by Jay Nadal
Cade paced the living room. His mind raced ahead through consequences and counter-consequences. Bobby Dexter pursued by real cops, arrested and indicted. Rissa breaking the story of protection and tax evasion and how NorEl went about acquiring the land it needed as cheaply as possible. Would that be enough for an FBI investigation? Would it even be enough to worry NorEl’s investors? In the meantime, Pa Dexter would have time to wreak havoc in revenge.
“I’m going to go, man. Good luck. I’ll let you know when I have something.”
Cade didn’t need coffee this morning. He felt wired. So, Chief Joseph wanted to make an arrest? Cade knew he would see the inside of a Burford Police Department cell while they checked his alibi out. He had no intention of being there for even a few hours. Beth and Madison needed him. He searched the house for a phone directory. Then he swore at himself for being an idiot. Who used those things anymore? He picked up his phone again and searched for lawyers in Burford, New Hampshire. Only one match: Eason and Sons, Attorneys at Law.
A phone call connected him to a man named Francis Eason, and a few minutes of conversation with him saw Cade leaving the house. He had taped a note to the front door and then drove Charlie’s car to Eason and Sons in Northumberland Square, downtown Burford.
The office was reassuringly old-fashioned. Two walls were covered in bookshelves which were dominated by hefty law books. Francis Eason, Sr., sat behind a hardwood desk polished to a deep shine. A computer sat almost apologetically in one corner of the desk, and a wireless keyboard occupied the center, where it could be reached with ease. Francis Eason wore a three-piece suit and had a balding head of white hair. His face was round and studious. The view from his office was of a hobby shop across the small square, which both premises occupied, along with two other businesses. A grandfather clock kept patient time in one corner of the room.
Eason sipped black coffee from a china cup. Cade did the same and toyed with his cigarette, which Mr. Eason had been more than happy for him to light if he wished. Three days in a row now. It had been forty-five minutes since Cade had left the house. He saw the cops first through the window. Northumberland Square was too small for cars. The cops had come on foot. Chief Joseph marched at the fore, a look of determination on his face. He had brought Mitch with him and another cop that Cade didn’t recognize but no doubt was one of the chief’s trusted men.
“Here we go,” Cade said.
Eason turned, then pressed the button on a discreet intercom.
“Mary, Chief Joseph is about to arrive. Please have him shown through to my office. Thank you.”
Chief Joseph arrived a minute later. His thick face was emblazoned with triumph.
“Morning, Francis.”
“Good morning, Chief. As you can see, I am in conference with my client. What can I, or should I say we, do for you?”
“I’m here to arrest your client, Francis.”
“Are you really? On what charge?”
“Attempted murder.”
“When?”
Joseph’s triumph was fading away. He darted a suspicious glance from Eason to Cade. Throughout the exchange, Cade had sat calmly, sipping coffee and watching the chief with a neutral expression.
“That’s something we can talk about down at the station. Mr. Cade, I’m arresting you for…”
“It’s something we’ll talk about now, Chief Joseph. Unless you think the constitution of this country allows you to arrest a man and deprive him of his freedom on suspicion he’s done something wrong. Do you have any evidence, Chief Joseph?”
Joseph glared at the old attorney. “Someone assaulted Charlie Biggs at around eight-thirty last night. This man has been driving his car around town since then. That’s all the evidence I need that he’s involved.”
Eason proffered a piece of paper, which bore Cade’s signature and his own.
“Here is a list of Mr. Cade’s movements yesterday from his appearance at the Dexter house, which I believe you yourself are a witness to, until now. In the time it’s taken you to get here, I have looked into this and verified his story. He has an alibi all night. Oh, and incidentally, he’s shown me a picture of the note he left you on the front door of a Mrs. Beth Collins’ house, which proves that he told you he would be here. So he isn’t evading arrest, either, Chief Joseph. Was there anything else?”
“Are you protecting this man, Francis? He isn’t even from here,” the chief roared.
