by Carey Lewis
Eventually Huey said, “What kind of shoe was on the foot?”
That took him by surprise. “I don’t know Huey, it was hunters that found it.”
“Randy only had the one pair of shoes. It might not be him if it’s not the right shoe.”
“Huey,” Colton said, “we both know it was Randy. They’re testing it right now but we both know how this is going to come back.”
For the first time, Huey looked up, looking out at the river. “You’re not a Marshal.”
“I’m not.”
They were quiet.
“I’m a bondsman, the one that got Randy out. You know what that means Huey?”
“Means you get people out of jail.”
“Part of it. But what it means in this case is I’m done here. Randy’s been found so I’m in the clear. You know what that means for you?”
“You’ll leave me alone now?”
“Means I’m free to go, I got what I needed out of this. But you’re right, I leave you alone now. What I want you to ask yourself is what happens when I leave you alone. You think you’re not going to be joining your buddy at the bottom of this river?”
Huey’s face twitched. Colton decided to go for the jugular.
“Randy’s grandma’s going to have to deal with his funeral. All we got of him is the foot. That’s all that’s going in his casket, just his foot, with or without the shoe. That’s what his grandma has to say goodbye to.” He waited, turned to look at the river along with Huey. “You picture your mom with her red hair standing over your casket Huey? Your empty casket, crying away all that mascara? Who else you think’s going to be there? From what I can tell you have but the two friends, and those are the ones going to put you here.”
He looked back to Huey, saw his face contorting with fear. Then his phone buzzed. Huey reached into his pocket and pulled it out, looked at the text message that told him not to answer the phone.
Colton looked from the phone to Huey. “Looks like it’s coming. On your last legs here.”
Huey’s face contorted more, like he was fighting a demon from coming out. He was broken.
“So you’re here to help me?”
“I am Huey.”
“You don’t even know what you’re getting into.”
“Then show me.”
WHEN COLTON OPENED THE DOOR, he expected to find Cesar or Hector on the other side, maybe both of them, ready to put him down. What he found instead was a pungent, sweet smell that turned his stomach. The smell that reminded him of the time he dropped a raw steak behind the stove and forgot about it. In a couple days time, thanks to the heat, it created a foul odor he would describe as a cloud.
His hand fell to the Glock on his hip.
Huey led him into the house, and over his shoulder down the hallway, in the kitchen, he saw the first body. Shot somewhere in the midsection, hard to tell with the blood pooled down the shirt and puddled on the floor. His eyes went to Huey’s, tears starting to form. Huey’s gaze moved from Colton to the living room.
Colton took a few steps forward and looked around the corner to see the murder scene - skinheads and Spaniards lying dead, eyes open, blood everywhere, flies buzzing around.
“What happened here?”
Huey slowly turned his head to Colton.
“You do this Huey?”
“This is what you’re getting into.”
“How come no one’s found them yet?”
“You see the sign out front? Says trespassers will be shot?”
“Everyone’s got that sign.”
“Not everyone means it.”
Huey’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Jeff. Huey sent it to voice-mail, then put it back in his pocket.
“Who did this?” Colton asked.
Huey looked down, the tears starting to fall. He backed into the hallway against the wall and slid down into a crouched position, his gaze never leaving the floor.
“Huey?”
Nothing.
Colton looked back into the room. He found his crime. What he hadn’t found was the body he needed. The one worth ten grand. It was time to call the real police. He took the phone out of his pocket.
“What’re you doing?” Huey asked.
“What you should’ve done.”
“You can’t,” Huey said, standing up.
“This has to end Huey.”
“You can’t,” Huey said, and now he had a Glock of his own pointed at Colton.
“What did you think I was going to do when you brought me here?”
Huey didn’t answer. For the first time, he saw something new in Huey’s eyes. It was resolve.
Colton’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, then up to Huey. “Should I answer it?”
“Who is it?” Huey asked.
“Hector.”
Huey motioned with the gun for Colton to answer. He hit the green button and put the phone to his ear.
“I understand you’re with my buddy,” Hector said over the line.
“Yeah, you’ll never guess what he wanted to show me.”
“Is that right?”
“Wish it wasn’t.”
“Because you’d rather have the ten?”
“You finally remember where Randy is?”
“Either way, we were doing some talking about getting you the ten for your troubles. But now we got Huey and this thing going on.”
Colton thought about it. It sounded like Hector was offering him ten grand if he took care of Huey then turned a blind eye. Colton looked at him, saw his red eyes filled with determination. “You definitely got a Huey thing going on.”
“How’s he holding up?”
He looked at Huey again, saw him mouth some words he couldn’t make out.
“Think he’d like to talk to you.” Huey shook his head. “In person.” Huey nodded, a slight smile on his lips.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AT FIRST CESAR THOUGHT MAYBE Deacon was sleeping. Then he noticed he was staring pretty intently at that side-view mirror. That’s how he came to notice the Town Car following him. Just to make sure, Cesar took a few turns he didn’t need to, even cutting through the gas station parking lot on the corner. The Town Car stopped at the light and made the right, but eventually it caught up to his Acura, always staying two or three cars behind.
