Deep as the Marrow

by F. Paul Wilson

  “I wish we had some of those resources and man-hours at our disposal right now,” Decker muttered.

  John switched the station. He’d wanted weather, not Heather Brent.

  “I’ll be damned,” Decker said, looking in the rearview mirror. “Someone’s coming.”

  John Vanduyne twisted in his seat and looked through the fogged up rear window. Sure enough, two smeary blobs of light were bobbing their way through the downpour.

  “Dear God, we haven’t seen anybody for hours, and now—It’s a miracle.” A big pickup with fat tires eased to a stop on their right. John rolled down the window and saw a weathered face grinning at him from the truck’s cab. A similar and equally weathered face, this one bearded, peered over the driver’s shoulder.

  “Looks like you found yourself some sugar sand,” the driver said.

  “Can you help us out of it?” John said.

  The driver shook his head. “That stuff’s like soup now. Maybe after the water settles out a bit.”

  Desperate, John was about to ask him for a lift when he heard a door slam and saw another set of lights behind the truck. Someone holding a newspaper over his head was sloshing their way.

  Good Lord—Gerry Canney, the FBI agent.

  “Come on!” Canney yelled to him as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get in our car!” He turned to the driver of the pickup. “They’re with us.” The driver nodded and rolled up his window.

  John didn’t even bother checking with Decker. He jumped out and followed Canney. Seconds later a dripping Decker joined him in the back seat of the FBI man’s sedan.

  As the pickup pulled away, Canney introduced the driver as Special Agent Geary. He waved over his shoulder and began following the pickup. “How come you’re not stuck?” Decker asked, wiping the rain from his face.

  Canney shrugged. “Front-wheel drive, I guess. Look. Those guys in the pickup are two of Poppy Mulliner’s uncles. They’re taking us to her.” John levered forward and gripped Canney’s shoulder.

  “They’ve seen her? Is Katie—?”

  “Katie’s fine. She and Poppy are hiding out with some deep-woods relatives of the Mulliners.”

  “And that’s where they’re taking us?”

  When Canney nodded, John wanted to hug him. “Thank God!” Almost over, he thought. A few more minutes and Katie will be safe.

  “They wanted to make a deal,” Canney said. “If Poppy gave herself up, could we do anything for her? I said, Hell, yes. I even offered witness protection if she turned state’s evidence. How’s that sit with you, Bob?”

  “I’ve no problem with that,” Decker said. “She’s an angel compared to some of the other people who’ve been offered that deal.”

  John felt a nudge from Decker. “How about you, Doc? Will you squawk if we make a deal with Ms. Mulliner?”

  “Absolutely not,” John said, meaning it. “I have a feeling she’s the only reason my little girl is still alive. Give me back my Katie and Poppy can walk, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Good,” Canney said, then turned to Decker again. “And you know that leak we were discussing?”

  Now Decker was leaning forward. “What about him?”

  “Plugged. With four 9mm hollow points.”

  Decker grimaced and lowered his head. “Where?”

  “On the sidewalk near his office—making another telephone call. And another thing: I don’t know if there’s a direct connection, but an explosion on M Street this afternoon reduced a restaurant to dust. The owner, a very well-connected Colombian named Carlos Salinas, was inside.”

  Decker nodded. “They’re covering their tracks, erasing all the links. We’re not going to be able to pin this conspiracy on anyone.”

  A few hours ago, John would have been intensely interested in the identity of the “leak” and the names of the people behind Katie’s abduction. Now he didn’t care. Just get me to Katie, he thought, wishing the car could fly.

  19

  Just when Poppy thought the storm couldn’t get any worse, it did. The thunder was so loud, she was sure the house would get knocked flat by the sound waves.

  So when the door smashed open, letting the wind and rain howl into the tiny room, she thought it was just the storm. But then the lightning flashed and she saw somebody standing in the doorway. At first she thought it was the Frankenstein monster—with an eye patch. But then he smiled and she recognized him.

