Bill Hopkins - Judge Rosswell Carew 02 - River Mourn (16 page)

Rosswell reckoned the
red and
blue flashing lights of the emergency vehicles distracted
everyone enough to allow Ollie and him an escape. Fire trucks and ambulances
draw attention to themselves, whereas two more guys running helter skelter
would be deemed unremarkable. He motioned Ollie to follow him and they sprinted
out of the garage toward the darkest area, which was the woods at the north end
of the bluff.

Rosswell signaled a halt when he figured they could talk
without being heard, although with the uproar, no one could hear a small
nuclear bomb exploding. Only after panting and drawing several deep breaths
could he speak. “They won’t see or hear us now.”

“Those words should be chiseled into our tombstones.”

Rosswell concentrated on the confusion at the house. A
firefighter approached Nathaniel gesturing and yelling, ordering him to stand
aside. Nathaniel stiffened and didn’t move. The two of them punched the air
with their forefingers. As the argument deepened, their faces pressed against
each other, nose to nose.

Ollie said, “Nathaniel doesn’t want the firefighters
in the house.”

“Good luck with keeping them out.”

“He’s hiding something.”

Rosswell said, “See? Didn’t I say you were a genius?”

Gustave, his patrol car’s siren wailing, screeched to
a halt and he hurtled out. When he joined the firefighter and Nathaniel, the ruckus
escalated. Screaming back and forth at each other, Gustave whirled Nathaniel
around, jerked his arms behind his back, and handcuffed him.

Rosswell said, “Holy crap. Nathaniel’s busted.”

“Yeah. And by Gustave? I thought they were in cahoots.”

Gustave dragged Nathaniel aside, allowing firefighters
to flood the house. The alarms silenced. Lights came on in every room. After
fifteen minutes, the whole bunch of firefighters and EMTs sauntered back to
their vehicles and left the scene. Gustave freed Nathaniel and, after an
exchange of words accompanied by fists pumping in the air, Gustave jumped in
his car and sped off.

Ollie said, “Something tells me this isn’t the first
false alarm they’ve had at that place.”

“Sometimes recovering drunks get bored. Setting off a
false alarm is great fun for bored boozers drying out in a rehab center.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Ollie, you didn’t.”

“I’m taking the fifth. Amendment, not bottle.”

Rosswell decided to man up. “This maneuver was a
crummy idea. We didn’t find out anything.”

“Then let’s hoof it. This pair of drunks needs to
hustle on down that hill.”

When they reached the bottom, Rosswell turned to look
up. “How would that look during the day time?” He tilted his head first left,
then right, trying to gain perspective. The clouds had thinned, then
disappeared. The full moon had made it halfway through its circuit for the
night.

He and Ollie had positioned themselves at the bottom
of the north face of the bluff where River Heights Villa lorded over the river
plain below. The occasional car or truck driving south lit up the rock face
briefly. One of the two towers occupied the edge of the cliff. Below the tower,
as best Rosswell could make out in the headlights, the face of the bluff
appeared to be skull-shaped. Where the two eyes should have been, he could see
only one indentation. Rosswell imagined an outcrop below as the nose, and below
that, a thin opening stretched across the base of the cliff, which could’ve served
as a mouth.

Ollie said, “I’m seeing a skull with only one eye
socket.”

“ ‘Cave of one eye have much treasure.’ We need to
climb up there and search it. That’s where Charlie and Ribs dragged that poor woman.”
Rosswell didn’t fancy climbing back up the cliff. There were too many critters
(human and animal) roaming around in the woods. There were also too many
strange sounds. Rosswell discounted the romantic notions of a forest at night.
There was no romance in the midst of a bunch of trees, vines, and bushes where
slithery things lived. “As much as I hate to say it, we can’t wait till
daylight.”

“Not so fast, Judge.” Ollie clamped a hand on Rosswell’s
arm. “Let’s call Gustave. Tell him to come back out here. Tell him what Charlie
said.”

“No.”

“That’s it? That’s your whole argument?
No?
”

Rosswell flicked on his flashlight, then turned it
off. “Gustave thinks we’re idiots. If we get him back out here again, Nathaniel
will convince him we’re another couple of drunks calling in yet another false
alarm in the middle of the night.”

“And Nathaniel will pin the cut window screen on you.”

“Not only that, but Gustave will put two and two
together and arrest us for the first false alarm tonight. Not to mention my
little felony of breaking and entering.”

