Understory

by Lisa J. Lickel

  “There was one who had…oh, no.” She turned her head back to Sven. “Ole…he’s in there. He had a—”

  Her head hit the ground with a thunk when Sven scrambled up.

  “Pulse.”

  “Lily.” Cam squatted next to her. “Are you okay?” He helped her stand

  “What others?” Forbes was on his radio thing, impatient and acting all grouchy.

  “The one who was holding Ole. And someone else. A woman named Anna-something.” Lily touched her throat and cleared it. Then she felt the back of her head and winced.

  Cam narrowed his eyes at her torn shirt. “They hurt you?”

  “No, not really. They vanished, though, when that Anna-whatever found the wire.”

  Forbes ran off. Lily shook her head. “I’m not even sure what happened. Weren’t they supposed to hang around and tell me all the horrible things they were going to do? I didn’t even get to ask about, about B-Berta.”

  Cam brushed his lips against her temple and pulled her into a tight hug. “Only on TV. Real bad guys don’t stand around discussing their moves for the audience. Hey, you really got me with that quote from the play. I mean, we knew you were in trouble as soon as you got out of the truck, but ‘all the world’s a stage’ was brilliant. There were three characters, well, named characters, in the scene, so we could tell you weren’t alone. Orlando comes and brings in another character, which meant…”

  Lily wasn’t about to tell him she had no idea what he was talking about but nodded like the rag doll she felt like. She’d simply wanted to distract the Limms. “Ole!” Lily staggered back into the cabin. “How is he?”

  Sven used his knife to cut away the knots and was shaking his brother’s shoulder.

  “Hey,” Cam called. “Don’t do that. We don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”

  “He ain’t hurt nothing but his pride,” Ole said through gritted teeth.

  “That and a few bones,” Sven said, standing. “Idiot. You were supposed to stay outside and watch.”

  Ole shook his head and slowly got to his knees. “I was just biding my time until I could jump those jokers. You all right, Lil?”

  Forbes reappeared. “Folks? Outside. Now.”

  Ole staggered and Sven and Cam caught him, and put his arms around their shoulders. “I saw something moving inside,” Ole said.

  “How’d they get here without anyone noticing?” Cam asked.

  “Escape tunnel,” Forbes said. His humor hadn’t improved at all. “The exit was a hundred yards that way, the other side of that shed, in a brush pile.”

  Deice, fiercer-looking at night, with a radio in her hand, appeared from behind the garage. She shook her head. Two local police officers in the distance continued to scan the area.

  “Makes sense in a weird way,” Lily said. “Kingston was always on guard against…um, the government. He would dig a tunnel like that if he thought…well, you know, if anyone was to get into his business.”

  “So, did you get them?” Ole asked. He was still blinking furiously.

  Forbes cocked his head at Ole and got on his radio again. “Request ambulance…” He walked away to complete the call.

  In the lull, Lily told Agent Deice they watched the newscast about Judge Andersen. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” Deice strode away.

  “I thought they’d be happier after catching at least one of the bad guys,” Lily said. No one answered. “Cam?”

  “The victim was Shawn Limm, according to the photos they had.”

  “So? That’s good you got him, right? He was scary. Make him talk.”

  “He can’t, Lil,” Sven said. “He’s dead.”

  “Oh. Victim. Right. That’s too bad. There must be enough evidence to get after the rest of the family, though. Right?” Lily couldn’t stop the chatter if she’d tried. It was like another person got hold of her and was using her voice.

  Forbes returned in time to see Ole slide to the ground. “Ankle.”

  “Ambulance is on its way. Right, what?”

  “You have enough evidence to arrest the Limm family, don’t you?” Lily repeated.

  “No.” The agent put his hands on his hips. “Their place was wiped clean.”

  “Why did your men shoot Shawn Limm? The dogs had him. You could have captured him,” Lily said, hating the way her voice sounded—strident, anxious…girly. She was a hero, not a whiner.

