Blackened

by Tim McWhorter

  I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be taking part in the activities of normal people. I had something else to do before the sun came up. Pulling out my cell phone, I thumbed through my contact list and stopped when I got to Dallas’ name. With a deep breath and a look into the hard, angry eyes of my reflection in the window, I pressed the green call button and put the phone to my ear.

  PART III

  Chapter 45

  It was 1:37 am.

  I rolled the window down on the truck and breathed in the cool night air. Leaving the radio off for the time being, I listened to my mind sorting out its thoughts. At this early hour, the city was asleep, and on the outside, everything appeared calm. But like me, there was trouble brewing at its core.

  The conversation with Barnes had been short and sweet. Like cheesy dialogue from an action movie, I told him this was all going to end badly for him, that I was done running, and that I had a message for him from my buddy, Garrett. He laughed, and I hung up. Like I said, short and sweet. I didn’t know what to say to him once I had him on the phone, I just wanted to let him know that I was no longer scared.

  I was pissed.

  That didn’t mean I knew what I was going to do, though. The plan was still developing in my mind, and admittedly, in the very early stages. All I knew at the moment was that I needed to get to Dallas’ house and find Prudence. Or at least something that would give me some firepower. I didn’t know much about guns, but I did know that I would feel better with one on me.

  At our previous meeting, I didn’t see a weapon on Barnes. Arashk had come equipped with only a tire iron, so if push came to shove, I would already be a step up on them. I would just have to be content with learning how to shoot on the fly, though this was one time I wished Garrett and I had spent less time fishing over the years and more time hunting.

  Luckily, they had found Dallas’ keys in his pants pocket, which saved me from having to return to the shop. Even if the place wasn’t still crawling with cops, I was sure they would be watching it on the off chance either Barnes or Arashk might return for some unfinished business.

  Dallas’ clothes had been a lost cause, oil-soaked and unsalvageable. The few belongings they were able to save were given to me to hold onto until family could be notified. An oil-logged leather wallet, the silver Zippo lighter he always carried for sentimental reasons, and his set of keys on the white plastic Tipsword’s Automotive key ring that was now stained an oily black. I gave his wallet to my mother as I left the hospital, just in case the police or nurses would need his identification for some reason. The keys and lighter, however, I’d slipped into my pocket, because you just never know when things like that might come in handy.

  Turned out, now was that time.

  Chapter 46

  Dallas’ house was located in one of those old neighborhoods where cars lined both sides of the street and seeing front yards wrapped with chain link was common. His was a small brick single story with white trim and overgrown shrubs under the windows. A faded terra cotta flowerpot sat beside the steps. Dallas wasn’t much of a landscaper. With the exception of a few ambitious weeds, the flowerbeds were as barren as the flowerpot. The white shutters around the windows stood out against the brick façade, even in the dark, and I remembered Dallas telling me he’d just painted them in the fall. Rounding out the older neighborhood look, an ancient swing hung from the ceiling of the porch, its size nearly overtaking the porch itself.

  It was just like the house my grandmother had lived in when I was growing up.

  I pulled the truck into the short driveway, parking it under the carport awning. I’d only been to the house once and was lucky to have found it again. All of these neighborhood streets looked the same in the dark. Hell, for that matter, all the houses looked the same, too. That day, a car belonging to one of Dallas’ elderly neighbors wouldn’t start, and I’d ridden along with him to check it out. Afterward, we stopped by his house for what he called an “award-winning” workingman’s lunch; thick-cut bologna sandwiches, Ruffles and a Pabst Blue Ribbon. It was the beer that made it “award winning” Dallas had said, but I found that to be debatable.

  I stepped out of the truck and gently closed the door behind me so as not to wake the neighbors whose bedroom was only a few feet away. Just as Dallas had that afternoon, I would be entering his house through the side door.

  Sliding the key into the lock, it turned without obstruction, twisting the knob with it. I gave the door a push and, with only a faint protest, it opened into a darkened kitchen. The soft light from the carport shown through the doorway, revealing a countertop directly to my left. Remembering back, I was fairly certain the sink was also somewhere in that vicinity. I immediately started feeling along the wall for a light switch.

  A loud grinding sound erupted with the first switch I found. Just as quickly as they came on, the blades of the garbage disposal came to a halt once I flipped the switch back down. The chaotic sound echoed deep into the darkened room for a few seconds longer. With my heart suddenly racing, I made a mental note to change my underwear when this was all over, and flipped the second switch on the panel. The light above the sink came to life.

  In the light, the kitchen was exactly how I’d remembered, simple and small. On the wall facing the doorway sat a white gas stove and a yellow refrigerator with the freezer on top that I could hear humming in the quiet of the house. The pair of appliances probably weren’t original to the house, but they were older than most you would find. The only set of cabinets was the one along the wall with the sink, and I immediately set to work looking for a hidden gun in the various drawers.

  Dallas once told me that he had a few guns strategically stashed around the house. “Just in case,” he’d said. Apparently, the neighborhood had seen safer days, and he’d had problems with the local youth more than once – teenagers looking to do a little free shopping.

