Authors: Reavis Z Wortham
Dark Places (25 page)
No one slept in the motel room that night in Barstow, over three hundred and fifty miles west of Pepper's Flagstaff motel.
Ned was feverish, tossing and turning, tortured from within.
James worried all night on the other side of the bed, wondering if he'd made the right call not going in the house after Pepper, once he knew where it was.
Cale's head throbbed behind his black eyes, making breathing difficult. He was afraid to ask anyone to take him to the doctor, so he endured the pain, figuring it was part of his punishment. Lying in the darkness, he vowed never again to think he was tough or above the law. The fight with the motorcycle gang proved to him once and for all that there were a lot of people in the world who were tougher than he'd ever imagined.
Shirtless, Crow sat in the courtyard, this time in a yellow chair, watching cars pass on Route 66. He was sure the Rattlers didn't know where he was, but then again, he figured you never went wrong being extra careful. He threaded a needle from the motel room's sewing kit and went to work patching the clean cut on the back of his still damp shirt that would soon dry in the desert air. The long slash across his lower back stung.
In a green chair, Rocky drank from a paper bag. “You gonna tell them?”
“I've told them enough. I'm gonna handle this myself, in my own way.”
“You didn't say nothing about me?”
“Didn't think they needed to know, and I wasn't for sure you'd make it anyway.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“We haven't talked much in the last couple of years, and I barely knew where you were. I wouldn't have, if Tammy hadn't gotten that letter from you before she left.”
“Well, I'm here. Those guys are gonna be tough to handle.”
Crow angled the patch job toward the light over the playground. He took another stitch that would have made his mama proud. “Once I know she's in there, we'll handle whatever comes up.” He bit off the thread and held the needle out. “Here.”
“Bad?”
“Enough.”
“Stand up, then and turn so I can get the light.” Rocky took the needle. “Shoulda done this earlier. Might be too late.”
“No later'n the last time.”
Rocky handed him the paper sack. “Draw on this.”
Crow took a long swallow, the liquor burning all the way. He flinched at the first stitch in his back, but caught himself and remained still until Rocky finished.
His
stitches would have made their mama proud, too.
***
Rocky was long gone at daylight, so Crow didn't know if he slept or not. They decided that Rocky should watch the house for a while, hoping to get a glimpse of the girl. Patience seemed to be the best option, and Crow had been patient for a long time.
When the sun rose, Crow stood and stretched, feeling tightness in his back.
The motel door opened and James stepped outside. “You ready?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because it's barely light, and those guys aren't going to be up over there until later in the day.”
James rubbed at the back of his neck, an unconscious Parker mannerism that he never thought about. “So we have to sit around here some more?”
“At least until noon.”
“Why then?”
“Because that's check-out time, and I don't think we'll want to spend another nineteen dollars on a room for no more'n an hour or two before we leave.”
“I was thinking we'd leave Ned here in bed. Cale can take care of him until we get back.”
“Nope. We'll need to move fast, and I don't know which direction. We can't take a chance on coming back through here to get them. We take 'em with us and they wait in the car.”
“They might get hurt.”
“We
all
might get hurt.”
“I've been thinking. Let's call the cops and have them go over there to check and see if she's in there?”
“Good idea.”
James waited, frowning. “Is it that simple?”
“I've been thinking about it. What do we have to lose?”
“Well, all right. I'll go in and call them right now.”
“Fine.”
“Somehow I think you're not serious.”
“It's your daughter. Do what you think is right.”
James hesitated. “I'll go in and call them right now.”
“You said that. Go ahead on.”
James was barely inside when Rocky rolled up. “She's there.”
Crow felt a prickle down his spine. “You saw her?”
“Yep. It was her. She came outside with another girl and they rode off with a couple of old boys I hadn't seen in the bar. They met some hippies, sold 'em some grass, took the money, and got some groceries. I left 'em back at the house and came to get you.”
“All right. Let's go.”
When James came back outside after making the call, Crow was gone.
And so was James' car.
