A Place to Call Home

by Sharon Sala

  Judd opened the door, then paused before getting out. He looked down at the ground, taking absent note of the few blades of grass persistently growing between a crack in the blacktop, then nodded without saying a word. Judd closed the door behind him with a solid thump. Wade watched until he’d gone into the office, then he backed out of the drive and headed for the P.D.

  * * *

  Raymond Shuler was home and healing nicely. The infection in his hip was almost gone and his attitude, at least on the outside, was positive. Friends, neighbors and colleagues came on a regular basis, each wanting to hear all about his ordeal. He was basking in the notoriety of being a five-minute celebrity, but at the same time, was struggling with the shame of being found naked and unconscious on the library steps. Only one other time in his life had he ever been that disoriented—or suffered that much loss of control—and he’d been a senior in high school, only a couple of months away from graduation. To this day, he didn’t remember a damn thing about what he’d done, only that he’d started the night by celebrating homecoming at a football game and wound up facedown near a creek the next morning, waking up to a squirrel chattering in the trees overhead and suffering from the worst headache he’d ever had in his life. He’d rolled to his knees and puked up his guts, then crawled to the creek and stuck his head in the water, hoping to alleviate some of the pain. It hadn’t worked. But when he’d come up for air, he’d seen something in the water that had given him chills.

  It was a shoe. A woman’s shoe.

  The moment he’d seen it, an image had flashed through his mind of a girl running, and then screaming. At that point, another wave of nausea hit. When it was over, the fleeting bit of memory was gone, too. He’d made his way home, half expecting some girl’s daddy to be waiting on his daddy’s porch with a shotgun in his hand, but the only one standing on his porch had been his mother. She’d burst into tears upon seeing him, and then he’d been grounded for the rest of that month.

  When Monday came, he’d gone to school with a knot in his gut, certain that the proverbial ax had yet to fall. But after a few weeks had passed with no revelations, he had convinced himself nothing had happened, after all.

  Now here he was, more than twenty years later, experiencing the same set of symptoms. Only this time, pretending wouldn’t make his nightmares go away. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the darkness closing in around him—then the pain on his hip, then choking on the dust and the filth in which he’d been lying. He was convinced that somewhere beyond the safety of his home, danger still waited. Waited for him to show signs of weakness—waiting for the moment when he would drop his guard once again. Only this time, if they took him again, he wouldn’t survive.

  So when Betty announced that a deputy wanted to talk to him, his gut knotted. On the one hand, he wanted the perpetrators caught, but on the other, he kept wondering if, in aiding in their capture, he wasn’t releasing a Pandora’s box of his own.

  “Raymond, dear…you remember Mr. Hanna? He was at the hospital with Wade. He’s filling in for Hershel Brown while he and Mindy are on their honeymoon.”

  Raymond gave the big man a nod, then waved toward a chair.

  “Yes, I remember. Have a seat, Mr. Hanna. Betty, would you bring Mr. Hanna something cold to drink?”

  Judd shook his head. “No thanks, ma’am. Nothing for me.” Then he turned to Raymond. “Let’s forget the formalities, okay? Call me Judd.”

  Raymond smiled magnanimously. “Then Judd it is. Do you have any news for me?” he asked.

  “No, sir, I’m afraid that I don’t. And actually, that’s why I’m here. So far, there’s nothing to go on except the brand on your hip.”

  Raymond’s face turned a dull, angry red.

  “I’d rather you didn’t refer to it as a brand.”

  Judd leaned back and took a small notepad from his shirt pocket.

  “I stand corrected,” he said softly. “Then we’ll call it the wound.”

  Raymond nodded.

  “Okay…the wound is shaped like an R, is that correct?”

  Again, Raymond’s face flushed. Judd spoke up before the man could argue.

  “Look, Mr. Shuler. I know this is painful. But there’s only one way to get at the truth, and that’s to tell it like it is. According to the medical report, someone branded your hip with the letter R, for Raymond, I assume. From the way it was shaped, your doctor was guessing it had been done with an electric branding iron. Do you remember hearing anything?”

