The county sheriff, a first cousin of Peanut’s wife by marriage, was going to earn his five-grand pay envelope this month. Although, at the moment, he was busy over at the Grissom place because Mr. Grissom, twice his wife’s age, had murdered her and disappeared. Sheriff Sparkes was making sure the fire department stayed away from Peanut’s place, ordering his deputies to tell the volunteers there was no need for them out here, because everything was under control, and being investigated and monitored by the sheriff, who would call the fire boys if he needed their help.
The deputies would let Max Randall and his pals through, but nobody else. Maybe Peanut would ask for more money since he was using his valuable contacts to keep the scene off-limits. Randall had said to make sure the scene was sanitized, which Peanut assumed meant cleaning up the body parts after the fire cooled off. Hell, a fire like this one didn’t leave body parts.
The sound of hollering drew his attention. He turned to see one of the twins pelting up the road, waving his flashlight around like he was being chased by a swarm of hornets. Peanut took a deep breath and scratched his head. The twins hadn’t had time to get to the gate, so why in the hell was one of them disobeying his orders so soon?
It was Burt, and he was so winded, he had to sag against the truck to catch his breath before he could say anything that Peanut could understand.
“Traaaack. . woooon’t beeee. . lieve it. .”
“What the Sam Hill are you doing back here, boy?” Peanut slapped the back of his son’s head so hard Burt’s forehead hit the side of the truck.
“It’s her. .” Burt wheezed, putting a huge hand to his reddening cheek. “She’s not. . dead. She left footprints a ways up in the mud.”
“Dixie?” Peanut felt a wave of relief. “My baby’s alive?”
“Naw. Dixie’s feet are big as mine. It’s a bunch of little bitty gal tracks, headed out toward the gate. Curt’s following them and I came back here to get you.”
“Get in the truck,” Peanut growled. He jumped into the cab, made a U-turn in the grass, and roared off. He grabbed the phone and pressed Redial as he drove.
One thing he never imagined was possible was that that little gal could escape from Dixie and Buck. The damned barn door padlock was still in place and locked. He had seen that for himself. How in the hell could she have got out of there without turning into a ghost and walking through the walls? She’d tell him how she did it before he filled her sorry ass with holes.
66
After Lucy understood that the gasoline cans were going to go up and the explosion would kill her and Elijah, she had run back to the corner beside the door to scoop up Elijah, intending to hold him against her until the end. Hearing yelling, she’d looked up to see Buck’s illuminated face framed in the padlock hole.
“DIXXXAAY!” he hollered. “GAWD, I’M COMIN’, DIXAY!”
He’d undone the padlock, hurled the door open, and raced into the barn, going straight for the garden hose not ten feet from where Lucy and Elijah hid. She slipped around the door and into the rain. She started looking around frantically for the padlock.
Yelling something incomprehensible, Buck had grabbed the coiled garden hose. The water ran from it in a trickle because it had become pinched in several places as he tugged it toward his flaming sister.
Lucy spotted the padlock on the dirt and reached for it, holding Elijah tight.
Buck turned, saw Lucy, dropped the hose, and bolted for her.
Lucy put the unconscious child down on the gravel, shoved her weight against the door, and managed to get the lock’s ring through the hasp. Fumbling, she tried to snap the lock closed.
Buck slammed his weight against the door a split second too late. He had somehow gotten the padlock in his fist before Lucy could break off a match in the mechanism, as she had originally planned. He had a key in the other hand-now he was fighting to shove it into the lock, roaring curses at her as he did so.
Looking down, Lucy had spotted a U-shaped piece of rusted baling wire on the ground. She pushed it through the hasp an instant before Buck pried open the padlock and flipped it off. The lock landed between Lucy’s feet. Despite the fact that he was clawing blindly at her, despite the fact that the sharp steel was cutting her hands, Lucy had somehow managed to twist the wire in place.
