s that?”

  “Well, not a great ending for Dilbeck. On December 24, 1880, someone set fire to the place and, well,” she ran the light beam over the ruins again, “this is what was left.”

  “So, the other perspective?” I took the stairs at the front of the mansion, leaning into what once would have been a grand window.

  Ashlyn stepped beside me, shining the flashlight into the interior, which was now just a pile of caved-in stone and weeds. “Second and third wives were suspects in the arson but were never found guilty. The fourth wife left Dilbeck on Christmas to go back home to her family in Georgia, where it was safer. There was never a fifth wife and Dilbeck never rebuilt. He died a few years later. The other brothers didn’t want to do anything with the land so they donated it to avoid the taxes and hassle of it.”

  “And now we’re here,” I stated, looking back at her over my shoulder before stepping around the corner of the mansion.

  “Right,” Ashlyn said with a hint of a smile in her voice.

  The back of the mansion was lit by moonlight, and Ashlyn was able to click off the flashlight. “This is why he built here. It’s quite breathtaking in the daylight,” she said, coming to stand at the edge of a large stone patio.

  I was already in awe at the sight. From high on this hill, I could see for tens of miles over the national forest. I heard a river running below and the sounds of animals all around me. I took in a deep breath of pine and forest and nature. “It’s amazing.”

  “Normally you can see for miles.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, looking out toward a vast landscape in whose muted hues I could still see the beauty.

  We both stood there a long moment, taking in the peace and wonder of the place.

  “So, do you want to tell me what happened back at the Down ’N Dirty?”

  “Not really,” I answered honestly. What I wanted to do was run a hand through her moonstruck hair, taste her lips, feel the smoothness of her skin, and breathe in her soft vanilla scent. I fought my urges while propping my hip on the stone wall.

  “Why don’t you tell me anyway,” Ashlyn returned.

  “Fine. I simply had a disagreement with a local, but we worked it out.”

  “And by worked it out, you mean what exactly?”

  I shrugged, turning my attention to the rolling hills. “Nothing. Just had a chat.”

  “AJ, you all but threw me into your truck, had me put my head down, and someone threw what I’m guessing was a beer bottle at you. It wasn’t nothing. I want to know what happened inside the bar.”

  “I met a nice guy named Earl.” I smiled.

  “Earl Westmoreland. He owns the feed store. He’s like the nicest guy, so … how?”

  “He has a daughter?” I asked.

  Ashlyn hesitated, confused. “Yes, Kara. Graduated a year behind me in school. AJ, where’s this going? I know Kara wasn’t there tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why wouldn’t Kara be there tonight?” I asked, not knowing the details, but knowing there was a story I wasn’t going to like that involved Kara and Wayne Jr. I’d read it on Earl’s face and had smelled the hate and fear in Earl’s sweat.

  Human’s lie; their bodies don’t. They’re the most honest thing about us. If you use all your senses, especially when they’re super-juiced, you can tell way more about the way a person is thinking and feeling than by the words that come out of their mouth. Earl hated and feared Wayne Jr. Wayne Jr. enjoyed it. And I wanted to know why.

  “She left shortly after high school, went to college, and doesn’t ever come home to visit,” Ashlyn answered reluctantly. “I don’t get how Kara has anything to do with you—and whatever happened in the bar?”

  I turned to Ashlyn, wanting to be looking at her reaction when I said my next words. “I met Wayne Jr.”

  As expected, Ashlyn’s eyes went cold, her body stiffened, and she stepped closer in instant protection mode. If we’d been in a car, she would have thrown the mom arm across my chest. “Did he try to hurt you?” she growled.

  “He didn’t hurt me.” I reached up, grabbed her balled fist, and pulled her down to sit next to me.

  “Tell me what happened.” Ashlyn sat, but her body was still in fight mode.

  I squeezed her hand. “I sent a very clear message that I’m not interested.”

  “AJ, Wayne and his father are not people you want to cross.”

  “That’s not the first time I heard that tonight. So, Kara?”

  “Told him no and well, he didn’t take it very well,” Ashlyn answered.

  “So, why hasn’t he been arrested? I’m guessing Kara wasn’t the first and only victim in his wake.”

  “Sadly, most women buy into his charm. He’s the golden boy, son of the all-mighty Reverend Wayne Cline.”

  “How about you?” I asked. “I have to assume he’s had you in his sights as you’re the most attractive woman I’ve seen in this town.”