  “No,” Shuler said shortly.

  Judd tried another tack. “Think hard. You were blindfolded the entire time, right?”

  Shuler nodded.

  “Okay, then maybe there was a scent, or something you felt, that you can remember?”

  “No,” Raymond said shortly. “Don’t you think that if I remembered something, I would have told you?” Then he glanced at Betty. “Dear, I believe I would like a glass of lemonade. Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not,” she said, and quickly left the room.

  Judd watched the man’s face, well aware that there was something he wasn’t saying, maybe something he didn’t want his wife to hear.

  “You’ll forgive me for asking,” Judd said, “but I need to know if there is an angry husband somewhere who might be trying to teach you a lesson?”

  Shuler’s forehead wrinkled in a frown. “I don’t follow.”

  “Were you having an affair?” Judd asked.

  “Hell, no,” Shuler spluttered. “I’ve never cheated on my wife and don’t intend to start. She’s a good woman. I wouldn’t disrespect her that way.”

  “Sorry,” Judd said. “But I had to ask.”

  Shuler made himself relax. “I know,” he said, and gave Judd a weak smile. “It’s just hard to accept that you’re only asking what dozens of people are probably already thinking.” He sighed. “But I swear to you, nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “What about enemies? As a banker, you must have made some people mad, especially on things like foreclosures.”

  Shuler shrugged. “Honestly, there haven’t been all that many in my years as an officer. However, if you’ll call my secretary at the bank, she can give you a list. I’ll let her know you’ll be coming by to pick it up.”

  Judd nodded, then made a note to himself to pick it up later. When he looked up, he caught Shuler staring.

  “You know, the only stranger to come through this town in years that wasn’t just passing through is you,” Shuler said.

  Judd immediately caught his drift and grinned. “Sorry, Mr. Shuler. But if my facts are correct, I was asleep in Wade Franklin’s spare bedroom when you were abducted. Besides, if I was ticked off at someone, they’d know it. Blindfolds and branding irons aren’t exactly my style.”

  Shuler flushed. “It was just a thought,” he muttered.

  Judd nodded. “And not a bad one, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Shuler asked.

  “What happened to you is a case of revenge, pure and simple.”

  Shuler went still. Judd watched as all the blood suddenly drained from the man’s face. Shuler’s chin began to quiver, and it was all he could do to speak.

  “Revenge?”

  “Yes. So if you can think of anything in the next few days that might pertain to those facts, I would say it’s to your advantage that you let either Wade or me know. Revenge is an odd emotion. Sometimes the reason for it eats at people for years before they decide to get even.”

  The tone of Shuler’s voice shifted into a higher octave.

  “Years?”

  Judd nodded. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” Judd said. Then he stood as Shuler’s wife came back into the room. “Well, sir, I’ll be going for now. Remember what I told you. If you can think of anything…anything at all, just let us know. In the meantime, you enjoy that lemonade, you hear?”

  * * *

  Charlie parked in front of the police department and got out, then turned
and lifted Rachel into her arms. Before she could get to the curb, she heard someone calling her name. When she turned, she saw Davie coming up the street, pulling his wagon and waving wildly. She smiled and waved back, then hugged her baby just a little bit tighter, thanking God that she’d been born healthy and whole. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t known Davie Dandridge. They were close to the same age, and while he’d long ago outgrown her in size, his grasp of reality was still that of a five- or six-year-old. Some people in town called him names, some looked down upon Judith Dandridge for not putting him away with others of his kind, and then there were those like Charlie who were satisfied to let Davie be. He was what he was. A twenty-something man with the mind of a child.

  “Charlie girl, look at my clock!” Davie cried, pointing into the bed of the wagon he’d parked at her feet.

  She looked down. As usual, the wagon was half-full of crushed aluminum cans. Davie dug between them, grinning widely as he pulled a man’s watch from the bottom.