It was still raining the next morning. The weatherman said it was about done, but we still had at least one more day and night before the storm passed. He warned that didn't mean the flood was anywheres near over with. Water would continue to rise for days.
Uncle Cody spent most of the night at the hospital, waiting to hear about Miss Anna. She was alive, but the doctors still weren't making any promises. It was daylight, or what there was of it on that rainy morning, when he got to the house. He and I were eating bacon and fried eggs at the table, talking about the dreams we still couldn't figure out. I didn't mind discussing it then, with him there with me.
While we talked, Norma Faye washed dishes and Miss Becky listened and cleared the table, happy that Pepper was found, but I could tell she was still concerned. She for sure knew something she wasn't telling, and every time there was a mention of a horse, her eyes snapped like fire.
Aunt Ida Belle rocked back and forth in Grandpa's chair, being mad. She'd already talked to Pepper and she was fine, but neither Uncle James nor Grandpa had called to check in. “If they don't call in an hour, I'm fixin' to fly out of Love Field and get my baby. She's sitting in a motel room in a strange town.”
“Get two tickets,” Norma Faye said. “I'll go with you.”
Miss Becky took down a red syrup can, removed the lid, and plucked out her butter and egg money. She counted it. “I have enough here for the two of you.”
They both started to argue, but Miss Becky shut them up with a frustrated wave. “I ain't-a flyin' with y'all, but I'm-a payin. Be careful. There's a lot of dark places in this old world.”
I wanted to ask her if I could go, but I decided it'd be better if I stayed right there and kept my mouth closed.
Uncle Cody knew better than to say a word.
***
The phone rang and Aunt Ida Belle answered it. “Cody, it's for you. They was calling for Mr. Ned, but I told them you're here instead.”
He took the receiver and listened for a couple of minutes. Then he drew a long breath. “All right. Thanks.” He came back and sat down to finish his coffee. “That was O.C. Said he heard John T. and Marty robbed a store in McKinney.”
Norma Faye raised an eyebrow to ask a question.
“They know we have Freddy. They'll be hard to catch now with getaway money in their pockets.” Uncle Cody studied the yellow smears on his plate. “Marty's not as bright as folks think he is. He's such a mama's boy, I bet he comes back sometime, at least for a minute or two. He hasn't let go of her dress tail once in his whole life. He'll be back.”
“Until then, what are you gonna do?”
Uncle Cody was surprised at the question. I'd never heard Norma Faye get into his business before. “Keep looking, I reckon, and keep trying to figure out this dream Top's having. I've had a little of the same thing myself, and the whole thing's sitting on the edge of my mind. It seems like a little bitty thing and⦔
I piped in. “Like a little speck of dust out in space.”
“That's right. A tiny speck of dust.”
“And at night, if you think about that little green speck out in the stars long enough, it gets enormous, like the biggest balloon in the whole universe that somebody is blowing up and it gets bigger and bigger until it makes your chest ache.”
Norma Faye put one fist on her hip. “What in the world are you two talking about?”
We said the same thing at the same time. “We aren't sure.”
Crow rolled past a police cruiser driving slowly through the biker's neighborhood. He parked at the end of the unpaved alley to think. There were no fences, and little vegetation behind the houses. From the tracks, it was obvious that bikes routinely used the alley as well as the street out front. It was only three doors down from the corner, so anyone popping out the back was less than eighty yards away. He was confident that most of the people who might run would instinctively turn toward the shortest escape route, only to find the Bel Air blocking the exit.
Their brief moment of indecision was all he needed.
Rocky pulled his bike into the other end, not blocking the alley, but enough to keep an eye out. Crow waited fifteen minutes before deciding that something was wrong. He backed up and drove slowly toward the street. When he stopped at the intersection, the officer standing beside the car was talking with two sleepy Demon Rattlers in jeans and bare feet.
The officer pointed to the sidewalk, obviously ordering the two to stand in one particular spot. He reached in and pulled the microphone through the window.
One of the bikers noticed the car idling at the residential intersection. He shaded his eyes, but Crow was confident that the man had no way of seeing inside.
