Three Sides of the Tracks Page 16

  She returned the squeeze and studied his face. “Good. Are you sure there’s not more going on than friendship?”

  Danny avoided her eyes and looked uneasy. “Not that I know of.”

  “Okay, if you say so. But that’s how it was with Martin and me when we fell in love. We were both embarrassed to acknowledge it, even to ourselves.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. Remember, we were very close friends. More like brother and sister. Think how strange that must feel to all of a sudden realize—”

  “Yeah, but you are both good looking.”

  Belinda’s eyebrows rose. “As are you and Caroline.”

  “She is, but . . .” Danny rolled his eyes.

  Belinda knew what bothered him. She patted his hand and smiled. “So you think Martin is handsome?”

  Danny nodded.

  “Well, mister ‘can’t see the forest for the trees,’ you look almost exactly like Martin did at your age.”

  “You’re leaving out one small detail, Mom.”

  Belinda stood up. “I’m not listening to that self-pity. I’ll fix supper. Since you made me miss my movie,” she added with a playful nudge.

  25

  Mr. Fixit

  Lenny Fairburn cranked the car and drove off as soon as Danny went inside and Phillips was out of sight. His only reason for driving down was to get a look of the layout while it was light and hopefully see the contract as well.

  On his way back to Atlanta, he mulled over what he would use: Gun, knife, garrote, overdose of insulin. Lenny chuckled. One client requested a particularly painful death, so Lenny drove to south Georgia and bagged several Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnakes, which he milked of venom and refrigerated till ready to use.

  The contract lived in a mansion in the upscale Atlanta neighborhood Buckhead, set back from the road and secluded by aged pine trees. She’d answered the door herself under the illusion that her fortune and the upscale address would protect her—or rather the fortune soon to be hers from the divorce of that philandering husband. She and the wine glass dropped at the sight of the mask. He tied and gagged her and put her in the car trunk for the drive to an abandoned gravel pit.

  Lenny placed the video recorder on a tree stump, gave her an injection of venom in each arm and leg, then held the smelling salts under her nose.

  She was calmer now. Lenny supposed it was the mask. She could talk to a face. “I’ll double whatever he’s paying you. In fact, I’ll triple it if you’ll kill him instead,” she said, absentmindedly rubbing a spot on her arm.

  Lenny smiled. And watched.

  “How much do you—Damn.” She jumped to her feet and looked at her arm, which had begun to swell along with the burning. The burning quickly became intense pain. Frothy vomit cut short her screams. Bursting blood vessels turned the rapidly swelling flesh a dark reddish purple as violent spasms dislocated a shoulder. Just before her eyes rolled back in her head, they found his, with an expression of incomprehension.

  That had been some time ago, and Lenny was quite satisfied that this contract would be in and out.

  The clock woke him at two a.m. He dressed normally, slipped on his overalls, stuck surgical cap and latex gloves into a pocket, and chose a silenced .22 pistol for the job. His twelve-gauge shotgun and high-power rifle never left his car trunk and were no different from thousands of others commonly used for hunting.

  26

  Rescue

  Danny dressed quietly but troubled. No one other than Caroline could cause him to worry his mother this much.

  “Mom, I have to go after Caroline. I’m sorry to worry you. I promise to be careful. I love you. Danny.”

  He put the note on top of his pillow and snuck out the window.

  Bernard opened the door just as Danny tapped the doorframe. “Wasn’t sure you’d go through with it.”

  “It’s hard, Bernard. I hate to worry mother like this, and the cops’ll probably be after me again. You too maybe. But I left mother a note.”

  Bernard spit tobacco in a can. “I don’t give a shit ‘bout no cops. Bunch of pussies, most of ‘em.

  “I checked the car. There’s a little gas in it but not much. How much money you got?”

  “Little over a hundred.”

  “Crap, boy, that won’t get you to Macon.” He pulled a roll of money from his pocket and peeled off several bills. Five hundred ought to be enough. That little thang of Gurtie’s don’t use much.”

  “Whose?”

