* * *
Ken and Karen have made an arrest!
When I went to the office on the 4th, I found our team of deputies in a back office, with Junior Simms handcuffed to a chair. Karen spotted me and came out, closing the door behind her.
“Junior? Are you sure?” I asked. Junior was in his late twenties and had never caused any real problems, even when he drank too much at the Jack. I heard he had been a troubled teen, getting into fights and vandalizing public property, though he seemed stable in the past years and lived alone in one of the older homes on the edge of town, working odd jobs to pay the rent.
“He’s already confessed, now he’s babbling,” Karen said. “Once we picked him up, Gray went through the house looking for meds or drugs. What he found were empty prescription bottles, and confirmed that Junior was being treated for schizophrenia and paranoia. He was on a literal cocktail of mood stabilizers. Every fire target was totally random. He thought that someone was after him, but didn’t know who. He just drove around until a voice in his head told him to stop. Weird, huh?”
Then she smiled. “We got him now, in part to your lists. He showed up several times. I just don’t know what we’re going to do with him!”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t have a jail. We don’t have anything up here. I’m afraid that if we try keeping him here, even overnight, the town folk may lynch him! Ken thinks we should take him into Marquette, and let them deal with him.”
“That might be for the best. Congratulations on the arrest, Karen. You and Ken deserve our gratitude. Oh, and you might want to call Sherriff Lacey before you make the trip to town with your prisoner.”
* * *
While I was there, it was time to make the phone call that I had forgotten about.
“Tom, Allexa Smeth in Moose Creek, returning your call. I hope you’ve got good news for us up here, like some food?” I said after he picked up on the fifth ring.
“Uh, no, sorry. How would you like a job though?” he asked, getting right to the point.
“A job? What do you mean?”
“I need help. An assistant. You’ve already had the training, and I think you would be perfect.”
“Thanks for the confidence, Tom, but I’m needed here. I must decline,” I said politely.
“Just think about it, okay?” he said and hung up abruptly, like Liz used to do. Apparently he got that part of the job down quickly.
John was delighted about the news of the arrest. It was a night to celebrate: Steaks on the grill, a baked potato, and some canned coleslaw, topped with one of the few bottles of wine left.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“A job in Marquette?” John asked, clearly not happy with the news when I told him.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take it. I thought you would like to at least know about it.” I was a little affronted that he was angry with me about the job offer.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you like that, I’m just tense that’s all. These past two weeks have been…”
“Been what? I thought you were happy here,” I said with concern.
“Oh, I am, I am. That’s part of it. It’s all been overwhelming. You. Here. I really thought I was going to die, Allex, and now… Marquette is so far away and it’s still dangerous. I don’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m not taking the job, I already told Tom that. I’m not going anywhere.”
We were both on edge, and we needed a diversion.
“I know that I said that one of us needs to stay here, but with the arrest of the arsonist, I think we can bend those rules a bit.” I smiled up at him. “How would you like to go to Bob and Kathy’s for dinner? We’ll take the food over. Besides, I think that we need some company other than each other.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” he said with his soft North Carolina accent that melts my insides.
* * *
Karen took my suggestion and called the Sheriff’s office before transporting Junior Simms. The dispatcher turned down their request because the jail was at double capacity already. Then were told to deal with it themselves.
Downtown Moose Creek once had a courthouse, town offices and a jail. After the new modern offices were built, the building was sold and has been the Down Riggers Bait and Gift shop for two decades. Part of the gift shop includes the old jail cell on the lower level. Ken contacted the owners this morning and asked to use the old jail cell for a few days. The owners reluctantly complied. Ken went to Fram’s and got a chain and a padlock to replace the dismantled old locks. It should help to keep Junior secure while they decided what to do with him. Despite the fact that they tried to keep Junior’s whereabouts quiet, word still got out.
*
“Kathy? Bob?” I called out several times while I pounded on their front door. After a few minutes, Bob opened the door, the chain still engaged. When he saw it was only us, he removed the chain and opened the door.
“We can’t be too cautious right now, you know,” Bob explained when he saw me looking at the rifle in his hand.
“No problem, Bob, I think that’s wise. Can we come in and visit?”
He led us downstairs to the basement, which was decidedly warmer than the living room, though still cool. Kathy greeted us both with hugs and John set the picnic basket down on the covered pool table.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Well, we needed to get out and I thought it would be nice to visit,” I replied while I unpacked pasta, sauce, corn, canned salmon, eggs and bread. “And bring dinner with us. Hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” I said, which got a laugh out of both of my friends.
We cooked the pasta on the grill then poured the sauce into the same pan to heat. After slicing up the bread, we took our full plates and sat near the fireplace to eat.
“In spite of what a simple meal this was, Allexa, it sure tasted wonderful,” Kathy remarked as she sopped up the last of the sauce with a piece of bread and Bob poured more white wine for all of us.
The guys had just stepped out to the enclosed porch for a cigar when we heard the gun fire.