Crow accelerated through the intersection and made a quick loop to watch the street from a different direction. Five minutes later, the police cruiser left and headed back to the highway. Rocky rode past, giving Crow a little wave that said they'd have to come up with another plan.
Irritated, Crow followed the cruiser and tapped his horn at a stop sign. The policeman glanced up into his rearview mirror and waited. Crow put the car into park and walked up even with the officer's car door.
“Can I ask you a question?”
The policeman hung his elbow out the window. “Sure.”
“Listen man, I know you got a call from someone to check out that house for a runaway girl.”
“How do you know?”
“She's my friend's girl. He's the one who called you, right?”
“I don't know the specifics of the report. I was told to check out the house and see if there were any underage runaways.”
“Well?”
The man didn't like being questioned by anyone, especially a long-haired hippie with a once-fancy shirt that might have been dragged out of a ditch. The officer shifted into park and opened the door, forcing Crow to step back. He adjusted the gun belt at his waist, a practiced habit that usually made people take note of his authority. “What's your name?”
Crow spread his hands, realizing the conversation wasn't going where he wanted. “Dude, I'm asking a question here for my friend. He's been trying to find his little girl, a fourteen-year-old named Pepper. See? That's odd enough for someone to actually be named Pepper. I'm for real here.”
“I asked your name. Show me some ID.”
“I don't have any.”
The officer jerked a thumb toward the car. “Driver's license? Registration?
Draft
card?”
Crow spread his hands.
“Get over here against my fender.”
“Aw, man.” Instead of following orders, Crow moved toward the Bel Air. “Dude, look.”
At the end of his patience, the officer slipped his baton free and let it swing beside his leg. “I'm not telling you again.”
With a rumble, a cluster of Harleys came around the corner. The officer ignored them, but from the corner of his eyes, Crow saw more than one familiar face from the bar. There was Griz, who resembled a raccoon under the bandana bandage still tied over his nose. He built a smile as they passed.
“Against the car. Now!”
Crow held up both hands. “Please listen to me.”
The officer advanced, the baton held ready. He'd been on the streets for years, and wasn't falling for one of the oldest tricks in the books.
The line of bikes filed past, a procession designed to show no fear. Women rode behind, some holding onto the men's belts, others riding casually, hands on their thighs. The bikers shouted and laughed.
“Good morning, officer!”
“Need any help, officer?”
“Watch him. He's a bad
man
.”
Arms around a red-bearded Rattler, a woman's mouth opened in shock.
“Crow!”
His head snapped around as the officer swung. Instinctively trying to block the blow, Crow caught the baton on his forearm which immediately went numb. He groaned and slipped inside the swing, ducking and coming up under the officer's chin with his head. It wasn't a solid hit, and the man twisted back, raising a knee and trying for Crow's groin.
He twisted, blocked the knee with his thigh and dropped his shoulder. He punched the officer in the stomach. It felt like hitting a sack of cement. The man swung with his left fist, catching Crow in the side of the head. His eyes jolted in their sockets and he staggered, seeing stars. Crow kicked sideways, catching the officer's knee. It gave with a sickening crack and he went to the ground. Still in the fight, the policeman fumbled for the revolver in its holster. Crow kicked him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. Gasping, the man tried to make his paralyzed lungs work while Crow unsnapped the strap over his pistol. He dropped the cylinder, ejected the bullets, and flung them into the street.
He raised up, breathing hard and expecting to see the bikers. Instead, he saw a number of cars that had slowed on the highway.
Crow waved the pistol at the gawkers and they quickly accelerated. He threw the revolver hard, landing it on the flat roof of a nearby house. He reached into the police car, ripped the mike cord free from the radio, then pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Stay down! Bury your face in that concrete!”
The man rolled slowly onto his stomach. Crow jumped behind the wheel of James' car and pulled around the officer's still form. He sped away, following the tiny speck that was the last bike in the gang.
He had to keep up with them, or he'd lose the girl he'd been trailing for weeks.