by Arlene Hunt
After a while, she regained her composure and dried her face with the sleeve of her cotton top. Her eyes readjusted to the near darkness. She looked for what he had left for her. It was a tray holding a bowl of rice and beans and a glass of milk. She picked the bowl up, then put it back down and pushed it away with her foot. Her stomach growled with hunger. She was disgusted by her needs and felt betrayed by them. She would not touch this food. Who knew what was in it.
She was still by the door when he returned after a short while.
‘Move away from the door.’
She stayed utterly still. How did he know where she was?
‘Move,’ he said, with an edge to his voice she knew was genuine.
She got up and made her way to the cot. He unlocked the door and looked at the bowl.
‘You need to eat.’
‘Please, I want to go home.’
He slammed the door and locked it.
Jessie remained in the dark. She cried, she sang songs, she counted, anything to keep her mind occupied. When he returned hours later, he checked the bowl and grunted.
Jessie hung her head. She had eaten the food.
46
Mike was on his porch with a cup of coffee in one hand and the phone on his lap when his brother drove up.
Ace nodded to him as he climbed out. Mike watched him stretch, thinking his brother looked more haggard than ever, in faded jeans that hung from his hips by a tightly cinched belt and a thin red t-shirt that only accentuated his skinny torso. He wore a red trucker’s cap and once again he had forgone the pleasure of a shave.
‘Who called you?’
‘Karen.’
‘There’s fresh coffee made.’
Ace walked into the house and returned a moment later holding a steaming cup. He leaned against a support post and crossed his legs at the ankle.
‘Any word?’
‘Nope.’
‘How you holding up?’
‘Oh, just fine,’ Mike said, wearily. ‘I’ve got the world’s finest police mind on the case.’
‘Earl?’
‘Yep.’
Ace did not reply. Over the years he and Earl had had many a run-in. Though Ace had spent a number of years inside, Earl had yet to get the better of him on any score.
‘I don’t know what else I can do, ’cept wait. Don’t know who else to call, or who else to talk with.’
Ace sipped his coffee and looked out across the yard. He watched a group of turkey buzzards fanning the air above the woods to the right of Mike’s property. The birds circled the tops of the trees, riding easily on the morning thermals as they banked in spirals, flying in that jerky see-saw motion that made them so easy to recognise. Carrion birds, Ace thought.
‘How long have they been out there?’
‘What?’
‘The birds.’
Mike followed his brother’s gaze. ‘I couldn’t tell you. I hadn’t noticed them.’
Ace drank more of his coffee and watched them, his unwavering expression betraying nothing. He put his cup down and straightened up.
‘What’s on your mind?’ Mike asked.
‘They’re searching for something.’
‘So?’
‘So whatever it is ain’t been there long enough for them to find it, but long enough for it to catch their attention.’
‘What are you saying, Ace?’
‘I’m saying maybe we ought to go take a look yonder and see what has those buzzards so excited.’
‘You think she’s up there,’ Mike said, his voice made harsh with unease.
‘I’m not thinking anything except taking a look. You can stay here if you want.’
Mike put his cup down and stood. ‘Let’s go.’
They hiked up through the woods, neither man talking. Ace chewed on an unlit cigarette and climbed the rising ground with long strides and surprising swiftness for a man who seemed as though he could barely keep himself upright. In no time at all he was quite a distance ahead of Mike.
Mike did not call for him to slow down. In truth, Mike was dragging his heels a little. Something was gnawing at him, warning him that his brother’s instincts were probably correct. There was something up here, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of what it might be.
About thirty feet from the upper ridge, Ace stopped and then knelt down. He stayed like that for a while then rose again, slowly, and stood with his hands on his hips. Mike knew from his body language that he had found something and he felt his knees tremble as he pushed up the bank.
‘What is it?’ He began to run. ‘What is it? Is it her? Is it Jessie?’
Ace held up his hand and shouted down. ‘It’s not her.’
Mike gasped, feeling all the strength drain from him in relief. But as he drew closer to Ace he got a hit of decomposing flesh and knew whatever lay behind Ace, half-hidden among the leaves and branches, was bad news.
And so it was.
‘It’s Rudy, Mike.’ Ace said when he finally reached him. ‘Look’s like he’s been shot through.’
Mike pushed past him and hunkered down. Rudy lay on his side, filthy and bloated. There was an ugly wound behind his left front leg, crawling with maggots. His lips were drawn back over his teeth, a last expression of the agony the old dog had endured. Mike ran a hand along his flank. Flies, disturbed by the intrusion, flew up and swarmed crazily around his head.
‘Sons of bitches.’
Ace laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder and patted twice. Mike balled his right hand into a fist and stood.
‘Can you look after this? I need to go call Earl.’
Ace nodded and lit his cigarette. ‘You got any tarp?’
47
‘So let me see if I have this; you’re saying your dog is dead?’
Mike stood with his hands on his hips inside Earl’s office. It was a cramped space, with windows overlooking the court building across the street and an interior window facing the two of the five desks which were currently occupied by one-fifth of Rockville’s law enforcement. Earl had the air conditioner as high as it could possibly go, which was high enough to cause a chill.
