A Killing in the Valley

by JF Freedman

  Luke got the word that night, at his house.

  “If Steven McCoy doesn’t present by nine tomorrow morning, either in person or via a verifiable phone call, he will be officially proclaimed to be a bail-jumper,” Alex told him. “And when we catch the little fuck, Luke—which we will, they all turn up in the end—he can turn the lights out. Because the party will be over.”

  Kate threw clothing and toiletries into an overnight bag. “I’m going out to Mrs. McCoy’s ranch,” she told Sophia. “You’ll be okay by yourself, won’t you? It’s just for tonight. If you want, you can stay at the Garrisons’.”

  Sophia was friendly with Luke and Riva. She was their main babysitter. They paid top dollar, fifteen an hour. Working for them was fun, because she really liked their kids and the money paid for her gasoline and other expenses that her allowance didn’t cover.

  “Why are you going up there?” she asked Kate. “It’s after ten at night, Mom.”

  “Moral support,” Kate answered. “There’s a crisis. I don’t like her being alone.”

  “It’s Steven, isn’t it. Did he run away?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate answered tersely. “We can’t find him.”

  “Maybe he got hurt,” Sophia said logically. “Trying to help.”

  Kate shook her head. “He didn’t.” She zipped her bag shut. “So which? Here, or the Garrisons?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No you are not,” Kate answered immediately. “You have school tomorrow. The ranch isn’t a place for you to be now.”

  Sophia stood her ground. “I can miss a day, I’ve had perfect attendance this year. Juanita’s more my friend than yours,” she said stalwartly.

  Kate smiled at her. This was a good kid she had raised, almost in spite of herself. “All right. Get your stuff. We have to go, now.”

  It was after midnight, but no one was sleeping. The three women were hunkered down in Juanita’s living room. All the lights were on, as if the brightness might attract Steven, like a candle attracts a moth.

  Sophia and Juanita were trying to play Scrabble, but it was a listless attempt. This is like attending a wake, Kate thought, as she watched them plunk their squares down on the board. Which in a fashion, it was. Steven McCoy wasn’t officially dead yet, but in her mind she could hear the nails being pounded into his metaphorical coffin. Even though she was depressed about this looming catastrophe, she was glad she had come out here, and she was also happy that Sophia had insisted that she come, too. Leaving Juanita to deal with this misery by herself would have been heartless. And it was a condition of the job. Juanita was paying through the nose for their help. This wasn’t a 9-5 gig, it had become 24/7, both professionally and personally.

  But she would be here even if she wasn’t getting paid. This was about a burgeoning friendship, particularly between an old lady and a young girl. Friends help friends. They were friends now.

  The Scrabble game ended. Kate looked at the serpentined board. “Who won?”

  “She did,” both Juanita and Sophia said simultaneously. They looked at each other, and laughed. “We weren’t keeping score,” Sophia said. “It doesn’t matter who wins or loses.” She stretched and yawned, sprawling back on the couch.

  “Why don’t you go to sleep?” Juanita suggested. “The couch in my office is a foldout. I can make it up for you.”

  “Why don’t you both go to sleep?” Kate told her. “We can do this in shifts. I’m not tired yet, so I can take the first watch.”

  Juanita shook her head. “I’ll sleep when this is over. However it turns out.” She stood and stretched her lower back. “I’m going to put a pot of coffee on. Does anyone besides me want some?”

  Mother and daughter both said “Aye.” Juanita went into the kitchen. Sophia came over and flopped down next to Kate.

  “What’s going to happen when morning comes?” she asked quietly, so she wouldn’t be overheard.

  “If Steven hasn’t shown up?”

  Sophia nodded.

  “Luke Garrison will call the District Attorney and report that Steven is missing. Then he’ll officially be a fugitive from justice, his bail will be revoked, and he’ll be a wanted man.” She shuddered. “Then it’s a question of waiting, until he’s found.”

  “Dead or alive?”

