by Jack July
Sonda walked over and put her hand on Odetta’s arm. “She doesn’t know.”
“No, no, she knows. Papers? There has to be paperwork. Let’s go to the office.” Odetta dragged the woman by the hair to the office and flung her against the wall. “I want the lists. Tell her, tell her to get the lists of children she has sold.”
Sonda approached Odetta gently with her hands up. “You have to listen. Even if there are lists, there will be no arrests, no trials because nobody cares. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will happen. Please listen. It doesn’t matter. I will write a report and send it to my boss. But nothing will happen.”
Odetta looked at the woman that ran the orphanage and froze as the realization of Sonda’s words hit her like a ton of bricks. “Nothing?”
“No, nothing. Let’s go. We need to go.”
Suddenly the front door banged open. A man wearing slacks and a suit coat strode in. “What’s going on in here?” he bellowed.
The woman screamed, “HELP ME, SHE’S CRAZY!”
Sonda tried to be calm and said, “It’s a misunderstanding. You are…?”
The man looked at a wild-eyed Odetta and stuck his hand inside his coat. Odetta pulled first and fired a bullet through his right eye, blowing his brains against the door. The woman let out a shrill scream. As the man collapsed to the floor, as if in slow motion, the black item in his hand floated across the room and landed at Odetta’s feet. As the case hit the floor, it opened to reveal a badge.
Chapter 23
Joseph had Parker relay the news to the drivers over the CB that Carla Jo had been found alive. Cheers came back over the radio. He told them she was badly injured and asked them to pray. Many radioed questions back to him. He told them all to check the big board in the driver’s lounge; he would type something up and update it periodically to let them know exactly what was happening.
Jack and Deputy Nolan hurried through the doors of the emergency room in time to see a bloodied Carla Jo being hustled past them on a gurney. Jack started to follow but Kelly blocked his path. She was in scrubs and a cap. He almost didn’t recognize her. “Jack? Jack?”
He looked down at her, and she put her hand on his arm. “There’s a lot going on. The trauma team needs space to work. They took me off the team because it’s personal, and dealing with family is different than dealing with strangers. Let’s go sit down and I can tell you what’s going on.”
Kelly walked behind the emergency room counter, grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator and handed one to Jack. “Don’t forget to drink and eat, okay?”
Jack nodded. Kelly started toward the waiting room but Jack stopped her. “I don’t need to be pawed at right now. You think we can go someplace else?”
Kelly turned to the primary Emergency Room nurse and asked, “Nancy? May we use your office?”
“Yes ma’am, you go right ahead.”
They sat down on the couch in the office. Jack looked at her with all the toughness he could muster. “Tell me the truth.”
“Okay. We believe she has a broken leg and broken shoulder. However, that’s not the problem. We also think she is bleeding on the brain. We believe she has an occipital condyle injury and diffuse axonal injury; it’s kinda like shaken baby syndrome. With these types of injuries, it is hard to tell the severity or know what functions might be affected. They are taking her for a CT scan and probably an MRI. I got upset because they didn’t take her for an MRI first. That’s what got me kicked off the team. Personal feelings cloud professional decisions. Just know, Doctor Scott is one of the best ER doctors in the state. So she’s in good hands.
“So, you saying she’s gonna be alright?”
“No, I’m saying they are doing the best they can and the outlook is good. But, Jack, it’s serious. Brain injuries are tricky.”
Jack froze for a moment and stared at Kelly. Funny, he thought, the things you think about when the world is crashing down around you. He remembered when Kelly was a teenaged girl hanging out with Amy. Now? He was looking at a grown woman with skills and an important job. Then he looked at her hand and noticed the ring. He lifted her hand. “When did you get that?”
“A couple days ago. Carla Jo helped Joseph pick it out.”
“That means Carla Jo picked it out.”
“Yeah, that woman has great taste.”
“She didn’t say anything to me.”
“I told her not to. I wanted to have an engagement party.”
“Should tell your family.”
“It just didn’t seem that important with all that’s going on.”
Jack’s chin began to quiver and he choked up. “You would be wrong. It’s the most important.”
She moved in close and put her arms around his neck. “If you want to cry go right ahead. I’ll cry with you. That woman gave me my career, everything... I couldn’t imagine being without her. I can’t imagine how you feel.”
“Fer the first time in my life, something is broken that I cain’t fix. I feel helpless, that’s how I feel.”
“There are a group of people out there in that waiting room that want to prop you up. You may want to let ’em. They love her too.”
Sheriff Carter and a group of officers scanned the woods for parts and evidence. A tow truck pulled Carla Jo’s car up the bank. After being loaded on a flatbed, it was taken to police impound. Sheriff Carter still couldn’t find what he was looking for: the rear bumper.
Milt Keiffer, known by most as Skeeter, one of the younger deputies, called out from the creek bank, “Sheriff, over here.”
After working his way down the bank, Skeeter turned toward the woods and pointed his flashlight halfway up a tree. “Is that what you’re looking for?”
