Dirty South Drug Wars (40 page)

No hope. There was no hope for my little cousin, the girl who resembled me more than my own sister.

She wasn’t going to make it.

I supposed I should have felt some guilt about that fact, should have felt an inkling of remorse and pity, and maybe I did, but mostly I was tired. I was tired of weathering the storm.

“This needs to end,” Nana said.

The words caused me to pause. I twisted a strand of hair between my fingers, the memory of the last time I saw Olivia’s face playing in my mind.

“Yeah, it does,” I confirmed, dropping back onto the bed with a pounding chest, her odd tone striking something within me.

“You hold the key to end it all.”

It was a riddle. And I was tired of riddles. I was tired of secrets and safes, riddles and Southern royals. I was tired of it all.

“I’m about to eat supper, Nana,” I told her, my throat tightening. She sat silent on the other end of the line. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Okay.”

“‘Night, Nana.”

“‘Night. And, Rue?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

My body turned rigid and I sat straight up on the bed, hearing those words uttered from my grandmother’s lips. I opened my mouth to respond, but I no longer heard the beeping and whooshing sound of machines or chattering of nurses in the background. Pulling the phone from my ear, I stared at the screen.

Love.

Love made us all do silly things. Love made us take chances and draw lines, only to blur them and cross them, and sometimes burn them. Love took away the ones closest to us, only to give us new ones in return. Love made us irrational. Love made us delusional, believing in people who were no longer alive, wanting to tuck them safely inside our hearts and minds and hold on to them forever, never letting them go.

I tossed the phone back on the bed and stared through the window. The rain continued to beat down, but the dark clouds suddenly parted to reveal the moon. As I crossed the room I remembered Tanner’s gift of Moon Pies.

And the little white lies.

Those lies brought us to that place: the little white lies to my sister as Josie and I snuck over the bridge into a forbidden town, the lie I told my uncle the day he shot his trusty Coonhound, the lies inside my head, forcing me to believe something they all claimed wasn’t real.

I
needed
it to be real.

If I could touch her, I’d cradle her in my arms, just as I had when she was younger when the dreams would scare her at night, when the things she saw became real.

Real.

“Why didn’t you see this?” I asked her, seeing nothing as I stared through the glass. “Why didn’t you see this coming?”

And then it struck me, harder than the bolt of lightning that flashed through the sky, smashing into the forest across the river. Electricity spiraled down the tree, ripping the bark along the way in one long, winding twist as the world illuminated before me. It was louder than Melissa’s startled shriek from the floor below and darker than the house as the lights went out.

She
had
seen it.

“A storm’s coming,” I whispered.

Shuffling of steps crept from somewhere behind me. A shiver crawled up my spine.

The steps grew closer. Concerned, muffled voices crept up the stairs, but that wasn’t what caused the quiver in my bones. It was the voice, the ghost of a voice tickling my ear.

“Time for Daddy’s gun.”

A startled gasp lodged in my throat at the sound of my sister’s voice. Spinning on my heel with my hand pressed against my rapidly rising chest, I looked for her. Darkness surrounded me. Still, I searched, praying she was there and alive, proof I wasn’t crazy.

The room was empty of human life, save me, as I stood with the rumbling of thunder in the distance. My fingers sought the edge of the bed in frantic desperation. I grasped Tanner’s sheets in my hands and fell on the soft mattress, sucking in breath after breath.

Time for Daddy’s gun.

A flash of a memory—the gun safe, me shooting Daddy’s gun in preparation for the inevitable—reeled through my mind. Was that what Lucy was talking about? I should drive back home and remove Daddy’s gun from the gun safe, take Amos out, and end this once and for all?

I imagined gunning him down. My cold fingers stretched and fisted in my lap as I thought of it, of ending the man who’d tormented so many people for so very long. Could I do that? Could I be that person? A murderer? Would that make me no different than him, a villain who snuffed people out?

The muffled sound of heavy boots marching up the stairs pulled me from my internal reverie. The glow of a candle danced across the walls in the hallway, softly illuminating the darkness provided by the failed lights. Tanner stepped through the doorway, placing a candle on his dresser. The sharp angles of his face drew in concern at the whiteness of my firm grip. He held a bowl of soup in one hand and a package of crackers tucked under his arm.

“There must be a power line down somewhere,” he said.

He approached me slowly, dropped down beside me on the bed, and passed the bowl to me. I took it with a shaky, uncertain grip. I tried to smile but it was forced, the strange pull of my lips a façade of how I truly felt inside.

I was angry.

I was angry at myself for believing my mind’s lie for so long, for wasting so much time chasing the ghost of a memory when I could have used that time to end Amos, end his life and the terror he reigned on our family.

Mostly I was angry with Lucy. Something deep within me screamed that she knew the truth, that she knew she’d die, yet kept quiet. She refused, for whatever reason, to share with me that my future would be lacking her presence.