  After finding nothing in the third drawer, I slid it closed. That’s when I heard the floor creak behind me. From the sound of it, directly behind me. My blood froze and stiffened my entire body with it. I couldn’t imagine who else would be in the house. Not unless...

  My mind wouldn’t let me finish the thought, though it wouldn’t leave it alone, either. If either Arashk or Barnes had followed me and were inside the house, it would be bad. Really bad. I was nowhere near ready. I took inventory of my immediate surroundings, searching for something to use as a weapon, but the countertop was bare. The sink was only two steps away, but even if I could have reached it in time, it was empty anyway. No pots, no pans, not even a drinking glass. There was nothing within arm’s reach but an old ratty dishtowel.

  Deciding that ripping the Band-Aid off was always the best move, I took a deep breath. With my hands high in the air, I turned around slowly.

  I found myself face to face with the business end of what I came here looking for. It wasn’t Prudence exactly, but a gun very similar. It was being pointed at the bridge of my nose from not more than an arm’s length away. The dark, round hole bore down on me, and I expected death to come flying out of it at any moment in a flash of flame and smoke.

  But it never came.

  I finally tore my eyes away from the end of the gun and trailed them up the arm that was holding it. I found a familiar face on the other end. My shoulders dropped, and the tension in them flowed out with a deep exhale.

  “Luke?”

  “Wade,” I said, slightly lowering my arms, though he didn’t seem to relax as much as I had. But then, why would he?

  “What are you doing here, sneaking into my uncle’s house in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “But everything’s on the up and up, I swear. Can I sit? My legs are shaking a little.”

  I wasn’t lying, and after a hesitant nod from Dallas’ nephew, I pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down. Only then did Wade, standing before me in nothing but a pair of boxers and a black USMC t-shirt, lower the gun he’d been pointing in my
direction. With his eyes still focused on me, he took a cautious step backward.

  “I’ll go wake Dallas.”

  I put my hands out.

  “He’s not here,” I said, before he could leave the room. “He’s in the hospital.”

  Wade’s brow formed three creases before the look of confusion turned to worry.

  “You’d better sit,” I said, using my foot to push out the other chair. “There’s a lot to tell.”

  Chapter 47

  As it turned out, there wasn’t as much to tell as I thought.

  In less than fifteen minutes, I’d filled Wade in on the whole disturbing story, sparing no details. He already knew some of the backstory about Barnes and the church and what happened there a year ago. Dallas had shared some of that with him over the past week. Turned out, Wade had been crashing in Dallas’ spare bedroom since being let go at the shop. That was pure Dallas: he had no choice but to fire his own nephew, but felt bad enough about having to do it that he was letting the guy crash at his place until he found another job. Truth be told, since the divorce, Dallas was probably enjoying the company.

  “I better call my mother,” Wade said, sliding his chair back. “She can help get ahold of everyone who needs to know about Dallas.”

  Once he left the room, I stood up and cleared the table of the two beer bottles we’d emptied during the conversation. I didn’t drink very often, but when I did, it seemed to always surround Dallas. The thought made me chuckle, and I wondered if maybe he wasn’t such a good influence after all.

  I dropped the two bottles into the trashcan under the sink. When they hit bottom, the glass clanked loudly, and I cringed before closing the cabinet door.

  “Alright,” Wade said, entering the kitchen moments later, now sporting a pair of jeans. “I had to call twice to wake her up, but Mom’s gonna head up to the hospital.”

  “Good,” I said. “The police were working on notifying family.”

  Wade set a pair of black work boots on the table and sat back down in the chair. Crossing one leg over the other, he started pulling on a pair of white socks.

  “Meeting her at the hospital?”

  “Maybe later,” Wade said. “First I’m gonna help you get this motherfucker. Now it’s personal for me, too.”

  At first I questioned why he would want to get involved in a situation with someone as dangerous as Corwin Barnes. Perhaps I hadn’t done a good enough job familiarizing Wade with the kind of psycho I was dealing with. But it didn’t take long to figure out that, not only was Dallas his uncle, but he seemed to be a pretty damn good one. Wade probably felt he owed him that much.

  Like a raincloud, a twinge of guilt tried to settle over me. I didn’t relish the idea of exposing yet another person to Barnes. But I also had to admit to feeling relieved that I wasn’t completely alone in all this. I stopped short of getting excited, though. I still had no clue what I was going to do or how I was going to go about it.

  “That’s great. But I don’t even know where to start.”

  “I do,” Wade said, standing up and straightening out the bottom of his jeans. “I know where that fucker lives.”

  Chapter 48

  “It’s a real shit hole motel,” Wade said from the passenger seat of the truck. “Ran into that NAPA driver at a bar one time. Had a couple beers, and I gave him a ride home after. Guy was living in a motel. Said he was learning a trade or somethin’. Said he had an apprenticeship worked out. I don’t know what for exactly, but I’ll tell ya what, the guy’s a talkative drunk.”

