Three Sides of the Tracks (11 page)

“Looks like a choir’s putting on a show here tonight,” Danny said after
reading the sign in front of the church.

“Cross Crusaders?” What does that mean? That they’re pissed off
Crusaders,” Slink said with a smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting in a common
expression of his.

“I hate these gold-diggin’ singing groups. Delude themselves into
thinking they can sing when all they really want is some blankin’ attention.
Then they push themselves on a bunch of worthless losers like the ones who come
to this place. Probably even have the balls to charge the suckers. What a crock,”
Slink said.

“Oh, what a friend I have in . . .” Whitey sang.

Slink’s head jerked around. “Cut that crap out. I ain’t superstitious or
nothin’, but that gives me a creepy feeling.”

Whitey chuckled, but with an anxious tone, and he chopped it off when
Slink frowned at him. Whitey focused on the beer can and turned it up,
swallowing the contents without lowering the can.

Slink pulled the wad of money from the store out of his pocket and began
straightening it out. “There’s six of these hundred dollar bills. Let’s see;
that’s seven fifties, 17 twenties, and 13 tens. Fourteen hundred and twenty
dollars. Ha, I’d say that was worth the stop. How ‘bout you, Danny? You ever
made that kind of dough?”

Danny raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of money, Slink.”

“You like it too, don’t you?”

“I’m scared to death to be honest with you.”

“Yeah, I can dig that, but you like it too. Come on, now.”

Danny felt trapped. “I might, once I get over being scared,” he managed
to say, trying to be diplomatic. The last thing he wanted was to piss Slink
off.

Slink tossed half of the hundred dollar bills in Danny’s lap.

“Hey,” Whitey said.

Slink backhanded him. “Shut up. You guys would be cuttin’ grass if it
weren’t for me.”

“That’s for helping my uncle,” Slink said. “And to help you get over the
‘scared to death.’ ”

“Oh my gosh. I can’t take all this money, Slink,” Danny said.

“Oh, quit whinin’, Danny. Hell, you’re just like us. I can see what
you’re like. The fast life is in you just like it’s in me. You might’ve even
fooled yourself, but you haven’t fooled me. I know about these things. I’m
gonna maximize your talent. You won’t have to be a sucker all your life.”

Slink saw the fear in Danny’s eyes, but he didn’t see the anger. “Don’t
worry, kid. I’ll bring you along slow. I wouldn’t want you ‘scared to death’
all the time.” Slink laughed loudly, gulped his beer, and cranked the car.

“Well, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off, Danny. I think you’ve had
enough excitement for one day,” Slink said. He turned, looked Danny in the eye
and winked. “ ‘Don’t spend it all in one place’ is absolutely true. Remember
that.”

The Barracuda sped out of the parking lot, but not without Slink giving
the sign a final look. “Assholes,” he muttered.

12

Church

The screen door banged behind him. Slink hopped in the car and pulled
three ski masks out of a big plastic bag, which had another large bag inside
it. He tossed a mask to Whitey then Smurf. “You guys in or out? I’m gonna do that
church. With the Cross Crusaders there, should be a crowd. Out in the country a
ways. Take a while for the cops to get there, and we can haul ass down the road
a half mile, cut back on the dirt road we came down today and end up on the
other side of town. We’ll head north and stay out of town until it all blows
over. Shouldn’t be long; there’s always something new to get the cop’s
attention.”

“Damn, Slink,” Smurf said. “We ain’t never done nothin’ this big. Hot
dang. Rob a church. I never even heard of anyone doin’ that. Ain’t you scared?
I mean you jumped on Whitey just for singin’ a little; now, you want to rob the
place.” He paused and chuckled. “Sure shock the hell out of ‘em though. Might
be an easy gig, like you said. Could be a big pile of dough too, what with that
singin’ group there tonight. I’ll do it. Yeah, I’ll do it. Count me in.”

“We’re gonna need some guns,” Whitey said.

“Don’t be a dumb ass, Whitey; you know I got guns.”

