by Carey Lewis
He could hear the sizzling in the back over the bluesy country music that was playing. Shit, a beer and some ribs would go well right now. That’s when he saw the Acura coming toward the restaurant, going slow enough a lady with a walker could pass it. It bumped over the curb, went along the sidewalk, Carter thinking the guy was drunk. Then it crept forward a bit more to get into the lot, parked on a forty-five degree angle in the pathway, not in a spot. He watched a Mexican get out, run around the car, and wiped the driver’s face. Christ, they weren’t going fast enough for him to have bumped his head.
Then the Mexican moved away and Carter saw it was Deacon. Watched him lead Deacon into the restaurant and sit him in a booth. Watched his eyes trying to focus, looking around the restaurant. Saw him staring right at Carter, squinting, while blood ran down his forehead, dripping onto his cheek and then his thigh.
Carter knew then the man across from Deacon was the one from the phone. Either Deacon couldn’t see him or was a really good actor. The man across from him was having a few words, trying to pretend he was looking at the menu when he was really staring at the front door.
This just got interesting, Carter thought.
CESAR WONDERED IF DEACON KNEW he was rocking back and forth. It was a slight movement, chances were he didn’t know. He looked at his watch, holding the menu in front of him, pretending to read it. The guy was late. He watched Deacon with his rocking motion, his head turning and trying to focus on anything that passed him by. He seemed focused on a guy across the restaurant. Hector looked over at him, saw he was staring back.
“Jesus wept, you’re bleeding sweetheart.”
Cesar looked up to see an older woman with a black apron standing at the table. The thick glasses were on the edge of her nose so she tilted her head back to look down at Deacon. She took his head in her hands, looking at it. It was the first time Cesar saw he was bleeding again - it explained the guy across the restaurant staring at them. She reached for a napkin, dabbed it in water from another person’s table, and started patting at the head wound.
“That’s quite the goose egg dear,” she said. Her face was twisted in concentration as she cleared the blood away.
“He just hit his head,” Cesar said.
She looked at him like he was the dumbest person on Earth, then she dropped the bloody napkin on the table. She returned to her patient, started moving her fingers through Deacon’s hair, moving her face closer but tilting her head back more to see through the glasses. Cesar knew from the look on her face that she didn’t like what she saw.
“Al? Al come out here,” she called to someone in the back. She raised Deacon’s chin to look her in the eye. “How you feeling sweetheart?”
“I’ve been better,” Deacon said, coming out in a slur.
“Mm-hmm. How many fingers do I have?” she said, holding up three fingers a few inches from his face.
“All of them I hope,” Deacon said and offered a smile, his head rolling out of her hands.
“Al, get your bony ass out here,” she called, standing up, looking to the hallway that led to the kitchen. Then she faced Cesar, saw she wasn’t impressed with him. “Why didn’t you take this boy to the hospital?”
“He said he was fine,” Cesar said. He was trying to stifle the panic boiling inside him. “He just hit his head and said he was fine.”
She turned back to Deacon, this waitress with the name-tag that said ‘Flo’ on it. She raised his head with one hand, grabbing a stack of napkins with the other. She jammed them into his hand, then shoved his hand to his head. “You keep these here okay? Nice and tight right there.” Then she stood up and looked down the hallway again. “Goddamn it Al, this boy needs an ambulance.” She started walking down the hallway to the back.
Cesar looked around, saw all the other customers and wait staff looking at them - the big scene with the bleeding man, not something you forget. He jumped up, said, “He can’t go to the hospital.”
It got Flo to turn around. “He can’t bleed all over the floor here.”
“We’re meeting someone.”
She looked him up and down, clucked her lips, and said, “I bet you are. This isn’t the place for it.”
WHEN HE SAW THE MEXICAN jump up, his hand instinctively went for the Glock tucked away in it’s shoulder holster, under his suit jacket. His heart leapt from his chest and his legs were twitching, the result of an adrenaline rush. Carter was glad he didn’t pull though, get himself made, not just yet. He watched the waitress sass the Mexican a bit, then go down the hall and out of sight. An old woman that seen it all in life. Now the man that called him at the Marshals office, talking tough, looked around the restaurant, scared, unsure what to do.
Then Carter looked back to Deacon sitting at the end of the booth. He was staring directly at Carter, one hand holding bloody napkins to his head, the other with a finger in front of his lips, telling Carter to be quiet. It made him want to smile. Carter swore he saw Deacon wink.
The tough guy grabbed Deacon by the arm and dragged him out of the restaurant, going to the Acura. Carter watched through the window. Watched Deacon play dumb, stumbling toward the driver’s side and the guy grabbed him and spun him around. He was yelling and pointing to the other side of the car. He watched Deacon squint and lean forward to get a better look. Now Carter did smile.
The guy walked around the car and opened the passenger door before shoving Deacon inside. As he ran back around, Deacon waved at Carter to follow. He watched the Mexican get in the car and try to navigate his way out of the lot - forward, backward, forward, backward. Cars had parked around the Acura since it wasn’t in a spot.