Cade could see the terror rearing up behind the bluster. Chief Joseph had been under orders to pick up Cade and detain him. He was about to fail in that task because of a little old white-haired man and a room full of law books.
“I’m protecting the interests of my client. His alibi for the crime you wish to arrest him for is watertight. Please feel free to check yourselves. I have spoken to the hospital where he claims to have been. The receptionist on duty at the time remembers him from his description. A nurse supervisor verified that she signed him into her ward. I took the precaution of emailing a picture of Mr. Cade to her. The hospital has extensive closed-circuit television cameras. I haven’t yet checked those. I will, rest assured.”
Throughout, Cade’s new attorney had maintained the same tone of professional civility. He had covered all the necessary points efficiently and patiently waited for the police officers to respond. There was a moment of silence. Joseph looked between Cade and his unlikely defender. The righteous fury was dead now. He looked flat-footed and helpless.
“May I say, Chief Joseph, that this doesn’t surprise me at all. You have never impressed me as an individual, and yet it amazes me how someone like yourself could be moved into such a position. However, knowing who your friends are, perhaps I shouldn’t be so amazed. If there is nothing else, gentlemen? Mary, the police officers are leaving now.”
The door to the office opened, and a conservatively dressed middle-aged woman stepped through. She held the door for the cops, gesturing with one open hand as to the direction she wished them to go. The courteous old man and the silent middle-aged woman together forced the three tough cops out the door and into the street.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Eason.”
“Not at all. You could not have done what they accused you of. It was my duty to defend you.”
Cade took his leave, striding across the square and out onto Wilson Street, where Charlie’s vintage Ford was parked.
Beth held Madison tightly, letting her cry herself out. She held back her own tears, though she didn’t know how she did it. Only a superhuman effort kept her from breaking down beside her daughter. But Madison didn’t need a grieving mother. She needed a mother. Beth had collected her from Laura and told Madison they were going to the park. There was a play park five minutes down the road from Laura’s house, and Madison loved it.
The little girl had been curious as to why she wasn’t going to school. Beth had somehow managed to stall until they reached the park. It was quiet; the other kids were all in school by this time of the morning. It had been her reason for choosing it. She wanted somewhere they could be alone. She wanted this to be her and Madison, because that’s what it would be from now on. Tommy said he wouldn’t leave her alone, but who knew when he would want to be moving again. And she didn’t want to burden Madison with dealing with her grief in front of someone who was still a stranger.
When they had arrived, Beth had told Maddie in as simple terms as she could. Daddy had been very sick. Daddy hadn’t got better, and the doctors couldn’t make him better. Daddy had gone to Heaven. Maddie would see him again one day in Heaven. But not for a very long time. It had filled Maddie’s eyes with pure incomprehension. She had asked when Daddy would come home from Heaven. Never didn’t seem to satisfy her. And why would it? How could she appreciate never at her age?
He wasn’t coming home today. And not tomorrow. And not the day after. Beth had gone on, adding day to day to day. It seemed to break through her shell of incomprehension. Maddie could understand missing her daddy. She a
lready did. She could understand how bad it would feel if she didn’t see him today. Or the next day. By increasing the time incrementally, Madison seemed to understand. Daddy was never coming home. She would never see him again.
Madison’s heart broke. Beth held her close as her own broke all over again. She prayed for the strength to do right by her little girl.
“It’s just you and me now, kiddo,” she whispered, more for herself than Madison. “Just you and me.”
30
Madison hadn’t wanted to go to the play park after all. She sat huddled in the front seat of the car as Beth drove them home. She drove with one hand, reaching out for Maddie, holding her hand. Madison squeezed her hand back. As she drove, Beth realized their route would take them past the auto shop. The cause of everything. Had Brandon been a bank clerk or a bartender, they never would have appeared on the Dexters’ radar. Had Brandon owned an auto shop in any other part of town, they may never have wanted the business for themselves. She couldn’t see it as anger swelled in her.