  A big grin spread across Bernard’s face. “I’d forgot about that. That car you’ll be driving used to be Stinker’s mother’s. I had it over here trying to fix it up when she died. Way too plain for Stinker. He just left it here. Now, here you go chasin’ after him with his own momma’s car. Bernard’s laugh grew louder.

  Danny laid a hand on Bernard’s shoulder, afraid he might be leading into one of his spells. “Did you find the address?”

  Bernard gave him a knowing look. “I’m all right, kid. Yeah, here it is. Sit down; let’s go over it so I’ll know you got it down. Got enough to worry ‘bout without you getting lost. Okay, all you got to do is get on I-75 down the road here and drive straight as the crow till you get to Lake City, Florida.” Bernard drew a straight line on the paper then labeled it I-75. “You’ll pass Valdosta—that’ll be the last big town till you get to Florida—then a little ways into Florida you’ll come to Lake City where you’ll find I-10. You want to go left there. East, toward the water.”

  “Water?”

  “The ocean boy, the ocean. Dang.”

  “Oh. Okay, sorry.”

  Bernard gave him a skeptical look but continued. “Now then, you’ll be on East I-10 headed toward Jacksonville.” Bernard traced the route on the map then drew corresponding lines on the sheet of paper. “Best I remember, it’ll be about 80 or so miles from Lake City to Jacksonville. At Jacksonville you’ll leave 10 and get on I-95 south. Should be clear sailin’ after that. Runs straight down till you come to the get off for Canaveral Beach. Couple hundred miles, I ‘spect. But now it gits tricky.”

  The lines on Danny’s forehead deepened.

  Bernard slapped him on the back, leaned closer and grinned devilishly. “Wish I had a picture of the look on yore face right about now.”

  Despite his worries, Danny couldn’t resist smiling.

  Bernard shook his head while still chuckling and turned over a few sheets of paper lying on the edge of the coffee table. “Damn computer’s good for something occasionally.”

  “Wow. You amaze me, Bernard. How did you—”

  “Lot of aspirin, kid. Lot of aspirin. Had to print different ones so it’d make sense to you. Them Google Maps are hot stuff. One of ‘ems kinda an overall view, then one’s the vicinity of the house. Take it with you.” He pointed next to the house with the circle drawn around it. “That’s my lot there. Gone back to jungle, huh?”

  “Yeah, but all the houses have a lot of trees and stuff.”

  “No need trying to make me feel better. I don’t give a crap ‘bout stuff like that. That’s what wrong with folks today. Worry ‘bout everything ‘cept what they ought’a be worrying ‘bout.”

  “Like what, Bernard?”

  “Like what, my hind leg. You know ‘like what.’ If you didn’t, me an’ you wouldn’t be buds.”

  “Here’s your pistols and shotgun and some extra shells, though I doubt you’ll need ‘em. Got that derringer in yore pocket like I told ya?”

  Danny nodded.

  “Okay, let’s get you the hell outta here then.”

  They walked in darkness to the garage. “Want to take my Batmobile?” Bernard patted the van the VA bought for him.

  “No, I’ll stick with the Taurus.”

  Bernard chuckled, unlocked the car door and handed Danny the keys. He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Don’t go bite’n off more’n you can chew now, you hear? You’re a little cocky, not in a bad way, but still . . . I just mean don’t go crazy. If you find them an
d can’t figure out how to get them outta there safe then just leave and get the good-for-nothin’ cops. Okay?”

  “I will, Bernard.” Danny cranked the car and rolled down the window. “Thanks for everything. I’ll give you a call . . .”

  “No, no, hell no, don’t go callin’ me. They’ll probably put a trace out when they find you gone. Think, boy, think.”

  Danny nodded and drove across the back yard on the unpaved driveway. He didn’t turn on the lights until reaching the street. He blinked back tears as he headed for the interstate 10 miles down the road.

  27

  Lenny

  Lenny parked in the spot he’d been in earlier. He’d taken the bulb out of the overhead light but nevertheless opened the door just enough to slide out then eased it shut. He walked quickly into the overgrown lot behind the contract’s back yard and into the shadows then stopped, eyes wide and ears keenly alert. A light was on in the next door neighbor’s house. Too bright for a night light. Lenny checked his watch: a few minutes till four. Bathroom or midnight snack maybe. Surely the people didn’t get up this early. He watched a while longer but didn’t see anyone, and the light wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the contract’s backyard, so Lenny decided to go ahead. As soon as he put on the surgical cap and gloves, the tiny tremors and thumping heart began. It wasn’t fear but excitement. The thrill of ending a life.