  Forbes took a huge breath like he was going to scream at her. His glare faded when he noticed her step back and lean against Cam.

  He put his hands on his hips and turned aside. “We don’t know where the kill shot came from. It wasn’t any of our people.”

  “What do you mean?” Lily said. “Who would…oh, you’re not suggesting…would they? Shoot their own…own brother?”

  “People are bad, Lil,” Sven said.

  “Wicked bad,” Cam seconded.

  “But what happens now? How will we find out where they took my sister?” Lily finally understood a piece of Forbes’s frustration when he’d mentioned that every time he’d gotten close, the criminals disappeared.

  “We get back to work. But at least now we have another piece of the puzzle. One of the officers found the boy’s backpack.”

  “Kenny will be glad to know he helped when he saved that syringe,” Lily said.

  Forbes nodded. Sighed. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” He hustled away.

  Sven whistled. “Wow, that guy sure is a bundle of energy.”

  “It still doesn’t seem real,” Lily repeated. “I mean, nothing happened, except for roughing up poor Ole. Kingston wouldn’t have handed me over to them, would he? I think he was trying to protect me when he drugged me. You said he was working with Forbes? It’s weird he would do that, but he knew something was up with the Limms. I’m glad he wanted to do the right thing.” The adrenaline rush kept her mouth running during the drive back to town. She was starving. All the Christmas dinner leftovers at the house called her name.

  “Think about it,” Cam told her. “If those other two hadn’t run when they did, they would have been caught. They knew there wasn’t time to stand around discussing their options.”

  “But now we’ll never know what happened. We aren’t safe if there are more of them out there.”

  Cam stopped her car in the parking lot of the police department, where they needed to give their statements. “You have a choice. You can live in fear, or you can be the hero.” He grinned and touched her nose. “Besides, you’ll be too busy protecting me.”

  “Who from?”

  They got out and headed for the door. Cam opened it for her. Minerva’s displeasure boomed. “I said hold the mustard. How hard is that to understand?”

  “Guess,” he said.

  SIXTY-TWO

  Friday, December 29

  Cam waved at the taillights of his sister and brother-in-law’s SUV, on their way south. He squeezed Lily’s shoulders. “So, that was my family. Thanks for putting up with them.”

  “It worked out. I imagine they won’t forget this Christmas.” She smiled, which quickly changed to alarm. “Kenny? I can’t see you!”

  “I’m right here, Aunt Lily.” Kenny popped up from behind the wheel of Cam’s truck in the hotel parking lot. “I just dropped a quarter, that’s all.” The look he sent back to her was puzzled and a little wounded.

  “You promised,” Cam whispered.

  “I can’t help it,” she said back. “I have to keep him safe.”

  “We’ll keep him safe together.” He shook her shoulder, playfully, hoping to get her to lighten up. The worst was behind them, but that didn’t mean they would ever completely relax again.

  They stood, watching the snow glitter in the sun.

  “You make a decision on whether to sign up as a fed?” Lily asked.

  Cam shielded his eyes to look at her. “I never even considered it.”

  “C’mon, really? Everyone dreams of being a federal agent.”

  “Not me.
” He grinned. “Though I do have to admit I was flattered by the invitation. For about three seconds.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t feel the need to do that.”

  “Me too.”

  She tucked her hand in her coat pocket and pulled out one of Grandma’s diaries. “I went back and read more after talking to Georgia.”

  Cam groaned. “She’ll come around.” He pulled her hands. “Come on, let’s go. It’s cold out here.”

  “Okay. Kenny! Load up.”

  On the way out to the cabin to check on the dogs, Lily spoke quietly. “I think I understand your family a little better. Your grandmother moved back to Texas after she retired. She hated everything about Milwaukee for so long but couldn’t bear to tell your grandpa. Anyway, after Georgia was living with her, and your mom and sister came while your dad—while Jules—was away. Well, here. Let me read this.