“I’m going to kill Amos.”

If my revelation shocked Tanner, he didn’t show it. There was nothing but a firm sense of resolution about him.

“Let me grab my gun,” he replied.

*

Graham Montgomery was a strange man.

Nothing shocked or stunned him. If it did, he never displayed it, always remaining calm and constant, never a mixture of emotions. He took things in stride, always with a little smile on his face. Sometimes the smile was devious, sometimes it was condescending.

Graham wasn’t smiling the night of the storm.

“You have no plan, son,” he told his nephew, his lips pulled down in a frown that looked eerie in the flickering candlelight.

Tanner ignored him, sliding the smooth bullets in the magazine before snapping it into place. Shoving the gun in the waistband of his pants, he grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him to the doorway.

Graham was wrong.

There was a plan, a plan none of us had been aware of before that night. It was a plan drawn out by a girl, a selfish little creature who I missed more than anything.

I said nothing to Graham in response, choosing to keep my crazy to myself. I wondered if that was how they perceived me: crazy.

“What did Burns say about the best laid schemes of mice and men?” Tanner asked.

I raised my eyebrows. “You read poetry?”

“Sometimes. You surprised?”

I shook my head. The boy never failed to confound me.

“I’m calling Holloway,” Graham said, removing his cell from his pocket. “We do this together or we do nothing at all.”

I expected Tanner to argue, as he was not one to take orders lightly, but he shocked me by nodding. I stood beside him dressed in nothing but black: a fitted black shirt, my favorite worn jeans, and my old dirty sneakers.

Tanner was dressed similarly in his dark clothes, the long sleeve of his shirt hiding his bulky bandage. His slightly callused thumb ran gentle circles across the soft skin of my hand as he attempted to rub it all out: the worry, the questions, the uncertainty. Even his touch couldn’t smooth out the wrinkles of the unknown, of what lay ahead of us that night.

It was faith in my sister that helped soothe me. I had faith that even though she didn’t make the best decisions in life, and was at times completely selfish, she chose to come back and help me in her own little way. It didn’t matter whether she was a figment of my overactive imagination or something else entirely.

“Amos goes to Merle’s Lounge on Saturday nights,” I said. “He gets good and tight then drives home.”

“I know,” Graham replied, a small smile gracing his face.

Of course he knew. He knew everything about my uncle: where he drank, whom he bedded, how much he was worth. This was his job, knowing these things about his enemy, especially after the last time he attempted to take Amos down by rigging the truck with an explosive that was too little, too late.

The smile slipped from Graham’s face when someone answered his call. He began speaking, giving detailed instructions of where to go, what to do, and when to do it. I shifted from foot to foot, irritated with the thoughts of others being involved in this task I was meant to complete myself.

“Don’t worry.” Tanner tucked me in under his arm and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. “You’ll be the one to end it. They’re just backup in case things get out of hand. And I’ll be happy to end his life if you don’t, mark my words. Amos will die tonight, whether you kill him or I do.”

Graham ended the call just as Melissa and Shelby appeared behind him. I wanted to erase their concerns, tell them all would be well because my sister was with me, somewhere out in the storm waiting for me. I remained silent, choosing only to give them a tight-lipped smile I could only hope was reassuring.

“Can’t you wait another night?” Melissa pleaded, edging past Graham and pulling me from Tanner and into her arms. “It’s so bad outside. Wait until the storm has blown over.”

My throat knotted with emotion as she embraced me, smelling like sunshine and happiness. I wrapped my arms around the woman, breathing her in, resting my head against her shoulder. Melissa was more than Tanner’s aunt. She’d become a mother to me during the short time I’d known her, more of a mother to me than my biological one. I loved Melissa. I loved the woman for worrying about me when Christine never did, for concerning herself with my life although we had no biological or marital ties.

“It has to be tonight,” I said. “This has been going on for so long. I’m tired. I’m tired of always wondering about the future, constantly looking over my shoulder. How can we move on peacefully when there’s never any sense of peace? It has to end tonight, and I have to be the one to do it.”

I thought I heard her stifle a sob, but I couldn’t be sure. She pulled away from me, turning so quickly I never saw her face before she disappeared into the adjoining room. I wondered if I’d ever see her again, but I brushed the thought aside, choosing instead to have faith in my little sister.

I fell into Shelby’s open arms next.

“Go kick some ass,” Shelby whispered, releasing me with a smile.

I smiled in return, although mine felt more genuine. Shelby dropped down on the couch and pulled her cell from her pocket. I wondered if she was texting Brodie. The two had become tight lately. He was there for me the night Josie lashed out at me, and I lashed out in return, his big eyes full of worry and guilt as he guided me to Tanner’s bedroom. I hadn’t spoken to him since, choosing to ignore his phone calls like I did so many others, but something told me to trust him. I could only hope he wasn’t like Olivia: a backstabber, a traitor, and now a victim of her own circumstances.

