Three Sides of the Tracks (18 page)

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 and 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 catches 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.”

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Her desire to find Danny overcame her
fear and she stepped inside. “Bernard,” she called as she made her way through
the kitchen toward the living room.

A step into the room, her eyes followed the deep red splash of blood across
the floor to the patch of flesh hanging from Bernard’s head. Terror choked the
breath from her lungs as she fled toward the back door, crashed into the kitchen
table, and attempted to rise with suddenly disobedient legs. An image of Danny
in another part of the house interrupted her struggle. She used her hands for
balance and scampered up the hall for a quick glance into the bedrooms before fleeing
back home.

“Martin, Martin, Danny’s gone and the next door neighbor is
dead
,”
she screamed into the phone.

“Hang up and call 911, Belinda. I’m on my way.”

“I . . . I.”

“Right now, Belinda. Call 911. I’ll be there in two minutes,” Martin said
and hung up.

Belinda still had the phone to her ear answering the 911 operator’s
questions when Martin strode through the door and took her in his arms. He squeezed
her close then took the phone, gave the address, and hung up. “Dumbasses.”

“So Danny’s gone? He didn’t say anything, leave a note or—”

“No, nothing, but I think he was trying to tell me last night he planned
to try and rescue Caroline. In a rambling sort of way. I didn’t catch on until
I woke up and he was gone. Then I looked out and saw the car still here, so I thought
Bernard next door might know something. He and Danny are pretty close. I
knocked on his door and called his name several times, and, since his van’s
still in the garage, I decided to go inside. Oh, Martin, he’s dead. Who would
want to kill Bernard? He’s not able to hurt anybody. Hardly leaves his
wheelchair.”

“I expect a lot is going on that makes no sense now, but we’ll find Danny
and get it straightened out. Sit down. I think you’re in shock.”

The sound of sirens grew closer.

“I’d better go outside and tell them to go next door. They might come
busting in here, the idiots.”

Martin stepped on the porch to see what looked like every police car in
Griffin approaching from all directions. Policemen swarmed past him and into
the house from the front and back, yelling at Belinda to put her hands up.
Belinda laid her head against the back of the couch as Martin stormed back
inside cursing. Finally, a sergeant restored order.

“There’s a dead man next door,” Martin told him. “We need a paramedic
here to look after this lady.”

The sergeant knelt beside Belinda. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”

“She’s in shock. Her son’s missing and she found the neighbor’s body next
door. She’s the one who called 911,” Martin said.

The sergeant nodded and stood up. “Y’all get outta here. Set up a crime
scene around the house next door, and don’t let anyone inside until the
detectives arrive.”

Martin sat next to Belinda and wrapped an arm around her. She moved her
head to his shoulder.

“I’m sure you want to find your son, ma’am, so I need to ask you a few
questions,” the sergeant said.

“You feel like talking?” Martin asked.

Belinda sat up. “I looked in his room around nine and he was gone. I know
he left before seven because that’s when I got up.”

“Y’all didn’t have a fuss or—”

“No, of course not. He was worried about his friend, one of the kidnapped
girls. He seemed to think he could find her—”

“What would make him think that, ma’am?”

Before Belinda could explain, a young woman with a stethoscope around her
neck arrived.

The sergeant stepped aside. “I’m going next door while she works on your
friend,” he said to Martin. “Maybe you’d have better luck getting information
to help us locate her son. Anyway, I’ll be back shortly.”

The paramedic wrapped the pressure cuff around Belinda’s arm and began
pumping.

A half minute later, she unwrapped it. “Your vital signs are good. I can
give you a—”

Her radio blared. “Cassandra, it’s a 10-33. I repeat 10-33. 10-78. 10-78.
Copy?”

“Copy, on my way.” She stuffed the blood pressure cuff into her bag on her
way to the door.

Martin tried to catch up. “Whoa. Wait a minute. You haven’t finished—”  

But she was gone, racing across the yard to Bernard’s house.

He sat back down and clasped Belinda’s hand. “They’ll find Danny. I’m
sure he’s fine. Just impulsive.”

“I hope you’re right. But this is so unlike him. To worry me like this.”

Loud angry voices approached, followed by fierce knocking on the front
door. Martin opened it, and Bart Phillips stood on the porch arguing with the
FBI and GBI agents. Two local detectives, the police chief, and the police
sergeant were arrayed around them.

Martin barred the doorway. “All of you aren’t coming in here. This lady’s
son is missing. She’s not up to all this turmoil. What’s the problem, anyway?”

“Unless you want to be arrested for obstruction of justice, you’d better
stand aside,” the FBI agent said.

“You’ll just have to arrest me then because, first of all, I don’t know
who the hell you are or who you think you are. . . . Bart, what’s this about?”

“He’s FBI, Martin. Better let him in.”

“
FBI
? That was quick.”

“He was already here working on the kidnapping.”

Belinda curled her arm through Martin’s. “It’s okay, Martin. Maybe they
can help find Danny.”

“
That
, we intend to do,” FBI Special Agent Dunson said pushing his
way into the living room.

