He rounded the last corner and turned into the drive. The boyfriend was turning wrenches under the hood of a Chevy pickup when he looked to see who was pulling into the lane. The truck was parked in the middle of the lawn. It was beyond Butch's comprehension why the fool would junk up the yard with car parts when there was a perfectly good garage to work in. A garage that he had built himself just five summers ago.
As soon as he recognized the vehicle, the boyfriend wiped his hands on a greasy rag and hightailed it for the house. It gave Butch some satisfaction to see that he could still terrorize the man who had stolen his wife. It would have been more satisfying to step on the gas and mow him down with the deer guard on the patrol car's grill. One can only dream, he thought as he backed out to the road.
With that bit of business out of the way he dejectedly anticipated another two days of lonely binge drinking. It was too early to dust off the hunting gear and he had no desire to spend a depressing evening in a tavern. The locals that frequented Schroeder's Tap were not much for conversation. The majority of them avoided him like the clap anyhow. Even out of uniform, to a drunk, he was still a cop. When he bellied up to the bar half the patrons hit the door. The other half kept their faces down and drank in uncomfortable silence. He could feel Johnny Schroeder cringe every time he walked in, even if he was a heavy spender.
Even the idea of swinging by Virgil's and shaking him down for another gram of marching powder was out. The old pervert lived just a mile from his ex, but a short detour on the way out proved fruitless when he spotted Joe Woodson's piece of shit truck parked in the driveway. Now what the hell business would that old drunk have with Virgil? Oh well, not his business. With a sigh, he turned the patrol car in the direction of the main highway. It looked like it was going to be another Crown Royal night after all.
Just when things were at their bleakest, a shining ray of hope came along in the form of a silver Chevy Cobalt. He met the car at the crest of a hill as it sped by him in the opposite direction. His eyes met the driver's for a brief moment and the look of terror on that face made his heart swell. He glanced in the rear view long enough to see the brake lights flash. Too late, baby. He flipped on his lights and spun the cruiser around, hardly able to contain his delight.
Butch approached the driver's side with his thumb hooked over his holster. He drew his nightstick with a deliberately exaggerated slowness and tapped on the window. The glass retracted to reveal a blubbering teenage girl inside. She was sobbing so violently that her chest heaved with each tiny involuntary gasp. Tears streamed from her long lashed eyes and mingled with the snot that escaped her nose as she exhaled.
“What?” was all that she could manage to say. Her hands clutched the steering wheel as she stared ahead, refusing to look at him.
“Running a bit late from practice tonight aren't you, Carissa?” He placed his hands on the door and poked his head through the opening. His face was close enough that she could smell the odor of cigar on his breath. She nodded timidly and backed away. The strand of snotty tears slid back up her nose as she inhaled. How attractive, he thought to himself. “Why don't we step back to my car, huh?”
“Why?” Her sobbing escalated. She focused on the distant horizon, hoping for another motorist to pop over the hill. A potential witness to interrupt the encounter. Someone to make Tassler nervous enough to just send her on her way. She desperately prayed that her parents would come looking for her. After all, she was almost two hours late coming home. It was unlikely, though. They had never questioned her tardiness before.
Perhaps her boyfriend was feeling guilty about the argument that they had after practice. Could Jake feel so bad that he was compelled to follow her home and apologize for all the mean things that he had said? That was even more unlikely to happen than her folks showing up. No one was going to come to her rescue. She looked at him and tearfully repeated herself. “Why?”
“Because I fucking said so!” he snapped. He stepped back and his hand once again rested on his holster. His eyes narrowed and he nodded back to his patrol car. She complied, walking slowly back with him. He opened the front passenger door. She hesitated for a moment, looking at him with pleading watery eyes. He was not moved. He slammed the door behind her, locking her in as he walked back to her car.
Carissa Abbey watched helplessly as the policeman rifled through her vehicle in search of something she did not have. He dumped the contents of her purse on the seat and sifted through them. He opened the console and repeated the process. She shook her head and reminded herself to stay calm. Then he lifted her gym bag from the backseat and pulled all of her clothing out. He held up a pair of panties from the bag and flashed a devious grin in her direction. Her fear suddenly morphed into anger.
“You sonofabitch!” she screamed so loudly that it made her own ears hurt. She kicked madly at the floorboard and repeated herself. He threw the bag onto the seat and walked back to his car.
“Say something, sweetheart?” he asked as he climbed behind the wheel. His large body crowded hers as he shut the door. He tossed the panties on his dashboard. They were red satin with flowered lace trim, a gift from Jake for their six month anniversary.
“No.” She stared at the panties and felt a wave of nausea run through her body.
“I didn't think so.” He placed his hand on the back of her neck and squeezed hard enough to hurt just a little. He picked up the panties with his other hand and rubbed them on his cheek. He stuck them in her face and she tried to pull away. “Mind if I keep these?” She did not answer so he increased his grip, making her cry out in pain. “Huh?”
“No,” she whimpered. Fear trumped anger once again. “You can have them.”
“Thanks.” He laughed and tossed the panties aside. His eyes grew dark enough to match his mood as he pulled her close. Carissa held her breath to block out the rank tobacco smell, but it was no use. He licked the drying tears from her cheek and whispered in her ear. “What else you got?”
