Markers (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 3) (22 page)

Thirty-Six

A Time to Heal

With each passing day, Joshua felt better. So far, Emma had not visited or checked on him since his release from the hospital; he felt she was avoiding him. Of course, her avoiding him could have had something to do with Carolyn de Iberville. Carolyn and her friend Alice had visited him at the hospital; they said they heard the news on the radio and had come to check on him. They had come to visit while Emma and Metcalf were there visiting him, so naturally he introduced Carolyn as ‘a friend’ of his. However, when Carolyn leaned over, kissed him on the lips, and reminded him that he owed her a supper date, he knew the cat was out of the bag; he did not dare chance a peek at Emma, at least not then; he was worried that it might have hurt her feelings or something.

Carolyn and Alice both fawned over and pampered him and made much ado over his needing to hurry and get well while they were there and he tried to avoid looking at Emma, but finally he could not stand the suspense of not knowing so he looked at her. He saw a bewildered look on Emma’s face as she watched them, as if they were intruding or taking his time away from her. He wondered why Emma was so surprised that he had a life other than what she knew of him and his living arrangements. Did she expect him to sit on his thumbs while she was seeing other people, aka Metcalf?

John was the only one that he knew for sure she was seeing, but he had encouraged that relationship from the beginning and he had not made it a priority to monitor where she went or whom she went with. She was free to see whomever she wanted - his main concern had been her use of drugs and hanging around people like Bubba the dope dealer. She had not even come with John Metcalf when he stopped by a few days after they caught the baby killers. It bothered Joshua a little, but he understood it - he had tried to avoid her before too; he knew if they were alone together for any length of time that they would wind up in bed - it happened every time.

Wearing only a pair of boxers, he kicked back in his rocker and propped his bare feet on the railing - it was warm for late September. At least the mosquitoes are gone, thought Joshua as he lit a roach that was lying in his ashtray and hit it a couple of times. He hoped they did not to return anytime soon; however, they had been known to swarm as late as October, especially during mild wet winters. Although his wounds were still a little tender, he was enjoying the freedom of not having tubes exiting his body.

He hit what was left of the joint several times then dropped it into the ashtray. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank about half of it, then leaned back and closed his eyes enjoying his buzz. A little while later, he opened them to watch the sunset. After a few minutes watching the shadows extend and darken as the sun went down, Emma crept back into his thoughts. He knew he ought not to even be thinking of her, and of what they had shared, but she was like a sandspur that attaches to your sock and no matter how hard you try to dislodge it, it hangs on embedding itself deeper into the fabric… The memory of her and being with her was wound through every fiber of his being-twisting and turning, her memory worked through every neural circuit of his brain, embedding itself deeper each time he thought of her. He hated to admit it, but he missed her-not just the sex, but talking to her - having her near enough to see-to smell… The long shadows of the trees swayed slightly-appearing to crawl across the ground toward his back porch.

Joshua had determined to update his music collection and had been listening to a lot more radio the last couple of weeks, making notes
etc.
on tapes he intended to buy. One of his new favorite songs, a song called “Dream On” by the group Aerosmith, played softly from the radio on the kitchen table. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply; he blew a thin plume of smoke toward the river and took another swig of whiskey. When Emma touched his thoughts, he mumbled, “Dream on sucker.” He needed to get his mind onto something besides Emma. His mind swapped from Emma to his folks and his grandparents. He still had not checked on what the twenty-dollar gold pieces he found buried in his yard were worth - he should do that soon, he thought to himself, thinking of the broken cinderblock markers his grandparents had on their graves. They were plain folk, but they deserved better, and if the twenty-dollar gold pieces were worth enough, he intended to buy real concrete markers for each of their graves. Then, he wondered where his mother’s parents were buried… he concluded they were probably buried on the reservation. He also wondered of his mother’s grandparents - where were they buried - who were they… he had not a clue. Maybe he should visit Margie Redfeather again and ask her - after Margie was gone, there would be no one who could answer his questions.

The sound of a vehicle drew him from his reflections as it drove into his front yard. He did not care that he was in his underwear-it was his porch, his body. When Emma walked around the corner of his cabin, he was mildly surprised. He was not expecting it to be her. She looked cute in her white short shorts and lime green halter-top. She had changed her hair style-she wore it cut in a super short style that was quite becoming on her, but emphasized her youth. Dangly earrings hung from her earlobes and she wore makeup. He was more used to seeing her in her natural state.

Joshua did not speak and neither did she; she walked straight to the steps and up onto the porch. When she stopped in front of him, he looked up into her face. She gazed deep into his eyes and began untying her top from behind her neck and then her back-she let it fall to the floor slipping her shorts and panties off as she did.

Her firm young breasts stood pert, the nipples hardening as he watched. She stepped out of her shorts, crawled onto his lap and straddled him.