  As I steered the truck through the empty streets of Dayton, both neon and streetlights flashed by at a rapid clip. The question of where we were heading had already been answered. Wade was navigating us toward some sleazy motel where we would hopefully find Arashk. What still needed to be answered was what was going to happen when we got there. At least Wade had given me the handgun Dallas kept stashed behind the refrigerator. With it sitting on the seat between us, I felt slightly more comfortable going into the situation. Especially since we would be going in blind.

  Having Wade riding shotgun, however, was what truly allowed me to sit higher in my seat. After losing Garrett, and everything else that happened a year ago, making new friends hadn’t exactly been a priority. Frankly, I wasn’t sure it ever would be. But I had to admit, it was nice having another guy riding in the truck with me again.

  It also didn’t hurt that Wade was a trained soldier.

  The notion of contacting Detective Morgenstern was brought up, but Wade quickly shot that idea down. Even if the cops found Arashk at the motel, it didn’t mean he would automatically lead them to Barnes. Especially if he chose to take the “I want to talk to my lawyer” route. Barnes could be long gone by the time Arashk eventually gave him up in a plea bargain. Then I would be right back where I started, and that wasn’t an option. I was done looking over my shoulder. Wade said he knew faster ways of getting information out of someone, and considering his military background, I didn’t question him.

  Besides, Morgenstern was probably pissed that I’d taken off and hadn’t stuck around the hospital like he’d instructed. I knew I would have to deal with the fallout from that later, but remembering the phone conversation in his office, I hoped it would be much later.

  “Don’t forget, though,” I said, checking my rearview mirror, “Arashk told you he was learning a trade. And he’s obviously buddied up with Barnes in some capacity. Adding two and two together, that could very well mean that Arashk has blood on his hands, too.”

  “Your point?”

  “We need to be careful,” I said. “There’s no telling what may be going on in that motel room.”

  “Sounds to me,” Wade said, a poorly hidden smirk on his face, “that it’s not only our civic duty, but we have, in fact, a moral obligation to get into that room by any means necessary.”

  “I’d say so,” I said. At least we were on the same page.

  “Turn right on Singleton,” Wade instructed. “Then a couple blocks down, turn left on Bridge. And don’t worry. This guy’s gonna pay for his sins, regardless of how many he’s racked up.”

  I hadn’t been paying much attention to our surroundings up to that point. My mind had been concentrating more on the task ahead. But it was the names of the streets Wade had mentioned that caught my attention first. Then, one by one, I recognized some of the buildings we were passing. When the glowing white sign of Tipsword’s Automotive flashed by, I knew exactly where we were.

  “Is the motel near here?” I asked, trying to calm my burgeoning alarm. I was hoping for one answer in particular. Unfortunately, I didn’t get it.

  “We’re almost there.”

  Shit. No wonder it felt like my every move was being watched. Barnes’ lackey had been close enough to keep an eye on me all this time. In other words, too close.

  I made a left on Bridge like I’d been told, and Wade checked the rounds in his gun for the fourth time since we got in the truck. Did he think they were going to disappear or something? I wasn’t sure if the guy was nervous, or just very thorough. Either way, it probably didn’t matter. Nerves could be a good thing. They kept you on your toes.

  “So, do you have a plan?” I asked, trying to hide my own anxiousness. Though I’m not sure I succeeded in keeping it out of my voice. “Cuz I sure as hell don’t.”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “At least not yet. I’ll have a better idea once we roll up on the place, and I get another look at it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I felt better with Wade not having a plan, like I wasn’t the only one who was clueless, or if it made me uneasy. Right then, I was feeling all sorts of strange. This was all unfamiliar territory. The entire night up to that point had been surreal, and things didn’t look like they’d be getting any better as it went on. Not to mention I was creeping up on almost twenty hours since I’d last slept.

  “Pull in there,” Wade said, pointing to the left.

  I flipped down my turn signal and wa
ited for a semi to pass before turning into the empty parking lot of The Lip Service Gentleman’s Club.

  “Turn around and back into one of those spots on the end.”

  I whipped the truck around, then threw it into reverse and backed into a parking spot near the corner of the darkened building. The Lip Service appeared to be closed, which wasn’t surprising. The city was currently investigating several of these establishments for employing underage performers. The sting had dominated the news for the past few weeks. Even the large pair of pink lips above the double doorway that would normally be lit up with neon were dark.

  “Damn, looks like they’re closed,” I said, with a slap on the steering wheel for emphasis. “No infectious diseases for us tonight.”

  “There it is,” Wade said, his mind and eyes both focused on something beyond the windshield. He pointed to an L-shaped building across the street situated between a liquor store with bars on its windows and a check cashing place, also with bars on its windows. “That’s the shit hole.”

  “Damn,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  Chapter 49

  There was this time when my father and I drove the 230 miles to Detroit for a Journey concert. Even though he’d predicted that they wouldn’t be nearly as good as when he saw them with their “real” singer, he still wanted to go and dragged me along for the ride. It was my first concert. I was thirteen.