“Thought you made Huey return the car,” he said. Deacon rolled his head on his shoulders, giving Cesar that cross-eyed look again, the napkins stuck to his head.
“Hmmm?” he said.
There was a department store a couple miles ahead that had been closed down for years. Cesar couldn’t remember what it was, maybe a Wal-Mart or Sears, but it didn’t matter. The lot would be empty. Huey could follow him in and tell Cesar what was on his mind.
The Acura pulled into the drive and went down the two lane entrance toward the abandoned building. The walls and boarded up windows were spray-painted by bored teenagers and weeds had started sprouting up through the pavement. Cesar drove the car along the cement barriers and turned around, coming to face the street. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Deacon take his eye off the mirror to focus on the street in front of them.
Both of them watched the Town Car creep down the road. The tinted windows prevented them from seeing the driver who took the car past the entrance and down the street, out of sight.
“What the hell you doing Huey?” Cesar asked himself.
“Maybe it’s a different Town Car.”
Cesar looked over at Deacon, couldn’t decide if the TV star was playing with him or not. He was grinning slightly, like he had one over on Cesar. But it showed that Deacon was watching the same thing he was. Showed he knew more about the Town Car than he was letting on.
He put the Acura back into gear and circled around, coming out between the barriers and headed for the street, then back onto the road.
Deacon was pretending to be out of it still, had his head tucked against his shoulder as an excuse to
stare at the mirror, no doubt looking for the car. Maybe the TV star hatched a plan with Huey somehow. What Cesar wanted to know was how long the car had been following them. Where did he pick up the tail?
It could be the bondsman they were supposed to meet - got to Bub’s just as they were leaving, decided to follow. But he drove an Accord, not a Town Car. Could’ve rented it, Cesar supposed, but for what purpose?
Maybe Deacon somehow got a hold of the people the Cubans answered to. It seemed far-fetched, but he supposed it could happen. If it was Huey, he would’ve come up to Cesar, told him what was on his puny mind. Whatever it was, Cesar felt he had to make Mr. TV talk.
He was checking his mirrors frequently, making turns and doubling back around, taking left turns from the right-hand lane, making rights from the left lane, all in an attempt to make sure he lost the tail. Everything he saw in movies where a car following would have to make itself known.
When he was happy, he took the Acura back to the farmland roads, where he would be able to see someone following him on the long empty stretches of pavement. And he was right, no cars were close to him. There were some trucks that passed him from the opposite direction, some teenagers passing him from behind, but nothing that stayed a close distance.
Eventually, Cesar pulled the car down the dirt drive of the farmhouse and turned the car around to face the street. He cut the engine and they sat in the car watching the drive.
“You’re getting paranoid,” Deacon said.
“You should be wishing we was being followed about this time. Get out.” Cesar climbed out of the driver’s side and waited while Deacon took his time to climb out of the Acura, still putting on his dozy act.
“What you know about that car?” Cesar asked, making his way around the front of the Acura.
“Made by Lincoln, not sure if it’s GM or their own company though.”
“Keep being funny.”
That’s when something caught Cesar’s eye. He looked to the road and saw the Town Car creep by.
“You can always go out there and flag them down. Say you got a flat,” Deacon said.
“Who’s in that car? Is it Huey?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
It could only be one of two people, Cesar thought. It was either Huey or the Cubans’ bosses. If it was the bosses, Cesar could handle it. He knew there would be a time he’d have to deal with them, he just thought it would be later. He’d bring them into the bunker, show them what he had working for him, tell them he had no idea what happened to Pablo, tell them he went to meet Motley. They’d go and see Pablo and Motley went and shot themselves up, but not to worry, Cesar could handle their weed in South Carolina. Then he’d have their muscle should any skinheads think of retaliation.
If it was Huey, he’d have to figure out what to do with him, see if he was stable enough to handle setting up the rest of the bunker, then deal with him after that.
He took out his phone and dialed Hector, said, “Been to the bank yet?”
“Ran into a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Got a call from the bondsman. Huey took him to Motley’s.”
“So who’s following me around?”
“HERE’S THE THING I DON’T think you two really understand,” Hector said. “How deep in this shit here you guys are. What it really means.”
They were parked in the Buick in front of a rundown house that maybe used to be white. It was a house that had a dirt drive, nestled in a pocket of trees, some trucks and a Honda parked out front. If Brooke had to take a stab at it, she’d guess this was the house Deacon told her about. Inside would be dead skinheads.
“I’m guessing I take you to the bank,” Hector said, “you’re wanting to do some wily shit in there, not play the game with us.”
“Deacon says you got tape of him doing something he’d rather not mention.”
“Man, the amount of time that guy’s asking to see it, my bet would be you two thinking there is no tape.”
And just like that, Hector took care of one of their concerns. As much as she didn’t think they videotaped anything, Hector just confirmed it.