“Em-” she placed a finger to his lips to hush him.

“Shh - don’t,” she said as she bent forward to kiss his neck. She worked her way to his ear and whispered in a low hoarse voice, “I need you, Sheriff.”

She removed her fingers from his lips and covered his mouth with hers, kissing him long and deep; her kiss became more passionate the longer it lasted. She released his lips but a moment and mumbled, “Why do I fall in love with you every time I see you,” against his cheek. As soon as she said it, her mouth devoured his again to prevent him from speaking. She bit his lip hard; he felt it almost a punishment for trying to speak again. He could feel the warmth of his blood ooze from his lip. Emma released his mouth and licked the blood from his lip before kissing him again, her excitement seemed to intensify. Joshua was surprised, but not put off by her actions. She pressed her small but ample breasts against his chest, her breaths coming shallow and fast as she moved against him. Her lips and the heat of her body pressed against his ignited his passion; he no longer resisted. He returned her kiss with the same fervor he felt from her, their excitement building in intensity as they explored each other’s bodies.

Joshua lowered his feet to the floor and stood, picking Emma up with him as he did. She wrapped her long legs around his waist as he carried her toward the screen door. Once inside, he carried her to his bed and laid her gently on it, kissing her long and deep, his tongue searching her mouth as he lay on top of her.

Joshua wanted their lovemaking to be slow and tender… he preferred to go easy and make it last longer, but Emma seemed to want it fast and rough. He persisted by sliding onto his side beside her and slowing down. She reached for him with her free hand, but he took hold of her hand, raised it over her head, and pinned it to the pillow with his left hand; she struggled but a moment. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her long and deep again before moving to her neck where he suckled gently, his lips lingering but a moment on the thin scar before his lips moved to her breasts. As he suckled, he could tell that she was enjoying his touch by her short breaths and the gentle moans that escaped her lips. His right hand explored her body until he felt her soft velvety pubic hair; she raised her hips bringing her soft mound against his hand, he slipped a finger in to test her willingness; she was moist and quivering with need. She began to move against him, wanting him to explore deeper. Her nipples were now rock hard; he suckled both tenderly; increasing her pleasure and her need before letting go her hand and lowering his lips to her stomach and then to her thighs… he wanted to taste her…

As his lips made their way to her, Emma ran her fingers through his hair and gripped his head with her hands… she let his mouth explore but a moment before she guided him to her. He knew what she wanted. He devoured her gently; his tongue probed, searching, pleasuring her. Her moans grew louder; she grabbed and pulled him tighter to her, but he maintained a slow and easy pace until he felt the contractions of her orgasm. When he was sure she was completely satisfied, he rose and entered her releasing his juices to mix with hers…

Thirty-Seven

Wooden Crosses

Walking out onto his porch, Joshua stopped and stretched this way and that trying to loosen his taunt muscles. There was still tightness in the lower part of his back where the surgeon repaired his kidney and a deep soreness that had not gone away. His toting Emma to his bed had not helped, and it was the first time he had made love since leaving the hospital. Emma’s insistence of and need of forceful sex seemed to be getting stronger - her manipulations more astute. Massaging his sore bottom lip with his upper lip, he thought to himself that it was affecting their lovemaking, not in a bad way, but not a good way either… He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and sat down to slip his boots on.

He was glad he did not have any open cases to work on-besides the ‘sacrificial lamb’ case, as most of his men were referring to the murder and mutilation of the infant and its parents. It had come too soon after he was attacked by the knife wielding wild man at the Oasis Club. Of course, if he had listened to his doctor’s advice and taken more time off, he might have healed faster, but crime waits on no one, and after the revenant appeared in his backyard, he really did not have a choice in the matter. As far as the knife-wielding vet that stabbed him was concerned, he had not found anything that would tie him to any of his enemy’s; he did not know exactly why the man had attacked him. Donnie Ray said the man that initiated the fight acted as if he wanted the police to be called in to stop it. The man that Donnie Ray was slugging it out with in the parking lot had disappeared as soon as he and Calvert showed up-so far they had not been able to identify him. No one that was there that night, admitted to knowing either one, neither the knifeman nor his friend. Joshua figured that one might stay a mystery…

Emma was still sleeping. He had not wanted to wake her; that was why he had dressed quietly and walked out onto the porch to have a smoke and decide what he was going to do that day. There were several things he needed to do before the ‘Sacrificial Lamb’ case went to court, like filing his paperwork etc., but he had plenty of time to finish that. It should only take him a couple of hours. He could drive into town and knock that out in a hurry if he was of a mind to, but it could wait. He had other things he would rather be doing; things on his personal agenda that he wanted to check on. In addition to finding out exactly what happened to his mother, he needed to have the coins appraised. If they were worth what James thought they were, he could easily afford to get the grave markers for his paternal grandparents and great-grandparents; and, he wanted to visit Margie Redfeather again and talk with her about his maternal ancestors. All of those things, except finding out what happened to his mother, were probably doable - finding what happened to her was going to be the hardest to complete. Besides the brief investigation he done when he first became a cop, he had never seriously looked into her disappearance until recently. The only reason he began looking then, was that the Dixon brothers began their killing spree, which led to his finding the heads in the trophy room.