  “Geez, unbelievable,” he muttered as he lifted the hook on the screen door with his knife blade. He turned the door handle slowly, half expecting it to be unlocked, but it wasn’t that easy. Within a minute, he’d picked the lock and opened the door just enough to hear any movement. He waited.

  The door opened the few inches to allow his wiry body to slip through then he pushed it back against the frame but not shut. He hated old houses because the floors were always hardwood and always creaked. Lenny held both arms away from his body to steady himself then took a long stride across the kitchen, easing his weight down to test whether he’d stepped on a noisy spot. The wood groaned but not enough to carry beyond the kitchen. Lenny slipped the silenced .22 from the shoulder holster and stepped into the hall. He put his ear to the bedroom door. He knew it was likely to be the mother’s since it was closest to the kitchen. Complete silence. The door knob twisted smoothly and silently and he cracked the door open just enough to smell inside. Yep, it was the mom’s. Women’s rooms always had a lingering smell from the perfumes and other fragrances they wore. He closed it gently, moved to the other bedroom door, and eased it open. No movement. Lenny pushed the door open with his foot, keeping one hand free to ward off any unexpected attacker and holding the pistol in the other. His breathing stopped. The bed was against the far wall. He took two long steps then let out his breath. The bed was empty. “Shit.” A piece of paper on the pillow though. Might be a note. Lenny’s anger subsided as he read.

  When he and Jessie met and Jessie paid him the first half for the contract, he’d—for the first time—been talkative, ranting and raving about the contract and his daughter. Lenny decided on the spot to finish the contract and rescue the girl at the same time. Jessie would pay plenty for that.

  Lenny kept the note to prevent anyone else from knowing the contract’s plans or at least slow them down. He retraced his steps much less carefully, thinking about the neighbor’s light. The contract might be next door. He snatched the screen open and burst through Bernard’s back door before Bernard could react.

  No sign of Danny. “Where’s he at old timer? I know you helped the boy.”

  Bernard’s eyes bulged as he clawed at the vice grip around his throat.

  “Tell me what you know,” Lenny said, shaking Bernard’s frail body halfway out of the wheelchair.

  Bernard tried to speak but could only croak.

  Lenny slung him to the floor, whipped out the .22 and pointed it at his forehead. “You won’t be the first, old man. Where’s the boy?”

  Bernard’s eyes flared angrily then he spat in Lenny’s face and rolled over.

  When the spit splattered his face, Lenny’s reaction was sudden and deadly: his finger jerked the trigger. He watched blood flow from the torn scalp down Bernard’s neck and onto the floor as he thought how to find Danny now that he had just killed his only lead. “Guess you won that one, old man. . . . So to speak.”

  He didn’t have to look very long. The deed lay on the living room table alongside maps of Florida. “Canaveral Beach, Florida, huh.” The date and time the maps were printed was on the upper right-hand corner. Six hours ago. Lenny stuck the maps of Canaveral Beach and the deed in his pocket and left through the back door, confident he was only hours behind the contract.

  Lenny was halfway to the interstate when an idea caused him to hit the brakes. He turned around in the middle of the road and drove back toward Benson and the all-night convenience store he’d seen on the north side of town. This would take him two hours but would be worth it. In fact, if it all worked out, this would be the last contract he’d have to take. Unless he wanted to, that is.

  The dreary-eyed clerk didn’t raise an eyebrow when Lenny bought four pay-by-the-minute cell phones. A pack of manila envelopes, a roll of tape, and a pack of 3 by 5 index cards completed his purchase.

  Lenny left the store and drove toward Jessie’s. When he saw a dirt road, he turned onto it and drove far enough to be out of sight of the main road. After activating all the phones, he wrote all the numbers down on one index card then wrote each phone’s number down on a card and taped it to the phone. He wrote “number 1. Drive at least 10 miles from the house as soon as I call you” on one of the phones and “number 2” on another and sealed the two phones in one of the manila envelopes then wrote “Mr. Whitaker’s eyes only” on both sides of the envelope.