Carter stood up just as the waitress was coming out from the back. She saw the empty table, saw the Acura through the glass at the front and ran outside. Carter followed. She was screaming something about the cops coming and an ambulance as Carter got in his United States Marshals issued Town Car to follow the Acura.
“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED to take you to the bank like that?” Cesar asked, speeding the Acura away from the restaurant. “Bleeding all over the place like you’re on your goddamn period.”
Deacon leaned his head against the window, still holding the napkins to his head. He was able to focus, just a little blur in the outlines of his vision. Able to focus on the side-view mirror, on the Town Car that followed them out of the parking lot, keeping it’s distance behind them.
“Was my friend there?” he asked. He rolled his head to look at Cesar and crossed his eyes.
“Man, you need to stop looking at me like that, freaking me out.”
He wondered how long he could keep faking it. It’s not that there weren’t effects of his head trauma, he was just playing them up now. He managed to focus on Carter Grant at the restaurant, surprised to see him there. Then he remembered he gave Cesar his card and couldn’t believe his luck. He thought it would be enough to scare Cesar off, at least give him pause. He never expected Cesar to actually call him.
“We going back to my place?” Deacon asked.
Cesar looked at him, then turned his eyes back to the road. “Philly?”
“My farm,” Deacon said, showing a lopsided smile. Then he was cracked in the face by Cesar’s fist. His head bounced off the headrest and he held his chin down against his chest. He waited for the stars in his head to disappear.
“The shape you’re in, you can’t stop being a wise-ass.”
Deacon touched his nose and saw blood on his fingertips. He said, “I’m going to need more napkins.”
Cesar dug out his phone as he pulled the Acura around a car, speeding by it, then went back into his lane. He turned it on and scrolled through the contacts, found the one he was looking for and put the phone to his ear.
Deacon opened his eyes and felt the tears in them. He looked to the side mirror and saw the Town Car pull around the same, slow car. He heard Cesar say, “How’s the wife doing?” He heard Hector on the other end of the line saying something. Then Cesar said, “He wa
sn’t there, had some problems. You think the wife would be in the mood to head to the bank?” Hector said something again. “She don’t know you don’t have a gun, stupid.” Waited again. “They’re married they have a joint fucking account. It doesn’t have to be the husband to take it out.” He heard Hector again. “Jesus Hector, fucking convince her if she don’t want to go. Remind her I have a gun and her fucking husband. Can you fucking help out for once instead of bitching?” and then Cesar hung up.
Deacon looked over to Cesar, his head rolling on the head rest. “Trouble in paradise?”
“How many times you want to get hit today?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“YOU WANT ME TO CALL Huey?” Brooke asked.
“Boy developed a nasty habit of hanging up on me. Moment he hears my voice, he ends the call. It’s something I intend to have words with him about.”
That’s when Hector’s phone rang. He didn’t seem to like who was calling, but he answered it anyway. He said, “She’s doing fine,” and then he stepped out of the SUV and walked around the front with the phone to his ear, seeming to hold in his anger.
Brooke thumbed through her phone quickly, searching for Huey’s number. She clicked on his name and his contact card came up. She clicked on the text option and waited for the program to load. She looked up to see Hector staring off into the sky as he hung up.
She looked down to her phone, with the app loaded, she typed ‘Don’t answer phone,’ and hit send. She looked up to see Hector at the window beside her. “That was stupid,” he said through the glass.
“KID’S GOT SOMETHING I NEED,” Hector said, driving the SUV away from the house with the dogs. Brooke knew Huey had whatever he was looking for in that tree. “You didn’t stop nothing, just went ahead and pissed me off.”
“You don’t think we can get past it?” She gave him a smile.
Hector returned it, then looked back to the road. “You think just because I didn’t hit you back there means you’re getting off? I’m going to figure out how you’re getting punished, but I’m going to need you looking presentable for now.”
She looked ahead, watching the road and the trees pass them by. He wasn’t talking anymore and she didn’t want to set him off. He needed her to look presentable, but that just meant the face. He could do other things to her. “You need me to go to the bank?” It was her best guess.
“Not yet,” he said, then went quiet again. She was right.
“We don’t have a joint account. Not anymore.”
“You’re on TV too. Even if you don’t have a joint account don’t mean you don’t have your own money.”
“Just because you’re on TV doesn’t mean you have money.”
He looked at her. “You better hope that’s not true.”
“We’re divorced, did you know that?”
“Ring on your finger, together all the time. Weird divorce.”
“Network wants us to keep the illusion. That’s where all my money’s gone.”
He took his eyes off the road to give her a look, telling her he didn’t believe her. They were quiet the rest of the way until they pulled in to the lot for Rounders Rides where Hector turned off the car and faced her.
“You going to behave right? You go doing something stupid I’m not about to let it slide.”
“You want me to rent you a car?”
Hector smiled, said, “Keep that humor right to the end huh, for me? No, we’re going to find out where Huey lives.”
“You don’t know where he lives?”