Sheriff Carter nodded. “Good boy, now climb your ass up there and get it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Skeeter got close and shook a few branches, and the bumper fell to the ground. Sheriff Carter picked it up and walked quickly up the hill, opened his trunk, and dropped it in. A couple of deputies walked over to take a look. Sheriff Carter growled, “You boys finished?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You sure?”
“No, sir.”
When the coast was clear, the sheriff flipped the bumper over in his trunk, took his flashlight and examined it. He got almost to the center of the bumper when he saw it. Oh no. The scuffmark of red paint was unmistakable. But he had to make sure. He called across the bridge, “Corporal Skeeter.”
“Sir? I’m ah… Deputy First Class.”
“Not anymore. Make sure this area is cleaned up and call it a night.”
“Yes sir,” the corporal said with a smile.
The sheriff jumped in his car and called ahead to Tommy Lee’s towing lot. “Tommy, this is the Sheriff. Put those ass-eatin dogs away, I gotta look at somethin’.”
Sheriff Carter arrived 20 minutes later and made a beeline for Sitzberger’s car. He shone a flashlight on the front bumper. There was the scuffmark with missing paint. He shook his head and thought, I’ll be damned; this weren’t no accident.
Amy had her hand resting on the top of her belly when she felt it move. “She’s moving around again. She’s restless.”
Doc gave her a little grin. “That’s a good sign.”
Amy looked down and rubbed her belly, waiting for more movement. There were more, then the baby relaxed. Her smile went away as she glanced at the doc. “So…?”
Doc took off his glasses and cleaned them with a tissue. “You shot a police officer?”
“Yes, more than one.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“It didn’t.”
“You felt nothing?”
“No.”
“An innocent man?”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about the innocent thing.”
“Okay then, what were you thinking, hearing, seeing?”
“I was thinking I needed to get out as quickly as possible. I was seeing exits and the check
list of escape and evasion. I saw the look on Sonda’s face.”
“What was the look?”
“She was calm. Her mind was working through the moment, just as mine was. In the background, I heard dogs barking, growling, little dogs, yipping. There must have been a kennel close by.”
“Did you escape?”
“Nope. It didn’t quite work out that way. The police officer wasn’t alone.”
“And then?”
Odetta looked down at the badge. She studied it for a moment before returning her gaze to Sonda. She nodded slowly. “Well, I guess it’s time to go, but first, a little business.” Odetta raised her weapon and fired two rounds into the chest of the portly woman. She reached into the pocket of her dress and took the $100 bill.
“Good thinking,” said Sonda as she reached for the front door, opened it a crack and saw three men charging from across the parking lot.
Sonda snapped her head around. “He’s not alone.”
“How many?”
“I see three.”
“Pin ’em down, I’ll go through the back, we’ll surround ’em.”
“Okay, go.”
Sonda opened the door and fired, dropping one, wounding one and forcing the other to dive for cover behind the taxi. Odetta sprinted through the large room, past the children and through a small kitchen to an industrial steel back door. The handle was being shaken. She pulled a magazine from her purse and stuck it in the waist of her pants. She slowly turned the bolt lock above the knob and jerked it open a few inches, staying protected behind the door. The surprised officer on the other side wildly opened fire. She stuck her pistol around the edge of the door and fired three times, slammed the door shut, stepped to the other side, slung it back open and fired five more rounds, walking the doorway like a second hand on a clock. She stopped when she saw he was already down. What she didn’t see was a ricochet that went into the big room up to the ceiling, severing a flexible gas line for an industrial heater.
Carefully working her way around the end of the building, she got low and peeked around the front. The wounded officer was leaning against the car while the other was focused on the front door. She had a momentary thought: Sneak up on them, disarm them, cuff them, throw them in the trunk and wait for help that would surely be arriving soon. Then she put her hand on her belly. Too much risk. She fired two shots at the man leaning on the front fender. He went down. Acquiring the second target, she hit the wounded man twice. She stayed concealed and watched for movement. There was none.
A slow, cautious trot brought her face to face with the death she had caused. After kicking their weapons under the car, she checked to make sure they were dead. They were. She scanned the area and saw in the distance the blue Audi.
“Sonda! Clear!”
No response. “Sonda!” she called out again. Still, nothing. She crept to the front door and ducked in. The lobby was clear. Keeping low she sprang into the office, also clear. She peeked through the door to where the children were and saw Sonda standing in the middle of the room. “Hey! Let’s go.”
Sonda turned to her with a confused look. “Do you smell that?”
“What?”
“Smell.”
Then Odetta smelled it. “That’s natural gas.”
Chapter 24
The always optimistic and usually playful Jack Brown looked broken as he walked into the waiting room. Everyone was there: Leon, Carol, Joseph, Brian, Miss Kitty, Bogus, Luther, Athos, with two conspicuous absences: Gene and Amy. They all stood without speaking. One by one, they hugged him. Then he sat on the center cushion of a large couch. The others pulled chairs up around him and waited to see what Jack had to say.
Leon broke the silence. “Cuz? How is she?”
“Couple broken bones, pretty bad head injury. They think she has brain bleeds. Truth is, they won’t know anything till after the tests, so, I reckon we wait.”