  He drove to Jessie’s and put the manila envelope in Jessie’s mailbox at the end of the driveway, whipped the car around and headed for Canaveral Beach, energized by the turn of events.

  28

  On the Road

  “Stop your whinin’ and get yourself together. It doesn’t suit you. Walk ahead of the car. I don’t want those fools to start shootin’ when they see this car coming through the woods.”

  Caroline wiped her face and did as he said without asking why. She didn’t care at the moment nor did she see the Barracuda until Whitey and Smurf stepped from behind trees with guns pointed at her. “He’s in the car, losers.”

  Slink turned the Buick around and backed close to his car. “Get all the stuff out and put it in this one.”

  “You’re dumpin’ your car,” Smurf said, disbelief on his face.

  “Don’t worry. I’m coming back for it. Get that tarp outta the trunk and cover it up then put those limbs back over it.”

  “Did you get some grub?”

  “Yeah, we got some grub, fat ass. It’s in the trunk too, but do the car first.”

  Smurf surreptitiously tore open the pack of hot dogs as he took the tarp out, stuffed two in his mouth and swallowed almost in one motion. He fought the urge to take any more and threw the tarp over the red car and tied the front end while Whitey secured the rear.

  Caroline walked over to Brandy, who sat alone with her back against a tree, eyes closed. “Hey, are you okay? Those guys bother you?”

  “No, they stayed by themselves. Sleeping I think. I came over here to get away from them.”

  “We brought food. Nothing special, but you need to eat.”

  Brandy’s eyes flickered open. “You have to be kidding. How can you think about food? Aren’t you scared?”

  The question stunned Caroline when she realized other thoughts had crowded out the fear. She shrugged. “Guess I should be, but I’m not. Or I wasn’t until you mentioned it,” she added with a tight grin.

  “If you’d looked in a mirror lately you would be.”

  Caroline touched her tender cheek where Slink’s slap had landed. “Does it look that bad?”

  Brandy nodded.

  “Believe me, Brandy, when my daddy catc
hes up with this bunch, they’re going to look a lot worse than this.”

  “What about the police?”

  “Oh, they’ll get their share too because of the policeman they shot in the church. If I ever learned anything from watching TV, it’s that. They go all out for someone who shoots one of them. But daddy’s weird. He always gets his way somehow. What about your parents?”

  Brandy’s eyes glistened. “Mother is probably hysterical, so my dad will be too busy taking care of her to worry about me much. I wish he’d slap her sometimes. Drama queen.”

  “Y’all come on and get your asses in the car,” Slink yelled.

  The red Barracuda was completely hidden under the tarp covered with pine limbs.

  29

  Looking for Danny

  “Danny, get up if you want any breakfast,” Belinda called from the kitchen. She washed the pans and dishes and Danny still wasn’t up. She walked to his bedroom and knocked. The door swung open. Her breath caught when she saw the empty bed. He never left the house without telling her goodbye, unless she was asleep, and she’d been up since seven, two hours ago.

  She sat on the bed. This made no sense. Unless he was more frightened of talking to the FBI than—oh my goodness, Caroline. That’s what that was about yesterday. He knew how upset I’d be. And he knew a lot more than he let on.

  She raced to the back door and looked out. The car was still there. If it is Caroline, how could he hope to find her without a car? He didn’t have any close friends, not close enough to help . . . Would Martin help Danny, thinking it might be a way of bonding, paying Danny back for the years they’d lost? No, Martin wouldn’t do that to her. “Bernard,” she spoke and immediately pushed open the back door and crossed the yard.

  She stopped when she saw the broken screen door latch lying on the porch. “Bernard, Bernard,” she called, unable to keep the quivering from her voice.

  No sounds came from inside. Belinda looked toward the garage to make sure he was home and saw the van. She stepped on the porch, cupped her hands around her eyes to keep out the glare, and peered through the screen door as she knocked. “Bernard.”