Like Lions

by Brian Panowich

  “Why?” Clayton asked.

  “Ernest didn’t know. He didn’t ask. He was one of your father’s old guard. He came up in rank by not asking questions. Minding too much of a Burroughs’ business is how you caught a bullet. He just did what he was told.”

  Kate got up and got three beers from the fridge. “And he didn’t think to tell anyone after Hal died?”

  “Like I said, he was old guard. That meant not runnin’ your mouth—period—about anything. Besides, money never mattered no how to any of those old-timers. I doubt he even would have told Mark if he wasn’t his grandson and hadn’t gotten him all liquored up after a night of spades, shortly after he got here.”

  Clayton took the open beer from Kate. “So why didn’t you tell me all this when you found out?”

  “Because money makes people crazy. It makes people do crazy shit, and we have enough crazy shit going on. Imagine the trouble we’d have on us if every hillbilly this side of Floyd County thought there was a payday at the end of the Bull Mountain rainbow. Coot Viner and his boys would be the least of our worries.”

  “And you were worried I’d get crazy, too?”

  “No, Clayton, never. I was never worried about you. It was just... well... you and Kate have been in a bad place lately. With the new baby, and all, I figured between me and Mark, we could find it on our own.”

  “You thought you’d have that payday all to yourselves.”

  “No. I thought I was protecting you, protecting your wife—and Eben. Like I said, I failed your brother. I didn’t want to make that mistake again. I was going to bring you into the fold once Mark sniffed it out. It was a bad decision, and I’m sorry. But I’ve never lied to you, Clayton. Not once since we were kids.”

  Clayton said nothing. To his knowledge, that was true.

  Kate ran her hands through her hair and exhaled long and weary. “And not once did you think if Clayton found it, he would turn the money over to the police and not you.”

  “Of course we considered that, but it would be Clayton’s decision to make. It still is.”

  “Mike, there is no money,” Clayton said. “I think you’re right. I think he burned it just because he could. My brother was crazy.”

  “No, Halford wasn’t crazy. He was smart. You all are. That’s why the Burroughs have been on top of the food chain for so long. The only problem is he was too smart for his own good, and sometimes that can be dangerous, as you well know.”

  “And you think this cash is what these Viners set out to rob Tuten to find?”

  “I think they acted on a piece of the puzzle, but if that’s the case then already too many people are looking, and that’s bad news for anyone living up here.”

  Clayton slid back into his chair and laid the knobby walking stick across the flat surface. He felt the world swirling around him. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He looked at his wife. He really looked at her this time. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes so big and green and inviting, he wanted to just dive into them. “So what makes you think I can find something the Feds or a professional tracker like Mark can’t?”

  “Because I think Halford would have left it for you, and only you to find.”

  “You give me too much credit, Mike. My brother hated me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Halford didn’t hate you. He was scared of you.”

  Clayton laughed out loud. “Now that is a line of shit, if I ever heard one.”

  Mike took a swig from his beer. “You remember the story you told about the flood? The one you told Bracken at the compound?”

  “About the first time he tried to kill me? What about it?”

  “I was there that day at the creek. I saw him standing there watching you in the water. I yelled to him to help you. Do you know what he said?”

  “Fuck you, Mike. Let him drown?”

  “No. He said he couldn’t. He said if he saved you, then when the day came that your deddy gave you Bull Mountain, then it would be his own fault.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I told you, Clayton. I’ve never lied to you.”

  Kate stood up. “Jesus, Mike. That doesn’t make Halford afraid of anything. That just proves he was a selfish prick who only cared about himself even back then.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, but it definitely lends a little perspective. Doesn’t it, Clayton?”

  Clayton said nothing. He killed his beer.

  The three of them sat in silence for a long time before Mike told Clayton about the attack on the compound. “This son of a bitch, Coot, said he was claiming three of us. He’s already killed two of my men. I believe he’s coming after you next. I won’t allow that to happen. That’s why Nipper and Lo-Fat are outside.”

  Clayton still said nothing. He got up, grabbed another beer out of the fridge, and sat back down. He rolled the length of hickory slowly back and forth on the tabletop and then stopped.

  “I think I know what needs to happen next.”

  *

  “I met a woman today who claims to be kin to that boy I...” Clayton got lost in his admission.

  Mike brought him back. “The boy at the pond?”

  “Yeah. Her name’s Vanessa. Vanessa Viner. She was the boy’s aunt.”

  Kate started to interrupt, but Clayton raised a hand and she stayed silent. “She claims to be working with Bracken. She says she’s his connection to the dope they want to run through here. She also says she’s the one that inadvertently planted the seed that led her nephew and his buddies to try and pull off that robbery. She feels like it’s her fault, and his demise is on her. She told me her family has no intention of exacting any retaliation.”

  “And so the other night?”

  “She said her brother is acting on his own. She knows what that animal did out at Deddy’s and claims that she had no part in it. The way she says it, she’s the black sheep of this Viner family. She says she turned her back on all of them years ago for a new life. She even changed her name to put distance between her and them, but she’s still the only one that her mama, Twyla, the woman in charge of the whole bunch, will trust. That apparently don’t sit well with her brother already, so when Twyla gave the final word on this situation, Coot headed this way on his own, despite them both.”