As he had worked to unwind the wire, Buck cursed her through the hole-promising her more of what he had already given her.
She had known he was going to undo it.
Desperation enveloped her. Lucy scooped up the open padlock, removed the key, shoved it through the hasp beside the twisted wire, and locked it. Trembling, she tossed Buck’s key off into the wet weeds. His left arm shot out of the padlock hole and gripped the hem of Lucy’s poncho.
He jerked and pulled her toward him violently. When he released the poncho, he grabbed her hand, but she jerked it and her fingers slipped from his grip. She leapt back away, safe for the moment.
It looked like he was trying to get a grip on the edge of the steel sheeting to peel it off the frame, but it was sturdy and had been riveted in place. He sounded to Lucy like a Tasmanian devil. He cursed at her as if he thought he could terrify her into opening the door for him.
Lucy wondered if the others would figure out a way to get the door open and she knew Buck would come after her again the moment he was freed. All she could do was run for it. Lifting Elijah, who babbled at her and burst into tears, she went into the shed, where they would be shielded from the driving rain. Maybe one of the vehicles in there had keys in it.
“Let me out!” Buck screeched. “Them gas drums are going to blow any second! There’s blasting powder in here! Let me out, damn it!”
Lucy knew there was no time to get a vehicle from the shed. She kissed Elijah’s slack face, which was wet with rain, tucked him under her poncho, and ran.
“Help me!” Buck screamed through the hole. “You rotten bitch!”
Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through her, but Elijah seemed weightless. He squirmed restlessly against her. She gripped him tighter, scared she’d drop him, and kept running. As she ran, the gravel sliced the soft soles of her naked feet, but that didn’t slow her.
She had gotten no more than a hundred yards away when the fumes inside the gasoline drums caught a spark. She turned in time to see the warehouse roof rip open and unleash a fireball that appeared to draw a black tornado into the sky.
Lucy gasped. She realized that she had just killed two human beings. She told herself that she would never erase the memory, the absolute horror of it, from her mind. She told herself, too, that, necessary for her and Elijah’s survival or not, she would feel guilty about her actions for the rest of her life. But she would deal with guilt later. Right now, she had to find help.
And the plain truth was that Lucy Dockery had never felt stronger or more alive in her life.
Elijah jerked and cried out. He was coming around.
Luckily, Lucy had seen the headlights coming in plenty of time to get off the road and lie down in the wet high grass. As the black truck thundered by, she saw the massive forms of the twins in the bed, hunkered down against the cab. When the truck suddenly stopped, she was terrified that they had seen her, but then she saw several deer illuminated by the truck’s headlights as the frightened animals ran for the trees. She pressed her lips against Elijah’s cheek, murmuring his name, and to her relief, her son remained quiet until after the truck drove on, and the sound of rain on dead leaves again filled the night.
67
After what felt like an eternity, Lucy and Elijah arrived at a padlocked gate. Although she was hopelessly lost, she didn’t panic. Nothing that lay ahead of her could be nearly as bad as what was behind her. She had no earthly idea whether the direction to their safety was to her left or right. The main gravel road in front of her was wide, with steep shoulders, ditches on either side, and beyond that, tall weeds and the woods. Looking at the soaked ground, she could make out that vehicles turning right off the grav
el road had made the majority of the tire impressions. So she’d go that way. She put down her hood and climbed over the gate, keeping Elijah in her arms as she did so. Then she struck out, keeping near the right ditch. If any vehicles came, they might be carrying more of the bad guys. She remembered that Dixie had boasted that her family owned that part of the county.
Elijah was fully awake now, and he was fussing steadily. Her left side was growing numb under his weight. His diaper was wet, and he was cold and hungry. There would be no quieting him now. The rain had stopped, but still dripped loudly from the trees.
Lucy walked as fast as she could. She was thirsty, and growing very hungry herself. After she had gone what seemed like miles, the road curved and she smiled because she could see a lighted sign in the distance. Buoyed by the sight of civilization, Lucy switched Elijah to her rested hip and, despite the pain of the gravel on her bleeding feet, she picked up her pace.