“I’m guessing,” Brooke said, “I get out of the bank, that money doesn’t touch Cesar’s hands.”
Hector looked over at her. “What happens after you get out of the bank ain’t your business.”
“Here I was thinking I pissed you off, that’s why you were giving me the silent treatment since you made that call.”
Hector chuckled, then turned his attention back to the house. “You thinking I heard something bad about you?”
“I was worried something was coming between this bond we developed, yeah,” Brooke said, trying her best to smile, to win him over.
Hector stared at the house. “I got to get Huey out of there. He’s in a mood from what I’m told. What I was wondering is if I should take you inside with me.”
“You already decided that.”
“Just now I did.”
“You can leave me in the car. Just crack a window.”
He looked at her. “That attitude of yours, I can see why you’re getting a divorce. No, there’s something in there I think you’re needing to see, like I said. Get you to play right.” Hector tilted his head, motioning Brooke to get out.
She climbed out of the SUV, trying to hide her fear. She even motioned for Hector to hurry up, she was running out of patience. He smiled at her, said, “Can’t imagine having to deal with you all day every day. You should do yourself a favor and reconsider your relationship before you find out you’re alone with nothing but cats.”
He waved her forward, ahead of him. She made her way to the house, trying to act confident. She got to the door and saw the sign telling her trespassers will be shot. She pointed at it and looked back to Hector.
“You never know,” he told her. “Go on in.”
“Should I knock?”
“You selling bibles?”
Brooke turned back to the door and opened it. The first thing she saw was a man sitting against the wall in the hallway. She looked up from him to see Huey at the end of the hall, just outside the kitchen, holding a gun at his side. Behind him she could see a set of legs in a pool of blood. Then the smell hit her.
She tried to retreat but was pushed inside by her lower back. Brooke stumbled forward as the man in the hallway stood. To her left, in the living room she saw the bodies, the skinheads, the Cubans, the blood, the bits of insides that were now outside. She was surprised she didn’t have a violent reaction to it. They looked like props, like plastic dolls more than anything that was real.
Wait. Deacon didn’t say anything about Cubans being here.
Hector was right behind her, his shoulder touching her back. She looked back down the hall, saw the man standing, leaning against the wall. Huey still hadn’t moved, the gun pointed from his hip. She waited for one of them to say something clever.
It was the man she didn’t know that spoke first. “Huey won’t tell me what happened.”
“It’s not obvious?” Hector asked. “Looks to me like a drug deal gone bad. Ain’t that right Huey?”
Huey didn’t move, like he was doing his best impression of a statue.
She looked back into the room, saw the guns in the lifeless hands.
“So it’s the first you’re seeing it?” the man asked.
“Imagine it’s the first we’re all seeing it. Ain’t that right Huey?”
Brooke looked back to Hector, trying to give Huey a hint of what he was trying to say. That they fixed the place up to look like they were never there. She couldn’t read anything on Huey’s face. She looked back to the bodies, wondered if she could make it to the closest gun.
“Huey, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
Nothing.
“That gun looks familiar. Where’d you get it?”
“Found it in a tree,” Huey said, his voice croaking, like he hadn’t used it in awhile, his throat dry.
Brooke turned to look at Huey in time to see him shaking his head.
“You know we’re friends right?” Hector said. “Why don’t you give me the gun and we can get out of here. There’s still work needs getting done.”
He shook his head harder, his brow furrowing, tears starting to form in his already bloodshot eyes. Brooke turned back to the guns. She never fired one before, let alone held one in her hand. The most violent thing she ever held was her taser. Her taser that was still strapped around her ankle.
“Huey, I’m not fucking around now,” Hector said. “You think this one’s your friend? He was going to sell you out for ten grand.”
The man faced Huey, said, “He offered me ten to get rid of you Huey. I said no.”
“Then why do I got it in my car? You want to come look?”
She saw him break then, his face knotted in torment. Then she felt Hector’s arm around her neck and shoulders as he pulled her into him, using her as a shield.
A guttural moan came from Huey. Brooke wasn’t sure if Huey even knew the sound was coming from him. She saw the man’s hand move to his hip. Brooke’s knees gave out and she fell to the floor. Hector quickly scooped her back up, but not before she unsheathed the taser.
Huey’s arm raised. Brooke reached behind her and hit the button on the taser. She felt a shock and the violent shaking of Hector behind her before she dropped to the floor. Huey’s arm didn’t stop to aim at Hector. It kept rising and bent at the elbow to place the gun under his own chin. His head exploded against the ceiling and a split second later he was shot in the chest.
Brooke watched from the ground as the man spun from Huey toward Hector. She saw two flashes from his gun before Hector fell on top of her, his face smashing against the floor, his eyes open but vacant.
BROOKE DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG she had been out for. She remembered Hector’s head hitting the floor next to hers, his eyes open but not there. She assumed he was dead. She remembered shaking. Even now, laying on the floor, she felt her heart racing. She wondered if it was a heart attack.