He thought of Vivian’s diary; it was inside on the kitchen table; he wondered where his mother’s journal was. He knew it
had
to be at his granddaddy’s house; everything his parents owned was there, other than their furniture-he had used most of the furniture to furnish his cabin. However, all of their personal belongings were there, packed away in his old bedroom. That was what he would do; he would go to his grandfather’s farm.

He had started to his grandfather’s farm several times over the last few months to look through their stuff, but never made it because of one thing or another happening.

It had always been hard for him to go there. The memories were just too painful when he was younger. His grandparents were more like his parents than they were his grandparents-they practically raised him. He knew he ought to sell the place; he had neglected it over the years. He could not remember the last time he had actually gone inside to look around. Of course, he paid someone to bush hog around it several times a year, and to mow the lawn during the summer. The man’s wife went in and cleaned it up once a month. She swept, mopped, and dusted, but that really was not taking care of it… not as it should be.

Joshua grabbed his hat off the hook by the back door and headed to his patrol car. He decided that instead of going the back way, which was quicker, that he would go on down Highway 98, stop and get him some breakfast, and then head toward Citronelle. He was going to stop at Joe’s Café, but when he saw Gypsy Jones’ light blue, Chevy Impala parked by the front door, he kept driving; opting instead to go to the Hickory Pit.

Their breakfast might not be as cheap as breakfast at Joe’s was, but it was usually tastier than his was. Joshua was not the least bit surprised to see Hook’s pickup in the parking lot. Hook liked to go there every morning for coffee and for the company-that was where the two of them were different. Hook could talk the horns off a Billy goat and loved sitting there carrying on with everyone - Joshua preferred sitting alone or in the company of one or two trusted companions drinking, talking, and relaxing - not much of a chance of drama happening that away. Joshua hated drama with a passion.

He parked, got out, and went in; Hook was sidled up to the bar in his usual spot. Several of the old-timers surrounded him; they were all laughing and carrying on-a telling tales. Joshua smiled. He admired that about Hook-sometimes, like then, he wished he could be more like him.

“Mornin’ Sheriff” said Jeanne, greeting him as he walked in. “Coffee?” she asked. He nodded his head, mumbling, ‘thanks’. Several others chimed in with their morning salutations, as did Hook before he excused himself from the old fellows and parked his behind in a chair at Joshua’s table.

“How ya feeling, Hoss - are you a healing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m not a hundred percent yet, but gettin’ better. How about you, are you doing’ alright?”

“Yep, I’m just loafing the roads right now-Ilene started early this morning with her list of honey dos, so I skipped out as soon as I fed the animals; you know how it is.”

No, Hook, I don’t know how it is
, thought Joshua, but said nothing. His short-term marriage to Francine had not lasted long enough to end up with him a list of honey-dos.

“Speaking of animals, I still got your pup. It’s gettin’ big enough now, that it would do all right by itself. Are you ready for it?” when Joshua did not respond, James said, “Are you sure you’re alright, Hoss, you seem distracted.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Hook. I was about to head up to my granddaddy’s place. I wanted to look through some of the folks stuff. It always bothers me to go there… you know how that is,” he said. He knew that was something they could both identify with, since both of them had lost their grandparents.

“Yeah, I half expect to see Grandpa a sittin’ on his back porch a watching Grandma shell peas when I go over there; they both been gone a good while now.”

Jeanne poured his coffee and took his order - he asked James if he wanted anything. James replied that Ilene had got up and made biscuits and fried up some salt pork, so he was good. “I think I will take another cup of that coffee, though,” he added. After a minute of silence, he asked, “Did you need me to ride up there with you?” Joshua shook his head, no, and told him not to take any offense, but he wanted to go alone.

“I rode up to Citronelle with Frank the other day,” James offered, “and when we passed where that woman was killed - Anna Leigh’s mama - someone had put a marker there-a wooden cross - first thing I thought, was that you done it.”

“Nah, it wouldn’t me, Hook. I haven’t had a chance to go up that way since that happened. Maybe it was her sister or her in-laws that put it there.”

“You know, from what you told me of ‘em, I would picture them doing something like that… I’ve seen a lot of those wooden crosses along the highways the last couple of years-I wonder why folks do that. They ain’t buried there.”

