Understory

by Lisa J. Lickel

  “Kenny, this is Mr. Taylor. Remember? I was telling you about him, how he saved my life, and is helping us now,” Lily said.

  Cam ignored Forbes’s raised brows. Jerk.

  “Uncle Art could take you, easy,” Kenny said, and pretzeled his skinny arms.

  “Mr. Taylor was in the army,” Lily said softly, stroking the boy’s forehead.

  “All black guys should be in prison,” Kenny said, though the kid had to struggle to get the words out. He lifted his elbows and settled them again against the white sheet and blue blanket, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Lily brushed a tear from his cheek and looked at Cam, helplessness and hurt shining from her eyes.

  Cam reached deep to find some sympathy for a child who’d been taught to hate. His own features were different from the darker-complexed Chicanos and Mexicans at the trailer court, but he was still surprised a little boy like Kenny would pick up on it. Kenny too, despite the green eyes and features, had obviously been sired by someone of mixed descent. He was young. Cam had to hope.

  “You might have heard that a lot,” he said. “Was it from someone you trusted? Someone who always told the truth?”

  The child bent his head and cried with hiccuppy gulps. Lily leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  Forbes moved a step closer to Cam. “His whole perception of reality just crashed and burned,” the agent muttered.

  Cam’s fingers curled into fists he forced to relax. “Tell me about it.”

  The agent murmured near Cam’s ear. “They had a visitor recently, someone masquerading as a marshal. Mousey sort, about your height, uniform, went by Teese.”

  “What did he want?” Cam asked without taking his eyes from the scene in front of him.

  “Information, apparently, about the fight between the mother and the stepbrother.”

  “Armed?”

  “Yes.” Forbes smacked Cam’s shoulder and took off. Cam rubbed it and let out a breath. He was going to have to convince the agent to stop doing that.

  “I never liked him,” Kenny was telling his aunt.

  Who? Cam moved closer.

  “He hit Mom. He killed Tiny.” Kenny’s tears were slowing. He sniffed. Cam grabbed a wimpy tissue from the bedside box and held it out.

  The boy grabbed one and blew. “You can kill him, can’t you, mister?”

  Cam blinked and backed up. What was wrong with all these people? How deep did the culture of violence go?

  “Kenny!” Lily held him away.

  The child frowned at his aunt in earnest. “But you said he was an army guy. We’re fighting a war on drugs, like my teacher said. So it’s not like murder if you kill someone in a war. Right?”

  Cam still stung at the perception, but he thought the kid actually made sense in a really warped way. When had drugs come into the equation? His phone chimed with a text.

  Ambl fnd. EMTs dead. OD.

  He looked at it again, read the words, puzzled over them.

  “What is it, Cam?” Lily asked. She patted Kenny then approached him.

  He held up the phone. “Know anything about that? It’s from Forbes.”

  “I don’t get it. He just left.” Lily glanced at her nephew again, who was watching them.

  Cam lowered his voice. “What ambulance?”

  “Um, well, Forbes said he knew which ambulance company picked up my sister from the trailer court.”

  “It wasn’t”—he dropped his voice—“Sven and…?”

  “No. That’s one of the reasons we haven’t been able to…” She jerked her head at Kenny. “You know.”

  Cam looked at him too while his heartbeat raced. “So…you think…”

  “Yeah.”

  He studied the text again. “Overdosed. Drugs. Hmm. I wonder if it’s the same mix…” He swiveled his head in the direction of the hospital bed.

  “The backpack,” Lily whispered.

  “Backpack?” Cam asked.

  “No wonder he was so interested in what happened to it.”

  “He?” Cam had missed something big.

  She pulled his arm and turned him so their backs were toward the bed. “The guy Forbes was talking about. The fake marshal,” she said, low and furious, right near his chin. “Kenny told him he had seen Art stick a needle in his mother. He picked up the syringe and put it in a pack the boys were carrying when they ran away. Only, the other boy lost it.”

