by Kristen Lamb
“Very disappointing,” I said, propping my hands on my hips.
“No dead body. No head. No ghosts. Bet you’re bummed.”
“Totally.” Someone had sealed the well with a piece of thick iron. “How did they get it to stay? Cement? Superglue?”
“You and the Superglue. Probably mortared it. Maybe an industrial epoxy.”
“Which is technically Superglue. Hold my water.” I slipped up on the lip of the well and kicked the metal seal. It didn’t budge. A cloud of dust billowed up making me cough, which hurt like hell.
“You fall down there and I vow to spray you with a hose and lower your food in a basket.”
I grinned. “Promise?”
He scowled. “It hurries up or it gets the hose.”
“Fine,” I said kicking harder, this time covering my face. Sawyer held my arm. I kicked again, the noise echoing through the empty house. It was about to give it another kick when we heard, “Freeze!”
Meyerson stood in the door dressed in plain clothes, his weapon drawn. “Hands up. You’re trespassing.”
“No kidding.” I eased off the edge of the well. “You don’t have to shoot us, Robby. Put the gun away. What are you doing here, anyway?”
He eyed me warily then returned his gun to his holster. “What are you doing here? You have a warrant?” he asked Sawyer.
“Do I need one?” Sawyer asked.
I intervened. “My dad used to drink with Delroy’s grandfather. Told me this coffee table used to be a well, and I bet him a hundred bucks he was full of it.”
“Looks like you owe your father money after all,” Sawyer said.
“I was so sure it was BS, like the time he told us to go snipe hunting, or that coyotes were as big as Timberwolves and liked to eat children. Or when I stole gum when I was four and he told me shoplifters got the electric chair?”
“Hey, over here,” Meyerson said, annoyed. “You broke the law. Sign says NO TRESSPASSING and technically I have the right to shoot you where you stand.”
“Too much paperwork,” Sawyer said. “We’re leaving. I told her it was a stupid bet. Hold on.” He used his cell phone to take a picture of the sealed well.
“Whose side are you on?” I asked.
“Your dad told me he’d split the money with me. Why do you think he agreed to let me take you here?”
Meyerson strutted toward us, a Banty Rooster in human form. “I have to write you a ticket. Sorry. The City’s had trouble with vagrants and devil-worshippers. Pay me to patrol this area on my off days.”
“No need to write a ticket, Robby. It’s hot. We’re leaving,” I said.
Robby looked around the rotted innards of the old ranch. “Nothing but a fire hazard they’ll level in a couple days. Go on before I change my mind.” He strode out the front door and toward the barn his hand rested on his pistol ready to draw.
“Is that guy for real?” Sawyer asked. “Freeze? Seriously?”
“He’s always been an assclown.” I studied the well and wondered what lay below that seal. “You have a tire iron?”
“Yes, why—?”
A horrible scream ripped through the air. Sawyer drew his weapon and was out the door, headed toward the barn. I dogged behind, ready to take cover then I heard Meyerson howl, “Help. I think I broke my leg.”
We found him in the barn, his right leg twisted at a very wrong angle. The jagged white of his femur bone jutted through his pants’ leg and I shivered. His phone lay smashed in pieces next to him. He’d fallen on it.
“What happened?” Sawyer asked, scanning the gloom. He fished out his flashlight and spotted a hole. Meyerson had met the wrong end of a rotten board and apparently wasn’t as nimble as I was. I felt simultaneously sorry for Meyerson and grateful it hadn’t been me. It appeared to be an old storm cellar, though it seemed an awfully dumb place for it. Was a space just big enough to fit a few people. The floor, covered in layers of old hay and dirt, had completely obscured its existence. Meyerson had managed to crawl a couple feet away from the hole.
Sawyer tried his cell phone. “Damn. No signal. Wait here. I’ll call an ambulance. Be back in a sec and I’ll help. Here.” He handed me the flashlight and a set of blue vinyl gloves out of his pocket.
I snapped on the gloves and kneeled next to Meyerson, who whimpered in the dim light of the old barn. “Help will be here soon,” I said, crouching next to him. I suddenly saw the bright crimson spurts of blood from the wound, which was bad. Real bad. I removed my belt and cinched it a couple inches above the break. He shrieked.
“Shut it, Robby. Stay calm. You’re bleeding. Panic makes you bleed faster.”
“I’m bleeding?”
“Yes, which means the bone might have nicked something major. We have to tie this off before you hemorrhage.”
He nodded then clenched my gloved hand, his face quivering and white.
“Can you feel your legs?” I asked then used the flashlight to inspect him for any other injuries. All I could see were some scrapes and superficial cuts.
“Yes. Hurts like a mother,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Anything else numb or tingling? Can you feel all your limbs?”
“Yes. Just my leg. Hurts. God, it hurts so bad.”
“We need to elevate your leg above your heart. It’s gonna hurt. You ready? On the count of three.”
He nodded.
