Dark Duet

by Eric Beetner

  Emboldened by her two witnesses hiding in the bathroom, Sarah stood her ground. “You’re all done, Brian. You fucked up one too many times.”

  Inside the bathroom, Jacy pressed an ear to the door to hear and Nash tried spying through the gap between the door and frame but could see nothing. Sarah spoke loudly, though. Bold and defiant.

  “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done. What you did to me tonight. You think you can get away with that shit?”

  “That was nothing.”

  “It was rape.”

  “Bullshit. You can’t prove it.”

  Jacy tightened her fist into a ball.

  “How about what you did to your own stepdaughter.”

  Nash and Jacy both held their breath. The oxygen seemed to suck out of the room.

  “Oh, fuck. Not you too.”

  Brian walked around the back of the couch, his shoulders slumping, exhausted from all the betrayals. He liked it much better when everyone shut up and did what he said.

  “What did you hear?” he asked her.

  Sarah’s eyes studied his movements as if waiting for a moment when she might have to run. “I know all about it.”

  “You know what you think you know. Did you hear it from her? From Martha?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is, you’re going down. Down as far as you can go. And I’m going to enjoy sending you there.”

  He made it around the couch to where she stood. “I was gonna take you with me.”

  “You should have thought about what an asshole you were.”

  “God dammit. This whole fucking thing is getting messy.” He drew his gun and shot her in the head. She didn’t have time to scream, to ask for Nash or Jacy’s help. She didn’t have time to regret anything she’d said before the bullet split her reason from her emotion as it bisected her two hemispheres in a spray of blood.

  Jacy clamped a hand onto Nash’s shoulder, her other fist crammed in her mouth to keep from crying. He held on to her hand, wishing her to stay silent. He cursed himself again for not taking Evel’s gun. He had no way to defend himself or Jacy, and leaving their hiding place would be suicide.

  They listened. A strange liquid sound, like an overturned milk carton spilling onto the floor. Brian’s shuffling feet. Then he was on the phone.

  “Sutherland. Got another body…Yeah, these two are on a goddamn killing spree. Any word on finding them?…Well, make sure everyone has the APB details. Send someone out to Sarah’s place when they’re done at my house.”

  Nash felt the room heat to a hundred degrees. What had Brian meant, his house? For a moment he had to debate if he wanted to put himself in front of a bullet to find out what the hell Brian had done.

  Brian ended the phone call. They heard more shuffling of feet, then silence. Brian mumbled something that sounded like, “Dumb bitch.” Then they heard feet move to the front door and exit.

  Nash made Jacy wait two full minutes before opening the door.

  “Don’t look at her,” he told Jacy, but it was impossible not to.

  Sarah lay on her back, arms spread out dramatically over her head—what was left of it. A jagged entry wound above her right eye left a splatter of blood and bone across her face. From under her, where she lay, a wide pool of dark red spread out like a pillow.

  “This is our fault,” Jacy said.

  “Don’t say that. None of this is our fault.”

  “We should have stopped it.”

  “We didn’t know he was going to shoot her, for Christ sake. And what was I supposed to do? Go running after him with no gun, nothing to defend myself but a toilet paper roll?”

  They stood in Sarah’s living room, the awful choking silence of death around them.

  “Nash?” Jacy said in a weak voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “What did he mean ‘my house’?”

  “I don’t think I want to know, but I need to.”

  Nash and Jacy stood in the doorway to the kitchen looking into their mother’s lifeless, wide-open eyes. Her jaw hung down and almost covered the deep gash in her neck. Her tongue was purple in her mouth and her skin had gone a dull grey. The open mouth and wide eyes gave her a surprised look.

  Jacy had cried angry tears before, and sad tears, but never both at the same time.

  Nash stood rigid, every muscle in his body tensed and ready to snap.

  “If we take him to court, he’s gonna beat it,” he said.

  Jacy’s silence was her agreement.

