My Name Is River Blue (50 page)

The pilot gave
me a quick glance before turning his attention back to his job. Maybe he knew. Maybe
he had taken others away in the dark hours before dawn.

Maybe all they
had left were memories too.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

March
2007

My familiarity
with the landmarks I saw made me feel that I had never left, and yet it had
been more than a year since I had escaped from Bergeron County in December of
2005. Driving my rental through town, I was comfortable that I had changed more
than Harper Springs had and that no one would recognize me. A plastic surgeon
had done a couple of tricks to my face. I had grown a mustache and a goatee, added
fifteen pounds, and buzzed my hair shorter than anyone in Harper Springs had
ever seen it. Only someone who knew me very well and was familiar with my voice
would be suspicious.

In public, I
usually sported a plain, black baseball cap and a pair of wrap-around shades. I
always wore long sleeved shirts with jeans, as I would never allow anyone to
question the accident and surgery scars on my arms and legs. If I timed my
public appearances in a way that my left leg was rested, my limp was hardly
noticeable. I only used my new cane, when necessary, in a place where I would
draw little attention.

The previous day
was one of those times when the pain in my leg and back required not only the
use of my cane, but a few more painkillers than normal. From the backside, I
had driven as far as I could onto Deer Lake Farm property using a dirt road
that became a trail, which I took on foot the rest of the way through the woods
to Deer Lake. It was as beautiful as it had always been, and I sat for more
than an hour on what had been a campsite many times for Ant and me. It was the
place where I first made love to Carlee.

Up the hill,
farther back from the lake bank, under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, was
the best spot to view the lake and its surroundings that often included deer
drinking from the far bank. Someone had planted two red rose bushes, one on
either side of the tree, and then added daffodils and pansies in a circle
around the roses. I stretched my body amid the flowers and hugged the plot of new
grass growing from the soil that had not yet fully settled. I eventually fell
asleep with my mind wrapped around warm memories of a life that I would never
have again.

When I left the
lake, I continued hiking towards the hill that overlooked the heart of Deer
Lake Farm. From there, I used my binoculars to scan Papa's house, the barns, stables,
the ring, and the surrounding areas. It was all just as I remembered it, and I stayed
much longer than I should have in hopes of seeing some of the people I had missed
so much.

The pain
shooting through my back and leg was a price I was willing to pay to see Uncle Manny,
Tyler, and Lewis. The men looked the same, but Tyler had experienced the growth
spurt I had promised him he would have. He was much taller, and I could see the
muscle development that I knew made him proud. With my last view of Uncle Manny
and Tyler, I saw my uncle hang his arm around Tyler's shoulders before they walked
from the barn into the house together.

Since the night
the chopper took me away, I had not seen anyone from Bergeron County with the
exception of Uncle Manny, who made his annual trip to his parents' house in
Mexico. I met him there and visited with him and the rest of the family for
more than a week. I never lived with my grandparents, but it was easy for me to
visit, and I did so several times after Tom pronounced that I was ready.

I wanted so
badly to walk down to the farm to be with Uncle Manny and Tyler, but I couldn't
risk the chance that any customers might raise questions about me in such a
familiar setting. I also didn't want to discuss my reason for coming back with
any of my "family" because it was better that they didn't know. When
my pain became too much, I had to pop more oxycodone than usual just to take
the torturous hike back to my car.

On the outskirts
of Ackers, where I had rented a cheap motel room, I could not avoid driving
past the hulking, red brick building that seemed to stretch on forever. Surrounded
by a fence twenty feet high with double rows of razor wire across the top, Stockwell
still looked as menacing to me as it did when I was an eleven-year old boy
riding in the back of a police cruiser. I will never forget the fear I felt
when the officer nosed his car past the guard station to deliver me for what
the judge called behavior modification and training.

Inside my ratty
motel room where everything was old, stained, and stale, I stared at two
bottles of narcotic pain pills. I couldn't remember what I had already taken
which can be a bad thing when you're dealing with morphine. I passed on the
morphine and swallowed three more of the oxycodone pills, which helped me sleep
past dinner all the way through to the next morning. I woke up with my stomach
screaming for food and risked my life by eating a greasy breakfast at the motel
restaurant before driving to the county library.

As I parked my
car in the library lot, I hoped that I wouldn't have to ask how to use the resources.
Tom taught me to limit my need for conversation with others so that I gave them
little to remember. I tried to be the young man who went unnoticed, but when someone
did
notice me, I wanted to be the guy who was hard to describe and easy
to forget. I never established a routine that anyone could use to predict where
I would be on a certain day at a particular time. I was always just some guy who
was no one special and not worth mentioning. "Utterly forgettable" is
the phrase Tom used to describe how I should look and act in public.

When I walked
inside the library, I was relieved to see signs with directions to the various sections
and services. Once I found the right area, I took a seat before a computer and
read instructions for finding state and local newspaper archives. The program
was easy to use. I could search the newspapers by names, categories, events, key
words, and dates. I spent several hours catching up on what I had missed.

I found a few
articles that I enjoyed reading about people and places that I had known well. I
read that Deer Lake Farm was starting an equine therapy program for special needs
children and had hired a therapist to run it along with help from Sue, the
riding instructor. The state had approved money to build onto Tolley House,
giving it the capacity to house an additional six boys. I read Coach Haney's
prediction that the Hawks would do well in the fall with some talented young
players, such as rising sophomore quarterback Tyler Long, who would be competing
for the starting job. It took a moment for me to remember that when Papa
adopted Tyler that my "little brother" took Papa's last name. I was
sad to read that Marcia Medlock had passed away the week before Christmas, a
year after she was diagnosed with lung cancer.