“One,” I said and lifted his leg onto my lap and he screamed.
“You said the count of three,” he whined.
“I lied.” I ignored the wetness of his blood soaking through my pants and shirt. “You’ll be okay. Pretty soon they’ll have you full of morphine and pink dreams.”
Sawyer returned into the gloom. “What’s going on?”
“Bad compound break. I think the bone caught his artery.”
“Aw, hell.”
“I’ve got this. Go find something to unlock that gate so the EMTs can get in.”
“Romi—”
“Get a crowbar out of the truck and pry off that chain. He’s bleeding badly and we don’t have time to screw around with them trying to get through a locked gate. Wait for them and tell them where we are.”
He hesitated.
“We can’t move him or we might hurt him worse. Go.”
Meyerson groaned. “I was really helping your sister. I know it looks bad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your grandma. She’s a trouble-maker but she’s harmless.” He clasped my hand hard.
“Maybe a couple weeks in jail would’ve set her straight.”
He shook his head. “Couldn’t happen. Had orders.”
“Orders? From who?”
“Ferris.”
“What does Mayor Ferris care about protecting my shoplifting grandmother?”
“Don’t ask. Do as I’m told.”
“Do as you’re told?”
“Talked back once. Got a week off without pay. Ferris is connected. Not one to cross.”
“And he told you to extort my sister and trash my trailer?”
“Huh? I’ve never extorted anyone. Ever. And your trailer? I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that.”
“Then why’d you show up with that warrant to get inside?”
“Because I was ordered to. Fan. Stepstool. That’s all. Thought it was stupid, but that’s the only reason I was there. I swear. Please, it hurts so bad.”
No sound of sirens. The bleeding stopped. “Tell me the truth. Are you the one beating on Heather? I saw the marks, that she had a black eye.” I tried to remember my Daddy-Daughter Wilderness Training and wondered if I hadn’t gotten the tourniquet too tight, so I loosened it a little.
“Huh?” He blinked, genuinely confused. “No. I have standards. Why are you letting me bleed? What are you doing?”
“Who did it, then?”
Meyerson refused to meet my eye.
“Tell me who’s beating on my sister.”
He refused to talk. I
opened my bottle of water and poured it over the filthy wound.
“Thoolen! Thoolen! You bitch!”
“You haven’t seen bitch. And by the way, I’m saving your leg, asshole.” At least I hoped I was.
“Holy shit that hurt. Thoolen probably gave her that shiner. Thought you knew.”
“Knew what? Why would I know?” I poured more water on his leg. He had open bone and muscle and the dirt could lead to infection.
He howled. “What? Didn’t he give you one, too? Your face…” He whimpered and clutched at his leg. “Please, please don’t…don’t do that again. Please.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said. “Why didn’t she report it? Why didn’t she press charges?”
“Not assault if it’s…consensual. I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“What are you talking about?”
His face had a waxy appearance and was greasy with sweat. “Thoolen’s a kinky dude. Has a thing for the rough stuff. It’s how he made his first big money. Red light districts in the Netherlands.”
“What rough stuff?”
“Bondage. Whips and chains and leather and all that crazy shit. Fucking Dutch are weird. God I’m tired.”
“How long has Thoolen been seeing my sister? Talk to me, Meyerson. No sleeping right now. Sleeping is bad.” I smacked his cheeks.
“A while. Since he got here, I think.” He panted and his eyes glazed. “Used to see her truck in front of the condo where he was staying while they were building the resort. Had a few noise complaints.” He let out a ragged laugh.
“And?”
“Thoolen answers the door dressed in black leather pants, sweaty, no shirt and yer sister’s all…”
“I got the picture.”
“Not this picture. They weren’t alone,” he slurred, delirious with pain.
“What?”
“Ferris and that dead guy were there.”
“What dead guy?”
He shook his head and clammed up. I heard a loud metal banging and assumed Sawyer was taking out the heavy chain that locked the gate. Another long few minutes passed, the blood stopped, so once again I loosened the tourniquet a little more as Meyerson howled. “Stop, please, please. Don’t do that.”
“Then talk.”
“The floater found on the golf course. But they were dressed, Ferris and the dead guy.”
“Dressed?”
“Mostly. Pants at their ankles. Sick bastards liked to watch. Who knows? Ferris ordered me to stay quiet if I wanted to keep my job. Ordered me to keep yer grandma out of jail no matter what. Why are you torturing me?”
“I’m not torturing you, you moron. You want to lose your leg?”
“No,” he whimpered.
“Yes, cutting off blood flow keeps you alive. But no blood flow? No blood flow is dead leg and dead leg earns you a bone saw and the nickname Stumpy. So I can stop. Leave it too tight. Ferris might reward you with one of those real nice prosthetics.”
“Oh, okay. It’s fine. Just thought…”
“I don’t like you Robby,” I said wearily. “I’m not a sadist, but not exactly a trauma doctor, either. Doing the best I can here.”
