by Glenn Trust
Blood pumped in spurts from Carl’s neck. His eyes, confused and surprised, moved between the faces peering down at him. The knife that had sliced through his carotid artery as he and Clay struggled to control it was in the gravel between the two men. The shiny blade was dull and stained. In the red glow of neon, the blood took on a gray tint. Sand and bits of gravel clung to the damp steel.
“Son of a bitch,” Sammy said more softly this time, shaking his head. “Call the goddamned sheriff, and paramedics and whoever else you’re supposed to call.” Disgusted, he walked off, pulled the door open and made his way to the bar, where he ordered a shot.
One biker looked at the other. “Who we s’pposed to call?”
His companion took his eyes away from Carl, his life pumping away into the gravel. “Punch in 911 you dumbass.”
“Right.” The biker pulled a cell phone from his jeans and did as instructed.
Confused, Carl looked up wondering what the two men standing over him were doing. None of it made any sense. Where was the little son of a bitch that had done this? He’d meant to cut him. Teach him the price, by god, for threatening the son of Clyde Stinson.
His hand moved out to the side, flailing in the gravel searching for Clay Purcell. His fingers brushed against something. It’s an arm…that little asshole’s arm…wet and sticky with blood.
Carl smiled. I cut the son of a bitch. The thought warmed him, as the blood spurting from his neck slowed to a trickle and then dribbled its last drops into the dirt.
33. Count On It
“Tried to stop it.” Sammy Tuss stared down at the body of Carl Stinson. Gray dust coated the dead man’s face. A reddish-brown stain spread around his head where his blood had soaked into the gravel. “Me and the boys.” Tuss nodded at the two big bikers standing to the side, eyes riveted on the body. “We tried.”
“You did a helluva job.” Chief Deputy Mike Darlington looked from Carl to Sammy and the bikers and then back at Carl. “One helluva job.”
“C’mon now. You can’t blame this on me.” Sammy’s voice had a whining quality, an innocent man unfairly accused.
Darlington turned to Tuss, eyes narrowed. “Who said anything about blame?”
“Well…it’s just that…you know, I’ve been trying to clean things up…like you and the sheriff said.”
“Bullshit,” Darlington shot back. “You’ve just been trying to keep things quiet and out of sight. That’s not the same as cleaning up.”
“That’s not fair. I‘ve been…” Tuss cut his words off as the chief deputy turned and walked towards a sheriff’s department SUV that had pulled into the lot. When Darlington was far enough away that Sammy figured he could not overhear, he turned to the two bikers, jerked his thumb in Darlington’s direction and said, “Asshole.”
The bikers grinned and laughed softly. Noting that the boss kept his voice down in his reference to the deputy, they figured they should do the same.
“What do you have?” Sheriff Sandy Davies pulled himself from the SUV and steadied the prosthetic leg under him before letting go of the vehicle’s door frame.
“Double knifing.”
“Dead?”
“One.” Darlington nodded at the ambulance near the body of Carl Stinson. Paramedics could be seen inside hovering over someone. “The other should be okay. Bad cut to his arm. Lost some blood. Paramedics say he should be all right after he gets stitched up.”
“Murder?”
“No, doesn’t look like it. Talked to the witnesses.” Mike nodded at the two bikers and Sammy Tuss.
“They’re your witnesses?” Davies shook his head.
“Best we got.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. Anyway, according to them, the two men had words inside the bar and then the one in the ambulance left. That one…” He nodded at Carl on the ground. “Followed him out and pulled a knife. They fought, both got cut, one in the arm and the other in the throat. The way they were flailing around in the dirt…looks like pure chance which one got cut the worst.”
“Have you ID’ed them yet?”
“Yeah. One on the ground, the dead one, is Carl Stinson.”
“I know that name.” Davies wrinkled his brow trying to remember.
“Wife and daughter were assaulted a couple of days ago. Beat to hell. Wife almost died. She’s still in ICU in Jacksonville.”