  She screamed as Mac stepped into the room.

  “Hello, Pop—” But he never finished. Lester was suddenly in his face.

  “Here! Who the hell do you think—?” Mac’s hand darted up and Poppy saw the pistol clutched in his fist. Lester grabbed at it and the gun went off, sounding like an explosion. A stream of water gushed through a new hole in the ceiling.

  Poppy huddled with Katie, who wailed in terror as they watched the two men struggle for the gun. Lester was holding his own but Poppy wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. She looked around for something to hit Mac with and spotted Lester’s applejack jug against the wall.

  As she began to crawl toward it, another shot blasted through the room. She felt this one whiz past—right between her head and Katie’s. Katie huddled on the floor, eyes closed, hands over her ears, screaming.

  Without hesitation, she picked her up and ran for the open door. She had to get Katie outside—the next shot could hit either of them—then she’d come back to help out Lester.

  She’d carried Katie maybe twenty feet through the almost night of the rain when she heard a third shot behind her, followed by a cry of pain.

  Poppy rounded the corner of the house, then stopped and peeked back, hoping, praying that Lester would appear in the lit doorway. It took a long time, but finally someone stepped through and looked around.

  Mac.

  With a small cry, she spun and dashed for the brush at the rear of the house. He hadn’t seen her—or had he? Maybe he’d go the other way.

  Still carrying Katie, she crashed through the bushes for a good dozen or so feet, then turned and crouched behind a tree, panting. She and Katie were soaked through to the skin. No shelter from this rain—the wind seemed to be driving it at them from all directions. Katie shivered against Poppy and began to cry.

  “I want to go home! I want my Daddy!”

  “Hush, honey bunch,” she whispered frantically, placing her hand gently over Katie’s mouth. “If that man hears you, he’ll find us.” She rocked Katie, trying to soothe her. With the dark and the rain and the thunder, maybe they could survive here until the rest of the Appletons returned from their stills—if they kept quiet.

  Katie seemed to be calming down until a bolt of lightning sizzled into a tree not a dozen feet to their left, and the simultaneous thunder clap knocked them flat. Katie wailed in terror then, long and loud, lasting well after the thunder had faded, and Poppy knew Mac had heard it. How could he not have?

  They had to move, but she couldn’t cover any ground carrying Katie. She’d have to go without her.

  “Katie,” she said, peeling the dripping child off her, “I’m going for help. You stay here and keep quiet and I’ll be right back.” I hope.

  Katie wailed again and grabbed for her. “No! Don’t leave me!”

  “I got to, honey bunch,” she said, fending her off. “It’s the only way. Just sit tight and don’t make a sound.” Poppy gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and resisted the impulse to hug her—she might never get free. Then she turned and slipped away.

  She felt like such a creep, leaving her there cold, wet, crying, and scared half to death. But this was their only chance. At least Katie was alive.

  Her regrets faded into fear as she bent into a crouch and began running through the bushes, making as much noise as she could.

  “Help!” she shouted as she ran. “Help! Murder! Somebody! Help!” But how much noise was too much? She wanted to draw Mac off, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to find her.

  She could make out
the Appleton house to her right. Some of the windows—and there weren’t all that many of them to begin with—were lit, but mostly it looked dark and empty. She thought she saw movement around the side but couldn’t be sure. Were all the women and kids hiding? Afraid of the storm or afraid of the shots? Where was Levon now when she needed him? He looked like he could break Mac in half with one hand.

  Her heart pounding, she kept thrashing through the bushes, moving away from Katie, and yelling as loud as she could. No way Mac could miss hearing her.

  She paused between thunder claps and looked around, listening. She heard the rain, her own harsh breathing… and something else. Scraping branches, breaking twigs… getting closer… coming this way.

  Oh, Jesus, it had worked. She’d pulled Mac away from Katie, but now she had to find a way to keep herself alive until help came. Had to keep moving. But which way? Where was he? What direction was the noise coming from? The sounds mixed with the falling rain and seemed to come from everywhere—like the rain.