“Well, okay then, but I want the shotgun.”

Slink smacked his lips in disgust at Whitey’s attempt to use the
situation as a bargaining tool, but didn’t bother telling Whitey what he
wouldn’t understand anyway. “Whitey gets the shotgun. Whitey better be damn
careful with it too.” Slink glared at Whitey till he dropped his eyes.

* *    *

The Barracuda passed the church at a crawl. The parking lot was full. Overflow
full. Cars parked on the grass alongside the lot as well as the road beside the
church.

“They’ll take up the collection before those morons start singing,” Slink
said. “It’s six on the dot now. As soon as those two smokers go in, we’ll ease
up to the door. The ushers might bring the plates to the foyer or might meet at
the back then march back up front and hand the dough to the preacher. Be easier
if they come to the foyer, but it don’t matter none. Not really. They ain’t
stupid enough to rush no shotgun and rifle.” Slink grinned with one side of his
mouth. “If they do, the rifle and shotgun gonna make some mighty big holes.
This .45 too for that matter,” he said patting the ivory-handled .45 pistol in
his waistband.

Slink backed the Barracuda as close to the church steps as possible.
“Y’all wait here a minute,” he said and hopped out.

He opened one of the church doors a crack and looked in. Not seeing
anyone, he went inside, mask tucked into the back of his jeans.

The doors to the congregation were open, and he could see the last few
rows of pews. Full of people. He scurried to the far wall so he would be out of
sight and listened. The preacher was making some announcements. He’d be asking
for the donations next.

Slink hurried back across the foyer and out to the car. “Y’all come on
in, but don’t put your masks on yet. Just ease in the door and walk across the
foyer with your heads down then flatten against the wall and put on your masks.
We can hear them taking up the plates. I’ll know when to move.

“If they come out to the foyer, we’ll handle it one way, quiet like, but,
if they stop at the last row, I’ll say go, and, Smurf, you and Whitey go down
the right aisle, and I’ll go to the left. Soon as you hit the doorway, grab the
guy holding the trays and drag him back out to the foyer.

“Smurf, you do that and let Whitey cover you. Whitey, people are going to
look around now, so you stay cool. Yell as loud as you can that this is a hold
up, and you’ll shoot the first sonabitch that moves. If anybody does, fire one
shot from that shotgun toward the ceiling.” Slink grinned. “That’ll get ‘em
back in their seats fast enough. Y’all got that?”

“Hell, yes,” Smurf said and Whitey nodded.

The three hoodlums hurried inside and flattened against the wall.

Slink listened but didn’t hear anything. They’re already taking up the
collection, he realized when he heard the piano playing but no talking.

“Put your masks on, quick.”

Slink realized the flaw in his plan. He couldn’t tell when the ushers
were at the back rows unless he himself was in view of the people in the back
rows. He listened intently and heard soft thank you’s and the slight sound of a
watch or ring hitting the metal rim of the collection plate. The ushers were
close.

A scream reverberated around the church.

Slink stepped into the aisle and swung the heavy pistol against the
closest usher’s face—one who wasn’t holding the plate.

“Get over here and dump that into this bag,” he told a heavy-set man in
his forties.

The man froze.

Slink took the three steps in half a second. He grabbed the brass plate
from the man’s hands then backhanded him with the butt of the pistol. The man
sank to his knees, blood gushing between his fingers.

Men at the front of the church headed down the aisle. Slink fired a shot inches
over their heads, and they fell to the floor.

“Freeze, don’t you move,” said a voice behind him.

Slink crouched and turned all in one motion. The .45 exploded, and the
off-duty Georgia Bureau of Investigation detective flopped like a puppet on a
string as he was lifted off the floor and thrown backwards by the heavy slug.

Slink twirled quickly and fired another shot into the side of a booth,
just to put fear into any others who might feel brave.

“I know
him
; they call him Slink,” a man a few aisles away
unwisely murmured to his wife. “I can tell by his walk.”

Slink’s head snapped around. “Well, I guess you win the prize.” He strode
toward the man, who cowered against the seat and raised his hands over his
head.