“What do we do if we find the woman’s body?”

“Then we’ll call Gustave.” Rosswell pulled out his cell
phone. “Fully charged. Three bars. We’ll send pictures of the body to Gustave. We’ll
post a video to the Internet. He can’t argue with that.”

“How are things going to be any different in the
morning?”

“Nathaniel knows something is up. He knows I cut that
screen.”

“How could he know that?”

“Okay, I’ll bet I’m his number one suspect. How’s
that?”

Ollie made an okay sign with his thumb and forefinger.

Rosswell said, “If it’s there now, the woman’s body
will be gone by daylight.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a party to this
madness.” Ollie hung his head. “I’m going to prison.”

“I’ve got a plan. ‘Though this be madness, yet there
is method in it.’ That’s what Lord Polonius said.”

“And Hamlet murdered him.”

The sound of crunching gravel under Rosswell and Ollie’s
feet grew louder as they climbed for the cave.

Rosswell cautioned Ollie. “Don’t walk so heavy. It’s
been dry. There’s a drought on and everything has turned into tinder in the
woods.”

“Walking doesn’t start fires.” Ollie indicated the
tower above them. “If we’re making crackly noises, no one can hear us up there.”

Within a few more minutes, they’d reached the mouth of
the cave. Rosswell gave Ollie the keep-your-mouth-shut signal again. Ollie
nodded several times.

Rosswell stooped down, Ollie following his lead.
Rosswell estimated that two or three minutes had passed. Maybe more. He heard
nothing. The cave smelled of damp ground. There was a small spring-fed stream
issuing from the mouth. A cool breeze wafted from the opening.

“There’s got to be another entrance to the cave,”
Rosswell said. “Otherwise, there wouldn’t be air coming out.”

He risked flicking on his flashlight. Although it was
a small light, hardly meant for cave exploration, he could tell there was nothing
artificial around the mouth of the cave. No gates to trap them. No doors that
would slam down, sealing them inside. That told him that Nathaniel never
expected anyone to be foolish enough to climb the bluff and explore the cave.
Otherwise, he would’ve built barriers to keep trespassers out, especially if
the cave led to a passage under the house. Not to mention that if Maman was
right, the cave held a corpse.

Rosswell risked another sweep of the flashlight along
the floor. No snakes. No bear prints. No evidence of a mountain lion. No bloody
fur ripped off a poor rabbit or the bones of a feral pig. There still could be
spiders and crawly things. Lizards. Salamanders. Yet the cursory glance allowed
him to stamp safe on the situation.

“Ollie,” Rosswell said in a low voice, “we’re safe and
secure. There’s nobody, human or otherwise, in that cave waiting for us.”

Standing behind them, Nathaniel said in the stage
whisper of a man whose adenoids had shot craps, “Should I kill you here or
inside?”

Nathaniel’s breath
rattled when he
talked. “Tie them up.” His raspy voice made him sound
like the villain in a melodrama. “Gentlemen, I’m going to kill you slowly,
painfully.”

Turk Malone oozed from the shadows, a gun in one hand,
hanging at his side, and a flashlight in the other. “You boys armed?” Turk’s
moldy smile held no humor.

Still pissed Ollie wasn’t the Schwan’s guy.

Turk laid his flashlight on the cave floor, then brought
his pistol up and pointed it at Ollie. “Bang.” Turk stuck his face into
Rosswell’s face. Turk’s rancid breath made Rosswell curl up his nose. Turk
bobbed and swayed.
Stoned
out of his mind.
Rosswell had a hunch he’d fall down any second. Turk
slurred, “You be a good boy.”

“Shut up,” Nathaniel said to Turk. “Search them and bind
them. And hurry. We don’t have much time.”

A cell phone rang. Rosswell thanked Whoever that it
wasn’t his. Nathaniel punched his own cell phone. “What?” He listened for a
moment before he said, “Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.” After Nathaniel
disconnected, he emitted a low growl, sounding to Rosswell like a rabid wolf.

Nathaniel smacked Turk on the shoulder. “Pay
attention.”

Turk’s mouth fell open an inch when he fixed his gaze
on Nathaniel’s face.

Nathaniel continued, “Tie them up good, you idiot. You
can do that one thing without screwing up, can’t you? Don’t screw up.”

“I won’t screw up.”

