by Terry Shames
“We figured first things first. We had to worry about the man outside the house here.”
“You mean the man who just got shot?”
“Yeah. They were both shooting. For all I know everybody inside is dead.”
Ryder turns to me. You said you know something about these people?”
“The victim is Marcus Longley of the True Marcus Ministries,” I say.
“True Marcus Ministries, huh? Never heard of it.”
“It’s one of those cults that descended on Waco in honor of that Branch Davidian FBI fiasco back in the nineties.”
Ryder snorts. “And you know about this how?”
“It’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it over a beer sometime.”
“I can’t wait.” He turns to James Harley. “Now that the ambulance is gone, maybe it’s a good idea to try to talk to whoever is inside the house.”
“Wait.” I put up my hand. “James Harley, could you send somebody over to see if Taylor’s still in town and bring her over here?”
“I know she’s still in town,” James Harley says. “Her mamma got sick and Taylor had to take her to the doctor on Friday. And the doctor told Taylor she ought not be left alone for a couple of days.”
James Harley’s wife is a nurse, and works for the town’s only doctor, so she’d know.
“Good, then see if somebody can find her.”
“But why do we need Taylor?” James Harley says.
“She’s Curtis’s sister-in-law. If Curtis has his wife in there, he might be persuaded to talk to Taylor.”
“Well that may not be necessary.” James Harley puffs out his chest. “I’ll try and talk him out of there. Just give me a minute and I’ll assign somebody to go get Taylor.” He swaggers away.
Ryder smirks at me. “This little town hasn’t seen this much excitement in a long time.”
Suddenly I notice that the crowd has increased considerably, everyone dressed in their Sunday clothes. Driving home from church, they’ve stopped to get in on the action. Loretta is waving at me, so I step over to tell her what’s going on.
“You want me to go around back and see if I can talk to them?” she says.
Loretta is not a brave person, so I’m taken aback by this sudden boldness. “Absolutely not! You stay away from there. That man is dangerous.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Curtis is a coward, always has been. That’s why he likes those guns.”
“That may be, but a cowardly person is more likely to shoot somebody on a whim than a person with self-confidence is. Anyway, James Harley is going to see if he can’t get Curtis to come out.”
“We all know how well that’s going to work.” She looks toward the house and folds her arms in a stubborn pose. “By the way, have they found Boone yet?”
Her question wrenches me back to the problem of Boone Eldridge’s whereabouts. “No, he’s still missing.”
“Maybe he was in a car wreck.”
“Highway patrol would know about that and somebody would have notified Linda.”
“Not if he wasn’t on the main road. He might have been somewhere where nobody would notice if his car was off in a ditch.”
“We’ll have to check that out.” James Harley is about to make his move, so I leave Loretta and go back to Ryder. He’s lent James Harley a bulletproof vest. James Harley has a bullhorn in one hand and his firearm in the other. I want to tell him not to be too free with the use of the gun, but don’t know how to say it without humiliating him.
Ryder apparently isn’t worried about hurting James Harley’s feelings. “Chief Krueger, you know how to use that gun?”
James Harley looks at the gun, a big Colt .45, as if he hadn’t thought of that before. “Yes, sir, I’ve taken the gun safety course just like everybody else.”
“Then you know not to be too quick to pull the trigger.”
“I know that son of a bitch better not fire first,” James Harley says.
His eyes and mouth tensed up with determination, James Harley walks over to the end of the sidewalk leading up to the Harbin house. When he puts the bullhorn up to his mouth, the onlookers get quiet. He pushes the button and the bullhorn gives a squawk. “Curtis, if you’re in there, you need to let me know everybody is all right.”
I’m surprised and impressed that James Harley has said the right thing, and that he spoke in a strong, confident voice. I had expected him to say something like, “Come out with your hands up,” or some sort of TV talk. Maybe there is promise in him.
Silence. The house might as well be deserted for all the action James Harley’s words elicit.
