Heaven's Crooked Finger

by Hank Early

  I shrugged. Hate wasn’t exactly the right word to describe my feelings about it.

  More like feared.

  “Lester says people come to him all the time and wanna know why he ain’t being more respectful of his daddy’s wishes. Sad thing is, your brother can’t let him go. He’s got this . . . I don’t know, guilt, I guess. Wants to talk to your daddy one more time, all that shit.”

  “Who’s behind it?” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Who’s telling him Daddy’s saying all these things?”

  “That’s the thing. He can’t really pinpoint who’s behind it. That’s where I come in.”

  “What’s your granddaddy say?”

  “My granddaddy don’t speak to me anymore. Besides, he’s a fool. All he does is smile and say everything is okay. Smiling and pretending everything is right ain’t never helped nobody. But Lester ain’t too worried about him. Says he’s in full support.”

  “So who then?”

  “Well, from what I can tell, Hank Shaw’s about as corrupt as they come.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I said.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t know your brother was having a hard time with it all. He’s trying to do right, but I think it might kill him first.”

  I looked up at him.

  He nodded. “I don’t buy the religious fuckery, but I know he’s trying to change the church. He’s trying to move it into the twenty-first century. Stop all the crazy shit that’s going on. But he can’t ’cause some folks just refuse to let your daddy die.”

  I gave him a skeptical look. “You expect me to believe you really care about my brother and his struggles?”

  He shrugged. “Believe what you want. But I hated your daddy for what he did to mine. I hate him for what he did to you and your brother too.”

  “My brother? What did my father ever do to Lester?”

  Ronnie seemed like he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he was just pretending not to.

  “He’s got a good heart, you know?” He studied me closely, smiling just a little. “He’s a lot like you. Just can’t get out from under Daddy’s shadow.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But Lester does. And he’s mad, Earl. Damned mad. My daddy told me about that girl. Maggie Shaw. Jesus, he said every boy wanted her, but it was you that got her.”

  I was ready to change the subject but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “’Course when two brothers want the same gal . . .” Ronnie shrugged. “I never did have a brother. Just a little sister. Granddaddy and me don’t talk. I’d try just about anything I could to keep a brother. Even if he was a fucked-in-the-head preacher.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Look, I hate to impose, but would you mind if I used your phone?”

  He pulled out a cell and held it out to me. I reached for it, but he pulled it back. “Who you going to call, anyway?”

  “A friend.”

  “That black woman?”

  “Her name is Mary.”

  “Fine. Mary. You tapping that?”

  I tried not to let myself get angry. As bad as it was to say, at that very moment, Ronnie Thrash was the closest thing to a friend I had in the whole world.

  “Can I use your phone or not?”

  “I’m going to say not on that one.”

  I felt my face flush. It would feel so damned good to punch him.

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, I don’t trust Hank Shaw.”

  “She ain’t nothing like Shaw.”

  “And I ain’t nothing like my granddaddy or these nut jobs I hang out with, but that didn’t stop you from judging me.”

  I decided to let it drop. I had a plan, if a person could rightly call the impulse to do something based on a weird dream a plan, but it was all I had.

  “Is there a place I could rest for a little, Ronnie?”

  He shrugged. “Rest wherever you want. I don’t give a good damn. Like I said, Earl, you and me . . .” He held out his hand with two fingers crossed.

  I nodded and went to look for a place to sleep the day away. I had a feeling I’d be needing all my energy soon.

  43

  When I woke, it was already dark, and I heard voices outside. I looked at my phone for the time, but it was dead.

  I got up and dug through the cooler for something else to eat. I found some ham and wolfed it down hungrily. I knew I might have a long night ahead of me, so I scooped out some of the ice with a cup and took it with me. I’d need to stay hydrated.

  Ronnie, Walt, and Beard were sitting in a semicircle around a cooler in lawn chairs. A couple of their friends had joined them.

  Everyone fell silent as I stepped into the ring of chairs.

  “I need a favor,” I said.

  * * *

  Despite his claims that we were a lot alike, Ronnie didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity created by my neediness to see what he could get in return.

  “I’ll help you out if you’ll help me out.” We stood over to the side of the group, not too far from where he’d met Lester a few nights earlier. He shook out a can of Skoal and loaded a huge plug between his lower lip and gum.

  “Well?” he said. He spat and grinned at me, his teeth nearly blacked out by the strands of dip clinging from them like charred vines.

  “You need to be more specific.”

  “It’s simple. You need a ride. I need some information.”

  “You might be asking the wrong man. I’m wandering in the dark these days.”

  He spat again, this time precariously close to my boots.

  “I hear you and that colored gal been poking your nose in all kinds of business.”

  “We’re trying to find someone.”

  “Huh. I figured you was doing some detecting. Who you looking for?”

  “If I tell you, will you give me a ride?”

  He laughed. “Shoot, that sounds fair.”

