by M. Z. Kelly
“And whoever murdered Aster, decided it was also an opportunity to take the girls, and maybe pay back Maddie Cross for killing Derek Shaw. He wanted Maddie for his games to punish her for what happened.”
Buck removed his hat, brushed a hand through his short brown hair. “Makes me sick just thinking about those poor girls being out there somewhere.”
I heard the compassion in his voice at the same time my mind conjured up horrific images of what might be happening to the girls. After some further discussion and speculation about what was happening, my mood darkened and I decided I needed to change the subject. “This part of the island is beautiful. I had no idea so much of it was undeveloped,” I said.
“Did you know there’s even Buffalo on the Catalina?” he asked before having me turn off on a dirt road.
“You’re kidding?”
He shook his head. “They made a western movie here in the 1920’s and brought over a herd of buffalo for some of the scenes. The story goes it was too expensive to ship them back to the mainland so they left them all right here. From what I’ve been told the herd grew over the years until there’s now more than a hundred of them still here, all protected of course.”
“So you’re telling me you live out where the buffalo roam?”
He chuckled. “You might say that.” He pointed to a dirt driveway where I pulled up and saw there was a mobile home and a small barn next to it. “Guess you could also say I’m also trailer trash.” Bernie poked his big nose up from the backseat. Buck nuzzled him and said to me, “Care for the fifty-cent tour?”
“You bet.”
We went inside the small home that I found was comfortably furnished. Buck placed his keys on the counter and said, “I rent the place from the Catalina Island Conservancy. It’s nothing fancy but it’s comfortable and gets the job done.”
“It’s nice,” I said. I let out a little breath, relieved that it looked like he lived here alone. I saw nothing in the home that hinted at the feminine side of things.
“The house isn’t the best part,” he said, waving me and Bernie through the front door again.
We followed him to the small barn a few yards from the trailer where there was a light burning. As we entered the barn I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. There was a horse in one of the stalls with an elderly Hispanic man tending to it. The animal looked to be severely malnourished, almost starved to death. You could see the horse’s ribs and there were some abrasions on its back.
“This is Juan,” Buck said after we came around to the stall, introducing the man tending to the horse.
The man nodded and softly said, “Pleasure.” He continued to care for the horse, talking to it softly in Spanish.
Buck came over to the horse as Bernie let out a little whine of concern. “And this is Rosie,” he said quietly, stroking her mane.
I now understood his words of a couple of days earlier. “Your sick friend?”
He nodded. “Rosie was taken from her owner about a week ago, barely alive. The guy’s under arrest. As for Rosie…she gets a touch better every day.” He looked over at Juan who smiled and nodded.
“She had a good day,” Juan said. “Starting to eat and drink more. It’s a good sign.”
After spending a few minutes talking with Juan about Rosie, Buck led Bernie and me back out of the barn. “We take in strays, animals abused and neglected, and get them back on their feet and adopted. Juan lives up the road a piece so it works out real good.”
We stopped near my car. “It’s wonderful what you’re doing here. Very special.”
He smiled. “Ginger thought it would be a good idea.”
“Ginger?” Maybe he was talking about a girlfriend.
“My horse from when I was just a kid. I still talk to her now and then. She gives me pretty good advice, keeps me on the right path.”
I took a step closer to him. In the moonlight his eyes had changed. They were now a deep cobalt. They suggested there was much more to Buck McCade than I knew. And I had to admit there was a lot more that I wanted to know about him.
He walked me over to the car, helped Bernie into the backseat.
“Just one question,” I said, after he closed my door and bent down to the open window. We were close now, just inches apart.
“Hope I got an answer.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling up.
I had to look away for a moment, catch my breath. “The land and Rosie. Why don’t you tell anybody about what you’re doing here, the rescue work?”
He leaned in a little closer. For an instant I thought he might kiss me. He then lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “They already call me cowboy. My daddy always told me, stay low and mind your own business. Seems like pretty good advice.”
His lips were all I could see now as he came even closer. I held my breath and leaned into him. We both heard a noise coming from the barn. It was Rosie whinnying.
He moved back a few inches, turned toward the barn. “Looks like I’m in for a long night.” He looked back at me, reached over and touched my hand. It was a small gesture but it instantly sent a jolt of excitement through me. “See you in the morning, Kate. Sleep well.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Grace’s heart races as she hears the sounds in the house again. The men are back, opening doors, and removing the other girls from their rooms. She scoots back against the wall as her door swings open.
“It’s time.” It’s the same man in the blue hood that came for her before.
She knows she has no choice but to comply. Even as she hurries down the hallway, the man pushes her, telling her to move faster.
As Grace walks, her eyes and ears take in everything about the house. The other rooms, the hallway, the front door, living room, and what is probably a kitchen. She glances over at the windows. They’re covered with plastic. She realizes there’s no way to see outside or inside the house.
“In the yard now,” the man shouts, pushing her and the other girls outside through a back door.