  Suddenly, the loud crack of a breaking branch to her right. So close! Poppy bolted to her left, moving as fast as she could. The underbrush was thick here, and she had to move sideways to slip through. One advantage of being smaller than Mac—these thickets would slow him up even more.

  She almost fell as the brush suddenly thinned and she stumbled into a small clearing. Now she could really move.

  But she skidded to a halt when she saw the shadow a dozen feet ahead of her. She couldn’t see his face but she recognized his voice from the single word he spoke.

  “Bitch!” As Poppy screamed and turned to run back the way she’d come, she saw a flash and heard a shot.

  Missed!

  She ducked into a crouch and veered left. She saw the house ahead. Please let me make it there! If she could put the house between Mac and her—and keep it there—she had a chance.

  Another shot and suddenly she felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. A crushing, tearing, pain against her back, ripping into her chest, hurling her forward. She felt the ground slam against her front, felt the mud and pine needles slop against her face. And then she stopped feeling.

  Her last thought before the darkness took her was terror… Katie… alone there… with no one to protect her… Katie… I’m so sorry!

  Snake ran up to where Poppy lay and flipped her over onto her back. He dropped to his knees beside her and shoved the muzzle of the Cobra under her jaw. He wanted to pull the trigger now. Goddamn how he wanted to pull that trigger but not yet. He gritted his teeth and held off.

  “The tape!” he shouted. “Where’s the tape? Tell me and I’ll let the kid live!” Not true. Not even close to true. But so what?

  She didn’t answer. His fury surged. But as he raised his left arm to give her a backhand slap across her face, lightning flashed and he saw her slack features, the blood on her shirt and the dark trickle from the corner of her mouth.

  “Shit!” Of all the goddamn luck. He’d never been more than a mediocre shot, and now, when winging Poppy was all he’d needed, he’d gone and killed her. He jammed the pistol into his belt and began poking through her pockets. He’d already checked that rat-hole room he’d found her in.

  Empty. Nothing on her. Nothing. Snake jumped to his feet. The kid. She’d been running around without the kid. Which meant she’d left her somewhere. And maybe the tape with her.

  He looked around, trying to remember where he’d heard her first shout for help… Over there, wasn’t it?

  Snake started in that direction.

  20

  “Hear that?” Decker said as they stepped out of the car. “Sounded like a shot.”

  John strained his ears and wondered how Decker had heard anything above the rain, thunder, and slamming car doors. He squinted through the dimness at the red panel truck tucked behind the motley array of pickups.

  The Mulliner brothers had leapt from their pickup and were checking out the mud-splattered Jeep Cherokee that sat in the middle of the clearing.

  “This don’t belong here, Luke,” the bearded one was saying. “This don’t belong here ay-tall.”

  “We better get up the house,” the bigger one said as he and his brother returned to the cab of their pickup and pulled shotguns from the rack across the rear window.

  “Is that where Katie is?” John said.

  Both stared at him from under the dripping peaks of their caps.

  “You the little girl’s daddy?” the bigger one said.

  John nodded. “Is she all right?”

  “She was this morning. Let’s go.”

  John got directly behind the Mulliners as they miraculously found a path through the surrounding brush. He felt someone grab his arm.

  “Better let us go first. Doc,” said Canney’s voice directly behind him.

  John didn’t look back. He shook off his hand and kept going. Katie… he was almost to her and dammit he was going to be first to her.

  Uphill, and then into a larger clearing where lightning strobes revealed a rambling, ramshackle house that looked as if it had been designed by a schizophrenic. The bigger Mulliner—by now John had gathered that his name was Luke—picked up his pace and headed directly for a rectangle of light pouring from an open doorway.

  Inside, Luke darted to his left and cried, “Lester!”

  John ducked in behind him and froze in shock at the sight of an old man with a scoliotic spine lying on the floor, gasping, his shirt covered with blood.