“Think you’re smart, huh?” Slink muttered then shot the man in the thigh.

“How you like that prize?”

 Slink wheeled and headed toward the door. His eyes searched the pews.
Now that he was recognized, he needed a hostage.

That bitch who screamed would do . . . and her friend. Two would be
better than one in case it came to negotiations.

Slink twisted the end of the plastic bag around his wrist and grabbed a
handful of the young woman’s hair, jerked her out of the pew and threw her
toward the foyer. He reached for her friend.

The woman slapped his hand away. “I’m coming. You don’t have to tear
my
hair out.”

“Get your ass moving then.”

“Any of you sonabitches try following us, I’ll kill both these bitches,”
he said. “Y’all sit back down and don’t be no heroes. These
ladies
,” he
said sarcastically, “will be left on the steps when we take off.

“Sit down, I said,” Slink yelled and fired another shot from the heavy
pistol.

Whitey’s shotgun boomed, and the congregation dived under their seats.

“That’s better. Do what I said, and don’t make me shoot nobody else.”

Slink shoved the young woman into the foyer, took one last look down the aisle,
and glanced over at Smurf and Whitey.

Smurf held up a plastic bag to indicate he had the money.

Whitey pointed the shotgun at the huge vase of flowers in front of the
pulpit and pulled the trigger. The boom roared through the church as shards of
ceramic and flower stems and petals showered the congregation.

Once at the foyer, the group ran for the car. Slink pushed the heavy
outer doors shut and jammed rocks underneath both doors.

“Get in back, Smurf, and keep them bitches quiet.”

Slink pushed the first girl, Brandy Drewry, in the backseat.

The other girl glowered at him and followed her friend.

Brandy’s face was ghostly white. Her body trembled, and she clutched her
friend. “Oh my goodness, Caroline, what are they going to do to us?”  

11

Surprise

The door, doorframe, and part of the surrounding wall shattered, and the
SWAT team swarmed into the dark house. Dots of light roved over the walls as
the guns swept the room looking for a target. Team members protected themselves
by leap frogging each other as they went from room to room.

A lamp came on, but, just as it did, the men burst into the room shouting
“down, down, down.”

Wakened from a deep sleep, Danny raised his hands and lay still.

Rough hands grabbed his hair and dragged him onto the floor.

“What the heck’s wrong with you guys?” Danny yelled.

A boot came down heavy on his back. “Keep your mouth shut. You have any
guns?”

“Which one is it? Keep my mouth shut or have any guns?”

The boot raised then stomped Danny’s back.

“Where you keep your guns, smart ass?’

Danny stayed silent.

Not Belinda: “Get out of my house,” Danny heard her shout.

Danny watched the men throw clothes, baseball gloves and bats, and
everything else out of his closet. Gloved hands swept across the closet shelf
sending a cascade of sports trophies, framed pictures, and model airplanes he’d
built as a kid crashing to the floor.

A policeman lifted the mattress and slung it off the bed then did the
same with the box springs.

“Maybe if y’all would . . .”

 “Shut up.”

Drawers were pulled out and turned upside down then the cabinet
overturned.

The SWAT team leader pointed to two of the men, “Check the rest of the
house. There’s guns here somewhere.”

“Ain’t no damn guns in this house, I’m telling you,” Danny yelled, now
enraged.

“Where’d you stash them then? You got a lot of nerve coming back here
after what you and those scum did.”

Danny frowned and twisted his neck to look up. “What kind of lies did
that Pakistani tell you? He must have a big imagination.”

“Pakistani, my ass,” Captain Haynes said. “Don’t play dumb, boy. I doubt
many Pakistanis go to a Methodist church. If one did, I bet that’d be the last
time too. After what y’all done.”

The frown vanished. “Y’all who? What in the world are you talking about?”