  “If we give him a chance to run, he will. He doesn’t deserve a court, a jury. He doesn’t deserve prison, even if he got raped in the ass five times a day. He still doesn’t deserve it.” Nash turned to his sister. “He’s got to die.”

  Jacy nodded slowly.

  Tears welled at the corners of Nash’s eyes. “I just don’t have a plan.” He tore away from the wall, stalked through the house in a way he hadn’t since his teenage years when he was fueled by hormonal rage, Nirvana albums, and stolen cans of Natural Light. Nash went to his mom’s bedroom. He pulled open the drawers on the bedside tables. No guns. He rummaged through the dresser, uprooted stacks of Brian’s boxer shorts and balled up socks. Nothing.

  Nash went to the garage, found a hammer on the tool bench and went back inside. He tried hammering the hinges of the gun safe to no avail. The solid steel cube, a little bigger than a mini fridge, didn’t budge at his puny human implements. Twice he got sparks, but he was no closer to getting the safe open when he stopped hammering, out of breath and on the verge of tears again.

  “Wait,” Jacy said. Her tears had started to dry, a steel hardness settled in their place. “I think I know someone who can help us.”

  CHAPTER 18

  They were waiting outside the prison by seven-thirty and at eight, when they opened the doors to visitors, they were first in line.

  “Who are you here to see, ma’am?”

  Jacy swallowed the rock in her throat. “My father.”

  In the waiting area, Nash stayed quiet. Jacy squirmed on her seat, picking at her cuticles and keeping a close eye on the door.

  Nash thought maybe he should try to calm her down. “How long has it been?”

  “Long enough I can’t guarantee he’ll be open to doing me any favors.”

  Buck had gone to prison when Jacy was nine. She hadn’t seen him since his last day in court. The day of his sentence. When the judge said twenty years, Buck turned to the gallery only to see Martha and his daughter with their backs to him, on the way out. She still felt bad about that. Mostly because it became apparent after not too long that Brian had been instrumental in sending Buck away in order to get at Martha.

  Then once he had her, he lost interest. Treated her like shit. Ain’t that a man for you?

  Buck had been known to transport a little weed every now and then to supplement his trucker salary. Times were tough, his routes were being cut and that pot was going to come into town anyway, why not let it help provide for his family?

  When the offer came in to haul a much larger load of much stronger drugs, Buck had Jacy’s college on his mind and he said yes. Brian, then still a deputy, was waiting for him at a roadblock as if he knew exactly when and where he would be. He even made sure the drug pickup happened a few miles over the state line to get that extra five years tacked on.

  Jacy wondered if her dad would understand that one of the rules of Brian’s house was she was never to speak about Buck, let alone go see him at a goddamn prison. No place for a lady. Nope, she was supposed to be at home in her room where he could get at her.

  Nash never let himself get close to Buck, even though he lived in the same house with him for more than a decade. Even at a young age, Nash decided he didn’t need any other father than his own, and since that prick was never coming back, he didn’t need anyone at all.

  He used to hear Martha and Buck arguing about it late at night, when they thought he couldn’t hear
. She would say he needed more guidance and Buck would always say he didn’t want to push Nash. If he needed help, he’d come ask for it.

  Smart, smart man. Especially for someone who only finished the eighth grade.

  The door opened with a heavy metallic thud. A small man in an orange jumpsuit shuffled in, his feet in leg cuffs and his hands chained together in front of him at his waist.

  He looked older. Grandpa old. White stubble sprouted from his chin, his hair on top was nearly gone. The skin at his neck hung in lose flaps, like an empty balloon and Jacy remembered how muscular his neck used to be. The oversized jumpsuit kept the contours of the rest of his body hidden, and she thought it better that way.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said. His East Texas twang still survived. Jacy always felt a bedtime story wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on unless it was read to you by a sweet Texas drawl. And she remembered how Buck could read Fox in Socks faster than any human alive. He did it in a sort of song, like Hank Williams joined the Wu Tang Clan.

  “I thought they was lying to me, but it’s you, girl.”

  “Hello, Daddy.”