‘Shot up in the woods by my house. Been dead about a day or two.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ Earl’s expression remained neutral. His tone was calm and measured but there was a hint of condescending patience to it that shorted Mike’s last nerve.
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘Aren’t you going to look into it?’
‘A dead dog?’
‘Don’t this prove Jessie is in some kind of trouble?’
‘How? Plenty of hunters work those woods, Mike. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s pet met with such an end. Might not even be hunters, kids acting the—’
‘Are you shitting me?’
Earl leaned back in his chair and looked at him. ‘You need to lower your voice, Mike.’
‘No, what I need is for you to get off your ass and find out what happened to my wife.’
Earl’s eyes grew flinty. ‘I have an APB out on her.’
Mike threw up his hands and stormed out of the office. He was halfway to his car when his cell phone rang.
‘Mike?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mike, uh, this is Dale Corrigan. I’m a friend of your brother.’
‘Hey Dale.’ Mike reached his truck and got in. He knew Dale a little: he owned a dive bar on Riverside, a rough-and-tumble place that made The Shack seem like a five-star hotel. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well Mike, thing of it is, I found your wife’s car.’
Mike gripped the steering wheel with his free hand and looked across the street to the station. He ought to return to Earl’s office but decided against it.
‘Where’d you find it?’
‘I’m up here on Prospect Road. The car’s parked on the old logging track under a bunch of saplings ’bout quarter of a mile down from the waterfall. You know where I’m talking a
bout?’
‘I know it.’
‘Yeah, I already called Ace and he’s on his way. I’ll wait on y’all.’
‘Appreciate it.’
Mike drove the distance to Prospect Road in half the time it ought to have taken him by law. He knew the logging road Dale had mentioned. It was a long-abandoned track that ran from the summit of Prospect Hill to the valley. No, abandoned was not right. It was still a popular spot for love-struck teenagers, drinkers, pot smokers and canoodlers of many stripes. Back in the early 90s it had also been the scene of a bloody knife fight, the outcome of which had left two teenage boys dead and another seriously wounded. Mike had shown the place to Jessie not long after they had begun dating; they had kissed under the spray of the waterfall.
It was also the place where more than one resident of Rockville had taken leave of their problems.
Mike pulled onto the hard shoulder and parked behind Ace’s pick-up. Ace and Dale climbed out and as they walked towards him, Mike saw a look on his brother’s face he could not read but did not like.
‘Mike.’ Dale Corrigan stuck out his hand and Mike shook it. Dale was shorter than him, but massively muscled. He wore his hair in a flattop and his right eyelid was puckered badly at the corner. It gave Dale the sleepy look of the mentally sluggish, a mistake folk only made once.
He was an ex-Marine. He had been discharged for reasons unknown and which he did not discuss. Locally, it was rumoured he was a gunrunner and a dope peddler, a man who could get you what you needed when you needed it for a pre-agreed price. Mike knew Ace and Dale did some form of business together on occasion, though the nature of that business had never been discussed either. Mike guessed they liked each other well enough, though Dale Corrigan was not the sort of man to trick around with friendships for free.
‘I came across the car up yonder.’ Dale looked out at him from under eyebrows the colour of ripened corn.
‘Any sign of Jessie?’
Dale shook his head. ‘Nope, engine was cool when I found it and the keys were in the ignition. I left ’em there.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Just after eight,’ Dale replied. ‘Could have been here all night. I didn’t know nothing about your wife bein’ missing ’til I got into town. That’s when I called Ace.’
‘Appreciate you calling, Dale.’
‘What you want to do?’ Ace asked.
‘Start looking for her, I guess.’
Dale shrugged one shoulder. ‘I came down this way from the western range. Didn’t see no sign of no one.’
‘Lot of land up there.’
‘Road’s closed off a quarter of a mile up. Some of the trees came down from the storms we had back in the spring. There ain’t no way to drive it. Unless she walked, but why would she do that? There’s nuthin’ up there.’ Dale produced a box of cigarettes from somewhere on his person. He shook two loose, offering first to Mike, who refused, and then to Ace, who did not. Dale lit them up and took a long drag.
‘I know you’ve got to talk to the law about this.’
‘Don’t mean we have to mention you none,’ Ace replied. ‘Does it, Mike?’
‘That be okay?’ Dale addressed Mike directly.
‘You have my say on it.’
‘I hope you find your wife,’ Dale said. ‘She was always real nice whenever I spoke with her.’
Was, thought Mike, as Dale touched his fingers to his flattop and walked back to his truck.
Mike and Ace got into Mike’s truck and were soon bouncing over rough rocks and dirt as the truck climbed a steep bank to the old logging roadway. Just as Dale had said, Jessie’s Volvo was parked by the edge of the trail, under some spindly pine saplings. Mike parked behind her car, climbed out and approached it slowly. He rested his hand on the hood. Cool. The driver’s door was unlocked, the keys in the ignition. He leaned inside and checked. There was no pocketbook inside. He pressed the horn three times in quick succession. He did it again, then a third time. If Jessie had been nearby she would surely hear him and return to the car.
Assuming she could.