  “Bryant McCauley.”

  “That’s what I figured. Any leads?”

  I shook my head. “I already answered your question. Now let’s go.”

  “Well, shit, I ain’t taking you unless you got something else. I mean, it ain’t like I haven’t already let you stay at my place, eat my food, drink my fucking beer. You are one bold motherfucker, Earl Marcus.”

  “I get it from my daddy,” I said.

  That made Ronnie laugh, and he patted my back hard enough to make me cough.

  “I’ll tell you what—I’ll take you to your cousin’s house, but you got to answer one more question before we get there. If you answer it, I’ll even come back and pick you up.”

  I thought about it and didn’t see that I had much choice. When you beat a sheriff’s deputy’s ass outside of a crowded bar, you don’t really have the luxury of being choosy about who helps you out. Between Rufus’s arrest and my desire to keep Mary clear of this shit, Ronnie was all I had.

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  * * *

  Ronnie didn’t say much as he drove, at least not at first. As we drew closer to Burt’s place, he cleared his throat.

  “What are you planning, exactly?”

  I shook my head. “That your other question?”

  “Aw, shit, Earl, I’m just making small talk. You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t know who to trust.”

  He sighed and kept driving.

  “Burt and Shaw seem to be pretty close,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s right.” He tapped his head with his index finger. “People think I’m stupid, and maybe all the damned beer and pot has killed some cells, but I ain’t no dummy. You going to visit Burt has got me intrigued. And now I can’t decide what question I want to ask.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t figure what to make of Ronnie. He was crazy, but crazy was still a long way from evil. His association with Lester still troubled me, and I even believed his story about Lester’s need t
o have somebody on the ground, listening.

  What I wasn’t sure about was Lester’s motivation. Seemed like that was the real question.

  “You never told me what my father did to Lester.”

  “You mean besides fucking up his entire childhood?”

  “Yeah. Besides that.”

  Ronnie grinned. “You’ll have to ask your brother about that. Not my place to get in the middle of family squabbles.”

  “You’re an asshole,” I said.

  “Kindred spirits,” he shot back.

  We turned onto the road where Burt lived, and I motioned to some trees on the side of the road. “You can let me out here.”

  I opened the door and started to get out.

  “Hold it,” he said.

  I stopped. “Your other question?”

  He nodded, a small grin playing on his lips. “My other question.”

  I waited, irritated because sometimes I almost found myself liking Ronnie, even if the rest of the time, I found his presence detestable.

  “What was it like?”

  “What was what like?”

  “Standing up to him?”

  “My father?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s hard to remember.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  He had me there. I remembered it vividly.

  “Okay. It felt good. Like there was finally something right in the world after all those years of wrong.”

  He nodded slowly, taking it in. He looked satisfied, like a man who’d just taken a big hit off a joint. “I can dig that. Thanks.” He seemed sincere, and for the first time, I found myself wondering if maybe he wasn’t at least partially right.

  Maybe we did have something in common.

  I shut the door and leaned into the open window.

  “I think McCauley’s dead. And I think the Holy Flame is behind it. You can tell that to Lester.”

  Ronnie stared at me. “I’ll do it. But I think you don’t know your brother anymore. He’s got nothing to do with all that.”

  “Maybe. But I know his church.”

  I patted the door and walked into the trees.

  44

  I confirmed Burt’s car wasn’t there before knocking on the front door. When no one answered, I knocked louder and rang the bell.

  Still nothing. Glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses, I decided to see if the door was locked.

  Surprisingly, the door handle turned, and I was able to push it open with little resistance.

  The house was silent. Almost. As I stepped in and pulled the door shut behind me, I heard soft music coming from nearby. I stepped through the dining room where I’d talked to Burt a few days ago and into the kitchen. A small radio was tuned to a soft rock station.

  I slipped past it and through the den toward the steps leading upstairs.

  Pausing, I tried to listen for voices. I heard none. Could the girls be asleep? Or were they even home?

  I started up the stairs, and as soon as my weight shifted to the first step, it groaned loudly.

  “Daddy?” a voice from upstairs called.

  I nearly pissed my pants. Twenty-plus years as a private investigator in North Carolina, dealing with real baddies without ever losing my cool, and now the voice of a teenage girl was about to cause me to piss my pants?

  I steeled myself and started on up.

  “Daddy?” the voice said again, this time with a hint of fear creeping into it.

  I thought it belonged to Baylee’s sister, Amanda. I was pretty sure it did. I remembered Baylee’s voice as deeper and somehow less sure than her younger sister’s.

  I winced and stayed very still, not sure how to proceed.

  When I heard the footsteps, I knew I needed to think quick to avoid scaring the poor girl to death.

  “Hello?” I said. “Amanda?”

  The footsteps stopped. “Daddy?”

  I sighed, waiting for the inevitable.

  She stepped into view. I waved at her, and she started to scream and point at me.