  He shuffled forward some more, his chains rattling. They’d been briefed about the strict no touching policy, so father and daughter had to settle for a long, awkward stare into each other’s eyes.

  “Dang, you sure turned out pretty,” Buck said. A smile wavered on his mouth, caught between a good cry and a wide grin. His eyes studied her. He landed on the swollen lip, the bruises from her past forty-eight hours. He waited to let her tell it.

  Buck turned to Nash. “Hello, boy.”

  “Buck. Good to see you.”

  “You too, son.”

  True to form, Buck didn’t push. Didn’t invade Nash’s precious space. Nash slowly realized that Buck knew him better than anyone else ever had. He kicked himself as hard as Jacy did for not coming to visit.

  The guard who ushered Buck inside let the door glide closed on the hinge, then stood against the back wall like a silent statue.

  “Have a seat, darlin’.” Buck led them to some metal seats at the far end of the room, away from the guard. The seats were mere stools, bolted to the floor. Buck and Jacy could sit across from each other, Nash had to take a stool a row away.

  “What’s on your mind after all this time?” Buck asked.

  Jacy had to turn to Nash for support. He nodded at her. She held in her tears and turned back to her father. “Well, Daddy, it’s like this.”

  She explained as best she could, with Nash filling in details she left out or prompting her to skip ahead when the details weren’t needed. Buck listened in brooding silence. For his still, calm demeanor he could be sitting back behind the wheel of his Peterbilt.

  By the time Jacy finished, the tears had come.

  “That’s a hell of a story, young lady.”

  “I wish it wasn’t mine to tell.”

  “Martha didn’t deserve to go like that.” Buck turned to Nash, who nodded. “And you know there’s no love lost between me and that man.”

  “Is there anything you can do for us?” Nash asked.

  Buck drew in a deep breath and let it out until his lungs were empty. “I been in here for nine years, and I got eleven more coming. I figure I built up a few favors over the years. Never did cash a one of them in.”

  “So you can help us, Daddy?”

  “I can’t do much from in here,” Buck said. “But I know some folks on the outside who can help you.”

  Jacy and Nash both smiled. Buck gave them two names, told them to tell the men that Buck sent them, then tell them what needed to be done.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Buck,” Nash said.

  “No, I can’t thank you enough for coming back for my little girl.”

  “I wish I’d come back sooner.”

  “Let me tell you something,” Buck said. He held Nash’s gaze. Fatherly, intense, and serious. “I used to think of you as a bit of a coward for running off the way you did.” Off Nash’s look, Buck said, “Yeah, yeah, Martha used to still keep me posted on the comings and goings. He couldn’t keep her totally silent. But when I heard you had that trouble, what people were saying you did, and then you up and disappeared, well, I didn’t think too highly of you. But now, goddammit, I think you are one brave son of a gun. And I tell you what, I wasn’t brave enough to get gone when I should have, and I sure as shit wouldn’t be brave enough to come back into the fire.”

  Nash couldn’t help smiling. “I wasn’t planning on staying this long.”

  “Nobody plans to stay this long in Bishop.” Buck chuckled to himself. “Wish I could be in the back seat with you when you finally split this town for good.”

  Jacy said, “Oh, we’ll be back, Daddy. We’ll come see you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Buck said. “You drive on outta here and don’t look back. Just make sure I know where to find you when my time is up. And maybe try to end up on a beach somewhere, will you?”

  Jacy resumed her fight with the tears. She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak her voice would crack and she’d be gone.

  “Y’know what? It means a week scrubbing the toilets and no yard time, but it’s worth it. Give your old dad a hug.”

  Buck stood and offered his manacled arms to Jacy. She wrapped herself around him, squeezing hard.

  “Hey!” The guard came alive. “No touching.”

  “It’s my goddamn daughter, screw. You want this to end, you better come over here and pry us apart.”

  The guard wavered, took a step forward, then a step back. He left a hand resting on his baton, watching as Jacy broke away from Buck and Nash stepped in to get his. As he pulled the old man in tight, he couldn’t remember ever hugging him before.