“Right.” Davies nodded slowly. “Husband was the suspect.”
“Exactly. We couldn’t prove it and the women weren’t talking…terrified.”
“This connected?”
“Don’t know yet, but I’d put money on it.”
“Who’s in the ambulance?”
“Clay Purcell.”
The sheriff’s eyes raised in surprise. “That’s the boy…”
“Not so much a boy anymore, but yeah, he’s the one that followed the Stinson girl, Lyn, when she was kidnapped by the serial killer…took a bullet for her…would have been killed if George Mackey and Sharon Price hadn’t shown up.”
“I remember. You talk to him yet?”
“Nope. Was headed that way when you showed up.”
The two turned towards the ambulance. Space inside was limited. Both paramedics worked on Clay, bandaging his arm and starting IVs. Mike climbed in while Sandy waited outside.
One of the paramedics looked at him annoyed.
“Just take a minute,” Mike said.
“Make it quick, Deputy. We need to get him to the hospital and stitched up.”
Mike nodded and turned to Clay. “How you feeling?”
Clay looked up over the oxygen mask and nodded. “Okay, I guess.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Clay’s eyes moved around the interior of the ambulance, puzzled, trying to remember how he had ended up there on his back, the paramedics poking him with latex-gloved hands. “He came out…with a knife…we fought. I don’t remember much. I was just holding on.” He nodded remembering one thing for certain. “It hurt...when it cut my arm…hurt like hell.” His eyes narrowed with a question. “What happened…to him?”
Darlington shook his head slowly, watching the young man’s eyes. “He didn’t make it.”
There was surprise in Clay’s eyes. Mike did not see disappointment.
“He’s dead?”
“Yes.”
Clay was silent for a moment and then a thought occurred to him. “Am I under arrest?”
“No…not yet at least.” Darlington’s face was stone. “We are conducting an investigation. The decision to charge you or not will be made by the district attorney when we have compiled all of the evidence.”
“Okay.” Clay nodded and closed his eyes.
“We’ll have a deputy follow you and stay with him at the hospital until we sort things out here,” Mike said to the EMT and stepped from the rear door to the ground, where the sheriff waited.
“Anything?” Sheriff Davies asked.
“Not much. About what we expected.”
“Tied to the assaults on the Stinson women?”
“He didn’t say…yet. I’ll find out when we can question him for real, not in the back of an ambulance.”
“Right.” Davies nodded. “Stinson have family?”
“Yeah. Two brothers. Both about as no account as he is…was.”
“Trouble?”
“They’ve been trouble all their lives. I think we should count on it.”
34. About Your Brother Carl
“Shit!” Bain stared into the grass and weeds by the trailer’s porch.
“What?” Albert Stinson came up behind, looked over his brother’s shoulder and laughed. “Looks like Carl and the dog ain’t been gettin’ along.” He stepped over the dead dog, dragging Danny, by the arm up the rickety steps.
Looking down as she stepped over the dog decomposing in the sun, Danielle swatted at the flies that swarmed into her face. “Your brother got a problem with dogs?”
Albert jerked her up the steps
to the front door. “Carl’s got a problem with everyone.” He pushed the door hard to free the sticking latch and pushed Danny in ahead of him.
Shit,” Bain repeated, sniffed once, inhaling the rotting dog’s stench and climbed the steps.
Inside, Danielle stood in the middle of the squalor, stunned to silence. Putrid garbage, mounded in the corners and under the furniture, made the air thick and sour enough to taste. Beer bottles and cans cluttered the floor. What little furnishings there were in the room were tattered, threadbare and lopsided from hard use. Plastic blinds hung in the windows, the slats cracked and broken, held together by duct tape. Everything was stained a dull yellow from decades of cigarette smoke.
Albert pushed her down on the sofa and she gagged. The stench of sweat, beer and the ammonia reek of urine assaulted her nose, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to hold her breath, but that provided only temporary relief. Every inhalation was like sucking disease and poison into her lungs.