As she drew closer, she saw the building was a wood-frame country store with a low-peaked roof that extended out to cover a raised porch. The porch light was off and the store’s front windows-mostly covered with product logos and advertisements-were dark. There was a pay phone, but she didn’t have the coins to operate it. The store appeared to be closed, but an old pickup truck and a large sedan filled a rickety-looking garage that was just behind and off to the side of the main building.
As she went around the building, Lucy slowed in the way of a wary animal.
Her ears picked up the sounds being generated by a television set. Lucy tried to imagine some viable alternative to approaching the rear of the store. If the people inside weren’t friends or relatives of the kidnappers, weren’t aware of who she was, maybe she could get to a phone and call her daddy.
Suddenly Lucy Dockery felt a new stab of panic. Dixie and Buck’s father and twin brothers were close by, and although she couldn’t imagine how they might discover she wasn’t dead inside the warehouse, they might have a way and come looking for her.
Somebody would certainly report the explosions, and firemen and policemen would come. But what if they were under the influence of that family? It was hard to believe, but who knew what people were like in this rural place? She could be in some redneck backwater where everybody was related and everybody was suspicious of outsiders. Maybe the store owner was one of them. She might be able to steal one of the vehicles, or sneak in and use a phone without their knowing it. Maybe she could play to their greed and offer them money to help her and Elijah.
The only windows on the side of the long structure were in the last twenty feet of the store building, and they were lit up brightly. Obviously the owner, or manager, lived there. The place couldn’t be properly insulated, because she could hear the television set as though it was in the yard.
She crept forward and peered into the first window. In a cozy living room cluttered with porcelain knickknacks and family pictures, an elderly couple sat in matching recliners, watching television. One of the pictures Lucy could see clearly was of a young marine, and there was a black ribbon on one corner of the frame. She studied the couple’s faces. The woman looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. Her cap of white hair framed a face that looked to be accustomed to smiling. She was short and plump. The man was short, too, but thin. His white hair and mustache were neatly trimmed, his face stern. He reminded Lucy of pictures she’d seen of William Faulkner. Elijah started crying and the startled couple looked away from the TV and straight at her.
Lucy froze and stepped back out of the light.
The porch light came on.
The back door opened.
The man and woman came outside onto the small porch and stared out at Lucy, standing in the shadows with Elijah clasped in her arms. The woman grabbed her husband’s arm, looking frightened.
“What do you want?” the man demanded, frowning.
“You gave us a start,” the woman said. “Who are you, dear? What in the world’s happened to you?”
“Please,” Lucy began. She held Elijah tightly, and to her astonishment she started crying. “Pl. . pl. . please?”
“You in a wreck?” the woman asked, not moving.
“We were abducted,” Lucy sobbed. “Escaped.”
“What in the world?” the woman said. “Kidnapped?”
Lucy nodded. “Please. . help us?”
The elderly woman looked questioningly at her husband. Then she stepped off the porch and went to Lucy and Elijah.
68
“Who kidnapped you, child?” the woman asked, her brow creased with concern.
“I didn’t know them. Buck and Dixie. These two big twins. A large man who drives a black truck. Near here.”
“Those got-damned Smoots,” the man said bitterly.
“Ed, language. You poor things. Come in, dear,” the woman said, putting her arm around Lucy’s shoulders.
“Are they important people in these parts?” Lucy asked.
“They’re crooks and worse. Some like them. More’s just scared of them. That Buck is a monster,” the man said.
“You’ll be safe here,” the woman told Lucy.
The old man stepped off the porch and stood for several seconds, gazing out at the road.
Lucy went into the kitchen with the woman. The old man came in behind them, closed the door, and turned off the porch light. She saw a long gun leaning against the wall beside the door.