“Anybody in the house. I need to know people are all right. Just flick one of the shades open and closed, so I least know you’re hearing me.”
For several seconds there is no reply, but then there’s a sharp cry from inside.
“At least somebody’s in there,” Ryder says. “And they’re alive.”
Ryder and I walk over to stand next to James Harley, who hands me the bullhorn and takes out a handkerchief to wipe his brow.
“Ask him if he’ll send the women out,” Ryder says.
“No,” I say. “He’s paranoid about his wife and girls. He won’t take that well.”
I hear a car door slam and someone running. I turn to see Taylor trotting toward us. “I can’t believe this! That goddamn Curtis! Is Sarah in there?”
“Seems like she might be,” I say. “I’m thinking you could let her know you’re here, and maybe she can persuade Curtis to come out.”
“He won’t hurt them, will he?” She’s trembling.
“There’s no guarantees,” Ryder says firmly. “But we’ll do everything we can to defuse the situation.”
He shows her how to use the bullhorn. “Just speak kindly, but firmly. Tell him you’re concerned about your sister and just want a sign that she and the children are all right.”
Taylor says just what Ryder told her to, and then adds, “Curtis, I know you love your family and don’t want them to come to harm.”
The door cracks open and then widens. A woman’s voice, high and scared says, “Taylor, Curtis is hurt. We need help.”
Taylor starts forward, but Ryder grabs her from behind. “No ma’am, this could be a trap. Her husband might be trying to lure you in there.”
He puts the megaphone up to his mouth. “Ma’am, I see you at the door. Your sister is here, and we want to help you, but you need to show yourself.”
The door opens wider, and Sarah steps outside, blinking in the bright light. She puts her hand up to shield her eyes. “Taylor?” She sways on her feet.
Taylor wrenches free and runs to her sister and grabs her as she slumps onto the porch.
Ryder is the first one to reach the house. His Sig Sauer “Equalizer” drawn, he steps over the women and throws himself to one side of the door. He slowly peers inside and his shoulders relax. He lowers his gun to his side and gestures with a nod of his head for the rest of us to come inside.
Curtis is lying on the living room floor, his eyes closed, one hand clutched to a seeping wound in his side. Oddly, there is a rosy lump on his forehead. “Send in the EMS,” Ryder hollers. “It’s all clear here.”
Three young girls in their early teens huddle together on the sofa, clutching each other’s hands, all as pale as if they’d been in prison. Curtis and Sarah only have two daughters, so I’m wondering who the third girl is and where the boys are. It’s unbearably hot in the house, which could account for Sarah fainting. I find that the thermostat is turned off. I flip it back on and hear the immediate whine of the air conditioner.
Then I go back to the girls and say to the one who looks oldest. “You three go into the kitchen.” I nod in that direction. “Get yourselves some water.” They get up, but they seem so uncertain about whether to obey me that I go with them, shooing them in front of me. I sit them down at the kitchen table and get water for them. “It should cool down in a minute. You all need something to eat?”
They s
tare at me mutely, and for a second I wonder if they are in their right minds. But then one of them, who looks to be about twelve, speaks up. “We haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
The older one grabs her arm. “Hush!”
I fling open the refrigerator. It’s almost bare, but there is a jar of peanut butter and some jelly. In the cupboard I find a box of saltine crackers. I put them on the table with a knife. “Get some food in you.”
When I go back in the front room the EMS team, a hefty young man and a tall blonde woman with muscular arms, are coming in with their equipment. They crouch down to take a look at Curtis, who is stirring. The man moves Curtis’s arm away from his side. “This doesn’t look too bad,” he says.
The wound isn’t in a strategic place, and isn’t losing enough blood to account for Curtis being passed out on the floor. “You see this?” The woman points to the lump on Curtis’s head.
“Somebody clocked him,” the man says. They both rise and step away to make way for a couple of highway patrolmen who are taking pictures of the scene.
“Let us know when we can get him out of here,” the woman says.