The captain’s open palm slapped Danny hard enough to twist his neck and
slam his face into the oak floor. “Robbing a church, boy; that’s what I’m
talking about, as you damn well know. Hell, you weren’t even smart enough or
have enough time to take off your clothes. Guess you didn’t figure we’d know
about you since you stayed outside with the car.”

Danny looked down at his blue jeans. “Going to bed with clothes on brings
a SWAT team?” he said with a mock serious expression. “I was reading an Aitch
Embee book and fell asleep. Does that solve your mystery, Sherlock? And I sure
didn’t rob a church. That’s crazy. Who would—?”

 “Uh huh. Well, unless Aitch Embee can alibi for you, you’re gonna have a
lot of time to read his books. Hold out your hands. You’re under arrest for
armed robbery, attempted murder, and kidnapping.

“Put the cuffs on him, Walter.”

Walter jerked Danny’s hands together and put the handcuffs on. The
handcuffs clicked until the meat of Danny’s wrist stopped them.

“Damn it, you trying to break my wrist?” Danny bellowed, as the cuffs cut
into his flesh.

Walter pulled him up by the cuffs causing the metal to cut deeper. Blood dripped
onto the floor. “How’s that feel? Better? You low-down shit,” Walter goaded.

Danny leaned forward at the waist then threw his torso backwards. The
back of his head slammed into Walter’s nose. Walter almost went down.

Fists pummeled Danny from every angle. Nightsticks cracked against his
head. Boots stomped his stomach, back, legs.

Danny sank to the floor, and the beating continued until the captain
called them off.

“Okay, boys. We need a body to take in. That’s enough . . . for now
anyways.”

Danny lay still, trying to breath. He hurt all over. Hurt bad. Worse than
anything he remembered.

Belinda tried to get into the room, but a cop stopped her at the doorway.

“Can’t come in here, ma’am. This here’s a crime scene.”

“Crime scene, my hind foot. Y’all are going to pay for this. I promise
you that.”

“Now, ma’am, your little darling robbed a church tonight. Shot two people
and took two young girls off. I wouldn’t expect much sympathy if I were you. In
fact, I’d be thinking twice about showing my own face . . .
if
I were
you,” Captain Haynes said with a sneer.

The blood left Belinda’s face. “A church. What church? Danny hasn’t
robbed any church.”

“We got plenty witnesses, ma’am. Just go on back in your room and lie
down. You don’t look too good,” the captain said.

Belinda opened her mouth, but no words came out. She turned slowly and
stumbled back to her bedroom. She heard the commotion as the entourage left the
house.

Who should she call? Who
could
she call? A church. Danny couldn’t
have been involved in anything like that, but the police seemed awfully sure.
But then, weren’t they always.

Finally, Belinda roused herself and apprehensively dialed the number. A
woman answered.

“Angela, this is Belinda Taylor, umm, Hathaway,” she said, her voice
quivering so much that she could hardly pronounce the words. “I
have
to
talk to Martin. I’m sorry to call, but . . . he . . . he’s the only person I
can call.”

Angela heard the quivering voice and also the despair in Belinda’s voice.
“I’ll get him right away, Belinda. Hold the phone.”

“Belinda, Belinda, what’s the matter? What’s happened? Are you okay?”
Martin asked.

Her words rushed out. “Oh, Martin, Martin, police stormed into the house
and took Danny. They beat him something terrible before they dragged him off. They
say he robbed a church and took some girls. He couldn’t have because he was
home with me. He came in around five, five-thirty, and didn’t go back out.
Martin, I’m so afraid.”

“I’ll go down there right now. There won’t be any more beatings, I can
guarantee you that,” Martin said, feeling his face getting hot. “Just take it
easy. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m quite sure he hasn’t robbed any
church. I’ll have him home for you as soon as I can. Okay?”

“Oh, Martin, thank you, thank you, thank you. And . . . tell Angela I
said thank you very much. She was kind not to ask any questions,” Belinda said,
struggling to keep the host of emotions from overwhelming her.

“I’ll tell her. See you soon. Hold it together till I get there. I
promise you things will be a whole lot better than they are now. Okay?”

“All right. I will.”