“If they try to escape, shoot to wound. I want to kill
them myself.” Nathaniel vanished into the darkness.

Turk mumbled to himself, then said to Ollie, “He don’t
think I can’t do nothing right.”

Ollie said, “That’s a triple negative. I’m sure you
mean Nathaniel thinks you screw everything up.”

Turk verged on a pout. “What the hell problem is tying
someone up? I seen it done in the movies lots of times.”

Ollie said, “You can do it. I have faith in you.”

“Stick them hands out.”

Turk searched his pockets until he found a pair of
plastic zip ties, like the kind used for securing saplings to posts. He froze
and didn’t change position for a few minutes, probably considering how best to
maneuver his gun while fastening the ties.

“Judge, put your nose on that wall and stick your
hands up high.” Rosswell complied.

Turk said to Ollie, “Go ahead. Stick them hands out.” Ollie
stuck his hands out. It was clumsy, but Turk managed to grip his gun while at
the same time holding the zip ties. “Listen, you clown, you try anything funny
and I’ll shoot your ass, then I’ll shoot Rosswell. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Sit down.” Ollie sat. “Hands together. Say your
prayers.” Turk wrapped Ollie’s hands with several of the restraints. Fishing
around in his pockets again, Turk found more zip ties. Once Ollie was bound
hand and foot, Turk said to Rosswell, “Turn around and sit down.” Again,
Rosswell complied. “Same for you. First your hands and then your feet.”

Turk studied Rosswell and Ollie bound on the floor of
the cave. “Only way to draw to that pair is pull a joker.” Laughing, he
stumbled, falling on his butt. “Time to go.” It took him several tries to get
up. Eventually, he stood. “The boss is waiting.” He frowned. “No, I’m supposed
to wait. Ain’t I?”

Rosswell said, “Turk, I need to ask you a couple of
things.”

Turk pushed both of them from a sitting position to flat
on the ground. “Your twenty bucks has done wore off.” Then he wobbled out of
the cave, forgetting his flashlight.

After a few minutes of silence, Rosswell said, “Have
they both gone?” His chest, legs, and back ached. And his head. A migraine crouched
in his brain, ready to leap out.

“You want me to holler for them?” Ollie flopped around
until he achieved a sitting position. “I’m glad Turk didn’t make me cross my
ankles but I can’t release my fingers. My wrists and fingers feel like they’re
joined together.”

“My head feels like it’s joined to the ground.”
Rosswell shifted his weight, trying to make himself more comfortable. “And I
feel like a garbage bag with these ties on me.”

“I’ve read all of Houdini’s books. He revealed all his
escape secrets. Unfortunately, that was before plastic.”

“Ollie, my hands and feet are going numb.”

“Sit up. It helps your circulation.”

“I’ve made up my mind.” Rosswell hadn’t moved. “I’m
going to kill Nathaniel.” His voice aimed at the floor of the cave, muffling
his words.

“Judge, I said, sit up.”

“If your hands are in an attitude of prayer, maybe you
should start praying.” Rosswell struggled to a sitting position. “I’m sitting
up now and I’m still going to kill Nathaniel. And after I kill him, I’m going
to kill Turk. Don’t try to talk me out of it.” The ground beneath him was wet
and the dampness seeped into his clothes. “I’m cold.”

“You kill them and you’ll spend the rest of your life
in prison unless you get the gas chamber. Oh. Wait. You’re a judge. You already
know that.”

“The gas chamber is a tourist attraction now. They
traded it for lethal injection.”

“Like you get from a veterinarian.”

“It’s not hopeless.” Rosswell shook his head, trying
to clear the pain of the headache. “But without Tina, the rest of my life won’t
be long.”

“You can’t kill Nathaniel and Turk until we get loose.
That doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen. Besides, they have guns.”

“I told you it wasn’t hopeless. We have flashlights.
And a gun.”

“Shut your mouth.” Ollie scooted close to Rosswell and
gasped when he saw the bulge at Rosswell’s back under his shirt. “Turk missed
it, didn’t he?”

“He was stoned. Missed my phone and flashlight, too.”

“I still have my dinky little flashlight.” Ollie’s
brow furrowed. “Could he really be that stoned?”

“Nathaniel told Turk to do two things. Search us and
tie us up. Turk could only focus on the last thing Nathaniel told him.”