“Looks like he’s waking up,” I tell her. “And we’d like a couple of words with him. Shouldn’t take long. You can go out and get your trolley so it’ll be ready to go.”
Taylor has helped Sarah to her feet and brings her inside, where it’s starting to cool down. Sarah is leaning so heavily on her that Taylor staggers under the weight, so I get on the other side, and together we take Sarah into what was Bob’s bedroom. Two boys, about ten or eleven, are already there, one lying on the bed, the other one pacing around. “Mamma!” the one pacing says, and throws himself at her.
Sarah musters strength to grab the boy to her. She closes her eyes and lays her cheek on the top of his head. The two of them cling to each other like shipwreck victims. The boy on the bed, who looks to be the older of the two, sits up, and I see that he has a bruised face. I have a feeling I know how he got his bruises and how Curtis got his lump, and anger surges up in me. I step to the bed and bend down to talk quietly to him. “What’s your name, son?”
“Ben.”
“What happened to you?”
He stares at me, his mouth tight in a way that tells me he has no intention of talking.
“It’s all right, Ben. You can tell Mr. Craddock.” Taylor sits down on the bed next to him. He shies away from her. Her eyes widen. “You don’t know who I am, do you? I’m your aunt. Your mom’s sister. I haven’t seen you in a few years.”
“Where are the girls?” Sarah is alert now and panicked.
“They’re fine. I took them in the kitchen to get them out of the way and gave them something to eat. Now you sit down.”
She sinks down next to Taylor.
“The girls said they hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. Same with you?”
Sarah flushes. “They ought not to have told you that.”
“I’m sorry, Mamma, I told Annie she shouldn’t have said anything.” The oldest girl is standing in the doorway with a plate of peanut butter and crackers. She holds it out to the younger boy.
“Thank you, sister,” he says. There’s a lofty tone to his voice, as if he feels like it was her duty to bring him food. I’m wondering what has been done to these kids.
I go back to the front room to find out what Curtis has to say for himself. When I get there I find EMS ready to wheel him out on the trolley. I could have saved myself the trouble of coming to hear Curtis talk, because it’s clear from the grim set of the faces surrounding him that he’s refusing to say anything.
I have no patience left for him. I step up close and say, “Curtis, enough is enough. What the hell do you think you’re doing putting your family in danger? And having a fistfight with one of your sons. Not to mention having a goddamn shoot-out like you think you’re in the Wild West. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He opens his mouth and I find I’m not quite done yet. “And don’t you dare tell me it’s none of my business. You’ve made enough of a screw-up. Somebody has got to talk some sense to you. Now what are you doing here, and why did that guy Marcus come gunning for you?”
I guess I’m saying what just about everyone is thinking, because nobody says a word or makes a move to stop me. Only the blonde EMS woman says anything. “Whoa,“ kind of an aside to her partner.
Curtis tries to sit up more, but he groans through gritted teeth. “All right, but I’ll talk just to you,” he says, looking at me. “I don’t want anybody else in here.”
“Okay, let’s clear out,” Ryder says.
“What the hell?” one of the troopers says. “Who is he?”
“I’m not leaving this man’s side. He’s in custody,” James Harley says, glaring at me.
“Can I have a word?” Ryder takes James Harley’s arm and pulls him aside.
He talks low to him, but I know he’s telling James Harley that the Texas Highway Patrol has the upper jurisdiction and that I have permission from him to take a statement from Curtis. I’m glad Ryder didn’t take James Harley to task in front of everyone.
When they are done talking, James Harley hollers, “Okay, everybody clear out!” Saving face.
“Talk to me,” I say when Curtis and I are alone.
He runs a hand over his mouth. His eyes are full of fury. “You were right. That son of a bitch was looking to get his hands on my oldest daughter.”
“And another girl, too, looks like.”
He closes his eyes and his voice is a snarl. “We stole her. They’re going to be after me, but she begged to go too. She and my girl had been set up in separate quarters. Both of them going to be married to so-called leaders.” He opens his eyes again and they burn into mine. “My wife was trying to protect our girl by saying she was sick. But that could only go on so long.” He clenches his mouth, and then spits out, “Why can’t a man trust a soul in this world?”