  CHAPTER 19

  “So what do you make of it?” Sutherland asked. Cliff shrugged.

  “I can’t say. Think this is it for him?”

  “Had to happen sometime.”

  “Sooner rather than later.”

  Cliff tapped a finger against his chin. Sutherland shook his head, trying to make sense of the body count following their boss.

  “Honest to God,” Sutherland said. “I don’t know if it’s safe to be around here tonight.”

  The door to the bullpen kicked open.

  “Any word yet on those two little fucks?” Brian stormed into the station house in what Sutherland called his “Jack Bauer mode,” when Brian wasn’t around, of course.

  “Not yet,” Sutherland answered.

  Cliff looked up from the radio console he’d been staking out and said, “Jesus, Sheriff, do you really want to be here? I mean, what with your wife and all.”

  “You think I want to be at home, Cliff, stepping over pools of her blood?”

  Cliff shrank. Public dressing downs were common under the sheriff’s leadership, but Cliff actually felt he deserved that one.

  “No word from the state guys?” Brian asked. He couldn’t sit still, pacing in fast back-and-forths like an expectant father on cocaine.

  “Nothing,” Sutherland said. “You’re sure it was the kids?”

  Brian stopped, squared up against his subordinate. “You got any better theories?”

  Sutherland kept quiet. Brian let the anxious energy build up in him until it broke like a steam-burst pipe. He slapped a coffee mug off the table and it smashed against the concrete wall.

  “Fuckin’ kids. You can’t believe a word they say. Can’t trust them.” Brian turned to Sutherland. “Did she say anything to you? Tell any stupid stories about made-up bullshit?”

  Sutherland shook his head. “What’s going on, Brian?”

  Brian spun so fast he almost lost his balance. “Sheriff. You call me fucking Sheriff.”

  The deputy met his eyes. Of all the erratic behavior over the years, this was a new peak. Everyone heard the stories. The late-night traffic stops, the verbal abuse, the mistress, rumors of a deal with the local drug trade.
In a small town, secrets are hard to keep and rumors grow like corn in the summer.

  The two deputies had given their boss the benefit of the doubt but had been talking a lot more lately about some of the things they’d seen and heard.

  “I thought they were released into your custody?” Sutherland said.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So how did they get away?”

  “I wasn’t keeping them under house arrest, you dumb fuck. This is revenge. I caught them out in whatever they were doing. They got pissed at me and went off the deep end. Who the hell knows what drugs they’re on. They’re probably fucking each other. That’s its own special kind of sick and twisted, right?”

  Sutherland and Cliff didn’t answer. The room hung with awkward silence.

  “I was out there at the house with the coroner,” Cliff said. “They’re all wrapped up if you want to head home.” He jumped in before Brian could pounce. “Just avoid the kitchen, I mean. They have it taped off. Most of it was cleaned up too.” Sutherland shot Cliff a shut-up look. Brian gave him a death stare.

  Cliff swallowed, took a cue from Sutherland’s boldness. “The ME was kinda wondering why you weren’t there, Sheriff.”

  The way Brian stared at him, Cliff thought he might get drawn on and take a few bullets to the chest, old west style.

  Instead, Brian pointed a firm finger at him. “You know what I need? A fuckin’ vacation. I got time saved up. I’m taking a few fuckin’ weeks off.”

  Brian stomped to his office, the only one with a door in the whole station, and slammed himself inside.

  He kicked his wastebasket across the room, not caring how it sounded to the two idiots outside. Vacation, nothing. He needed out of town. With those two still loose they could be talking to the media, to the state cops, to the DA. He might have reached the end of the road.

  It would be perfectly reasonable after your wife is killed to take time off, so that wouldn’t be an issue or point any fingers his way. But to leave for good would take more than merely packing a bag. There were his financials, the safe deposit box at the bank, which would be missing the last deposit from Evel, but nothing could be done about that anymore.