  “I admit Jules’s wife, Barbara, made me nervous. White folks, well, let’s just say it seems like their noses get in the way of breathing. I know, the good Lord made us all. Just seems some he made better, and didn’t tell us which ones, so some thought they had to try and figure it out.

  “That Georgia, she is one sorry child. Got a chip big as the Eiffel Tower across her shoulders. I was so mad at Barbara when I heard that child weeping, let me tell you! But once Jules asked me please to keep Barbara and the others for three months while he was off doing something dangerous, I began to see the other side of the story. I began to understand it wasn’t easy for Barbara to be the only white woman in the family, and I realize how hard she tried to make all the children be good. Georgia, she takes everything the wrong way. You say hello and she thinks you want her to leave. Barbara never loved any of her children less the whole time she was here. I apologized when she left, confessed my inner disturbance and asked her forgiveness. She was so surprised, she cried.”

  “I remember some of that summer,” Cam said. “Did Georgia read that one?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know if we’ll ever be best buds, like she was with Laura, but I feel better about the whole thing.”

  “Good.” He’d been worried, sure, but Adam and the kids liked Lily and Kenny, and it was hard to be a majority of one.

  After they’d checked out the cabin and fed the dogs, he swung her hand as they stretched their legs. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

  They started walking again, Kenny taking point with the football Cam gave him, tossing it up and catching it.

  “What?” Lily said.

  “I heard Sven and Ole are nicknames. Do you know what their real names are?”

  Cam had to pat her back when she bent over from laughing so hard, her face turned red.

  “Aunt Lily! What’s the matter?” Kenny patted her on the head, emulating Cam. “What’s the matter?” he asked anxiously.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Lily took a deep breath, obviously attempting to control herself. “I’m all right, pal. Oh! Their mother—hoo-hoo—Eunice, you know? Ha, ha, ha…”

  Cam sighed and winked at Kenny, who still looked worried, but bored, and wandered down the driveway. They’d toss the ball in a couple of minutes. Once he found out what was so hilarious.

  She seemed to be winding down. “Oh, sorry. It’s just that, after everything… Okay. Eunice is the hugest Gone with the Wind fan. Ever.”

  “So?” Cam studied her carefully, achingly in love, hoping the mystery of what made her so precious would never be solved. He reached for an errant strand of hair blowing across her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Gone with the Wind? You were saying?”

  “Yeah. Right. So, anyway, she watched the movie over and over when she was pregnant. Her favorite character was, um, Ashley Wilkes.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “So Ole’s real name is Ashley Wilkes Iversson…oh, ha, ha, ha and…Sven is Le-leslie Ho-howard Iversson.”

  Cam would never laugh at them again. Their predicament was embarrassingly painful and not the least bit funny. Yet, he tried to grin for Lily’s sake.

  She regained control over her giggle fit. “You’re not laughing.”

  He glanced toward Kenny. “Let’s just say I feel for them.”

  “For a man who has a rather Shakespearean penchant for naming pets and strays,” she stage-whispered as she squeezed his hand, “I’m surprised you wouldn’t be amused by the unusual.”

  “Pets are one thing. And Rosalind was a pretty good fit, you have to agree.”

  “All I’m agreeing to is that you are not naming our children.”

  That registered. An irrepressible grin crawled along his lips as he turned back and wrapped his hand around the back of her head. “Children? You’re sure?”

  At her nod, he kissed her. “I think I like that.” He kissed her again, then pulled back to stare into her mossy green eyes. “Starting with Kenny?”

  “Absolutely sure, hero. I love you. You saved me and healed me in so many ways.”

  “Hero, huh?” He nodded at Kenny. “There’s your new hero with his own new heritage.”

  She took his hand and brushed her lips along the palm. “Something to be proud of.”

  “No shame. No prejudice.”

  “Living his own story.”

  SIXTY-THREE

  They came to get him four days after Christmas.

