Three Sides of the Tracks Read online

  “Damn you,” Caroline screamed.

  31

  Grady Hospital

  “I want to talk to the detectives and see what I can find out,” Bart Phillips said a few minutes after the sergeant left. “Will you two be here if I find out anything?”

  Belinda looked at Martin.

  “I’d sure like to talk to Bernard. Bet he could explain a lot of this,” Martin said.

  For the first time since she’d discovered Danny’s bed empty, Belinda’s expression turned hopeful. She moved forward on the couch and clutched Martin’s arm. “What if Bernard doesn’t make it? Someone should be there with him. He doesn’t have any family. I know it’s imposing but—”

  Martin took her hand. “Of course, I’ll go with you. I’m not going to let you go through this alone. You’ve been through too much alone as it is.”

  Bart Phillips averted his eyes.

  “Despite his rough ways, Bernard is really a very sweet person and cares a lot about Danny. If he does recover, I think he’ll help us if he can,” Belinda said.

  “I wouldn’t mind talking to Mr. Davis myself, but I want to speak with the detectives first. See if what Mr. Davis has to say jives with the detectives’ findings. Belinda, if what they said about the caliber of the bullet and the metal plate are correct, y’all might get there and find him in pretty good shape, all things considered.”

  Belinda stood. “No matter what condition he’s in, Bernard will be in the emergency room for at least a few hours. You boys make yourself at home and I’ll see what I can find for lunch.”

  A big grin spread across Bart’s face. “You remember those roast beef sandwiches your mother used to make?”

  “The ones you used to charm out of me, you mean? And my mother didn’t make them; Sally Ann, the housekeeper, made them. My mother never cooked a day in her life. Not that I can remember anyway.”

  “Rye bread stacked with thin slices of roast beef and lettuce, tomato, and ultrathin slices of onion with lots of mayonnaise and a touch of spicy mustard. Man, I loved those sandwiches and have never been able to make one taste like those. You should have seen my act trying to beat Belinda out of her lunch.”

  Martin raised his eyebrows. “I did see you. I was sitting right next to her. We used to nudge each other under the table watching you nonchalantly eyeballing her lunch to see what she’d brought that day.”

  “Yeahhhhh,” Bart’s voice trailed off as he recalled a mental image of more innocent times. “Geez, was I that obvious?”

  “Eighth grade boys don’t overly concern themselves with hiding their intentions, or, if so, you aren’t very good at it,” Belinda said, smiling at them both. “You might have to settle for ham on rye today though.”

  Bart smiled and rubbed his stomach.

  Martin and Belinda arrived at Grady Hospital in downtown Atlanta late afternoon and asked the emergency room clerk whether she could give them information for Bernard Davis.

  “Relationship?” she asked without looking up.

  “Sister,” Belinda said.

  The clerk’s hands moved over the computer keyboard. “He’s been moved to ICU. Third floor. Elevators down the hall and to your right.”

  Belinda squeezed her eyes shut and prayed a silent thank you that Bernard had lived.

  Martin took her hand and led her toward the elevators. “I’m impressed. Did you have that planned?”

  “No. It just popped out. I want to see Bernard, and she didn’t appear very accommodating.” A slightly guilty expression accompanied her smile.

  “It might take more of the same for the nurses to let us into the ICU. Try ‘frantic concern.’ ”

  Belinda nudged him with her elbow. “I am concerned.”

  “I meant sisterly concern.”

  “I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?”

  “Yep.”

  The couple stopped at the ICU clerk’s station. “We were told that Mr. Bernard Davis has been brought here. This is his sister. May we see him now? He was shot and—”

  “Yeah, quite a few in there with that same problem. What relation are you to Mr. Davis?”

  “Sister and brother-in-law,” Martin said.

  “Wait in there,” the overworked clerk said with a jerk of her thumb toward an overflowing waiting room.

  Heat and the smell of too many bodies from the waiting room encouraged them to stay in the hall, but only a few minutes passed when the ICU outer door hissed open and a nurse’s head leaned out. “Bernard Davis visitors.”