  Kate jerked around to look at Sophia. “That’s harsh.”

  Sophia shook her head as if to say, “Not harsh enough.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for him at all,” she proclaimed. “I feel bad for Juanita, what he’s put her through. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  “No,” Kate agreed. “No one does.”

  “But her especially,” Sophia said insistently. “She went out on such a limb for him.” She made an angry face. “He’s so selfish.”

  Juanita came back into the living room. “Coffee will be a minute. Does anyone want anything to eat?”

  “No, thanks,” Kate said. “Sit down, Juanita. You don’t have to be the hostess.”

  Juanita turned and looked out the big front window, into the darkness. “Oh, Steven,” she lamented. “Where are you?”

  The light was diffused in the shiny window glass. At first it was two small pinpricks in the dark, then it grew as it approached, two shimmering mirages.

  Kate sat up with a jerk. Sprawled out on the couches, Sophia and Juanita were sleeping heavily. The lights were off in the living room—a single fixture remained on in the kitchen.

  When did we fall asleep, Kate wondered? And who turned the lights off? Was it me? She couldn’t remember.

  She looked at her watch. 4:20. The depths of night, when in the city even the all-night prowlers, the drunks and the predators and the street low-life were tucked away in their holes. Out here, though, where on a clear night the sky was alive with a million stars, there was an entire nighttime society: owls, coyotes (who never sleep), burrowing vermin, nocturnal hunters and gatherers. Or human predators, looking for an easy, out-of-the-way mark. Like an old lady living alone.

  She slipped her shoes on. Her automatic was in her purse. She took it out and flipped the safety off. Then she moved to the side of the window, so she could look out, but not be seen by someone looking in.

  The vehicle parked in front of the house. The lights were doused, and the engine stopped running.

  Kate looked behind her. Juanita, too, had heard the sound. She looked at Kate. “Who is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kate answered quietly. She leaned over and looked outside again.

  For a moment, all was still. Then Steven McCoy stepped off of his grandmother’s ATV. He walked around to the other side and helped a woman get down. The woman, who looked like she was in her early to mid-thirties, moved very slowly, limb by limb, like a deck chair unfolding. Normally she would have been attractive in a Katharine Hepburn sort of way, but even in the dim light Kate could see that she looked awful now, as if she had been through a brutal ordeal. The woman said something to Steven, who gave her a reassuring hug.

  They walked to the back of the ATV. They leaned down and together lifted something out of the back, as if picking up a load of firewood.

  “Who is it?” Juanita asked again. She got up and came toward Kate.

  “Steven,” Kate told her. “And a woman.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Juanita said in thanksgiving. She started for the front door.

  Kate put a restraining hand on her arm. “Wait,” she said cautiously. She tucked the gun away in her jeans, so it couldn’t be seen.

  They stared out the window. Steven and the woman were assisting a man, who looked to be a few years older than the woman. His arms were draped over their shoulders. He hung almost limp, like a scarecrow. Kate could see that one of his pant legs had been cut off almost to the crotch, and that a makeshift splint had been secured around the bare leg, from above the knee to the ankle. There was clotted blood on the leg, and on the splint.

  Carefully, Steven and the woman carried the invalid towa
rd the kitchen door. Before they could reach it, Juanita rushed over and flung it open.

  “Steven!” she cried out. “Thank God.”

  Steven McCoy looked like death warmed over, but his companions looked even worse. “You need to call 911,” he said. His voice was low and hoarse. “His leg is broken, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Gingerly, they helped the man with the broken leg onto a kitchen chair. “We need water,” Steven said. “We haven’t had any for over a day.”

  Sophia, rubbing sleep from her eyes, drifted into the kitchen. She looked at the unknown man and woman, then at Steven. “Where were you?” she asked. “You had everyone scared stiff. Especially your grandmother.”

  Steven tried to smile, but he couldn’t pull it off. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after the paramedics come. Right now, I just want a drink of water.”