“Where you reckon Carl got off to?” Bain stepped over a hole the rats had chewed through the thin floorboards and went into the small kitchen.
“No telling.” Albert plopped down beside Danny. He put his hand on her thigh. “He was pretty pissed about not making the trip. Probably on a drunk somewheres.”
“Yeah.” Bain stepped from the kitchen and tossed a can to his brother. “Gonna be more pissed when he finds out we spent half the money on booze and whores.”
“Damn right he will.” Albert grinned. “I can’t wait. Gonna be a helluva fight.” His hand moved up Danny’s thigh. “You’ll see, Danny girl. Soon as ole Carl gets here, there’s gonna be a goddamned ruckus like you ain’t never seen.”
Feeling his rough hand slide over her skin, the fingers stained yellow the nails black with dirt and god knew what, the hackles rose on the back of her neck. She looked at Albert and forced a smile.
“How long you boys gonna keep me around?”
“A while I reckon.” Albert grinned the yellow-toothed grin that had become familiar over the last few days. “Carl deserves a little taste of you. Seems the least we can do for our dear brother. Ain’t that right, Bain?”
“Yeah.” Bain nodded, laughing up beer through his nose and blowing it across the room. “Least we can do for ole Carl.”
Danny knew that her situation with the men was becoming desperate. She tried to control the panic that welled up inside, but her hand shook as she moved it to brush the hair out of her eyes.
Albert saw the tremble and laughed. “Lookit there, Bain. She’s scared…shakin’ like a leaf.”
Bain bobbed his head up and down, swallowing his beer. “Yeah, she’s scared shitless.”
Their laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Who the hell be knockin’ on our door?” Bain wiped at the beer still dripping from his nose.
“How the fuck do I know. Go see.”
Crossing the room, Bain lifted one of the cracked slats of the window blinds to the side of the door, dropped it and turned, a worried look on his face. “It’s the law.” His voice was a whisper.
“What the hell you mean, the law?”
“I mean there’s two deputies out there on our damn porch.” He stepped backward from the door. “What we done?” His head turned to his brother. “What we done, Albert?”
“We ain’t done shit, you dumbass. Probably Carl got hisself into some trouble. Maybe in jail and needin’ to be bailed out.” He laughed. “He was pretty pissed about not goin’ with us. Be just like him to go raise a ruckus and end up in jail.”
Bain nodded. “Yeah, probably in jail.”
“You goin’ to open it?”
Bain turned and looked at Albert, shaking his head side to side slowly. “Uh, uh. Not me.”
“Jesus Christ!” Albert pushed himself up from the sofa. “I swear to God, Bain. Sometimes I think you got more of mama’s pussy in you than daddy’s balls.”
He walked to the door and pulled it open. A young deputy standing to the left wrinkled his nose as the stench inside wafted out and mixed with the aroma of the ripening dog.
Mike Darlington’s face remained unchanged. He eyed Albert for a moment, checking his hands and waistband for weapons and then let his eyes roam over Bain standing behind. Satisfied that they posed no threat, he spoke.
“You Albert Stinson?”
“Yeah.”
Darlington nodded. “We need to talk. I have some news for you.”
Albert looked at Bain, jerking his head at Danny as a signal to keep her quiet, then stepped out onto the small porch, pulling the door closed behind. “What kind of news?”
“You might want your brother to hear it too.”
“He don’t need to hear it from you. I’ll tell him.” Albert’s eyes narrowed, remembering how Clyde had run off the deputy when they were boys. This deputy didn’t look like he would run off easy. “What kind of news, I said?”
“Fair enough,” Darlington replied with an indifferent shrug. “It’s about your brother Carl.”
35. You Can’t Stop It
They sat on a cast concrete bench in the warm Florida sunshine. A hummingbird buzzed slowly, hovering around the flowers in the hospital’s small garden area, darting in and out and then moving to the next flower.
It was a quiet place, in a central courtyard, where the traffic and bustle of the hospital were a distant hum. They had come down from Ruby’s room for a breath of fresh air.