  Martin held up a hand and they walked toward the half-open door.

  “If you want to see Mr. Davis, it will be a few hours.”

  “Can you just please give me his condition? I’m his sister.”

  “He wouldn’t be in ICU if it weren’t for the rules. We’re keeping him for observation because of the concussion. They ran an MRI when he first came in to check for cranial swelling, but it was negligible, so they stitched his scalp back on and gave him some precautionary meds for swelling and IV to compensate for blood loss. He regained consciousness while in the ER, but he’s groggy, and the standard treatment for mild concussion is rest, rest, and more rest.”

  “Can I see him for just one minute? Please?” Belinda said.

  “Not until he’s more alert.”

  “I suppose you know a gunshot gave him that concussion. It’s really very urgent—”

  “Patient’s well-being is my first priority, ma’am, but I’ll keep an eye on him and come get you as soon as it’s safe for him to have visitors. That’s the best I can offer.”

  “Thank you. You’re most kind,” Martin said in the most charming tone he could muster accompanied by a likewise charming smile.

  She smiled back and said, “brother-in-law?”

  “No. Boyhood friend. Like brothers.”

  The smile broadened. “I’ll let you in as soon as I can.”

  The ICU outer door hissed open two hours later and a nurse leaned against it. “Bernard Davis visitors.”

  “That’s us,” Martin said.

  “Thank goodness. Sister?” she asked Belinda.

  “Yes, why did you say ‘thank goodness’? Is his condition—”

  “His condition’s fine. Physically that is. He’s been more trouble in an hour than the rest of them combined. I told him his sister was here, and he said ‘That’d be a trick, that I’m crazier than he is.’ Don’t have a clue what that’s supposed to mean. Anyway, he’s all yours. Cubicle six.”

  ICU rooms were arranged in a circle with the nurses’ station in the middle. “Over here, Sis.”

  Belinda smiled and Martin used all his restraint to keep from laughing.

  “Been a long time since I saw you two together. Have to say it looks awfully natural. Hope it ain’t a one-time thing.”

  Belinda took his hand. “That’s sweet of you to say, Bernard. How are you? I thought you were dead when I saw you on the floor in all that blood.”

  “So it was you who found me, huh? Wondered about that.”

  “Yes, Danny’s missing, Bernard, and I went to your house to see if you had any idea where he might have gone. I know he’s looking for his friend. One of the girls kidnapped from the church.”

  “He said he left you a note.”

  “I didn’t find one.”

  Bernard averted his eyes as he figured out what would cause the mother standing next to him the least worry. “You’re not gonna like it, but I helped him. Let him use that old car of my sister’s. My dead sister’s,” he couldn’t resist adding.

  “But why, Bernard? You care for Danny too much to send him after those thugs, as dangerous as they are.”

  “I don’t spect he’ll find them. I figure he’ll ride around looking in some spots they might hide out then come on home. Didn’t want to help him, but he’s dead set on finding that friend of his. I mean dead set.”

  “What if he does find them, Bernard? Did you think of the consequences?” Martin said.

&n
bsp; “Not as much as I should have. Laying here talking with you two, it don’t seem as good an idea as it did when I was talking to him. But then again, if I hadn’t of . . .”

  Belinda clutched his hand. “What? What were you about to say?”

  “Oh, just that he might’a done somethin’ crazier. Like I said, that gal has a hold on him. Y’all two ought’a understand that.”

  Martin leaned over the bed and glared at Bernard. “All of it, Bernard. Stop the bullshit. This has gone on long enough.”

  Bernard glanced at Belinda. “I don’t think you need to hear this. Just him, okay? Then he can tell you whatever—”

  “This is my son, Bernard. You tell me right now,” Belinda said, her voice trembling.

  Bernard cocked his head. “Y’all’s son, you mean.”

  “Damn you—”

  “Okay. Okay, but I’m telling you, it ain’t about Danny takin’ the car no more. In fact, if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be alive right now.”

  Belinda and Martin froze.