  The ambulance was there in less than half an hour. “You’re lucky you’re alive, man,” the lead paramedic told the injured man, who had lapsed into semiconsciousness. “Whoever splinted your leg and stopped the bleeding saved your hide.”

  “Him,” the woman told them, pointing a dirty, shaking finger at Steven. There was a slender gold wedding band on her ring finger. “Our savior.” She reached out and grabbed Steven’s hand. She held it tightly, like it was a life preserver.

  “You know your stuff,” the paramedic complimented Steven.

  “I did what I could,” Steven said wearily. His modesty was real; Kate could hear the lack of ego in his voice. Her attitude toward him was turning 180 degrees, yet again.

  The paramedics strapped the injured man to a board and carried him out to their ambulance. Steven and the woman trailed them. The female paramedic jumped into the driver’s seat. The other two loaded the injured man into the back.

  “Either of you coming?” the lead paramedic asked. “You can ride in back with him.”

  “Me,” the woman said.

  “Good idea. You need to see a doctor, too.” He looked Steven over. “What about you?”

  “I’m all right,” Steven said, declining the offer. “I need to stay here.”

  “Suit yourself. If you feel bad later,” the paramedic cautioned, “call up right away. That’s why we’re here.” He stuck out his hand. “If you ever want a job doing this, get in touch. We can always use good people.”

  “Thanks,” Steven answered. “I appreciate that.”

  The paramedics climbed into the back of the ambulance. The woman hugged Steven. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You’ll be here?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he told her.

  “I’ll come see you. Maybe tomorrow. If that’s all right.”

  “Sure.” He gently disengaged from her. “You need to go.”

  She nodded. Then she leaned forward on her toes and kissed him on the mouth.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised.

  “See you.”

  She got into the back. One of the paramedics closed the door. They drove off.

  Kate, Sophia, and Juanita had been watching from the kitchen doorway. Steven came into the house. “I’m bushed,” he said. “And I need a shower.”

  Sophia was standing next to him. “What happened?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you after my shower.” He crossed the room to the refrigerator and opened it. “I know I’m not allowed to drink, but is anyone going to bust me if I have a beer?” he asked, staring at Kate.

  No one answered; they didn’t have to. He took out a Sierra Nevada, twisted the cap off, and swallowed half of it down in one long gulp. Then he walked out, heading for the bathroom.

  Juanita collapsed into a chair. “Thank God,” she said. “Thank God.”

  This is going to be some story, Kate thought, with the smallest trace of cynicism. And when that woman comes back to see him, she’s going to fuck the marrow out of him, married or not.

  Six o’clock. Still dark out, but dawn was coming. Kate dialed Luke’s home number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Sorry if I woke you, but I had to,” she told him unapologetically.

  “I was up,” he said. ““What’s going on?”

  “Hold onto your hat. Steven McCoy turned up.”

  “Whoa!” His voice boomed into her ear. “How about that! Where are you?”

  “At the ranch. I came out last night, so Juanita wouldn’t be alone.”

  “That was kind of you.”

  “It was necessary.”

  “Well, good for you, either way. So he came back on his own? When?”

  “About an hour and a half ago. And yes, it was voluntary.”

  “That’s a relief,” Luke said. “This would have been an absolute disaster.”

  “I know. It’s been a long night here.”

  “So where was he?” Luke asked impatiently.

  Kate could feel his antsiness over the line. There was a certain delicious perversion at hearing it, because he was almost never ruffled. “What did he say?” Luke peppered her.

  “Easy, boy. He’s taking a shower. When he comes out he’s going to tell us everything.” She smiled to herself. “He’s going to be a hero.”

  “You’re shitting me!” This was getting crazier and crazier. “Why?”

  “I won’t know until I hear it from him,” she said. “But I know enough to feel it could be a real boost for us.”

  “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” Luke said. “Wait for me, so we can hear it together.”