“No they ain’t. I think folks do that because many of them feel that a person’s soul leaves their body wherever they die. Some think the soul hangs around its dying spot until the Rapture, and then they go up to Heaven.”

“That’s possible I reckon.”

“Anything’s possible,” Joshua replied, just as Jeanne brought his breakfast and sat it on the table. She warmed up his coffee and told him if he needed anything to holler. Joshua suddenly wondered if it was true-did the soul stay put. He quickly tossed the thought aside - he had seen too many ghosts in places where they did not die, to believe that they stayed in one spot after they passed away. He knew for sure that they were drawn to different places, places other than their place of death. Maybe it had something to do with those ley lines and vortexes he had recently learned of… he knew that dead folks were also drawn to people and places that were a part of their life.

“I thought all of Anna Leigh’s people lived in Atlanta-it was fresh, Josh, too fresh to have been there long. Do you think she might have had a friend living close by?”

“Maybe,” replied Joshua. “Or they might have had to come back to Mobile to pack up the house or something… who knows,” he said, showing he was ready to drop the conversation of the wooden marker. “I do need to go talk to Margie Redfeather again though; maybe one day next week. You could ride along with me if you’re up to it.”

“Heck yeah, Hoss, I’m always up to going up the country. Just let me know when you want to go and we’ll go,” James said enthusiastically.



‘
You know I’ve smoked a lot of grass; oh Lord I popped a lot of pills
’ Joshua had his music turned up loud; it helped drown out his thoughts. ‘
But the pusher is a monster-good God, he’s not a natural man
’ He had just turned onto Lott Road and put the hammer down heading north. It was still nearly twenty miles to his granddaddy’s farm and if he had his music loud enough and drove fast enough- “Shit!” he exclaimed aloud. He barely missed an old hound dog that suddenly trotted across the road in front of him by Snake’um Howe’s place. He was glad it was a straightaway-if it had of been a curve, he might have ended up the way Lita McIllwain did, dead.

‘
But the pusher don’t care -
sung Steppenwolf
loudly,
- if you live or if you die
’ “Yeah, that’s right, Wolf, he shore don’t,” Joshua mumbled, between lyrics.

He shoved his foot back down on the gas peddle and kept a going.
There’s no use in slowing down now
, thought Joshua.
I’m going to die someday; it just might not be today
.

He traveled to where he had come upon Lita McIllwain’s car, without further incident, but as he neared the spot she died, he slowed down. He felt the need to pull over to the side of the road and stop, which he did and got out.

The cross James told him about was nearly in the exact spot she died - not where her car had been, which probably was a hundred feet further north. How could they, he wondered, how did they know that she died right here, if they were not here? He had not seen anyone else there… were they hiding out, watching what when on… There was a lot about that case that still did not sit well with him. And, although Barnes acted as if the case was under control, and they were abreast of everything, he wanted to check back in with him later on, just to see if there were any further developments in the case. He did not feel that someone ought to be able to purchase a human child, raise it to be a wife and mother, and then get off scot-free when it becomes known. And he wasn’t thinking of the dead husband either, he’d took care of that-he was thinking of the elder McIllwain-he was the one to blame for it all-Lita’s death, and his sons.

The cross, much like the person whose place on earth it marked, to remind people that
once upon a time
they existed, was thin and frail in appearance; the strips of wood maybe and inch to an inch and a half in width and two feet in height. A cluster of colorful Mardi Gras beads hung from the small bare-wooded cross. It also had an assortment of artificial flowers around the base of it, including multi-colored tulips and lilies. The lilies made him think of his lily bushes; they were in full bloom again and smelled very good that morning; he had gotten a whiff of them as he walked to his car. He would look for his grandmother’s lily bush when he got to the farm; it ought to be blooming too.

“Was this a reminder?” he asked aloud, wondering if maybe his grandmother’s spirit was reminding him of where the lilies came from and that he was supposed to keep the tradition going. “It’s a little too late for that, Grandma,” he mumbled. “I don’t have any kids to pass them down to.”

As he climbed back into his car to continue to the farm, he thought of little Anna Leigh. He sincerely hoped she would be taken care of properly. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply-he blew the smoke out and watched it float away.

“Lita McIllwain, if your spirit is here and you can hear me, listen up,” he said. “If you ever see that little Anna Leigh is being mistreated, come to me and I will see what I can do… At least, you won’t have to worry about that husband of yours mistreating her; He’s been taken care of…”

Before he cranked up and drove on to the farm, Joshua set there a couple of minutes, waiting, just in case she should show herself. She didn’t, so he drove on. Once there, he turned into the driveway and drove into his granddaddy’s yard. The old place looked tired, abandoned, unloved… The pecan trees in the orchard were mostly bare, but a few had began to bud out on their lower limbs, due to the warmer than usual weather. He hoped it did not freeze early and ruin the next year’s crop.