When they’re in the backyard Grace sees that it’s dark. She glances up at the sky. There are stars but no moon. Beyond where they’re gathered there are trees and hills but she doesn’t see any other houses. Grace formulates a plan: she will run if she gets the chance, try and find her way to a road and get help.
The other man, the one who told them about something called The Rendering, now comes out of the house. He’s a little taller than his companion and his voice is less harsh. Even so, there’s something about the man that sends waves of fear down Grace’s spine. She knew a man like this once. She was in a group home where he abused the other girls, sexually attacking some of them. Grace had run away from the home before he could do the same to her.
“My name is Lamech,” the man with the softer voice says. “Tonight’s rendering will begin when Priest sounds the horn. You will have exactly one hour before we begin the choosing.”
“Choosing for what?” Maddie says.
“You will know soon enough.”
He turns to the man he called Priest. Grace sees that he has something in his hand. Priest partially lifts up his blue hood, bringing what Grace now sees is a conch shell up to his mouth. There’s something mournful about the sound, how it echoes over the deserted hills. The place is so isolated that she doubts there’s anyone else who can hear the sound.
“Let us begin,” Lamech says. “The game starts now. You have exactly one hour before the choosing begins. The game is called, Pursuit. RUN.”
Most of the other girls quickly scatter, heading for the trees, but Grace turns, seeing that Sissy isn’t moving. She reaches out and takes her hand. “Come with me.”
They stay together, moving quickly through the yard and into the woods. “We have to stay together,” Grace says to Sissy as they scramble down a hill. “We can’t get separated.”
After a few minutes they stop. It’s very dark here. Grace realizes that in their panic to get away they might have gotten turned around. She isn’t
even sure now if the house where they were held prisoner is ahead of them or behind.
“I’m scared,” Sissy says. “What should we do?”
“Let’s keep moving,” Grace says, pulling her forward. She can only pray that they’re moving in the right direction, away from the house.
Several minutes later, they’re deep in the woods where the brush is thick. They can barely make their way forward when they suddenly stop, hearing a sound. Someone is screaming.
Grace tugs on Sissy’s hand, pulling her toward what she now realizes is a girl crying out for help. They reach a clearing but the screaming has stopped. They now hear someone moaning and crying softer. They follow the sound, calling out, until they find Clara. She’s lying on the ground, dazed and confused.
“What happened?” Grace asks, trying to catch her breath at the same time she and Sissy pull Clara up to her feet.
“The fence,” Clara cries out. “It’s electric.”
Grace looks over, now seeing the tall chain-link fence that disappears into the wilderness. She breathes, trying to calm herself, the realization hitting her that the fence probably runs all the way around the property. There is no way out.
They stay with Clara until she regains some of her composure and scrambles off into the wilderness.
“What do we do now?” Sissy says.
Grace takes a moment surveying their surroundings. She thinks they have about fifteen minutes left before the men come for them. She sees there’s a large tree that’s fallen near the fence. She pulls Sissy with her over to the decaying tree trunk. If they can work together she thinks there’s enough room to wedge themselves down into the hollowed out portion of the tree. If they can get far enough inside no one will be able to see them.
It takes them several minutes, but the girls finally work their slender bodies down inside the place they’ve chosen to hide. They hug one another, Sissy’s body trembling with fear in Grace’s arms. They then hear the mournful cry of the conch shell again and know the men are coming for them.
Grace closes her eyes, letting her mind drift away. She sees numbers floating through the sky. She follows the imaginary numbers, counting them as they take her away from this terrible place. She remembers doing the same thing when she was a little girl. After her mother had died she’d spent long nights, crying in bed and thinking there were monsters outside her door.
Now she knows that the monsters are real. She can hear their voices coming out of the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The next morning I went with Natalie and Mo to try and talk to Josh Robbins. My friends hadn’t been able to locate him yesterday and they were determined to try again. I decided I’d better go with them because, given Mo’s state of mind, I worried that she might do something she’d later regret.
I drove, deciding to stop by Clowney’s Funeral Home on the way.
“What we doing here?” Mo demanded from the backseat where she sat with Bernie.
“Roth knows everyone on the island,” I said. “If Robbins gives up somebody being involved it’s likely that Roth will know him and where he lives.”
“Do ya think we’ll see any dead bodies?” Natalie asked when we got to the porch. “Always wondered how they can make a dead guy look like he’s almost alive.”
I opened the door for her. “I hope not.”
When I saw Mildred Butcher in her office I had the passing thought that maybe she had died, Roth had propped her up in her chair, and used some of his funeral makeup on her. She looked up from her book when we entered, dashing my hopes. The receptionist physically drew back, shaking her head at Bernie. She sneezed.
Natalie saw that she had her bondage book open on the desk. “Did you read that part where the bloke has a room full of chains, whips, and leather?”
Mildred blew her nose, looked at Natalie. “It’s my favorite part.”
As we walked toward the back offices, looking for Roth, Mo whispered to Natalie, “Betcha havin’ sex with Mildred would be like doing it with a corpse.”
“I wonder if she’s ever done it in a coffin,” Natalie said when she saw the display area. “Maybe I need to put that on me bucket list.”