Lyn reached out her hand and touched Clay’s bandaged arm. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much.”
She looked up at him and then off across the garden, watching the hummingbird make its rounds of the flowers. “You shouldn’t have done it.”
Clay was silent for a moment, then said, “I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did. I didn’t mean for your daddy to get hurt.”
“I told you not to.” Her voice was soft, a whisper of sadness. “I told you.”
“I know.” Clay nodded. “I had to do something…what he did to you and your mother…” He shrugged. “I had to let him know that he couldn’t do that…not anymore.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t mean for him to…what happened…he came at me…with a knife. I didn’t mean for him to die.”
She pulled her hand from his bandaged arm and folded her arms. Tilting her face up to the sunshine, she closed her eyes. “I know you didn’t mean to do it. I know you wouldn’t do it.” She raised her shoulders for a second and then let them sag again, indifferent to her father’s death. “Anyway, it’s not that he’s dead. We’re better off without him. I should thank you for that.” She shook her head and turned to look at him. “It’s you.”
“Me?”
“You.” She placed her hand gently on his wounded arm, wanting to take the pain away for him, but not able to. “They’ll come after you…his brothers…Uncle Albert and Bain.”
“It wasn’t my fault. The witnesses…even Sammy Tuss at Pete’s Place…they all said it was your daddy that came after me with the knife. I was just defending myself.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll come after you…find a way.” She looked into his eyes. He saw they were damp with tears. “You have to go away.”
“Me? Why should I go away?”
Lyn stood, leaning over him, frustration in her look. “I told you. It doesn’t matter. They will come for you…do to you what you did to Daddy. It’s their way.”
Clay reached out, took her arm and pulled her gently back to the bench. His arm went around her waist, holding her against him. It was an open act of affection that, normally, he would not have attempted. Things were not normal just now. “I’m not afraid.”
“I am.”
“Don’t be.” He held her more tightly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you…not again.”
Lyn shook her head. When she spoke, the sadness was back in her voice. “You can’t stop it. That’s what you don’t see.” The world was what it was. She could see
it all, powerless to change anything. “You can’t stop any of it.”
36. Summing Things Up
“What do you mean he’s dead?” Albert took a half step across the small porch, placing himself inches from the chief deputy’s face.
Mike Darlington held his ground. “I mean, he pulled a knife on a boy outside Pete’s Place, they got in a fight…he’s dead.”
“What’d they fight about? Why’d he pull the knife?”
“Why? What did they fight about?” Mike shrugged. “We don’t know.”
“What the hell you mean, you don’t know? The other one…one that killed my brother is still alive. What’d he say?”
“Not much. They sat at a table, had a beer. He got up to leave and your brother Carl followed him out. They fought. Carl’s dead. Not much more to say.”
“The hell there ain’t! You got him locked up, right?”
“No.”
“No! Why the fuck not?”
Mike; leaned forward, ignoring Albert’s pungent body odor and breath. “You need to calm down, Mr. Stinson.”
“Calm down my ass…”
Mike raised a big hand and placed it in the middle of Albert’s chest. “Here’s how it is. Witnesses all say they saw them at a table, talking…they don’t know what about. Then the young fella gets up and leaves. Carl follows him out, pulls a knife and jumps him. They fell to the ground struggling over the knife. Both got cut, but Carl’s carotid artery was sliced through, and he bled out on the ground. All indications are that it was self-defense. The District Attorney is unlikely to press charges.”
Hand still on Albert’s chest, Mike took a small step forward pushing Albert up against the front door. “Now, I know you’re upset. I understand that, but that’s as far as it goes. Your brother was a hothead, you know it and so do we. He’s been in trouble with the law more than once.” Mike’s face was like granite. “He liked to beat up women as I recall.”
“He done his time for that.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? He done his time. Been livin’ here with me ever since.”
“His wife and daughter were beaten near to death a few nights ago.”