“Butch, I don't want to do this. Please.”
He reached in his breast pocket and produced a glass vial. Inside it was a small amount of white powder. He shoved it in her face. “Mommy and Daddy are gonna be hurt really bad when they find out their little princess got caught with this after practice. And what's that dyke coach of yours gonna say? You think they let felons keep basketball scholarships?”
The tiny amount in the vial did not come remotely close to felony criteria, but she did not know that. How would she? The girl had never touched so much as a cigarette in her life, let alone methamphetamine. To her that little bit of white dust might as well have weighed as much as the world itself. With it, he could ruin her life.
He unzipped his fly with one hand, still gripping her by the back of the neck. A weak moan escaped her throat as she steeled herself for the inevitable. She knew the routine. This was the third time that Butch had pulled her over that month. It was a cycle that had started in her junior year and played out like a bad reoccurring dream. As soon as word of her scholarship hit the newspapers, he was on her like a vulture ready to pick her bones clean.
One more semester, she thought to herself. That's all I have to get through. Then she would go off to college and forget that this had ever happened. Then she would never set foot in this rotten county ever again.
“Now quit stalling. I want to get home before dark!”
She closed her eyes let him push her head toward his lap. She tried to let her mind go and find that dark safe place in the far recesses of her subconscious. Before she fully separated her mind from her soon to be violated body, Carissa retracted all of the prayers that she had made earlier. She hoped to God that no one came over that hill and saw her.
Chapter 16
Kori felt that old familiar pang of fear churning in his gut as he parked his father's truck in Virgil's yard. Joe's truck was a beat up rust bucket with an exhaust riddled with holes. Virgil heard him coming from a mile away and was waiting for him on the porch. He was
wearing the same ratty housecoat, leaving Kori to wonder if that was the only thing that he ever wore. He hoped that he would not have to spend enough time there to find out.
Virgil nervously looked around and held the front door open as Kori lifted the groceries from the truck bed. He made no attempt to help other than pointing the way to the kitchen. As soon as the last of the bags were inside Virgil locked the door behind them. He quickly put the perishables away and left the rest sitting on the linoleum floor. He offered Kori a seat in the living room.
Staying for small talk was the last thing Kori had in mind, but it seemed impolite to decline. He sat as far to one end of the couch as he could, hoping that Virgil would take the recliner. Virgil plopped down in the middle and crossed one leg over the other one. His bare foot came within inches of touching Kori's arm. Kori tried to hide his repulsion as he awkwardly repositioned himself. Virgil uncrossed his legs and his robe parted just below the belt line. A wrinkly testicle peeked out from the gap in the cloth and Kori quickly looked away. The smile never left Virgil's face.
“So,” Virgil started. “First things first. Ready to give it up?”
“Huh?” Kori felt his lunch going into spin cycle. He wondered how fast he could manage the locks on the door.
“My EBT card. Little Chris did give it to you, I assume.” Virgil stuck his palm out and waved his fingers in a come hither motion. Kori fished the card out with such a sense of relief that he felt like crying.
Virgil slipped the card in a pocket of the robe. He noticed his exposed nether region and sat up slowly. He showed no sign of embarrassment, just mild disinterest. He snatched a smoke from a pack on the table and lit it, never taking his eyes off of Kori. He took a drag and blew smoke from the side of his pursed lips. “Your brother tells me that you went to Iowa State. That how you know so much about those pills?”
Kori nodded. “I went for a couple of years.”
“Why'd you quit?”
“Long story.” Kori could tell by the look on his face that it was a rhetorical question. He wondered just how much Brenden had told him.
The smile on Virgil's face changed slightly, evolving in a way. “Know anything about agriculture. Growing things, I mean?”
“Not really.”
“A couple of years at Moo U and you never took a botany class?”
“I was studying to be a veterinarian not a farmer.” Kori was starting to become irritated. Despite his recent expulsion, he still harbored a sense of loyalty to his Alma mater. The misconception that ISU was a farmer school was a sore subject with him. He was not a damn farmer.
“Too bad.” Virgil frowned and snuffed his cigarette out. He stood up and disappeared down the hallway, calling behind him as he went. “I've got something else that you might be able to help me with.” Kori waited anxiously as the sounds of banging doors and boxes sliding across floorboards echoed from a distant room. He glanced at the cushion where Virgil had been sitting, wondering how many other parts of the couch his balls had touched. He forced the thought from his mind and hoped that it would all be over soon.
When the guys had delegated him to be the hermit's new grocery getter, they never mentioned that he would be expected to entertain the nasty bastard all night. He silently cursed his brother for getting him into this mess. He cursed Chris for pulling his so called rank and pawning his duties onto the new guy. Most of all he cursed his mother for abandoning him like some unwanted mutt, while she and Clayton were chumming it up with the locals in some other backwoods inbred part of the country. He could not wait until this nightmarish three months was over.
“Here we go,” Virgil said, breaking the turbulent monologue playing out in Kori's head. He poured the contents of a paper grocery sack onto the table. Drugs of all kinds and forms covered the glass top. “You were dead on with that Diazatram stuff. I've got a couple pain clinic managers from the South drooling over the whole lot. Gonna come out real good, thanks to you.”
