Claw Back (Louis Kincaid) (10 page)

             
Louis felt the guy pull out the small leather wallet that Mobley had given him.

             
“He’s a cop!”

             
“What?”

             
“Look at this, Marv. He’s a fucking cop.”

             
The pale man’s eyes went from the badge down to Louis.
             

             
“How’d you find us, cop?”

             
Louis was silent.

             
“Where are the others?”

             
“No others,” Louis said. He felt blood in his mouth and spat it out. “I wasn’t looking for you.”

             
“We need to get the fuck out of her
e, Marv. Shoot the fucker and -
”

             
“Shut up
, Memo
! I need to think.”

             
Louis pushed to a sitting position and tried to focus on the two men. If he got out of this cabin alive he wanted to remember enough to catch th
ese
bastards.

Marv was six-foot and slender, shaved head, horsey face and prominent bad teeth. The
t
-shirt, Louis could see now, had a Harley emblem on it. The other guy
,
the one called Memo
,
was dark, Hispanic maybe, and gone to fat. His faded
orange
Miami Dolphins t-shirt had the sleeves cut off. He had a scorpion tattoo on his neck.

             
The bald guy tossed the badge wallet to the floor then leaned over and pressed the barrel of the
Glock
to Louis’s temple.

             
“You kill me, you die in the chair,” Louis said.

             
The man’s breath was like sewer water. “I don’t like niggers and I don’t like cops.”

             
He eased the
Glock
away from Louis’s head.
He threw the badge wallet into a corner.
“But I
ain’t
no
murderer.”

             
He moved away. Louis shut his eyes in relief. He could hear the creak of the floorboards as the man moved around the room.
             

             
“Find something to tie him up with.”

             
Louis watched the dark man as he rummaged through the kitchen. When he came back, Louis saw a
loop of old rope i
n his hands. The bald man pointed the
Glock
toward the bunk beds.

             
“Move your ass over there.”

             
Louis crawled to the bunks. They were heavy wooden things, built into the wall. He leaned back against a post, his ribs on fire.

             
The dark man forced Louis’s hands behind his back. Louis grimaced as the man wrapped the
rope
tight around his wrists, tying it off high on the top bunk. The dark guy was smiling when he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

             
“Let’s get out
of
here,” the bald guy said.

             
The other man grabbed a backpack off the counter, paused,
then
reached over Louis to snag a pack of cigarettes from the bunk.

             
As they left, the dark guy started to pull the door closed. The bald man slapped a hand against it.

             
“Leave it open. Maybe a gator will crawl in and eat him.”

             
Louis could hear them laughing until it was drowned out by the sound of the Jeep coming to life. It built to a roar as they
revved the engine then slowly it faded to a low growl as they pulled out of the camp.

             
Louis strained against the
rope
. No give. His hands were going numb.

             
He looked to the open door, trying to estimate what time it was. He had signed out the Jeep at ten-thirty this morning but in all the twisting and turning trying to find this place he had lost track of time.

Sergeant Sweet...he was the only one who knew where he had gone. But there was no reason for him to sound the alarm if Louis didn’t come back. The Jeep was signed out for indefinite use.

             
Louis tugged at
rope
then laid h
is head back against the post.

             
It was quiet.
A terrible, empty quiet.

CHAPTER TEN

The
darkness had crept over him –
the rectangle of light that defined the open door turned from green to gray then disappeared –
and he thought it was because he was losing consciousness. But then, out of the blackness, came sounds.

The soft whir of a motor.

The creak of a rusty hinge.

Coughing.

Had the men come back? He strained to see something, anything, in the pitch black.

No, no... 

Just crickets, frogs
,
and something else, a gator maybe.

Louis leaned back against the bunk. How long had he been here? He couldn’t tell anymore. It was the thick of night now
and any hope he had of someone finding him was fading fast. It hurt to take a breath and he had to piss. He twisted his hands but the
rope
held tight on his wrists.

There was nothing to do but wait for the light. Maybe he could chew through the
rope
. Maybe if he yelled someone
w
ould be close enough to hear. Maybe...

He would die here.

He closed his eyes.

             
The rectangle of the door materialized out of the gloom. Dawn. His ribs and
his
lip throbbed
. His
parched throat felt like sandpaper
and
his whole body ached. Had he slept? He didn’t know because his mind felt as numb as his hands. The gnawing in his stomach wasn’t hunger anymore. It was fear.