Beth took a sudden right, veering off the route that would have taken her along Willow Road until it intersected with Jefferson Street. She took another turn after that to drive on a back road that she didn’t know. But she knew enough to orient herself toward home. Meers Hill loomed to the right, and she took the next turn in that direction, aiming to bring it around onto her left. Then she’d be on the south side of the hill, heading west and toward home.
The road was a dusty back trail, lacking asphalt or gravel. Chain-link fences to either side carried the names of businesses that owned the yards beyond. Long, low buildings with high windows and flat, tarred roofs occupied those yards and carried faded company logos. She hadn’t ventured north of Meers Hill before. It was a commercial neighborhood. No reason to come here. It made her uncomfortable. Her mind drifted back to the visit from the Dexter brothers last night, and her refusal to sign.
She cursed her own stupidity. She checked her rear-view mirror, looking for any sign of being followed. Nothing. The road ahead rose, working its way into the trees and up the hill. She thought she could pick up a main road if she kept right. There was no direct route straight up and over the hill.
“Mommy. Where are we?” Maddie asked in a small voice.
“Not far from home, sweetie. It’s just the other side of that hill there,” Beth replied in what she hoped was a reassuring voice.
They reached an intersection, and Beth saw a vehicle coming toward her from the western road. She saw a plume of dust kicked up by it. Then something dark flashed across the intersection in front of her and skidded to a halt. It blocked the road ahead. Beth turned right, heading in the direction it had come from. But another car was already turning itself across the road, blocking it. She hit reverse, not caring what was behind her as a man got out of the car and began running toward her. She recognized Bobby Dexter.
A large black SUV, the same car that had come barreling through the intersection, had blocked her exit. They trapped her car between the two.
“Mommy!” Madison screamed. Beth’s comforting hand was now pinning her to the seat as she wrenched the car around. Jimmy Dexter ran toward her from the opposite direction to his brother. She floored the gas pedal and aimed the car straight for Bobby. His car was smaller than Jimmy’s. Maybe if she hit it right, she could knock it aside. Bobby just stood there. No, Bobby was pointing a gun at her. She swerved aside as the windshield became an opaque spider’s web of cracks.
Maddie screamed, a single drawn-out wail. Beth’s car crashed through a chain-link fence, dragging it along like a veil. Then it hit something. Hard. They stopped dead. Beth’s arm held Madison back, but Beth’s head bounced off the steering wheel, drawing blood. For one blissful moment she sat back, feeling drunk. Then Bobby Dexter’s leering face appeared out of the dust in her side mirror. The horror of the situation doused her like a bucket of cold water.
She flung open Madison’s door and unclipped her daughter’s seat belt.
“Go, Madison! Bad men! They want to hurt you. Over the hill. Go over the hill. Run!”
Madison ran for her life. Bobby Dexter wrenched open the driver’s-side door and shoved his gun into her cheek.
“Keep still, bitch,” he said, spit flying from his loose mouth.
He reached across her to undo the seat belt. Stale scotch wafted from his breath. He took his time, enjoying the proximity. His hand fumbled blindly for the seat belt catch, grasping at her thigh and the exposed flesh between the top of her jeans and her T-shirt. She thrashed in the seat, trying to squirm away from his touch. But the gun just pressed harder into her cheek. He leaned closer. His lips were inches from hers.
Bobby was yanked away. He stumbled over his own feet and fell. Jimmy stood over him.
“Where’s the kid?”
“She got away.”
“Jesus Christ, Bobby. She can identify us, and she can tell the cops what happened. Get after her.”
“She’s long gone, Jimmy. She could be anywhere. You know what the woods up there are like.”
“Go. Look,” Jimmy ordered.
Bobby nodded, licking his lips. “Sure, Jimmy. I’ll go take a look.”
He ran off. Jimmy turned to Beth, who had gotten out of her seat belt and made a dive for the passenger side of the car. He grabbed her by the ankle and hauled her back through the car to dump her on the ground. A butterfly knife appeared in one hand, and he laid it against her throat.