  Charlie’s eyes widened. “My goodness, Davie, that’s some watch,” she said. “May I see it?”

  Davie hesitated. “You give it back?” he asked.

  “I promise,” Charlie said. At that point, Rachel wiggled to be put down. “Just a minute, baby girl,” Charlie said. “Let Mommy look at Davie’s nice watch.”

  It was a Rolex. Not something one would expect to find on the side of the road. She turned it over, masking a gasp as she read the inscription.

  To Raymond with love. Betty.

  “Oh, my gosh, it’s Mr. Shuler’s watch,” she muttered.

  Davie frowned, then snatched it out of her hand before she realized she’d spoken aloud.

  “No!” he said abruptly. “It’s Davie’s watch now.”

  He tossed it in the wagon with his cans and started up the street. Charlie hesitated briefly, then bolted into the police department. She had to tell Wade. Only it wasn’t Wade that she ran into. It was Judd.

  Judd grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her on her feet as they collided at the doorway.

  “Whoa there, ladies, what’s the rush?”

  He ruffled the little girl’s hair and wished he could have kissed Charlotte Franklin again, just to ruffle her feathers a bit, too. But he’d promised himself he’d back off from Charlie. Now was no time to change his mind.

  “Sorry,” Charlie said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Where’s Wade? I need to talk to him fast.”

  Judd frowned. “I think the dispatcher said he went to pick up Harold down at the co-op.”

  She groaned. “Oh, no. That will take forever. Harold must be drunk, and he always wants to fight when he’s drunk.”

  “What’s wrong?” Judd asked. “Maybe I can help.”

  She hesitated, but only briefly. “Right! I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said. “I’m so used to running to Wade for…” Then she grabbed him by the arm and started tugging him toward the street. “Out there. Just now. In Davie Dandridge’s wagon with the cans.”

  Judd stopped. “Calm down. You’re not making any sense. Take a deep breath and start over. Now, what’s in Davie’s wagon that’s so important?”

  “Raymond Shuler’s Rolex watch.”

  The smile on Judd’s face slipped. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “He showed it to me,” she said. “It had an inscription on the back from Betty to Raymond.”

  Judd bolted out onto the street with Charlie right behind him, but the street was deserted. He stood, listening for the squeak of the wagon’s wheel, but heard nothing but the engine of a passing car.

  “Where did he go?” Judd asked.

  Charlie shrugged. “That way,” she said.

  “Go tell Martha to radio Wade. When he gets back, tell him what you just told me.”

  She nodded, then stood for a moment, watching as Judd started walking down the street at a rapid pace. By the time he got to the corner of the block, he was running.

  * * *

  Davie was scared. Charlie girl said the watch wasn’t his—but he knew better. Finders keepers, losers weepers. It was his watch now. He ducked down the alley between the florist and the barber shop, running as fast as he could. The cans in his wagon were bouncing like popcorn in a pan, up and down, up and down. He reached the end of the alley, turning right and then ducking into the service drive of the beauty salon. A delivery van was just pulling out and he ducked in behind it, afraid to look back, afraid to slow down.

  Suddenly, someone called out his name. In panic, he stumbled, falling forward onto the pavement and skinning both his elbows and knees as he braced himself against the fall.

  “Davie, Davie, darling, are you all right? Why were you running?”

  He looked up. “Aunt Judy…I fell down,” he said, and when he saw droplets of blood beginning to ooze through the skin, he started to cry.

  Judith Dandridge wrapped the big child in her arms, aching for the pain on his face.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I see that,” she said. “Come with me. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

  “My wagon,” he said, pointing behind him.

  She sighed. “Bring it along,” she said gently. “We’ll put it in the back room of the pharmacy, okay?”

  He nodded, then followed along behind her in his pigeon-toed shuffle with the wagon bumping against his heels.