  “It was his son,” Kate said, almost in Coot’s defense.

  Mike ignored her. “So do you trust this woman?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it was a ballsy move just coming here to talk to me. Even if she’s not telling the truth, I do believe her deal with Bracken is more important to her than what happened to her nephew.”

  “So what does she want?”

  Clayton sat back in his chair, and scratched at his beard. “The same thing Bracken wanted. To be cut in.”

  “And what do we gain by allowing that?” Kate said.

  “Other than what Bracken laid out already? She says she’ll put a leash on her big brother, and the war we started ends—now.”

  “And we are just supposed to take her word for it?”

  “Kate, I’m not sure I can believe anyone about anything right now, but I do know that in the brief amount of time I spent with this woman, I can tell you that she’s nobody’s fool. She’s smart and she cares more about money than anything else.”

  “Who does that sound like?” Kate said directly to Mike.

  “C’mon, Kate. That’s not fair.”

  Clayton felt a buzzing on his leg, and ignored it. “Who’s working your left hand, Mike?”

  “Tuley.”

  Clayton noticed his wife’s unease at the mention of Tuley’s name for the second time.

  “What have you got him on right now?”

  “You. He’s watching this place.”

  “Take him off.”

  “Clayton, you’re not safe. We need this place protected.”

  “I’m capable of protecting my own home, Mike. But if it makes you feel better, keep those two outside, but keep the
m in the woods. I don’t want to see them. I need Tuley somewhere else.”

  “Where?”

  “He’s a tracker. Have him track this Cooter, or whatever his name is, but no contact. Tell him just to observe and report. As long as we know where that asshole is, there shouldn’t be a problem here.”

  “Why don’t we just have Mark take him out?”

  “Because, Michael,” Kate said, “it runs the risk of this Vanessa woman coming unglued, and if Clayton thinks she’s the more formidable opponent, then it becomes a bigger problem.”

  “How about because I’m the goddamn sheriff of McFalls County, and I just don’t give orders to have people killed. That’s why.” Clayton locked eyes with his wife. He didn’t know why he was so surprised at the way she thought. Kate had always been the strongest woman he’d ever known. It was what made her so attractive to him all those years ago in the first place. It was why he married her. Mike stood up, leaving the rest of his beer to sweat on the table.

  “I’ll contact Mark right now.”

  “Good, and then find out if Bracken Leek is still in Georgia. If it’s possible, set up another meeting at Deddy’s house. I want to know his take on Vanessa and what he knows about this supposed stash of money.”

  “Oh, it’s possible,” Mike said, a little too eagerly.

  Clayton and Kate both stared at him.

  “What?” Mike held his hands up.

  “Nothing,” Clayton said. “Make the call.” He was pretty sure that not only had Mike kept Bracken in the state, he was most likely still in McFalls County. Mike pulled a walkie from his coat, proving Clayton right, and disappeared from the room. Clayton and Kate both sat silent and listened to the front door close as he left. They sat there like that for a long time. Finally, Kate got up and cleared the table. She poured Mike’s beer down the sink and tossed away the empty bottle. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you coming?”

  He wanted to, but that’s not what he said. “No, Kate, I’m not taking a shower. This thing—all this—I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all. What I did to that boy has got me twisted up.”

  “I understand.”

  “No. I don’t think you do. You just found out your husband is a murderer. No self-defense call to make this time. No lives in the balance. Just a straight-up murderer.”

  “No, you’re not. You put down a rabid animal that threatened to come after your family. It’s different.”

  “Keep telling me that, maybe someday I’ll believe you.”

  Kate didn’t argue. She poured her own beer down the sink and tossed her empty bottle away, too. “Don’t take too long.” She walked to the table and placed her hand on his. “I need you.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s true.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Kate.”

  “Yes.”

  “You were with Mark the other night. Not Charmaine. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He wanted your help convincing me to join this treasure hunt, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  Clayton sat in the chair with his back to her. “But you didn’t know that when you agreed to see him, did you?”

  She hesitated but finally said “No” and left the room. After a quick stop to check on the baby, she quietly closed her bedroom door. When Clayton heard the shower start, he stood up and got himself another beer. He twisted the top and drank most of it in front of the open fridge. He grabbed another one and walked into the den. He sat the bottles on the coffee table and sank down on the couch. He looked at his phone to see a missed call from Charles—his home number. After a long while he pulled a medicine bottle and a small folded-up piece of paper from his pocket. He opened the bottle and shook out two white ovals. He chewed the pills dry, washed them down with the rest of his second beer, and unfolded the slip of paper. He read the numbers he’d written on it to himself. It was the plate number of the black BMW he’d seen parked on Main Street outside of Lucky’s after he left Vanessa sitting at the bar. The last two digits were E and D. They matched the car used in the Fannin County murder that Charles Finnegan had asked him about earlier. The drunk who saw the car thought it was a peach on the tag but it wasn’t. It was an orange. Vanessa Viner was a killer.