  Cam’s heartbeat never slowed. He hoped she couldn’t feel it trying to leap from his chest. Okay. Intel fell into place. “Forbes heard about it.”

  “Yeah. He’s gone to look for it, out by the Frosts where the boys were found.” Lily leaned into him and he caught her around the waist. “This can’t be happening,” she said, still quietly, like a moan. “Why would they care about us? What does it matter about some drugs? It could be anything.”

  “Not if the drugs can be traced to the source.”

  “Can’t anybody make something like that? I mean, what…oh, my God. Kingston.” She raised her face to his. “Where is he? Did they find him yet?”

  “Aunt Lily?”

  Lily whipped around so fast Cam had to catch her from falling. “What, baby?”

  “I also heard Mom talking on the phone to a guy, right before…before…” Kenny stopped and swallowed, his face washed out against the white pillow. “She said they could have…have her for the money they’d pay for her son. They meant me, right? Buy me like a…” He looked at Cam. “Like a slave or something?”

  Lily pulled away from Cam and walked unsteadily toward the bed, sank on a chair. “We will never let anyone hurt you. I promise. Will we?”

  The fierceness of her promise, of the expression she sent Cam made him believe. He’d take on the whole human trafficking trade himself, if he could. If Kenny were able to recognize the voice again, that meant he was still in danger. Judging by what they’d done to whoever it was at Findley’s cabin, and Findley, which he wasn’t ready to tell Lily about, they could be anywhere, do anything. “You didn’t tell this to the…ah, other guy, did you?”

  They shook their heads in tandem.

  Forbes. Where had he gone? “I promise you both,” Cam said, “that I will do everything in my power to make sure no one hurts you.” He slapped his hat back on. “In fact, I’m going to get started on that right now.”

  * * *

  Kenny watched Mr. Taylor leave. It wasn’t true, was it? He’d seen black people before, in the summer sometimes. Mom said never to get too close or they’d steal from you. Uncle Art said that’s why they were always in prison and he had to take care of them. Mom said they’d make you sick. Kenny didn’t know how they could do that. He’d asked his teacher in second grade when school started. The teacher, Miss Allen, called the principal and the counselor and his mom, who made him wash his mouth with soap for getting her in trouble.

  He still didn’t understand why they wouldn’t answer his question. Mr. Taylor didn’t act like a guy who’d steal anything. Aunt Lily liked him. If he was in the army and saved her life, how could he be bad? Army guys were heroes.

  Anyway, that other cop named Teese, he seemed way worse than any black guy. But he had a uniform on. How’s a little kid supposed to know what to do?

  “Aunt Lily?”

  “Yes?”

  “That other cop, Teese, he wasn’t a real cop, right?”

  “Uh, right. I guess not.”

  “Will I get in trouble for telling him stuff?”

  “Oh, no, baby, of course not.”

  Kenny liked it when she touched his hair. But he did not like to be called “baby.”

  “They don’t know where my mom is, do they?”

  Aunt Lily didn’t answer. She just looked sad.

  “Did I do a right thing, by keeping that syringe?”

  She nodded and stroked his forehead.

  “Can they arrest Uncle Art?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think Mr. Taylor can do what he said?”


  “Yes.”

  He couldn’t help it, crying some more, but he couldn’t stop asking questions, either. “What will happen to me if they don’t find my mom?”

  “Don’t worry about that now.”

  He liked the soft sound of her voice, and his eyes felt sleepy again. He closed them. “Do you think Thomas will remember me?”

  FIFTY-ONE

  “Hey, Agent Forbes!” Cam whooshed out of the magic-slide doors of the hospital to find the guy and his partner leaning casual-like against the side of the building. “Taking a break? Having a convo?”

  “Just waiting for you,” Forbes said. “I did a background check on you. Clean record in the army. Father in special ops. What happened to make you go all cerebral?”

  Background check? What for? Why was he asking questions when they had killers to catch? He held up his phone instead. “You texted. What’s it about?”