Mike took the keys from the ignition and bounced them in the palm of his hand. Two keys. One was for the garage and one was for the car.
‘These are the spare set, not the keys she normally uses.’
Mike popped the trunk; he found nothing unusual and nothing in the car to indicate where Jessie might have been or gone. Mike sat in behind the wheel and rested his head on it. As he did, he glanced down at the gearbox.
‘This is in neutral.’
‘So?’
‘We don’t leave our vehicles in neutral.’
‘Maybe she—’
‘Leg room feels wrong too.’ Mike stretched his feet out.
Ace bent and looked. ‘You sure?’
‘I ought to be, I’ve driven it often enough. It’s longer.’
Ace opened the passenger door, leaned across the seat and looked carefully at the sliding rims for the seat. ‘Shorten it up.’
Mike did as he asked. Ace looked at the clean section that appeared where the detritus that naturally collected had been disturbed.
‘Yep, it’s been moved about two inches.
Mike bounced the keys in his hand and peered through the windscreen at the surrounding trees. ‘I don’t think Jessie drove this car here. I think someone else did.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know.’
Ace looked up the path and narrowed his eyes. ‘Let’s go take a gander.’
48
Ace and Mike followed the old logging road up as far as they could go by truck. Dale had not exaggerated about the mudslide. The entire road was impassable, clogged as it was with rocks and broken trees and a steep bank of dried mud. Mike jumped out and scrambled his way to the top of the obstruction. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, ‘Jessie!’
Deep within the woods, birds fluttered and took flight; Mike heard the frantic beating of wings before silence descended again.
‘Jess!’
Mike turned in one direction and then another, calling his wife’s name into the surrounding trees. After a while, he climbed back down to the road where Ace stood waiting in the shade.
‘We need to round up some folk and get these woods searched.’
‘I guess we do.’
‘She could be lying hurt somewhere.’
Ace hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. ‘What would she be doing up here?’
‘I don’t know.’
They made their way back towards the vehicle, but as they rounded the corner Mike suddenly stopped walking and turned his head.
‘What is it?’ Ace asked.
Mike did not reply. He was listening to the sound of the water as it crashed over the rocks near by. He glanced to his left and peered through the tiny section of evergreens that separated the logging path from the waterfall. These days a single chain hung from the cliff to the metal post with a yellow sign, picturing a man falling over a cliff, warning people not to go out onto the rocks.
‘Mike?’
Mike stood looking at the chain as though he’d never seen one in all his born days. He had been up this way many a time as a kid, exploring and hiking. His old man had always warned him to keep off the rocks. More than one ‘explorer’ and sightseer had miscalculated how treacherous they were. Naturally, all that advice had made this place irresistible to kids and teenagers alike.
Mike stepped off the road and over the chain. He walked through the trees and towards the water. Ace called after him but Mike kept walking. The soil retreated as he reached the first of the shallow water pools. He stepped over one, then another. He cleared the final tree and stepped out onto rock made smooth by the elements and thousands of curious footsteps. Spray from the waterfall splattered his boots and make the surface under his feet slippery.
He was almost at the ledge when he saw it. He picked it up and stood looking at the rushing water. His gaze drifted to the whit
e-water rapids below. Despite the heat, his skin prickled with goose bumps.
When he walked back towards the logging track, Ace was at the chain, watching him.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Mike stepped over the chain and pressed what he had found into his brother’s hand. Ace looked down. It was an old leather collar, scuffed and shaped from a lifetime of wearing. From it hung a silver identity disk shaped like a cartoon bone. And on that, he saw now, a name.
Rudy.
‘We used to come up here when we were courting,’ Mike said, his voice hollow and unnatural. ‘She liked it here, she liked the water.’
‘This might not mean what you think it means.’
‘Why else would this be here, Ace?’
‘I don’t know why.’
Mike looked waxy and unwell. He stared at his brother with a broken finality.
‘I got a bad feeling about this. Oh God, Ace, what did she do?’
Ace spat to the side and jerked his head towards the truck. ‘We need to get us a search party. So come on, we’re burning daylight.’
49
‘I’m going to die here,’ Jessie whispered into the darkness. ‘I’m going to die in this place.’
As soon as she had spoken the words she wished she could take them back, but like so many other things in her life, once it was out there it was out forever.
She got off the bed and paced the tiny cell. Time was a mystery to her. Was it morning? Noon? How long had she been down there? Would he come back? The heat was overwhelming so she moved to the doorway and tried to lean her head against the crack. Was that any better? She couldn’t tell.
What if this was it? What if this was her life now; endless days pacing like a caged animal in the dark? If that was it she would end it, she would find a way and end it.
She turned and leaned her shoulder against the door. She hummed a little, but the sound was forced and eerie. She tried to remember old ditties her maternal grandmother, Gamma G, used to sing to comfort her when she was a child. Memories of her grandmother made her feel less afraid, so she focused her efforts on that, bringing to mind her grandmother’s voice, her clothing, her endless cheerful stories about the old days. Even in her later years, when ulcers ate through the flesh in her legs, Gamma’s indomitable spirit and stoic acceptance of her place in the world made her a pleasure to be near.