“Am I going to have any trouble from you?”
Beth shook her head.
Jimmy reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair, hauling her to her feet. She heard a distant scream. A fire ignited in her that no threat could quench. She raked Jimmy’s face with her nails, digging as deep and as hard as she could. The knife slashed across her neck, but not deeply, its blade so sharp that she felt no pain. The first she knew of the cut was the wetness spreading down her neck and chest. Jimmy howled in pain, lashing out blindly. A wild blow caught her on the back of the head, and she went down.
She blacked out as her face hit the dirt. When she came to, her head was being hauled upward again by the hair. She looked up, reaching for the grip, and saw Jimmy’s fist. He hit her in the cheek, the signet ring he wore on his index finger breaking open the skin. Beth’s eyes rolled up in her head. When Jimmy released her, she was unconscious.
Pain. It felt like a stake being driven into the top of her skull. She tasted blood in her mouth. An instinct, long dormant, told her to stay still, to assess her injuries, but not to let it be known she was awake. She had learned as a child how to waken in pain and do it quietly. Wakening in her mother’s arms after a vicious blow from her father. Wakening to the finger across her lips. And Momma silently telling her to shush. Beth let consciousness return. She remembered being attacked on the road. With a jolt, she remembered sending Madison away, telling her to run.
That made her want to stand up, to scream her daughter’s name. The survival instinct won through by a hair, and she remained silent. Besides, her hands were bound behind her. She was sitting on a hard, wooden chair. Pain gripped her neck from a period spent with her head lolling unsupported. Her hands were nothing but pins and needles. She took a cautious breath through her nose, trying not to make it seem anything but a regular, deep, sleeping breath. A dank, damp smell assailed her. Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes enough to peer out through her eyelashes.
Darkness ruled. No windows. No visible light source. But she could see something. She wasn’t in complete darkness. There was a dim light coming from behind her. It sputtered and flickered. Flame, not electricity. Dirt beneath her feet. Wet dirt. The walls looked like wood. She couldn’t hear anything. No traffic. No birdsong. No running water. Living in the desert of West Texas, there had never been total silence. Even out of town with no one around for miles, there was always the crickets, at least, or the coyotes.
Then there were voices. They were loud and getting louder. Men’s voices. With a sinking
feeling, she recognized one of them as the glacial cruelty of Jimmy Dexter. The sound of a latch being lifted and something heavy being moved, scraping along the floor. A squeal of rust.
“Is she awake?” said the unknown voice.
“Yeah,” said Jimmy.
“How can you tell? She doesn’t look awake.”
“I can tell when they’re faking.”
“You’re not right.”
An older man with gray hair came into view and roughly lifted Beth’s head by the chin.
“Open your eyes, Beth. Don’t waste my time.”
He slapped her cheek with a flick of his wrist. Not painful, just disdainful. It said she was property and he could treat her how he liked. Another slap. “Come on, come on.”
She opened her eyes fully.
“Good.” He stood back from her.
He was wearing a hunting vest over a khaki shirt, cargo pants, and army boots. He cradled a knife that looked to Beth to be a small sword. It had a serrated edge along one side.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then you also know my reputation. I hear your husband died this morning. That’s a pity. I never intended to kill anybody. It isn’t good for business. But he was in my way. And now he’s not. Now you’re in my way.”
“I’m not going anywhere, so you’ll have to go through me.”
“Perhaps. But lucky for you, I have a way to get you out of my way. Sign a document and you can go. I’m not interested in you. I think my boy has already explained my terms to you.”
“Yes.”
Beth had never been so scared. She wanted to beg for her life. She wanted to get down on her knees and beg. Not for herself. Had it been just her, she would have spat in his face and taken the consequences. For Madison. The fear that turned her stomach to jelly was that Madison would lose both her parents on the same day. That she would never know what had happened to her Mommy. Keeping to one-word answers helped control the fear.