  “The guy who shot me was lookin’ for Danny, and, in case you ain’t ciphered it out yet, he weren’t one of the idiots what robbed the church.”

  It took Martin a moment to figure it out. “That rotten son of a bitch. I’m going to beat him to a pulp.”

  Belinda looked at a scarlet-faced Martin then at Bernard, who had a knowing expression on his face as he nodded at Martin.

  “It’s time to put aside your feelings and tell the cops what you know. Bart Phillips is on his way up here. I’m gonna take Belinda home and then go pay someone a visit.”

  Martin took Belinda’s hand and almost dragged her from the ICU.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Not here. We’ll talk in the car.”

  All the way to the car, Martin tried to think of a story that wouldn’t cause Belinda to go to pieces. Having a hit man after your son is not what she needed to hear.

  Belinda stayed quiet until they left the parking lot. “I can see your wheels working, so you might as well tell me the truth.”

  Martin sighed and squeezed her hand. “Danny and I went to the Bluebird Café to eat after I picked him up from the police station. While we were there, Jessie Whitaker came in drunk as hell and threatened Danny because the dumbass thought he was involved with kidnapping his daughter. I think he still believes that, despite everyone telling him it isn’t so, and he hired someone to beat Danny up, scare him, or whatever his crazy mind concocted. That’s what Bernard meant when he said the guy who shot him was looking for Danny. I doubt he would have shot Danny if he’d found him. Bernard probably had one of his spells when the man came to his house and things got out of hand.”

  “I appreciate your effort, Martin, but I saw Bernard’s head half blown off, so that little story is, I think, understated.”

  Belinda raised their clasped hands to her lips and kissed his hand.

  “Try not to think the worst. I’m going to drop you off and then go see our friend Jessie Whitaker. He’s had far too much leeway and lost track of reality. Thinking he could get by with something like this is indicative of just how crazy he is. Heck, he makes Bernard seem the picture of sanity.”

  “Not sure that’s a good idea, Martin. Not without Bart, anyway. What if things get out of hand?”

  “Bart’s too busy. I’m just gonna run out there and tell him to leave my family alone. If he has an ounce of sanity left, he’ll get the picture. If I can’t get through to him, I’ll leave and handle it another way. Let Bart really scare the daylights out of him. Something like that. Okay?”

  “Your family?”

  Martin unclasped his hand, put his arm around Belinda and pulled her close. “That’s right. My family. I know these haven’t been the best of circumstances, but since we’ve been spending time together, I finally feel whole again. I think my sense of loss had grown callouses I’d fought it for so long, but, when you opened the door that day and I looked in your eyes again, everything rushed in. I swear I thought my chest was going to burst open. You were just so beautiful, are so beautiful, and the past, my love for you . . . it was all there. Just like we’d never been apart. And I’ve felt that way every day since then.”

  Belinda snuggled against him. “I know. Me too.”

  32

  The Florida Line

  “Shut her up, Whitey,” Slink snarled as Brandy’s moans and groans filled the car.

  Whitey held her head with one hand and clamped the other over her mouth. “Be quiet and I’ll help you stop the bleeding.”

  Brandy rocked back and forth clutching her thigh. Blood seeped through her fingers and ran down her leg. What didn’t seep into the seat cover settled on the floor.

  Caroline leaned over the seat with a handful of napkins taken from the convenience store. “Move your hands and press these on the cut.”

  The wild look in Brandy’s eyes calmed somewhat when Caroline held the napkins on her leg.

  “Don’t start that screaming again or I’ll knock you out,” Whitey said and released her. “Here’s some more napkins.”

  “Was that necessary?” Caroline asked Slink.

  Slink’s hand moved so fast that Caroline had no chance to react. It stopped an inch from her right cheek. “Don’t take that as a sign of weakness, Sweetness. Just a warning to mind your own business.”

  Caroline turned around and folded her arms across her chest, lips set in a thin line. She stared at the highway for a half hour then faced Slink again. “Can I ask you a question without getting stabbed or beat to death?”