One angry face after another filed into the room.

“So your son’s friends came back to get him?” Dunson said to Belinda.

Belinda’s confused eyes looked at Bart Phillips.

“These geniuses still think Danny’s involved with the church robbery,”
Phillips said. “I’m sorry. Tried to make them understand, but arguing with a
fool makes two fool arguing, so I gave up.”

Color rose in Belinda’s face. “Danny would never do anything of that
nature. Don’t you know that one of the kidnapped girls was his best friend?”

“Evidence says otherwise, Mrs. Taylor. Next door neighbor shot and his
car gone along with your son, and witnesses saying he was behind the wheel when
the church was robbed, all add to one conclusion. You want to tell us where you
think he might be? Be easier on everyone all around,” Agent Dunson said in a
tone as cold as his eyes.

The hardness in his eyes disgusted Belinda most. “You are a horrible man,
even if you do work for the FBI. Get out of my house.”

“If I have reason to believe a felony’s in progress I don’t need a
warrant, Mrs. Taylor, and can search the house looking for your son.”

“Are you a complete idiot? She called 911 to report her son missing and
the man next door dead. You can’t possible believe Danny’s here,” Martin
yelled.

“I didn’t say I believed it,” Dunson said with a smirk.

Bart Phillips grabbed one of Martin’s arms. “Don’t, Martin. I’ll help you
sue the son of a bitch myself when this is over. But you,” Phillips said
pointing at Dunson, “
will
get your butt out of this house. I’m the D.A.
and just witnessed you say you’d circumvent the law. I have the Attorney
General’s number right here in my phone.”

Spittle flew from Dunson’s mouth. “I’m issuing a warrant for your son.
Attempted murder of a police officer, kidnapping and grand theft auto and
probably first-degree murder to top it off. That bunch circled around to pick
him up and eliminate any witnesses. His little innocent act might fool the
locals but it doesn’t fool me. And you,” his eyes flashing toward Bart
Phillips, “sure have a peculiar idea of the law for a D.A.,” he yelled as the
detectives and GBI agent ushered him out the door.

“Yeah, it’s called
civilized
.” Bart yelled.

Belinda plopped on the couch, hands to her face.

The sergeant who previously interviewed Belinda held back until the
others left. “Ma’am, I wouldn’t pay too much attention to him. All that was
probably just an act. Right, Mr. Phillips?”

The scowl hadn’t left Bart Phillips’ face, but he recognized that Belinda
did need to answer some questions if they were to have any chance of finding
Danny. “He’s right, Belinda. No doubt the guy’s a jerk, but he could have been
trying to rattle your cage. He doesn’t know how we do things around here.”

Belinda raised her head and wiped tears from her face. “Well, Sergeant,
like I told you, he was gone when I checked on him at nine, so I don’t know
what I can add.”

“One thing you can tell me is what kind of car the next door neighbor has.”

“Just the van as far as . . . There was a car back there, now that I
think about it. I believe it was Bernard’s sister’s, but I couldn’t tell you
what kind it was. Never really paid much attention to it. So . . . so you say
the car’s gone?”

“Yes, and it’s been moved recently. Fresh tracks leading from the garage.
My officers canvassed the neighbors and were given different descriptions by
pretty much everyone they interviewed. That might be a good thing.”

All eyes turned toward the sergeant.

“If we get a good enough description, an APB for the car and your son
will be issued, which would be a very bad thing. Police officers don’t take
kindly to folks shooting our own.”

“Danny had nothing to do with that,” Martin said.

“I don’t think so either, which is why I’m telling you this.”

“Finally,” Bart Phillips said.

“There’s still the matter of Mr. Davis next door. What was your son’s
relationship with him? Did they get along?”

“Oh, yes. He and Danny were great friends. Besides the young lady who was
kidnapped, Danny was probably closer to Bernard than anyone else. Besides me,
of course.”

“Does Danny own a .22 pistol or rifle?”

“No, we don’t have any guns in the house. Why?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Mr. Davis was shot with. Otherwise, the back
of his head would have been blown off.”

As the tears welled up in Belinda’s eyes again, Martin gave the sergeant
a warning look.

“I have to ask these questions. If I don’t, you know who will be back.
You can see how this looks. Witnesses claiming Danny was outside in the car
during the church robbery, then his next door neighbor’s shot in the head and
his car gone. Danny disappearing. I mean . . . well, it looks pretty bad, but
I’ve been a Benson police officer for almost 20 years and I never heard Danny
Taylor’s name associated with the likes of that bunch.”

The sergeant put his note pad in his shirt pocket and handed Belinda a
card. “Please give me a call if you think of anything else, Mrs. Taylor. Maybe
between me and Mr. Phillips here, we can persuade the others to at least look
at other options, but unless Mr. Davis makes it and can tell us what happened—”

Belinda’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, ‘makes it?’ Bernard’s alive?”

“Oh, yes. Unconscious, but, yes, he’s alive. Paramedics said the bullet
hit a metal plate in the back of his head.”