  Ashlyn’s eyes softened at my words. “Thank you for that. And, yes, he’s tried many times, but fortunately for me I carry a gun.”

  “I’m guessing women aren’t the only trouble Wayne Jr. gets into. So why hasn’t the sheriff done anything? I mean she’s a bit, um …”

  “Difficult?” Ashlyn suggested.

  “Sure, difficult … but she doesn’t seem totally incompetent. Why hasn’t she knocked him down a few notches, or has she?”

  “Sheriff Loretta Linn’s maiden name is Loretta Cline.”

  “Awww. So sister.” I knew this already of course, but I wanted to hear Ashlyn’s take on the sheriff’s and bad brother’s relationship.

  “Yep. I honestly think Loretta is different from her family, but her dad has a lot of influence. Have you came across the little fact that he’s also the mayor?”

  “Reverend and mayor, sheriff, town asshole, so what’s Momma Cline, city treasurer?” It was a bad joke I know, as I already knew the woman’s fate, but I didn’t have a clear picture of who was playing on what team and I also hoped the reference would lead to Ashlyn telling me more about her father.

  Ashlyn gave a half-hearted laugh. “Probably would’ve been, but she died twelve years ago.”

  Ashlyn’s demeanor changed with her words. Her shoulders slumped, her breaths became heavier, and her eyes were downcast, taking her to another time and place.

  “What happened twelve years ago?” I whispered.

  Ashlyn didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure she had heard my words. I gave her time to work through whatever she was replaying in her mind.

  I hadn’t let go of her since I’d pulled her down next to me. The thumb that had been absently rubbing over my knuckles suddenly stopped. Ashlyn stared at our still conjoined hands, likely wondering how they had gotten that way. She looked up at me, curiosity filling her eyes. “Why are you here?”

  “Because you kidnapped me and brought me up here to take advantage of me?”

  “Nice try,” she said, but she didn’t release my hand. “Seriously, why are you here in Union City?”

  I was the one who looked away this time. I couldn’t tell her who or what I am, what I do. I’d made that mistake once before, and it didn’t turn out so well on many levels.

  “AJ.” She put a hand on my cheek, turning my face back to hers. “Why are you here?”

  I searched her eyes. They wanted, no … needed the answer. “Ashlyn, I-”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  I put my hand over hers. “I’m sorry, it’s-”

  She pulled her hand away from mine, stood, and walked away from me.

  I didn’t blame her. I got that a lot.

  She paced for a moment, then spun back, determination in her eyes. “I want to tell you a story.”

  “Okay, sure,” I answered, interested in the change of posture and tone of her voice.

  “Twelve yea
rs ago, I was a Junior in high school. I’d just turned sixteen and it was Labor Day weekend. My father and I were going to go camping.” She nodded to the forest behind me. “It was kind of our thing. He’d been taking me camping ever since I could remember. I loved it. He loved it. Anyway, I was also, well, a sixteen-year-old girl and I had a date. So instead of going out and making camp after school on Friday, as was our norm, I went out with Billy Shepard.” She started to pace again. “Needless to say, Billy was not near as fun as camping, so I came home early, grabbed my gear, and headed out to our favorite campsite.” Ashlyn wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold, though it was still warm out and she had on a jacket. She turned away from me and kicked one of the stone steps.

  I stood, moving to her as I saw Ashlyn’s resolve falter, heard her breathing change, her heart started to pound, and I smelled the salty scent of her tears. I laid a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to turn and face me. “Ashlyn?”

  She ran a sleeve across her eyes and sniffed. Reluctantly, she met my eyes. “I was too late.”

  I really didn’t like where this story was headed, especially since I already knew the ending. “Too late for what?”

  “He was dead, someone … something,” she corrected with steel in her voice, “had killed him.”

  I pulled Ashlyn into me. She wrapped her arms around my waist as her tears continued to slip down her cheek, silently. We simply stood there for a long moment, the moon warming my back, the woman heating my whole body.

  Ashlyn tightened her hold briefly, then released me. “Thank you.” She covered her discomfort with a chuckle. “Twelve years and …” She swiped away a tear.

  “And you still love your father,” I finished for her.

  She nodded her agreement. “He was such an amazing man, an incredible father.” She wandered off from me again.

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  “The official report says it was a bear attack.”

  “And the unofficial story?”

  “I haven’t told that version in years.” She started pacing again.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you’ve changed-”