“Diazepam,” Kori corrected him, watching with wonder as practically every square inch of the table was covered with pharmaceuticals.
Virgil stopped and shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah, whatever. Can you tell me what any of this other shit is? Or better yet, where I can unload it? I'll make it worth your while, kid.”
Kori did the math and pondered the possibilities, dollar signs flashing in his head. His entire year of tuition would have been locked up tight if he had his hands on that much inventory when he still lived in Des Moines. By the time Clayton and his mother came to rescue him in three months, he could have enough money to enroll for classes again. No more peddling feel good pills to bored housewives. No more juicers calling him up at three in the morning, looking to compensate for their tiny penises and fragile egos.
After this deal he was done. He could focus on school without worrying about paying for it. That was if the university would have him back. No sense in stressing over that though. He would leave that up to Clayton and Dr. Ross. It would take a lot of ass kissing on his part, but never again would he have to worry about tuition.
“Just how much of this stuff do you have?”
Virgil picked up a random vial and squinted to read the fine print. He shrugged and let the vial roll from his palm and back onto the table. “I don't know. Five, maybe six more bags like this.”
Kori stared at him in disbelief. He did not see that one coming. Hell, he was going to make it all the way to grad school without sweating tuition. “Virgil, my friend, not only do I know what most of this stuff is, I know exactly where I can get rid of it for you.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as I can get a way to Des Moines,” he replied. “Can I borrow your van?”
“Not a chance,” Virgil looked sternly over the top of his glasses. “And don't go asking your brother either. Best to keep this little arrangement to ourselves. Less ways to split the profits, the better. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Kori agreed, disappointed about the van. “Just between us then. By the way, what's in it for me? Fifty-fifty split?” It was a ballsy suggestion, but it never hurt to ask.
Virgil eyed him from over his glasses and scooped the motley assortment back into the paper bag. Kori cringed as the glass containers clacked roughly together. “Yeah, why not. I'm feeling generous. Besides, you're doing all of the legwork.”
“Sweet. I'll stop back tomorrow after I figure out my ride.” Kori could not believe his sudden stroke of good luck. He got up to leave before Virgil changed his mind, but when he reached for the deadbolt a hand slid over the top of his. The sweaty feel of it sent shivers down his back. Here we go, he thought. The old freak is gonna get all scoutmaster on me now.
“Just don't screw me over on this, okay? Because I will not hesitate to kill you if you do.” Virgil's smile remained, but evolved once again. The look in his eyes told Kori that he had every intention of making good on that threat, if given a reason.
Chapter 17
It took less than five minutes to talk Todd into giving him a ride to Des Moines. It was not the promise of an easy thousand dollars, but an opportunity to break the monotony of another boring day in the Ridge that appealed to him. Todd had more money squirreled away than he knew what to do with. He had been rolling dealers for fun and profit for a long time. Getting him to agree to keep the plan hidden from the others took a little more convincing.
“It's not like we're going there to roll a bunch of drug dealers.” Kori said as he stuffed the bags into the Corolla's trunk. “Besides, everybody’s already been paid for the stuff we're taking up. We're not stepping on anybody's dick here, man. We do this and those guys benefit, too. They just don't know it yet.”
Todd raised his eyes and looked at him doubtfully.
“Think about it. If Virgil sees bank to be made from this run, he's going to be more willing to buy more of the same later on. Everybody wins.”
“Alright. I'm down with that, but what do we tell Brenden? If he asks
, I mean.”
“I told him that I wanted to get some more of my stuff. Which I do, by the way. So you were gonna give me a ride home,” Kori replied. It felt strange, referring to Des Moines as home. At one point in his life, the Ridge was the only home that he knew. Then the big city became his home. Now that seemingly simple word did not fit either location. A lonely sense of desperation came over him as he climbed into the passenger seat.
They left at noon, allowing them ample time for the two hour trip plus time to spare before their first stop. He had arranged three separate meetings by phone the night before. Most of the contacts he had during his short lived enterprise were excited to hear from him. Three of them agreed to meet with him, eager to fill the void that he had left after his sudden departure. Several wondered why he wasn't still in jail and got spooked when he called. One even threatened to “kill his narc ass” if he showed his face anywhere near them.
The reality of the situation put a damper on the prospect of earning some very fast cash. He was so nervous that he almost called the whole thing off. The idea of getting caught again, this time without Clayton or his mother to bail him out, terrified him. The pressure of the promises of big money that he made to Virgil also weighed heavily on his mind. But the thing that scared him the most was the thought of going back home.
It would all be waiting for him when he got there. The neighbors, not yet bored with regurgitated rumors of the preacher's wayward stepson. The busy bodies with their noses pressed to the window. Even some of his former customers would all be buzzing with new tales to tell after he rolled back into town. His biggest worry was with the handful of Trinity members that did not make the trip with Clayton. The last thing he needed was one of them getting on the phone and alerting his stepfather that he was back at the house. There would most likely be hell to pay, just for collecting a few of his own belongings.
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