“Sit down here,” the woman told her. “Let’s get y’all cleaned up. Your little boy looks starved. Ed, go get some diapers from stock. I’ll make these poor people something to eat.”
“Tell me what happened,” Ed said, not moving to obey his wife. His eyes looked worried.
“Where are we?” Lucy asked.
“Tuttle’s Ford,” the woman said. “About nine miles from Skeene.”
“My father is Judge Hailey Fondren in Charlotte. Please call him. He’ll give you whatever you want to get us back.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ed said.
“Those horrible people!” the old woman said. “Those horrible, horrible people. Evil. Just pure-dee evil.”
“It’s not a good idea to call anybody about the Smoots,” Ed said. “They got kinfolks all around here and some are on our party line. I expect Smoot would pay a lot to keep you from telling anybody what he did. Money is hard to come by out here.”
“You still have party lines?” Lucy said.
“Might be the only one left on earth,” the woman said, smiling. “We want privacy, we write letters.”
“We’ll get you cleaned up and fed and I’ll take you out to a phone that’s safe, or drive you to Charlotte. I’m Ed Utz and my wife’s Edna. We had three children ourselves, but they’re grown and living all over.”
“Seven grandchildren,” Edna added proudly. “Three greats. We lost a grandson in Iraq this past July. Roadside bomb. There’s a lot of evil in the world, honey, and you don’t have to go all the way around the world to find it either.”
Lucy looked at the mirror on the kitchen wall and was stunned by the sight of the pitiful creature whose ruined, grime-streaked face stared back at her. Elijah, as filthy as his mother, sat in her lap silently, watching the elderly couple through wide-open eyes.
“You want to take off that rain slicker?” Edna asked.
“Sorry. I don’t have any clothes. I’m wearing an old T-shirt under this.”
“You’re closer to Ed’s size than mine,” Edna decided. “If you don’t mind wearing his pants, we’ll get you in something warm and dry.”
Five minutes later Lucy had put a diaper on Eli and washed both her own and her son’s faces and hands using a warm washcloth Edna furnished. Feeding her son a bowl of cereal and milk, Lucy told the couple the story. They listened quietly to her as they shook their heads in disbelief.
“We never liked the Smoots,” Edna Utz said when Lucy had finished. “They shop here from time to time, but we never cared at all for any of them. Wanted to sell us stock at a discount that they probab
ly steal. Ed told them absolutely not.”
Ed said, “I can call your daddy from the pay phone out front. Peanut Smoot had it put there, but it might be safe enough. Never could imagine why the Smoots couldn’t get a phone put in at their place instead of having one out on my porch that nobody but them ever uses.”
“It’s handy for people you don’t want using your phone,” Edna said. “At least the Smoots don’t have to come inside to make calls.”
“Give me your daddy’s number,” Ed said. “I’ll go call him.”
Lucy scribbled the number on a church bulletin Edna handed her.
Taking the shotgun with him, Ed Utz went out through a door that led into the darkened store.
“So it was you started that big fire,” Edna said.
Lucy nodded.
“Very appropriate,” Edna said, nodding. “Didn’t the good Lord use the very same instrument to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah?”
69
Serge Sarnov lit a cigarette, more to pass the time than because he wanted one. He enjoyed pushing his smoking on people that didn’t appreciate it, because he was powerful enough to get away with it. He did it for the same reason a dog pissed on a tree that some other dog had already peed on.
Max Randall cracked the window behind Sarnov. Opening the one behind him channeled the smoke away from Randall without making the statement that he found the smoke annoying.
The two military-trained men in the back seat were napping like children without a care in the world. Combat-seasoned men like them learned quickly to catnap in the spaces between actions. When the time came, both would open their eyes and be good to go.
“How much further?” Sarnov asked.
“Twenty minutes,” Randall told him.
“The woman and child can’t get far in woods they aren’t familiar with, running from people who are. And if by some miracle she gets to a phone and calls her father, we’re covered, right?”
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