Roth came around the corner and overheard the conversation. “I’d be happy to help you out, Natalie. In fact, I’m free this evening.” He was wearing an apron that reminded me of what the TV serial killer, Dexter, wore in his kill room.
It occurred to me that Natalie might actually be considering the offer, so I spoke up, telling Roth why we were there. “If you’ve got a free hour or so I’d like you to go with us.”
He smiled. “I’m going to have to add this to your bill.” He saw my brow knit. “You already owe me for one favor. I’ll just run you a tab.”
“Whatever.”
He held up a finger, smiling as an idea apparently surfaced. “In fact, if you’ll help me out for a few minutes, you could pay off one of your obligations right now.”
I looked at him, my friends. “I’m afraid to ask. What do you want?”
“Just a little manual dexterity and strength.” He motioned for us to follow him into a back room.
No sooner had we entered what turned out to be Roth’s preparation room than Natalie, seeing the body of a large dead woman on a table, stated the obvious. “She’s deader than a turd in a shithouse.”
The deceased woman wore a bright red dress with matching shoes. She was deathly pale and blue, apparently still in need of Roth’s makeup artistry. I turned to him. “What’s going on?”
“Marybeth Wilson,” Roth said, referencing the body. “Keeled over dead in church on Sunday.” He smiled. “I’ve heard some rumors about Marybeth, so it’s possible the good lord took the opportunity to bring her home.” He smiled. “I’m just finishing up with the dressing and could use some help with placement.”
I looked at him, the others. “Placement?”
“I think he wants us to put Marybeth in her coffin,” Mo said, shaking her big head. My friend had on her best red wig that perfectly complimented Marybeth’s dress.
I said to Roth, “You can’t be serious?”
“My pulley system’s down. She is rather heavy and my back…” He rubbed his lower spinal region. “I think I strained it putting on the dress.
A horrifying scene of Roth dressing Marybeth moved through my mind.
Mo put down her purse. “Let’s get this over with so we can go lean on that Robbins’ kid.”
I looked at her, the others. “I can’t believe I’m doing this?” I also put down my purse and went over to the body.
After a lengthy discussion, also called an argument, Mo and I settled on the upper portion of Marybeth’s rather large anatomy, while Roth and Natalie took what the lawyer-undertaker referred to as the land down under.
As it turned out, in life Marybeth had carried around a considerable amount of baggage, most of it having been applied directly to what Ross had termed her southern hemisphere. We managed to get her off the table but things immediately went downhill.
“I’m losing me bloody grip,” Natalie said as the four of us began what an outsider might have called a death mambo with Marybeth.
“We just need to hoist her up a couple of more feet,” Roth said, angling our dead dance partner’s ample girth toward the table with the open coffin.
We wobbled over to the casket like four drunken undertakers as Mo grimaced and said, “She’s gotta backside bigger than a Kardashian. I don’t think this is gonna work…”
“Just another foot,” Ross pleaded, angling his arms underneath our mambo partner. It occurred to me that the lawyer was literally trying to raise the dead.
In hind sight, I should have known it was a losing effort. Marybeth came up a few inches, before her massive girth gave in to the tug of gravity. Our death mambo ended as Natalie lost her grip, slipped, and went down to the land down under.
“She’s gonna smother the bleep’n life outta me,” Natalie fumed as the lower portion of our co
rpse’s considerable girth swallowed up my friend. From somewhere in the southern hemisphere we heard a muffled cry for help. “Get her off me.”
We finally managed to pull Natalie from beneath Marybeth’s death flop after lots of pushing and pulling.
“I’m scarred for life,” Natalie said, finally getting back to her feet. “I’ll probably have night terrors ‘till St. Peter opens the pearly’s.”
“Somethin’ to tell your kids about someday,” Mo said, wiping her brow. She turned to Roth. “Let’s get the box on the floor, see if we can roll her into it.”
We got the coffin on the floor and after a few tries finally succeeded at laying or I should say rolling Marybeth Wilson to rest.
After we cleaned up and got into the car, I told Roth. “Just so you know, I think that little escapade settled out debt. We’re paid in full.”
The attorney smiled. He was sitting between me and Natalie in the front bench seat and appeared to be enjoying the seating arrangements. “I just have one other small request.”
I rolled my eyes. “What?”
“I’d like to go with you ladies to the policeman’s ball Saturday night. The Stardust residents will all be there and it could be good for my business.”
I glanced over at Natalie, back at Mo. They both shrugged. I exhaled and said to Roth, “Okay, but if anyone kicks the bucket at the ball, you’re on your own.”
“I got me an idea about the ball,” Natalie said. “I think we should all go in costume.”
“I’m not dressing up as Desi Arnaz if that’s what you have in mind,” I said, remembering how she’d made me dress up as the dead sit-com star for an actor’s workshop a few months back, while she went as Lucy.
“It’s something better than that.” She glanced over at Roth. “There’s even a role for you.”
“Just remember,” Roth said, “I’m the leading-man type.”
“I think you’re gonna make the perfect Bosley,” Natalie said, giggling.