He nodded.
“What do you know of Daphne Idensloph?”
“Smokin’ hot. Looks a lot like you,” he slurred.
I might have actually manhandled his leg for saying that, but I’d already crossed a line. Now I understood what Sawyer was talking about how easy it was to slip into the darkness.
“When did she get here? What do you know about her? Robby.” Meyerson’s eyes rolled back in his head. I checked his pulse. He’d passed out. I patted his cheeks and tried to rouse him, but it didn’t do any good. I could finally hear the wail of an emergency vehicle nearing our location.
I glanced up as Sawyer entered the barn. “What the hell were you doing to him?”
“Torturing him for information,” I said.
He gave me a dirty look.
“Cut me some slack. I’m covered in blood and his leg goes that way.” I gestured with my blood-soaked hand.
The EMTs arrived and took over caring for Meyerson. I wiped off as much blood as I could while they lifted Meyerson into the ambulance. I snapped off the gloves and dropped them in a Biohazard bag. The EMT’s tossed me an old set of scrubs then left. My jeans and shirt were ruined. I stumbled to a copse of trees and stripped out of my clothes and bundled them in a garbage bag and wiped myself down with at least fifty disinfectant swabs before changing.
I met Sawyer at the truck. He waited with the engine running.
When I got in, he said, “Told you leaving the hotel was a bad idea.”
“If we hadn’t come, Meyerson would be dead. No one could have heard him from in there. His phone was a goner, and he nearly was, too.”
“Quick thinking in there. What’d he tell you?”
“What?”
“I’m not stupid. I know you were playing more than nurse.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I had his nuts hooked up to a battery. Can never remember if red is positive or negative.”
“Hope you wet them first. What’d he tell you?”
“Not enough. But I need to know more about Thoolen.”
“Why?”
“Rather not say. Nothing illegal, though maybe in Georgia.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You already know Thoolen’s doing my sister. Why more gory details? At least I know Meyerson wasn’t beating up my sister. Would have let him bleed to death if he was.”
“Got it. The bruises?”
“Yeah. Anyway, why’s Thoolen here? Why Bisby? Who is he?”
“He’s clean, aside from a healthy share of speeding tickets.”
And a seriously kinky sex life. “What else?”
“Has a thing for Ferraris. Anyway, he’s a self-made billionaire who loves to party so he builds resorts and casinos.”
“But why Bisby?” I asked and tried not to think of my sister as sex slave. What had gone so wrong? Why would she do that? I wondered if that’s how she’d managed to buy a new trailer for Daddy and Nana. By being a play toy and keeping secrets?
“You, yourself said it could have been the next Santa Fe,” Sawyer said, his voice rousing me from my thoughts.
“That, I did,” I mumbled.
“If you saw that, others probably did, too. Would make sense for Thoolen to give angel investment into the town to spruce it up.”
I nodded. “And it only helps his portfolio, and if he’s a part-owner in most of the local businesses, the spas, boutiques, bars, and restaurants, it makes him that much richer.”
“We know someone’s fleecing the business owners, but wouldn’t make sense for Thoolen to be involved in that.” Sawyer stroked my arm as he drove.
“No, it wouldn’t. But what if Thoolen was a mark?”
“What are you saying?”
“What if someone sold him the Bisby as the New Santa Fe idea knowing he couldn’t resist? They counted on him to do what he’s good at. Business. They’d know he’d be involved in building up the town, so he’d be the new way of recruiting suckers.”
“Which brings us back to Kalista Delphinos,” he said.
“Yeah. But problem is…”
“How do we make the next move without revealing our hand?”
Chapter Twenty
Sawyer ran me by the hotel to clean up. Unless I wanted to walk around in frayed scrubs and biker boots, I was down to a pair of yoga pants and the black t-shirt with the glittery Hello Kitty and idiotic pink flip-flops. Granted, it was a toss-up. We were going to try shopping for some kind of real clothing before everything closed.
He parked off Main Street in the heart of Bisby. Meyerson was in surgery. Sawyer got a call that he was stable and his leg would be fine.
“You’ve been strangely quiet,” he remarked as he cut the engine.
“So you know, you looked totally hot when you were headed to the barn.”
“What?”
“It was like the movies, only better.” I smiled, trying to hide that I was still deeply upset by what Meyerson had told me.
“Stop distracting me. We need to buy you some clothes.”
We strolled down the center of town past rows of posh boutiques. It was already evening and most of the shops were closed by now since it was Sunday. I hated shopping during normal times, but really hated it now. My mind was reeling, and I wished I didn’t know what I knew. I stopped in front of a bridal boutique and stared at the lovely dress on display to distract me. My heart ached.
Sawyer stood silent behind me. After a minute or two he said, “Sad about your sister?”
“Yes.” On so many levels. “And me,” I lied. I was thinking of nothing but Heather and those men watching her as their personal porn star. I better understood what Cunningham meant by people like us knowing their place.