“Benson is alerting Wes of what’s going on.” Graham crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “They’ll be in constant communication with one another and with you, Tanner. If a call comes through to the station, or if anything new arises with Buck, Wes will know about it. He’ll contact you and Benson.”

“What about you?” Tanner asked his uncle. “Where will you be?”

“Here.” Graham shrugged, sliding his hands deep into his pockets. “I’ll be here with my family. Someone has to protect them if you’re actually going through with this. There’s no telling what will happen when the brothers find out you’ve killed Amos. They may come after me, Melissa, or Shelby. I’ll be here waiting, just in case that’s what they decide to do.”

*

The rain soaked me to the bone as we darted from the house and skidded across the slick driveway to Tanner’s car. He held the door open, and I slid inside. Tanner’s keys dangled from the ignition and I reached over to crank the car and blast the heat. The rain was freezing, the cool water pimpling my skin against the initial blast of air, which slowly turned warmer as the old Mustang idled.

Tanner slid in beside me, warming his hands up as well. He shook the droplets of water from his unruly hair, laughing when I glowered at him for splattering them across my face. My very core filled with dread, but he was laughing, filled with his own recklessness, something I stupidly missed.

When he flipped on the headlights I saw her again, standing in front of the car staring back at me. My heart went wild, galloping inside my chest, suspending me against the seat in wild-eyed wonder.

“What’s wrong?” Tanner asked.

He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see the thin girl in the black dress staring at me, rain pelting against her pale skin. He couldn’t see the black void in her eyes as she smiled, encouraging me with a whimsical expression. He couldn’t see her because she wasn’t real. She wasn’t really there.

She wasn’t really there.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just thought I saw something.”

Tanner didn’t reply to my comment, choosing instead to shift the car in reverse and pull from the drive. Spinning down the slick roads, he glanced at me occasionally. I tugged on a strand of wet hair, twisting it around my forefinger as the storm lingered on.

We arrived in Mayhaw minutes later, pulling down backroad after backroad once we crossed the river then finally pulling into my long, winding drive. The sign perched at the end shouldn’t have stopped my heart. It had bright orange letters screaming “For Sale” against an ebony backdrop. But it did stop my heart for a moment, twisting it in my chest before releasing it to be free once more. I should have known she’d do something like selling our home without telling me or asking my opinion. It was the home my father built with his very own hands, a house filled with a mixture of happy and painful memories, of broken promises, and unfulfilled dreams.

“Rue.”

“Not now.” I shook my head, my hair slapping me across my face. “We’ll talk about it later. I just can’t right now.”

“I can go in and get the gun for you.”

I smiled. “Let’s do it together.”

We darted across the wet driveway, the wind howling through the trees and the rain slapping our protesting bodies. Tanner insisted on going inside the house first and I was happy to oblige. Truth be told, I didn’t want to enter the house alone. I was unsure of what I’d find after he took the key from my hand, slid it in the lock, and turned the knob.

I was shocked to find it virtually unchanged, the walls and floors illuminated by the flashlight clasped in my hand. There was no lingering crime scene, no traces of hair. The carpet was cleaner than I’d ever seen it. There was no scattering of clothes, no junk mail piled on the counter, yet everything remained the same: my father’s old chair, the cigar table resting beside it, the furniture and entertainment center. Everything was exactly where it should be.

“Maybe she’s selling the house as is,” Tanner said. “The furniture, appliances. Maybe it all comes with the house.”

I climbed the stairs and he trailed behind. “Maybe.”

Christine hadn’t emptied my room of my belongings as she had so easily rid me from her life. The stars were still plastered to the ceiling, the bed sheets still in place, although there were no clothes or makeup scattered about. It was my sister’s room that worried me.

“I need to see her bedroom.” My shoulders relaxed with his gentle nod.

I left him in the darkness of the hallway. I twisted Lucy’s bedroom doorknob between my fingers, jumping a bit when the door gave a protesting groan. I left the door open, a cowardly gesture, but the room was so dark and smelled of her, of my sister whose memory I clung to so violently that she continued to haunt me.

I sat on the edge of the bed. Tanner leaned against the doorframe. There was no real reason for me to be in her room other than to soak up her memory, to smell her perfume that still sat on her vanity, the heart-shaped mirror throwing back my warped reflection as the beam of my flashlight bounced off it from time to time.

That was when I noticed the necklace.

It hung from the vanity, an innocent old key strung through the gold chain. I found myself rising from the bed, shuffling across the carpet, and sliding my finger under the chain, lifting it from where it hung. Holding it in the air in front of my face I examined it, the old metal dinged and dented, yet sturdy and steadfast.