Jack didn’t see Brother Taylor III standing off to the side of the room. He came forward and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack? If it’s alright, I would like to lead you in prayer.”
Jack snapped his head around, face filled with anger. “You sure ’bout that brother Taylor? You sure you can bring yourself to pray over a Negro girl?”
Carol and Miss Kitty nearly sucked the air out of the room. Brother Taylor’s eyes widened in obvious consternation, trying to figure out where that came from. Suddenly he remembered. His father, Brother Taylor II, had refused to marry Jack and Carla Jo in the church because she was, according to him, a “Negro girl.”
Brother Taylor, with a gentle kindness, defended himself. “Jack, that wasn’t me, that was my daddy. I don’t mind paying for the sins of my father, but I have never repeated them.”
As if Jack could feel any worse, he looked up at Brother Taylor and mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Brother Taylor got his southern preacher voice and turned it on high. “Bring it in, people.”
They all came in close, surrounding Jack and holding hands. Brother Taylor let loose. “James 5:14, ‘Is any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he has committed sins, they shall be forgiven him. Confess your faults to one another, and pray for one another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of the righteous man availeth much. Jesus, we pray that you watch over the Brown family, hold them up high and let them bathe in your glory and love. Heal Carla Jo Brown and allow her to serve in your name. We pray to you, Jesus. Amen.”
“Amen,” they all repeated.
Brother Taylor put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I would like your permission to pray with her, when that is possible.”
“Yes, sir, yes, yeah. I’d like that.”
Then Jack began to shake, and they all watched helpless as the strongest, bravest man any of them knew began to break down.
Sheriff Carter parked in the department lot and sat in his car for a moment. Over the years, he had deferred more and more to legal justice and less to vigilante justice. He slept better staying on the right side of the law. However, this was Jack and Carla Jo. His own family wasn’t as close as the Browns and the Braxtons were to him, and to his wife and child. Still, there had to be a better way, a way to keep everybody clean.
After talking to a concerned desk officer about Carla Jo’s condition, he walked back to Sitzberger’s cell. Sitzberger was watching television, something his lawyer had arranged for him, through the bars. The Sheriff stared at him for a moment, then reached over and turned off the T.V. Sitzberger sat up. “Hey, my lawyer said I could watch that.”
Sheriff Carter reached for the keys on his belt, unlocked the cell, walked in and shut it behind him. He motioned for Sitzberger to scoot over then sat down next to him. “Can I help you Sherriff?”
“Nope, not really, but I can help you. Can I call you Paul?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“Good, Paul, you can call me Gene.” Gene took a deep breath, “Paul, I know where you’re from, you are taught not to talk to the law. We are the enemy. We just want to put you in jail and throw away the key. But I am here to help you, if you help me. I need to know who sent you here, and who are the men that beat up Parker Dover.”
“Well, Gene, as you know, I don’t say shit without my lawyer.”
“I know that. I also know what your future holds if you don’t help me. Paul, please, man to man, if you will help me, I swear to God I will do everything I can for you. I swear on the life of my own child. If you don’t, Lord have mercy on your soul.”
“Is that a threat? Gene?”
“You ain’t hearin’ me, Paul. I can help you. I’m the only one in the world that can help you. Paul, please, let me help you.”
Paul sat back on the cot, looking at Gene. He couldn’t recall seeing a more sincere man. A voice in his head began to chant T
ell him, tell him. Then came another voice. It said, Bullshit, shut the fuck up. Paul laughed. “Heeyyy! You almost had me, you smooth redneck motha fahka! You got no evidence. No evidence, no crime. Get the fahk outta here, and don’t come back without my lawyer.”
Gene dropped his head into his hands, rubbed his temples then stood up slowly. He unlocked the cell, walked out and closed it gently. Gene looked down at the television set and hit the button turning it on. He turned back to look at Paul, and a sad somber look crossed his face, a look that Paul had seen before. Paul wondered, Where have I seen that look before? If he’d thought a little longer he might have remembered. It was from a funeral parlor. Gene was looking at a dead man.
Dr. Earle and Amy were taking a break, walking the trail and getting a little exercise. Amy stopped and smiled. “Your friend’s back.”
“What? What friend?”
“Pete, Pete the Panther.”
Dr. Earle moved closer to Amy when he saw the gun in her hand. “Where is he?”
“Not sure yet.”
He whispered, “How do you know?”
Amy leaned in by his ear. “Listen.”
Dr. Earle whispered back, “I don’t hear anything.”
Amy smiled. “Exactly.” She transferred the gun to her left hand, reached down and picked up a rock. She stood up and stayed still, like a statue, nothing moved but her eyes. Then she saw the twitch of a branch. She heaved the rock into a bush about thirty yards up, and they heard the yowl of the big cat. They never saw him, but they could follow the movement in the brush as he scampered away.
“Wow.” His eyes were wide. “Wait, if you didn’t hear anything, how did you know?”
Amy raised her hand to silence him and they stood for a few more minutes. “Shhh, hear that?”
“What?”
“Birds singing, squirrels runnin’ around. You don’t hear that when Pete’s close by.”