  “Easy,” I said. “Take it easy.”

  She backed away, holding her hands out, as if to ward me off.

  My decision to advance up the steps to calm her down probably wasn’t one of my better ideas—she screamed even louder and threw the book she was holding at me. I tried to tell her it was okay, that I wasn’t there to hurt her, but she was screaming so goddamn loud, I knew she couldn’t understand a word I was saying. I sprinted up the steps and caught up with her right before she reached her bedroom. I grabbed her as gently as I was able—which wasn’t very gently given the circumstances—and put a hand over her mouth. She bit it.

  Now it was my turn to scream, which I did without letting go. I spun her around so she could see my face, and she lunged, trying to bite my nose.

  “Stop it! Just listen!”

  She screamed again, and I shook her. Hard. Her eyes grew large, and she tried to pull away, but at least she stopped screaming.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m here to help.”

  “Please let go of me,” she said.

  I complied, and she backed away again.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “You can go in your room. You can shut the door. I just need to talk to Baylee.”

  “Leave my sister alone,” she said. “Leave us all alone.”

  I turned around and saw what had to be Baylee’s door on the other end of the hallway. I did a double take when I saw there was a padlock on the door. “What’s happening? Why is she locked in her room?”

  “It’s for her own good.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Daddy said I wasn’t supposed to talk to you.”

  “I need to use your phone.”

  “No.”

  I saw a cell phone on the desk in her room. When she saw me heading for it, she grabbed my arm.

  “Who are you going to call?”

  “A friend.”

  “No, please no. Daddy says if anybody finds out about Baylee, there’ll be trouble.”

  “Trouble?”

  “I don’t know what kind. I promise, I don’t, but I know it’s bad. It’s scary. Everything has been scary lately.”

  “You’re going to need to get more specific.” I shrugged her off but stopped short of picking up the phone. True, a girl was being held in her room, but I’d also broken in. I had to make a sound decision here. Not a rash one.

  “Please just leave us alone,” Amanda said, but I ignored her and grabbed the phone off her desk.

  She screamed again.

  “I’m not going to call anyone,” I said. “This is just to make sure you don’t either.” I walked down the hall and stood outside the padlocked door to Baylee’s room.

  “It’s Earl Marcus, Baylee. What’s going on? Why are you locked in your room?”

  “Don’t call anyone,” Baylee said. Her voice was loud, and I knew she was pressed against the other side of the door.

  “We’re going to help you.”

  “I want to live.”

  “I want you to live too.”

  “Then leave. Leave right now. Leave and pretend that you never knew me. They know about you. He knows about you. He mentioned you by name the other night. If he thinks I told you anything, I’ll die. He told me that.”

  “No, not if you let me help you. Baylee, I—”

  She screamed. I felt the door vibrate with the power of the wail. It was one word, and it resounded inside me emphatically: No.

  “Okay,” I said, willing myself to stay calm, “the other night, you asked me to help. I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m here to do that now. You need to tell me who’s behind all this. I know it’s somebody in the church.”

  She was quiet for a moment.

  “Baylee,” I said, “I’m going to break the door down. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “Please don’t.” She was sobbing now, deep, guttural bellows. The sound of them gave me paus
e. But the padlock was too much. I’d seen this sort of thing before, and I wasn’t going to let what happened so many years ago happen again.

  I stepped back and then charged hard, leading with my right boot. I heard the door crack, but the padlock held.

  I’d need something to bust it open.

  Amanda was standing behind me, weeping.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “I’m going to get you and your sister out of here. I’ll take you someplace safe, and then I’ll come back and deal with the mess in this county. But I need your help. Where does your daddy keep his tools.”

  “The basement,” she said, her lips trembling.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You’re going to take me down there.”

  She started to cry again.

  “Stop it. Please. I’m not going to hurt either one of you. I’m here to help.”

  She shook her head but started down the steps.

  I followed her into the kitchen, where she opened another door and led me to the basement. She turned on the light, and I found a huge red toolbox sitting on a bench. There was an oversized hammer on the top shelf. I picked it up, weighing it, and decided it would probably do the job.

  “Back upstairs,” I said.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Amanda said. Her tears had stopped now.

  “I’m doing what I have to do.”

  “You’ll see how bad a mistake it is.”

  “Upstairs,” I said firmly.

  We went back up to the second floor and Baylee’s door.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m coming in.”

  She didn’t answer, but I heard her breath still hitching from the sobs.

  “Step back.”

  It took me a couple of dozen swings to break the padlock. I pushed the door open.

  The lights in the room were out, but the blinds were drawn and light from the full moon shone in, illuminating everything in a pale light.

  The room was bare, just four walls and the carpet. Baylee sat in the corner, naked, her knees pulled up to her breasts, her head down, her hair flung forward like a tattered gown.

  I gasped and stepped back, stunned by what I saw.