  “Good news, Romy! Rejoice,” Gruden said. “It’s official, sports fans. Word from on high just came down. You get early release for good behavior. Don’t celebrate New Year’s too hard, man. Time for your last search.”

  Roman winced at the thought but resolved to say nothing, or show any emotion. It would be worth it. At last he was free. Why nobody told him earlier, he didn’t bother thinking about. Mexico, my good man. All those folks needing his advice on how to invest all that freshly laundered cash money. Limm and his payoff would get him a whole new life, and he’d never be beholden to anyone again.

  During that last face-to-face visit, Shawn Limm had palmed him the microchip that fit right under the scab Roman managed to keep from healing completely over when he’d scraped his hand in the courtyard last week. It didn’t even bleed. Not that blood mattered in light of the payoff. Lily must have come through for him. Good girl.

  Halman and Gruden escorted Roman to the inmate search area. Halman performed the search, hardly bothering to touch Roman, which surprised but pleased him. In fact, he’d almost thanked the guard.

  “Clean,” Halman declared.

  Roman straightened. Gruden was pale and sweaty. Roman glanced at Halman, who hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “Dress,” Halman directed.

  Gruden groaned.

  What was going on? Roman took a step toward the hated guard.

  Like a flash, Halman stood between them, grasping Roman’s wrist with a hold so tight Roman instantly lost feeling in his hand. Halman brought Roman’s hand up close to his face, palm out.

  Gruden crumpled.

  Roman longed to join him.

  Halman squeezed tighter. And smiled.

  Roman’s watering eyeballs burned and stung with the pain. Halman’s other hand squeezed his windpipe and he dropped to his knees by inches.

  “My Uncle Limm wishes to express his regrets.”

  The voice issuing from Halman’s lips reached Roman through the roar in his ears.

  “The merchandise he received was incorrect. This partnership did not bring the planned results and must be…terminated. I am sorry. But there are always others who can be…persuaded…to be of service.”

  ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

  Prejudice, sex trafficking, drug abuse, murder…never easy subjects to write about, but they’re real and unfortunately happen every day. I’m grateful for the historical facts of the Civil Rights movement in Milwaukee, and the Department of Justice for helping writers by posting clear information and answering questions. Thank you to Susan Kist, my well of living history and favorite fan, Julia Robbins, former army medic and biology teacher, for her v
alued input, for the Moraine Writers and my critique partners, especially Gail, who held me accountable and cheered me on, and for Linda Glaz, who liked the story and made some great suggestions. And again, thank you for Susan Baganz and Joan and everyone at Prism Book Group for making a great team.

  The poem Cam Taylor recites throughout the story is called “The First Snowfall” by James Russell Lowell, an American poet born in Massachusetts in 1819. The son of a minister, Lowell was a Harvard Law School graduate who was an ardent abolitionist. He eventually taught literature at Harvard, a small part of his colorful life. Read more about him here: https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/james-russell-lowell

  The First Snowfall

  The snow had begun in the gloaming,

  And busily all the night

  Had been heaping field and highway

  With a silence deep and white.

  Every pine and fir and hemlock

  Wore ermine too dear for an earl,

  And the poorest twig on the elm-tree

  Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

  From sheds new-roofed with Carrara

  Came Chanticleer’s muffled crow,

  The stiff rails were softened to swan’s-down,

  And still fluttered down the snow.

  I stood and watched by the window

  The noiseless work of the sky,

  And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,

  Like brown leaves whirling by.

  I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn

  Where a little headstone stood;

  How the flakes were folding it gently,

  As did robins the babes in the wood.

  Up spoke our own little Mabel,

  Saying, “Father, who makes it snow?”

  And I told of the good All-father

  Who cares for us here below.

  Again I looked at the snow-fall,

  And thought of the leaden sky

  That arched o’er our first great sorrow,

  When that mound was heaped so high.

  I remembered the gradual patience

  That fell from that cloud-like snow,

  Flake by flake, healing and hiding

  The scar of our deep-plunged woe.

  And again to the child I whispered,