  “We could use a guy like you. Ever think of working for the federal government?” Forbes kept going like a tank. Cam couldn’t read Agent Stewart’s expression behind the cliché dark sunglasses, but his mouth occasionally twitched.

  “I already did my turn. Maybe we can have this conversation later,” Cam said and started walking past them. “I’m going to pick up my truck.”

  Stewart fell in beside. “Let us give you a ride.”

  “That’s all you two’ve been doing,” Cam muttered and walked faster, wishing he had a pair of sunnies now that the snow sparkled like blinding crystals. He pulled his hat down tighter, reconsidered the eight blocks between him and the garage and switched directions. Stewart held open the passenger side of the innocuous sedan. Cam slid in. “Remind me where?” Forbes said.

  “Up here, turn left,” Cam said. He shifted in the seat so he could talk in the direction of the backseat as well. “So, either of you guys know how young of a kid can testify in court?”

  “Depends on the state,” Stewart said.

  “And the judge,” Forbes added.

  Neither of them seemed curious about Cam’s question. “Okay, say it’s a federal case. Can he identify a voice over the phone? How old does a minor have to be before his testimony’s accepted?”

  “A voice?” Stewart asked, frowning under the sunglasses. “What phone? Kenny Masters heard a voice on the phone?”

  Pretty smart of them to catch on right away like that. “That’s what he just told me and Lily up there.”

  “The judge can declare a competency review,” Stewart said, “and establish whether or not—”

  “What voice?” Forbes said.

  “Apparently Kenny overheard a conversation on the landline between his mother and a male he didn’t recognize, talking prices for a child.” Cam didn’t bother to hide his disgust. This news got their attention as Cam watched them trade glances in the rearview mirror. They pulled into Logan’s Garage and stopped.

  “How about I ride with you,” Forbes said as they got out. “Agent Stewart can go back to search the area where the boys were found.”

  Another one of those non-verbal communications passed between the agents. Cam felt like the only deaf person in a room full of hearing persons. Like he often experienced with his sister, only with colorblindness, not deafness—whom he’d abandoned that morning. He’d call her later. Then he mentally smacked himself. He forgot to tell Lily about his family.

  Cam went in to settle up with Logan, shadowed by Agent Forbes who seemed unnaturally interested by all the goings on in Barter Valley. Several hundred bucks poorer, Cam did a mental calculation on his finances. The trust from his mom’s parents was producing a little better these days; enough to cover groceries, at least for the foreseeable future, and taxes. The investments he’d made with his army pay were turning around as well.

  “Pretty stiff for tires,” Forbes said, as if reading Cam’s mind.

  “I like to support the local merchants.” Cam kicked the tires.

  Forbes buckled up in the passenger seat while Cam turned the key. “Ambulance site or backpack site?”

  “Ambulance,” Forbes said. “Drive past the scene. The vehicle itself was towed.”

  “Got it.” Thankfully, Forbes didn’t bring up the secret spy thing again. Cam had enough of it growing up. After a couple of miles, he asked, “Do you have any ideas about who the mother might have been talking to on the phone? Maybe he’s the one who took her.”

  “We’ll work all the angles,” Forbes said. “Turn right on the next county road.”

  Cam flicked a glance at him, studying a hand-held GPS. Sure, he wondered how Forbes ended up in the…not FBI. He grinned. Interesting Forbes thought Cam would be a good candidate.

  But no thanks. It was not a good profession for a guy who was tired of violence. He didn’t even think he could shoot at another human being.

  Maybe for Lily. Or the kid.

  Although the connections might help track down Grandpa and figure out who hushed up the murder of that grocer. The dead man had a name, a history that needed to be preserved and rectified. At least that had been saved from the fire.

  “Here,” Forbes said. “Pull over.”

  A totally uninteresting survey of the tramped down snow where the ambulance was found, followed by a half hour of questioning the couple who’d come across the scene helped convince Cam he was not the candidate Forbes thought.

  Forbes checked in with Stewart who’d been searching around the Frost’s property for an hour. Sven and Ole and a local crew had been busy moving snow with small equipment. “We contacted the newspaper distributor for their routes and trucks to find out if the driver had any information or saw anything out of the ordinary that morning, but they couldn’t help. I’m going to drive along the road,” Stewart said.