             
He lay his head against the rough wood of the bunk, watching the details of the brush outside in the compound emerge in the frame of the doorway. He closed his eyes.

             
A sound.
Close.

             
His eyes shot open. He jerked upright as far as the
rope w
ould allow.

             
An animal.

             
No! It was louder. And it was engine of some kind, he could tell now. It was getting louder. It was outside in the compound. Then, suddenly, it died and it was quiet.

             
Louis waited, his eyes riveted on the open door. A huge silhouette filled the doorframe.

             
“What the fuck?”

             
The voice was different from those of the two men who had left him here.
Very deep, no accent.
It took Louis a second to realize the man was holding a rifle. And it was aimed at Louis.

             
“Hey! Don’t shoot
!” Louis yelled.

             
The rifle kept its bead on Louis’s chest.

             
“What the fuck are you doing here?”

             
“I’ve been here all night. Come on, untie me, man.”

             
“This is my camp, asshole. You broke into my camp.”

             
“I didn’t break in. Two guys jumped me.” No choice, he had to chance it. “I’m a cop, man. My ID is over there on the floor by the table.”

             
Slowly the rifle came down. The man scooped up the wallet, glanced at the ID inside and looked back to Louis. “What are you doing in my camp?”

             
“Untie me. I’ll explain.”

             
The man set the rifle by the door and pulled a large knife from his belt. He knelt by Louis.

             
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said as he began to saw at the
rope
.

             
“All I want to do is take a piss.”

             
The
rope
snapped free. The man stepped back and picked up his rifle. Louis rubbed his wrists and holding his ribs, got to his feet. He walked unsteadily out the open door and unzipped his fly. When he was done, he looked back at the man who had come out to stand on the porch. He was a burly six
footer
with dark hair, dressed in old jeans and a denim shirt bleached almost to white. He had his rifle tucked under his arm and was looking at the police wallet. When his eyes came up to Louis they were hard.

             
“Louis Kincaid,” he said, pronouncing his name Lou-
ee
. “Okay, what’s your story Lou-
ee
Kincaid.
”

             
Louis pulled in a painful breath and launched into a quick summary of the panther case. When he was finished, the man shook his head and smiled. 

             
“So you figured that some hunters killed your cat and you came out here to bust us, huh?”

             
“I don’t know what I figured,” he said. “You got some water?”

             
The man didn’t move. “You know, it was stupid of you to come out here alone,” he said. “I could have shot you.”

             
“I know,” Louis said, pa
tti
ng his swollen lip. “I should have told Katy I was coming here.”

             
“Katy? Katy
Letka
?”

             
Louis looked up.
“Yeah.
Do you know her?”

             
“Yeah, I know Katy.”

             
Louis stared at the man –- he was smiling at the mention of Katy’s name –- as his fogged brain trying to make sense of this.

             
“You
’re
a friend of Katy’s?” the man asked.

             
“Yeah.”
Louis
hesitated. “Are you?”

             
“Shit, yeah.”

             
The man’s eyes swept over Louis then he turned and went to his swamp buggy parked under the trees. He returned with a canteen and held it out to Louis.

             
Louis took it and drank greedily.

             
“So tell me about these guys who jumped you,” the man said.

             
“Not much to tell,” Louis said. “Like I said, they were hiding out in the cabin and jumped me when I came in.”

             
“Someone’s been using our camp,” the man said. “I’ve been coming out here to check every couple days.”
             

             
“I don’t think these two are your guys,” Louis said. “They were on the run from something they did over in Fort Lauderdale. They didn’t seem too bright.”

             
The man nodded. “Whoever’s using my camp has been coming and going for months. We noticed it when we realized some canned food was missing.”

             
Louis took another drink of water, trying not to gulp. His head was slowly clear
ing
.

             
“One of my buddies got a glimpse of him once, but couldn’t track him,” the man said.

             
“What did he look like?”

             
“Stocky, dark-skinned, long black hair.
He
just disappeared into the swamp. He
seems to know
what he’s doing out here. We call him the phantom. The only thing he leaves is cigarette butts.”

             
“Cigarettes?
You know what kind?” Louis asked.

             
“No
,
but the butts are probably out in the trash.”

             
“Can you show me?”