John rushed back in, his calm buzz gone. “That sounded like a .22! And it was close.” Another shot rang out, then another. “A .223 and a .38.” John could distinguish the sounds, which surprised Bob.
“Three different calibers. Someone might need help,” I said.
Bob looked at Kathy, “You stay here, please! And lock the door behind us!” He looked at us. “What do you have?”
When I told him that we both had nine-mils, Bob grabbed another rifle and handed it to John. The three of us left the basement, went upstairs and out into the street. When we cleared the tree line, the frozen grass crunching beneath our feet, we saw a group of guys with rifles or clubs in hand, running in all directions from the gift shop. One stopped and looked at the three of us. Bob and John instantly leveled their rifles at him. The guy turned away and ran down the street away from us.
* * *
Ken decided to take the first shift of guard duty so Karen could go home and catch a nap. He was caught unaware when a dozen men stormed the building.
“Get out of the way, Ken. We want Junior. We don’t want to hurt you,” Buddy sneered, leading the group of locals.
“Carl,” Ken said, using Buddy’s given name, “you don’t want to do this. Just go on back home now, all of you.” The crowd was forming in the store. When nobody moved, Ken racked the twelve gauge shotgun, chambering a load, making it ready to fire. The liquid courage Buddy had fed his friends faded fast with the resistance to their demands. A second shotgun was heard racking from behind and Karen appeared in the doorway with her shotgun ready. Then Lenny stepped around her and leveled his gun at the mob.
“This isn’t over, Ken,” Buddy threatened, encouraging his followers to leave. At the last minute, Buddy turned back and fired at Junior, who was curled up in a corner. Ken used the butt of his shotgun on the back of Buddy’s h
ead, knocking him out. The shot, which echoed through the building, ricocheted off the old walls, sending out a shower of plaster and dust, missed its target.
Once the first shot rang out, the crowd started to stampede, and someone tripped or was shoved and his gun discharged, sending the round wild, hitting Karen. No one really knows yet who fired the third round that hit Ken.
* * *
Karen staggered out of the gift shop and leaned against the door jamb. Once she recognized us, she slumped over. Lenny, a former member of the EMS team, was tending to Ken, who had taken one in the shoulder. Karen had a graze on her calf. Junior was still curled up in the corner, and Buddy was now handcuffed to the bars.
Inside the Down Riggers, I used the still working landline to call our fire chief, who used his 800 radio to call Gray. Since Gray was taking a rotational turn sleeping in the Fire/EMS building, he arrived in minutes. He took over working on Ken, while Lenny cleaned and dressed Karen’s calf.
“Karen, what the hell happened here?” I yelled frantically, no longer containing myself.
* * *
I borrowed Gray’s radio to get to dispatch and demanded to talk to Tom White, and I was pissed enough that I was put right through to him.
“We now have both of our officers down and two prisoners instead of one, because your dispatcher wouldn’t take an arsonist/murderer off our hands! And you want me to leave here?” I yelled, trying to explain what happened here.
I was mad, really mad.
“Have Gray transport Ken to the hospital. I’m sending two scout cars. I’ll find out about dispatch on this end,” he said after I explained the situation. Then he hung up.
Karen was shaken, but doing okay otherwise. When the backup arrived, she went home. One police cruiser took the two prisoners to Marquette, while the other parked himself at the EMS building.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’m correcting an oversight,” I said as I placed a long Styrofoam box on the kitchen table.
John unfastened the tape to reveal an AR15 in its original Cosmoline packing grease, and still wrapped in plastic. He looked like a kid being handed the keys to the candy store.
“You’ll have to clean it up of course,” I said. “Considering yesterday, I think we should have the heavier firepower, don’t you?”
While John cleaned the rifle, I worked at putting a casserole together for Karen.
John leaned over my shoulder. “Looks good, when’s dinner?”
“This one is for Karen. Want to take a quick trip with me?”
* * *
Not only was Karen home, so was Ken, which surprised me. He sported a sling and she had a limp. They were both in good spirits, and also pissed off, so this was a good sign.
“Ken, can you shed any light on who shot you?” John asked.
“Not at all,” Ken frowned. “Once I saw Karen there, I knew that I was good. Lenny was a bonus. You were right about him, Allexa. Anyway, my attention was drawn to Buddy and Junior. I didn’t see anything. They definitely pulled a .38 out of me. It’s not something that we use anymore, only .357’s, and the shotguns.”
“I’ve got a question that has been puzzling me, Ken, please don’t be offended,” I said carefully. “I’m wondering, considering the scope of the offenses, why didn’t you just execute Junior right away? Obviously, that’s what the townspeople expected, or they wouldn’t have confronted you yesterday. Way out here, we’re in a ‘wild west’ situation, and on our own. No one questioned the Harris situation, have they? It was justified. Wouldn’t it also have been justified to terminate Junior?”