  “We’re going to do a check through the ambushed vehicle and the rest of the crew, and then we’ll join you at Taylor’s place. I want to check out the neighborhood.” Forbes clicked off. “Go through that drive-through window. I’ll buy lunch.”

  “What am I, your driver?” Cam asked. “The lab reports will be a week yet, at least, on the drug cocktail. And I don’t like…” He looked at the name of the chain the agent referred to as the “drive-through.” Only it wasn’t a chain, and he was hungry.

  “I forgot,” Forbes said. “You civvies need a break now and then. We’ll go someplace. Sit. You never can tell what you overhear from local gossip.”

  Cam held his temper, knowing he was being tested. Having a tantrum wasn’t helping Lily. “I’d rather keep going,” he said and squeezed his truck alongside the menu board. They ordered and picked up an aromatic bag of fried meat and vegetables. The agent picked onion rings, not something Cam would have thought conducive to good interview technique. Forbes directed them toward the government building a few blocks away.

  Fifteen minutes later, Cam chowed on the last of his fries while watching the local volunteer fire and rescue garage get teary-eyed talking about the murder of their two lost team members while performing their heroic duties. They—or at least the agent—studied blood patterns inside the abandoned ambulance. Cam was glad he hadn’t asked for ketchup with his lunch.

  “Okay, thank you.” Forbes wound up the interviews. “Again, we’re sorry for your loss. We appreciate your help and we’ll keep in touch.” He handed out his card and reminded them to call if anything else came to mind. “Let’s go,” he told Cam.

  “So it wasn’t just a surprise strike with a needle full of a lethal dose of quick-acting something that killed those men? All that blood…”

  Forbes studied Cam. “You were a medic.” It wasn’t a question. “What did the spray pattern tell you?”

  “Hey, I didn’t take the time to figure out where the shooters were in my army days. We were too busy patching and transporting. Besides, we knew who the bad guys were already, and what they wanted.” He swallowed and looked at the horizon to maintain some control. Another test? One he didn’t need. “But that was a lot of blood in the ambulance.”

  “Th
e two EMTs had no gunshot wounds.”

  “So the blood was probably the sister’s.”

  “Lab’s running possible matches.”

  Forbes dialed his phone, shook it in frustration, and punched numbers again, trying to reach Stewart while Cam wiped his fingers.

  “There’s no good reception out at my cabin, either,” Cam said.

  Forbes frowned but didn’t say anything. Eight miles back into Barter Valley, another eight toward his place. Cam pushed the gas as fast as conditions warranted. Neither of them paid much heed to the MPH dial. They approached the driveway to his cabin, and the odor of burnt dreams wafted in through the truck’s vents. Smoke wisps danced among the trees in tiny apparitions, yet most of it had cleared off. He wondered again about the body planted in his kitchen and how evil those people must be.

  How could anyone like this job? Watching years of carefully built-up cases crumble at the last second, watching people you knew die.

  In a way, it wasn’t much different from army life.

  “Pull into your drive slow,” Forbes said. “I see something.” His tension reached out to fill the truck. Cam whispered words of safety and protection for the married agent.

  They did not match the words Forbes uttered when they finally reached the scene.

  * * *

  Lily needed to move around after sitting much of the past few days. Her feet were sore, sure, but her padded socks and soft slippers cushioned the blisters. Like walking on bubble wrap. She ventured toward Art’s room while Kenny slept after lunch. A new police officer, one she hadn’t met yet, stood on guard. Something was wrong when she got so cozy with the local authorities she recognized them by name. She debated whether or not to convince him to let her in when a doctor left the room. Better—maybe she could get an update.

  “Doctor? Hey, um, I’m Lily Masters, Art—the patient in that room’s sister. Stepsister.”

  The young man stopped and turned but caught the eye of the guard before looking at her. Apparently she was not a danger to the patient.