  “You can take the girl out of Boneville,” Clayton said to himself, and tossed the paper on the table. He opened his third beer and just held it. Beer wasn’t going to cut it, tonight. He laid his back deep in the plush sofa and waited for the hydrocodone to work its magic.

  *

  Clayton wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he came to. The pills had caused him to doze off sitting up. He’d spilled his beer into his lap while he slept, and had a wet stain in his crotch that made it look like he’d pissed himself. “Goddammit.” He put the bottle on the table and started to stand when he saw the black man standing next to the couch with the hickory cane he’d left on the table.

  “Howdy, Sheriff.” Tate swung the length of wood and caught Clayton across the right side of his face. He fell backwards into the couch and went back into the deep sleep he’d just come out of. Tate poked the cane into Clayton’s chest and arms until he was satisfied that he wouldn’t be getting back up and then turned his attention to the other side of the house and the real purpose of his visit.

  21

  WESTERN OUTPOST NEAR LITTLE FINGER RAPIDS

  Mark already had eyes on Coot Viner when Mike pulled him off babysitting Clayton Burroughs, so it didn’t take much time at all to swap out designations. This post was much more suited to his skill set anyway. He shifted his weight from his left hip and leg to his pelvis. He’d already cleared the dander and debris from underneath his perch in the soft earth, so the motion was nearly silent. Silence and the ability to blend in were paramount in his occupation. So was patience. He’d been watching the movements of the Viner clan for the past two hours and had already put Coot and Donnie in his crosshairs a dozen times as they sat around an old fishing shed by Little Finger Rapids. The other one, Tate, wasn’t with them, and he reported that back to Mike. Coot Viner was a speed freak and Mark watched both him and Donnie shovel that shit up their noses the whole time he was there. The more Coot did, the louder he got. He was already beginning to fancy himself as the heir apparent to the North Georgia drug trade. Mark had dealt with people like that his whole life. He knew ego would be his downfall. It always was.

  Pride will kill you faster than a bullet.

  He wanted to cap both these pricks right now. It would be fun. It would be easy.

  Or maybe not.

  Mark’s own ego kept him from hearing the man with a scar circling his left ear come up behind him until it was too late. All he saw next were stars.

  *

  When Mark woke up he was hogtied with his face pressed into the moist dirt of the creek bank. “You feel that, Tuley?” Coot said. “That’s the steel trap pinching down on your tail.”

  Mark remained still, belly down, and cursed himself for being so arrogant. He’d assumed his man had swept the area before he got there.

  “Whatcha’ think, Big Sexy? I guess us Viners ain’t the bunch’a dumbasses you took us for after all. Whatcha’ think he had this big fancy gun for, Donnie?”

  “I reckon he was thinkin’ of shootin’ somebody, Coot.”

  “Maybe so, Donnie. Maybe so.”

  Mark slowed his panic as his mind cycled through possible escape scenarios. Coot and his buddy were talking. That was a good thing. He needed to encourage that.

  “Was that your plan, Tuley? Were you thinkin’ of shootin’ me and my cousin here, from fifty yards away like a bitch?”

  “I was just watching, Coot. Doing a little recon, is all.”

  “Oh, recon—with a fuckin’ .50 caliber? You must really think I’m stupid.” Coot kicked Mark in the side. The steel-toed boot cracked three ribs.

  “Did you honestly think we weren’t waiting for some half-ass nonsense l
ike this from you people? Did you really think we are that dumb?”

  “Well, actually...”

  Donnie swung the next boot, and caught Mark right under his exposed armpit. This time he nearly passed out from the pain. He could taste the stomach acid in his mouth as the nausea hit. He held back the sick and struggled to control his clarity, like he’d been taught.

  “We ain’t dumb, Tuley. We knew that Burroughs clown would make this play. We also knew Mike would send you since you’re his pet big-city assassin and all, so Tank waited right where he said you’d set up shop. He’s been out here watching you watch us. We showed you exactly what we wanted you to see.” Coot smiled wide. “You got played, Big Sexy. How’s that feel?”

  Mark didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Coot was right. He’d been cocky and took his opponent for granted. He was sloppy. This was his fault.

  Tank? Goddamn. They had someone on the inside the whole time. Or they flipped him. How could I be so stupid?

  “You know what your problem is, Tuley?”

  That’s it, keep talking, you little shit. Keep talking until I find my in.

  “Why don’t you tell me, Coot, since you got it all figured out?”

  “I do, don’t I?” Coot smiled again, and puffed the lion on his chest out a bit. “Your problem is you think you’re better than everybody else who comes from around here. But guess what? You ain’t. You were born the same white-trash folk we were. That means you and me, Tuley, are one and the same. Fuckin’ peas in a pod. Only there’s one major difference. You know what that is, Tuley?”

  “You got a tiny pecker?”

  Coot and Donnie both looked at each other and chuckled. “The man’s got jokes, Donnie.”

  “He’s a real funny fella, Coot.”

  “He sure is, but no, Tuley, the difference is I accept who I am. I love who I am. How ’bout you, Donnie—you love you?”

  “Sure do, Coot.”