  “Katie?” John said, barely able to get the word out as he whirled in a circle, searching the shadows of this filthy little room, praying to see her face looking back at him. “Where’s Katie?”

  “Poppy took her,” Lester said. “And he went out after her.”

  “Who?” Decker said.

  “Guy with a patch over his eye.”

  “Snake!” Decker said.

  Canney nodded. “Got to be.”

  “Shot me,” Lester was saying. “Then he went after Poppy! Go find her!”

  “You need doctorin‘, Lester,” Luke said. “I’ll get someone to stay—”

  “Git!” Lester said. “This looks a lot worse’n it is. You gotta help Poppy. That guy went outta here with murder in his one good eye. Gonna kill her sure!”

  John didn’t wait to hear more. In a panic he dashed out into the storm and began shouting, “Katie! Katieeeee!” He heard someone come up behind him and give him a rough shove in his back. He turned as saw Canney glaring at him.

  “Knock that off!” Rage flared. No one was going to tell him not to look for his daughter. John grabbed the front of Canney’s shirt, “She’s out here!” he shouted. “We’ve got to find her!”

  “But we’re not the only ones looking for her,” Canney said, pushing John’s hands away. “If she answers you, Snake might be closer. Think about it.”

  John realized Canney was right. “But what—?”

  Just then, one of the Mulliners came out of the house carrying a shotgun. He started yelling.

  “Poppy! It’s your Uncle Luke! Stay where you are. We’re coming to find you. Let us know when one of us gets near you. We’ll protect you.” He turned to Canney and began pointing to different spots in the bushy undergrowth that rimmed the rear of the clearing.

  “Everybody fan out and move into the brush. Keep calling her name.” The two Mulliners moved off. John saw the three feds look at each other; then Decker shrugged.

  “Unless someone can come up with a better idea,” he said, “I suggest we follow their lead.”

  He turned to John. “Maybe you’d better stay here and—”

  “Like hell,” John said. Without giving anyone a chance to stop him, he began moving off in one of the directions Luke had indicated.

  The branches of the underbrush clawed at his clothes and his skin, raked at his eyes, but he kept pushing through, calling out, praying for a reply.

  “Poppy, it’s me! Katie’s father! I’m here with your uncles.” Over and over. “Poppy, it’s
me…” As he came to the base of a small rise, lightning flashed. He looked up and gasped. Someone was standing on its crest, someone huge, and he was holding something in his arms.

  Something child sized… and limp.

  Oh, God! he thought. Is this Snake? I should have a gun!

  Then he heard a voice shouting to him: “Are you Katie’s daddy?” That wasn’t Snake’s voice.

  “Yes… y-yes, I am.” The figure started crashing down the rise toward John.

  God, he was big. “I think she’s hurt.”

  “Oh, no!” John staggered forward, arms outstretched. Please, God, not now, not when she’s so close to going home! “Give her to me!” As the big man laid her gently in his arms, John crushed her to him.

  Katie? And then he knew it was Katie oh yes it was Katie his Katie—Oh, Katie, it’s been so long!—and she was soaked and she was cold but he could feel her heart beating and he wanted to drop to his knees and bury his face against the dripping rat tails of her sodden hair and sob out his uncounted joy and relief at having her back again, but he had to get her out of here, get her inside where it was dry and he could see her in the light and—

  “I found her in a gully,” the giant said. “I think she fell and hit her head.” Aw, no, not her head! Not again!

  John turned and began carrying her toward the lights of the house.

  “Where’s Poppy?” the giant asked from behind him.

  “She’s hiding out here,” John said, still moving away. “A man with one eye is trying to hurt her. Her uncles and some other men are here to help her.”

  “I’ll help her too,” the giant said. “I can find her. I’ll save her from the one-eyed man.”

  John glanced back. As lightning flashed he saw the giant’s face and a diagnosis popped immediately into his mind: Fragile-X syndrome.