  A few minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in the back room. His jeans were rolled up past his knees and he was sucking on a lollipop as his aunt began to doctor his wounds. Every now and then he would wince, and she would stop and blow on the spot until the hurt eased. Only after she was through and the bandages were in place did she resume the questions she’d started.

  “Davie…sweetheart…why were you running? Did someone scare you?”

  His lower lip trembled. “Yes.”

  Judith Dandridge’s ire rose. She’d spent the better part of her adult life standing between Davie and the world, and the older he got, the harder it was for her to protect him.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Charlie girl. She scared me,” Davie said, and then poked the sucker back into his mouth.

  Judith rocked back on her heels. It was hard to believe that someone as soft-spoken as Charlotte Franklin would be unkind to Davie.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He nodded vehemently. “Yes, Aunt Judy. I’m sure.”

  “Exactly what did she do?” Judith asked.

  Suddenly, Davie looked away, busying himself with the sucker. Judith’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

  “Davie…”

  He sighed. When Aunt Judy got that tone in her voice, he knew he had to mind.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “What was it Charlie did that frightened you?”

  Davie’s chin jutted mutinously. “Tried to take my clock,” he muttered.

  Judith stared. “What clock?” she asked.

  “Just my clock,” he said, then pointed to a spot on his elbow. “It’s still bleeding,” he said. “See?”

  Judith took him gently by the arm. “Davie, you know never to lie to Aunt Judy, right?”

  His chin dropped to his chest and his shoulders slumped.

  “Yes, ma’am.’’

  “I want to see your clock.’’

  He sighed, then slid off the chair and shuffled to his wagon. Moments later, he pulled the watch out from the cans and handed it to his aunt.

  Judith took the watch, looking at it in disbelief, then absently turned it over. Suddenly she went pale.

  “Where did you get this?’’ she hissed, and grabbed Davie by the arm.

  He cringed. “I found it, Aunt Judy. I found it.’’

  “Where?”

  Confusion colored his expression. “Don’t remember.’’

  “You have to give it back,” she said. “It’s not yours.’’

  “No, Aunt Judy. I found it, now it’s mine.”

  “It has someone else’s name on it, Davie. That’s
how we know it’s not yours. Now, you have to come with me. We’ll find Wade and ask him to give it back.”

  Davie sat back down on his stool and started to cry again, only this time it wasn’t from the pain of skinned knees and elbows.

  “But Aunt Judy, he wasn’t using it anymore. You said that…”

  Judith Dandridge interrupted. “You know better than to take other people’s property and you have to give it back.”

  “But you…”

  “That’s enough,” she said sharply. “I don’t want to hear anything more about the subject. You can’t have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  She took him by the hand and led him toward the front of the store.

  * * *

  Charlie was running up the street, searching alleyways and doorways for a sign of Judd. Wade had been notified, then she’d left Rachel with Martha, the dispatcher, playing beneath the desk at her feet. If Judd hadn’t found Davie by now, she had an idea of where he might be.

  Suddenly, she saw Judd step out of the barber shop and look down the street.

  “Judd!” she yelled, waving as she started to run.

  Judd paused, then waved back, waiting as Charlie started toward him. There was an urgency in her movements, just as there had been the day he’d first seen her, running across the pasture toward certain death.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Have you found Davie yet?”

  “No.”

  She exhaled slowly, then took a deep breath. “I’m out of shape,” she muttered. “There was a time when I could have run the distance of a football field without breaking a sweat.”

  “I don’t know. Your shape looks pretty good to me,” Judd said.

  Charlie blinked. Suddenly the conversation had jumped from Davie’s whereabouts to something far more personal. She chewed on the edge of her lower lip and then looked away, refusing to acknowledge his taunt.

  “I think I know where Davie might be,” she said.

  Judd’s attitude shifted. “Where?”

  “The pharmacy with his aunt.”

  Understanding dawned. “That’s right. Judith Dandridge is his aunt, right?”

  She shrugged. “Not really, but close enough. Come on. Let’s go see if I’m—”