“Why didn’t Sarah tell you earlier what was going on?”
His face twists, and I’m pretty sure I’m seeing self-loathing in action. “She was scared to. Said she didn’t think I’d believe her.”
“Would you have?”
He lets out a tormented groan and thrashes his legs around. Curtis isn’t a man who’s likely to change much, but he’s facing a future without the church support he thought was solid behind him and knowing he has made serious errors in judgment.
“Look, Curtis, you did the right thing getting your family out of there,” I say. “Except for the shooting.”
“He came after me. It was self-defense, pure and simple.”
“Still, you could have called the police and let them handle it.”
“Well, I didn’t. I put my trust in myself. And I’m not sorry.”
I’m figuring he will be sorry when he has to spend money he’s so careful about to defend himself in court. But that’s for another day.
I step to the door and call out for the EMS. “You all take him to the hospital and get him patched up.”
“What about my family? When the Brother Elders hear about Marcus, somebody is likely to come after them.”
“I’ll see to it that your family is safe,” I say.
When the EMS crew has taken Curtis away, with a trooper to guard him, I tell James Harley and John Ryder what Curtis told me.
“The chief of police in Waco is going to want to know about this,” Ryder says. “And I’ll alert the highway patrol center up there. Looks like that Marcus bunch is a nest that needs to be cleaned out.”
I go in and get Taylor out of the kitchen and bring her up to date. “I have an idea about how to keep them safe, but you may have to persuade Sarah.”
I tell her my idea. Taylor agrees that Sarah may make a fuss, but when we tell Sarah the plan she only puts up a token resistance. Before long, I hear the roar of a couple of motorcycles and I go out to meet Walter Dunn to introduce him to the people who need protecting.
It’s another hour before I’m back hom
e. As soon as I’ve poured myself a cup of coffee, I call Linda Eldridge, not knowing if my call will be welcome.
She tells me Boone still hasn’t shown up. Her voice is subdued, like she’s resigned herself to the worst.
“Mr. Craddock, I’m sorry I sent you away this morning. I know you’re just trying to help.”
I tell her there’s no need to apologize, that I know that she’s under a lot of strain. “Your kids okay?”
“It’s getting harder to keep them from knowing something is wrong. And I haven’t heard anything from the highway patrol. At least they haven’t found Boone’s car.”
I tell her I’ll come by first thing in the morning, and that she should try to get a good night’s sleep.
I’ve never been so glad that Jenny and I have a wine-sipping date for this evening. I’ve got a lot to unload.
I’ve just come back up to the house from seeing to my cows the next morning when the phone rings. It’s Vic from the motorcycle shop. I’d almost forgotten about him in all the excitement.
“I hear you were looking for me Saturday. Sorry, I was down in Galveston for the weekend.” He says he’ll be working at High Ride all day, and I can come in anytime. He tells me that Curtis’s two boys are being brought to the shop. “We’re putting ’em to work. Walter says they need a little dose of the real world.”
I call Ryder, and find out that the highway patrol had a quiet night, for once. “Still nothing on Coach Eldridge’s car. But it’s been forty-eight hours now, so we can put a little more manpower into it. But what I’m thinking is that it’s going to be a local person who finds Eldridge, dead or alive.”
Before I head for the motorcycle shop, I swing by to check on Linda Eldridge. I can tell when she opens the door that she’s had a shock. Her face is dead white. “What’s happened?”
Without a word, she walks over to the edge of the porch and vomits over the side. I hold onto her until she’s done. She obviously hasn’t eaten much; it’s mostly bile that comes out.
When I get her sat down in the kitchen with a glass of water she says, “Just before you got here, two men came to the door. They said they were looking for Boone. They said they were expecting a call from Boone and they hadn’t gotten it. I told them I hadn’t seen him since Saturday morning.” She starts to shiver.