  “Okay, but hurry up. I have Sophia with me, and I need to get her back so she can go to school.” Before she hung up, she also told him, “If his story is half as interesting as I think it’s going to be, you’re going to carpet-bomb the papers and TV. This could be quite a coup for us.”

  Steven, refreshed from his shower and a breakfast of his grandmother’s blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs, got comfortable on one of the living room couches. He finished his coffee, put the cup down, and told his story:

  After we beat back the fire at the old house, I came back here. Grandma and Keith were still at the old house. I was on this super-energy high from what we had done, but I was bone-tired, too, so I thought I’d take a nap. I was about to lie down when I remembered this couple me and Keith had met a couple of days before the fire started, up at the northeast section of the ranch. They were camping in the Los Padres National Forest, where it butts up against our boundary line. They asked if they could camp on the property for a few days. There’s a meadow up there that’s the perfect campsite.

  If it was up to me, I would have let them. They were experienced campers, so I knew they’d be careful about fire and hauling their shit out. But Keith wouldn’t, because nobody can be on the property, it’s ranch policy. You let one person do it, then where do you draw the line? Which I can understand, especially after what I’m going through now.

  So they thanked us and said “Sure, no big deal,” but I knew as soon as me and Keith left they would come over onto the property. I would if I was them, it’s a real nice spot, and they would have figured we wouldn’t be back for a few days, so why not?

  Anyway, now I was back here, and I realized that if they had camped there, they might have been in the path of the fire. Which freaked me out, thinking they could be trapped up there. So without thinking, I jumped into grandma’s ATV and took off. I figured they would either have gotten out ahead of the fire—that’s what I was hoping I would find, nothing—or they would need help getting out. Either way, I assumed I’d be there and back in four or five hours.

  Well, I found them. They hadn’t been able to get out because Al—that’s the guy—had fallen the day before and broken his leg.

  Their cell phone battery had run down, so they couldn’t call for help. Then the fire started, and their exit was cut off. They were able to retreat back into a section of the forest the fire had passed by, which was the only saving grace about their situation.

  But they were stuck, because they couldn’t
hardly move, with his leg as bad as it was. He wanted her to leave him and try to hike out to get help, but she was afraid to leave him by himself, and she didn’t know what direction to go in, she was afraid she would wander around and get lost. So when I showed up it was like a gift from God. That’s how Willa—that’s the woman’s name—described it. She told me I was a gift from God. Which made me feel good, but I had to get them out to really qualify.

  The first thing I did was tourniquet his leg to slow down the bleeding, and then I splinted it the best I could. That took a couple of hours. He was in awful pain, and I didn’t have anything to give him for it. But I managed to patch him up good enough so he could be moved. We got loaded up, and we were about to leave.

  And that’s when we really got screwed. The wind shifted and blew the fire back into the path I had taken to get there. Which was the only way to drive out. So we were trapped.

  It was surreal, like a cosmic joke, except there was nothing funny about it. The fire was blocking our way out, but in the other direction, it was clear. I could see all the way down to a road, maybe ten miles away. If Al could have walked, we could have been out of there in seven or eight hours. But because he couldn’t, we were stuck. So we had to wait where we were until the fire burned out. I kept thinking a fire crew would come to put it out, but no one did. I guess they knew the fire would burn itself out and that there wasn’t any danger to people. They couldn’t have thought anyone was up there.

  The last day was especially hard. We had no food, and then we ran out of water. It was hot, and Al was getting worse, he was hallucinating some of the time. It was almost to the point where me and Willa were either going to have to leave him and hike out and hope he’d survive until we could get help back to him, or I’d have to chance driving back down and trying to break through the fire. Which I didn’t think would work.

  Then yesterday afternoon the wind changed again. I could see the fire was dying where we needed to go. I kept watching, hoping the wind wouldn’t turn back again. Finally, we got lucky—it didn’t. By about ten, I could see that it had burned out. So Willa and I strapped Al onto the back of the Honda, and came down. I was still afraid we might hit a place where we couldn’t get through, but we made it.