  “Bein’ a smart ass is likely to get you that anyway, but go ahead. You might not like what you hear, or I might tell you the same thing I did a minute ago. What’s running around in that brain of yours?”

  “Have you ever cared about anyone?”

  Slink’s dark complexion turned even darker and his jaws muscles clenched. He seemed to be trying to hold his temper then he looked at her with squinted, piercing black eyes and sneering lips. “You judging me, Sweet Cheeks?”

  “No. Just trying to understand you. Why you’re so violent.”

  “Well, we all don’t grow up with nannies or mommas and daddies to buy us anything we want. Our side’a the tracks ain’t like yours.”

  “I know plenty of people from, as you say, your side of the tracks, and none of them are anything like you.”

  Slink’s eyes took on a warning expression.

  “You said I could ask.”

  Slink let out a deep breath. “I reckon I cared about my momma, but she stayed on my ass so much ‘cause I layed outta school and stole stuff here and there that I think she gave up on me, and, before long, I gave up on her. That make sense to you?”

  “Part of it does.”

  “What part’s that?”

  “The part about staying on your ass. What about girl friends? You never cared about anyone special?”

  “You’re over the line now. I said you could ask a question, not grill me.”

  “Oh my goodness, it’s not that big of a deal. I just asked—”

  “What about you, Sweet Cheeks? How come bad boys turn you on?”

  Caroline came unhinged. She swooned against the door, face fiery red.

  “Appears I struck a home run with that one. No shame in liking bad boys. Not really. Guess there is to you though.”

  “Yes. There is,” Caroline said, her voice a whimper.

  Slink turned his head and gave her a long look. “I’m gonna do you a favor, Sweet Cheeks. Since I made you miss your soap operas and all. I’m gonna tell you why bad boys turn you on. ‘Cause you’re bored, that’s why. And bad boys are anything but boring.”

  Caroline found her inner strength. Despite thinking Slink might have a point, to agree with him would be giving him power, more power, and that she could not do. “That’s crazy. Why would I be bored? I have lots of friends. I go out. Dance. Swim. Go to parties.”

  “Yeah, and do the same old crap over and over. Bet you can’t
wait to leave town, can you?”

  “I can’t wait to leave home, if that’s what you mean, but not because I’m bored.”

  “What is it then?”

  “Because my daddy is an asshole, that’s why.”

  “Same daddy you claim is so bad? The one who’s gonna send a posse after us?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “So your daddy’s a bad boy himself, huh? And bad boys turn you on. I think I’m seeing a link here.” Slink looked at Caroline knowingly.

  Flustered, Caroline blurted, “That’s crazy.”

  “No. ‘Crazy’ is not knowing when to shut your mouth, and that defines you exactly.”

  “I just meant—”

  Slink banged the steering wheel. “You don’t have a clue what you mean. End of question and answer session. No more questions. Understand?”

  Caroline huffed and faced the highway again.

  They reached Interstate 10 and took the eastbound exit. An hour later the traffic increased and the highway grew wider as they approached Jacksonville.

  Slink swiveled the rearview mirror so he could see Brandy. “We’re stopping for gas again. Next blade’s going in your chest. Got that?”

  Brandy didn’t appear to have the energy to try anything else. She nodded, and Slink turned the mirror so he could see Smurf.

  “We need new plates. Florida plates. I don’t want’a get down there and be doin’ nothin’ to draw attention. We’re gonna maintain a very low profile for a few days. My tools are in the trunk. If I see a good chance, you block for Whitey and get us some plates quick like.”

  “You want me to put these plates on that car?”

  “No, you big dumb ass. I think a man would notice if he all of a sudden had Georgia plates, don’t you?”

  “Well, he’s gonna notice if he don’t have any plates too, ain’t he?”

  “Be a smartass and you’ll get what she got. What we’re gonna do is get Florida plates on here right now, then, on down the road a piece, we’ll switch them again with some other Florida car similar to this one. Picture gettin’ any clearer for you now?”

  “Smurf’s broad face spread into a big grin that showed his gapped and yellow teeth. “That’s a good’un, Slink.”