I looked for another
obituary dated five weeks prior. When I found it, it was another painful
affirmation that Papa was gone. It had been only a day since I had seen Papa's
headstone at Deer Lake, the site of his final resting place. It had been
incredibly difficult for me to accept another tragic death of a loved one, and
it wasn't truly real to me until I visited his grave. Papa's death was not only
an overwhelming loss to those closest to him, it hurt hundreds of people whose
lives he had touched, and hundreds more people who would have benefited from his
uncommonly generous spirit.

Having been
Papa's oldest and closest friends, Uncle Manny and Tom knew how to contact each
other. When Uncle Manny passed the sad news to Tom, he knew that Tom would relay
it to me. He was kind enough to tell me in person and to accept my invitation
to stay with me at the cabin for a few days. It was a difficult time when we
both needed a friend.

When I heard
that Papa died of injuries he sustained after his truck broke through the
guardrail of Angels' Curve, I didn't believe for a second that it was an
accident and Uncle Manny agreed. Papa had been trying to clear my name ever since
I left Harper Springs, and we wondered if he had made someone too nervous. When
I thought of what Carlee told me the night before she died, I was convinced
that the same man was responsible for the deaths of Ant, Carlee, and Papa.

Uncle Manny pressed
the cops to investigate Papa's death as a homicide, but they found no evidence
of foul play. The police investigation suggested that Papa lost control of his
truck on a dark, rainy night, and the coroner agreed, ruling Papa's death an
accident. The ruling did not deter Uncle Manny from pursuing his own investigation,
and he got lucky when he spoke to one of Papa's friends on the city council.
The man gave Uncle Manny a perfect motive for Bill Summers to kill Papa.

Back when Harper
Springs was trying to build the new high school stadium and athletic buildings,
they ran short of the money they needed for the periodic payments to the
construction company. The city sought to raise the money by selling the old
part of Harper Park. To ensure that the park remained a place for neighborhood
kids to play, Papa bought it. He agreed to allow the city to buy back the land whenever
they wanted for the same price, as long as the city did basic maintenance, such
as mowing and trash removal. Furthermore, he told them that if he died, his
will would instruct that the land be gifted to the city. During all the times
that Papa and I played and practiced in the old park, he never mentioned that
he owned it. My guess is that he always thought of the park as belonging to the
kids who played there.

For months prior
to Papa's death, Bill Summers, and three other businessmen, persistently offered
to buy the old park from Papa. They wanted to build an apartment complex along
with some retail stores, and Papa refused all their offers and told them that
he would never take that land away from the kids who enjoyed it every day. Summers
then discussed the matter with the city manager and the other council members. His
idea was to loan the city the money to buy the land back from Papa so that
Summers could in turn buy it from the city. Since Papa and some of his friends
were also on the council, Big Bill's problem was that if he loaned the city the
money to buy the property from Papa, he would still come up a vote short of
what he needed for the city to agree to sell the property to him.

Uncle Manny believed
that Big Bill decided to solve his problem by eliminating Papa so that Papa's
will would bequeath the park to the city. With Papa gone, his vote was no
longer available to stop the city from selling the park to Summers. The problem
with Uncle Manny's theory was that Big Bill had an alibi in the local newspaper.
There was a picture of him at the grand opening of one of his new restaurants
two hours away in Atlanta. It was taken the same night Papa died at about the
same time as the accident. Uncle Manny knew that Bill Summers couldn't have run
Papa's truck off the road, but he intended to find out who Summers paid to do
it.

I had my own
idea of how to deal with Bill Summers. It was a more direct approach, and it
was the reason for my return to Harper Springs.

As far as the
contents of Papa's will, Tom gave me the highlights that Uncle Manny shared
with him. Papa left his estate to both Tyler and Uncle Manny, who was executer
of the estate and legal guardian for Tyler. They would both have more money
than they would ever need. In instructions separate from the will, Papa also
left me a large sum of money. Uncle Manny was to hold the money for me in his
name and periodically send it to me through Tom.

At the library
computer, I got down to serious business when I searched for the Summers family
and then entered the names of all his businesses that I knew. I discovered that
Big Bill and Beth were divorced. It was final in January. Billy was playing football
for Iverson, which told me that he and his mother had moved out of town. As far
as Big Bill's businesses, nothing had changed as far as I could tell. Nothing
like a bankruptcy that I would have cheered.

I scanned the local
paper for the
Around Town
column, and it appeared that Big Bill still
kept his Tuesday night tradition. According to the newspaper column, he and
other concerned leaders from the county gathered each Tuesday night for an
informal dinner meeting at the Harper Springs location of Big Bill's Barbeque.
They discussed the welfare of Bergeron County and brainstormed ideas for growth
that they would present at future city and county council meetings.

Carlee once told
me that Big Bill always closed the restaurant early on Tuesdays so that all
regular customers were out by eight o'clock. The cook and server would cater to
Big Bill and his friends in the private dining room until time for the
confidential discussions at which time the employees would lock up and go home.

I found a
newspaper article about my trial. Had I not left the night I did, I would have
been in court the following afternoon where I would have heard the foreman read
the jury's unanimous guilty verdict. In an interview with Big Bill, a reporter
asked him how he felt about me skipping town. He claimed that nothing would
ease the pain of losing his beloved Carlee, but he was at peace knowing that I
would be brought to justice, if not in this life, then in the next. I wondered
if Big Bill would still feel at peace if he could read my mind.

On my way from
the library to pick up lunch, I stopped by the cemetery and visited Ant's grave.
Someone, probably Jenny, had recently placed an artificial flower arrangement
into the detachable vase in front of his headstone. I was glad that Ant had
someone who cared enough to keep his grave looking like someone cared.