“Damndest thing huh? You going to play nice? Get fat boy in there tell you where he lives?”
“I don’t think they can give that information out.”
“Think what it’s going to cost you he don’t.”
They got out of the car, Hector coming over to the passenger side, then gesturing with his arm for her to lead the way. She walked toward the glass door, gripping the phone in her hand. Then she realized she still had it, surprised Hector didn’t take it from her. Maybe he didn’t care, maybe he forgot. Probably didn’t see it as a threat. Thought there was no way she’d call the cops and risk Deacon’s life. She slid it into the pocket of her jeans as she opened the door, hoping she could come up with a way to use it.
Right away she saw the two again, Reggie and his cousin, if she remembered correctly. Then she felt Hector standing behind her, towering over her. She stared blankly at Reggie behind the counter.
“It’s fat man we want to talk to,” Hector said, then she felt his hand on the small of her back, pushing gently to go around the counter. They walked behind it, felt the eyes on them, saw Jeff looking up from his desk as they approached.
“I’m wondering if you could do me a favor,” she said, trying her best to smile. Jeff stared up at her, looking from her to Hector.
“Are you in trouble?” Jeff asked.
Brooke looked down, playing the damsel in distress. “No, not at all. We just need to find Huey.”
“Man might be in trouble,” Hector added.
She shot her eyes to the side, to Hector behind her, hoping Jeff caught it. She looked back to him, then down again. “We just need to find him before the bad guys do,” she said, then felt the hand jab slightly into her lower back.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Hector said. “Just some things to straighten out before they become big things.”
“We just need his address to make sure everything’s going to be fine.” She hoped Jeff caught the extra word, saying it in a future tense, thought maybe he did because his head was nodding.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, then wrote it down.
They were back in the SUV, Hector shaking his head. “You think you’re clever trying to give hints like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking—” she started saying but he reached his hand over and put it on her thigh and squeezed. Brooke let out a shriek. It felt like he was tearing the muscle off the bone.
“You just went and pissed me off some more, that’s all you did. You get a long memory in prison, all you got is time. I was hoping we could do what we’re doing nicely without too much damage being done.” He let go, put his hand back on the wheel and they left the lot.
“Fat man’s sweet on you. He going to do anything, you cost him his life,” he said. He looked over at her. “You understand? He calls someone or wants to play hero himself, he’s going in the river and that’s on you.”
She had tears forming in her eyes from the pain, waiting for her leg to stop throbbing. She nodded.
“We on the same page now?” he asked. They were. Hector just told her where they dump bodies. The river he said.
They were silent the rest of the way. Hector parked the SUV in front of the dirty looking house with a bush going around the front but no sidewalk. There was a basketball hoop that was tilted to the side on a pole that Hector parked in front of. He turned the engine off and looked at her. “We understand the rules now?” he asked.
Again, she nodded.
They got out of the Buick and went to the front door. A couple of moments later an older woman with blood red hair answered the door.
“We’re looking for Huey,” Hector said.
The old woman smiled. “You just missed him. He went somewhere with the Marshal.”
COLTON BRANT THOUGHT IT WAS a stroke of luck when Huey agreed to go with him without saying a word. He got the idea while he was drinking by himself in the hotel room, trying to come to terms with losing the ten grand. Colton could lie.
So now Huey was quiet in the front seat, ready to blow. The problem was, Colton knew he could blow either way. Huey could implode and just shut down from the world completely, which is what he looked like he was on the verge of doing. Or if Colton played it right, he could blow and give him everything he needed. He needed to choose his actions and his words carefully.
Huey wasn’t even looking out the window while they drove through Rounders
Bend, going down the main streets, now coming to the runoff road that went parallel to the Little Pee Dee River. He just stared at his lap. He didn’t even look up when Colton put the Honda into park and turned it off.
So they stayed there for what felt like a long time, in the gravel and dirt lot where hunters would bring their trucks to drop off their canoes to hunt the gators and other wildlife in the river. The slow moving river with a smell that seemed to come through the vents of the Accord.
“Get out,” Colton said.
Huey didn’t move.
“I want to show you something, get out.”
Huey still didn’t look up as he reached over and opened the door. Kept his head down as he stepped onto the gravel and followed Colton to the launching base of the river.
Colton was preparing his words carefully as they slowly sauntered to the water. Got to the edge and stood still, Huey looking at his feet, Colton at the murky water. He watched the slickness on top move ever so slowly, seeming to envelope everything it came into contact with - the low hanging branches dipping into it, the rocks jutting out. It reminded him of a horror movie - an entity that wraps itself around everything and suffocates it.
“You recognize this place Huey?”
Huey said nothing.
Colton sighed. “You don’t understand the extent I’m trying to help you out.” He looked at Huey, still staring at his feet. Time to get the ball rolling. “This is where we found Randy.”
He waited for a reaction. Nothing.
“Not all of him of course. Can’t even be sure it was him. We found a foot floating along. Not here, but down river some. What they’re telling me is this is where he was dumped,” Colton said, still waiting for a reaction.