There was a long pause before Ken answered. “I’ve been thinking about that all night. Perhaps it would have been the thing to do, but I spent twenty-eight years on the police force, arresting those who took the law into their own hands. It’s a hard thing, a very hard thing to be on the other side now. It crossed my mind when we first arrested Junior, I’ll be honest about that. I couldn’t do it though,” Ken replied while nervously shifting his weight in his recliner. “What if I had shot him? And what if the world comes back to normal next week? I would have that boy’s death hanging on me for the rest of my life. Yes, he’s crazy, right now, without his meds, but with them he was a ghost in this town, quiet and unseen, and not bothering anyone. I went to school with his mother. I’ve watched him grow up,” his voice hitched. “I just couldn’t do it, Allexa. Can you understand that?”
“Yes, I can, Ken. You might want to think more about it, though, because it’s bound to come up again, maybe soon. People are getting hungry, real hungry, and with the deeper snow now, hunting is sporadic at best. There’s bound to be more violence, more theft, and then what are you going to do? What are we going to do? Stealing food could become a hanging offense.” Our two new officers had nothing to say. “We should go so you both can get some rest. Tom will want his officer and cruiser back soon.”
I left the casserole on the table, leaving them to figure out how to heat it.
* * *
On the morning of the 7th, I made some quick calculations regarding a five-gallon bucket of rice. It holds thirty pounds, which equals seventy-five cups of raw rice, which is one hundred and fifty cups cooked. At one-quarter cup of cooked rice per serving, that’s six hundred servings in a bucket. With fifty people left in town that doesn’t cover two weeks’ worth of food. They will just have to make it stretch even further. I took one more bucket of rice and a one pound carton of salt to Pastor Carolyn and told her it was the last, that I had shared all I could. She said she understood and thanked me for all I had done. I decided against adding the pasta or bouillon and I’m confident Carolyn will keep my donations a secret. I know I could give her more, however, that would only encourage dependency on the part of the town. They now needed to stand up on their own, leave, or die. Many of them would indeed leave when this bucket ran out. Would it be too late to go to the city? Would they even be allowed in? I should ask Tom White about that next time we talk.
* * *
I walked into the house after my visit to Pastor Carolyn. Jason and Jacob were there visiting with John and I swept Jacob up into a hug, which made him giggle.
“Where’s Amanda?” I asked Jason when I saw the sadness in his eyes. “She went back to Marquette, didn’t she?” I asked flatly.
“This morning. I begged her to stay but it didn’t do any good. She hates it here. Sometimes I think she always has. She’s gone to stay with Lori,” he said with a tear in his eyes. “I’m out of wood to burn and the snow is too deep now for me to cut more, plus I can’t leave Jacob alone. The house is really cold, and Amanda took the bucket with the last of the rice. I didn’t know where else to go, Mom. Can we stay with you for a while?”
“Of course you can. We can use the extra security, too, right John?”
“Actually, we can. Did you bring your .308 with you?” John asked. He was really getting into the guns, ensuring that all of our weapons were cleaned and ready for possible use. It was a huge relief to me.
“It’s out in the truck. I brought some clothes, more of Jacob’s things and his school books. I wasn’t really sure…”
“Jason, you know me better than that. I would never turn you away.” I gave him a hug before retrieving the linens and bedding for the futon that he and Jacob would share.
“If Jason is going to be here, we need to redistribute the chores,” I said to John, and then turned to Jason. “Right now, John shovels, brings in the wood, gases and starts the gennie and maintains the guns.” I looked back at John. “Which chores do you want to give to Jason?”
He smiled. I knew giving him the choice would make things go much easier. “He can have the generator duty and the shoveling. If it’s a heavy snow, we can share the shoveling.”
John’s choice didn’t surprise me. I know that he really likes hauling in the wood for me. Maybe that’s it; it’s a chore that’s a direct benefit to me. That’s sweet. In all this violence, this mayhem, this change, my heart s
welled with pride at the generosity of my new mate.
“I will give him the chickens to tend too,” I piped in. “I’ve still got plenty to do with the cooking, baking, laundry and housework, though I do expect you to take care of yours and Jacob’s room,” I said to Jason. “We all pitch in during the day to keep the stove fed.”
“I think this is more than fair for what you’re giving me in return. Mom, John, thank you,” he said, giving me a big hug.
Jacob came into the kitchen and asked for Sponge Bob. Jason got up to take care of that. “Mom, the TV isn’t working, no cable signal,” he called out from the other room. That’s one more thing for me to look into at the office when I have access to a real phone.
By the time I had washed two loads of laundry and hung the wet clothes on the wooden racks to dry, it was getting dark. I refilled the water buckets that I had emptied then put their t-shirts and underwear in the dryer while Jacob watched the end of a movie. I began to fold clothes and asked Jason to shut down the gennie.
John’s remark about all of that pasta keeps creeping into my head. I took out a box of multi-shapes from the back and made macaroni and cheese for dinner. Even Jacob ate some!
* * *
JOURNAL ENTRY: January 7
The past couple of days have been full, even traumatic, for most of us, and we were all exhausted. John put wood in the stove for the night. When we snuggled into bed, he told me the snow is still falling, and is already at a good six or eight inches in only a few hours.
The Journal: Cracked Earth Page 17