Ollie kneeled, rocking back and forth till he found
his balance, then leaned over Rosswell and peered down his shirt.

“Ollie, you fracking pervert, what the hell are you
doing?”

“How sharp is the star on that necklace?”

“It’s sharper than a serpent’s tooth. But if you want
to saw our way out, it will take several years.”

Ollie sank to the ground. “How are your teeth?”

“We’re going to die. A bear or mountain lion or
rattlesnake is going to kill us. Maybe they’ll gang up and all three will kill
us.”

“It’s September but still hot as hell. Summertime.
Bears don’t go in caves in the summer. Neither do mountain lions. And snakes
don’t like caves any time of the year. It’s too cold for them.”

“We’re going to die. Something will catch our scent
and come investigating. Coyotes. Wild dogs. Wolves. Something.”

Ollie said, “When that something sees us, we’ll make
noise and it will turn around and high tail it out of here.”

Rosswell shivered from the cold, straining to move his
hands as far as he could toward Ollie’s eyes. “See this? I’m freezing.”

“Hold on, Judge. It’s not that cold. Don’t leave me
now.” Ollie searched the wall above them. “Look up there.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s an outcropping. ‘And those caves were
encompassed with sharp rocks.’ Flavius Josephus,
Antiquities of the Jews
.”

“Ollie, you fracking big gas bag, what the hell are
you talking about?”

“Turk didn’t tie my feet cross-legged.” Ollie stood
and stretched onto his tiptoes. “I can’t reach that. It’s a sharp rock. Or at
least it looks like one from here. If I could get up there, I could cut these
handcuffs off.”

“We’re going to die.”

“Let me stand on your back.”

“Find a rock on the floor of the cave!”

Ollie surveyed the floor. “Thanks, Houdini!” He toed a
knife-shaped rock that appeared plenty sharp to Rosswell. “I can’t pick it up.
I can’t use my hands.”

Rosswell groaned. “Let’s see. Die from you breaking my
back or waiting until Nathaniel returns to shoot us. What should I do?”

“Roll over. All fours. Get as high as possible.”

A lot of effort went into Rosswell’s flipping onto his
stomach, then scrunching down to allow Ollie to climb onto his back. “Hurry up.”
When Ollie mounted him, Rosswell felt the breath leave his lungs.

From the perch of Rosswell’s back, Ollie groaned. “I still
can’t reach it.”

Rosswell’s lack of air prevented him from saying much.

“Now listen, Judge.” Rosswell said nothing. “I’m going
to jump. On three. You roll away from me. I can’t spread my legs because of the
cuffs on my ankles. I’m going to try to hook myself on that rock. I can cut my
wrist cuffs.”

Rosswell whimpered.

“Good. Glad you understand. Here goes. One. Two.
Three!”

Rosswell gasped before he tried scooting away. He
couldn’t move. When Ollie came crashing down on him, his spine would be broken.
He hoped he died quickly.

Several seconds passed before Rosswell realized two
things. One, he was still alive. And, two, Ollie must still be up in the air.

“I made it,” Ollie said.

Rosswell gaped upward until he spotted Ollie, hanging from
the rock outcropping, trying to move his hands back and forth. “I can’t move my
hands. All I’m doing is hanging on this outcrop. The pressure of my weight on
the rock is too great. No way can I lift my hands off.”

Rosswell moaned, then hunched his back under Ollie’s
feet. When he felt the feet on his back, he pushed upwards. When Rosswell’s
actions allowed the pressure on the plastic ties to ease, Ollie sawed like a
demon chased by Satan. In a few minutes, he let out a big whoop.

Rosswell managed to scoot away a couple of inches,
enough to avoid a trampling by the big man who hit flat on the ground, his
hands free.

Ollie picked up the sharp rock he’d found earlier. “If
there’s one sharp rock in a cave, that means there are a lot of sharp rocks in
the cave.” Picking up Turk’s flashlight, Ollie bent down next to Rosswell. “Knife
time.”

In a moment, Rosswell’s hands were freed. “Damn, it’s
cold.” He kicked off both his shoes. Without footwear, he easily drew his feet
through the plastic around his ankles. “People who tie you up never think about
your shoes. If Turk had tied my bare feet tight, it wouldn’t be as easy to
escape.”

The weakening light from Turk’s flashlight trickled through
the cave only enough for Rosswell to spot the snake heading for Ollie.

“Ollie, don’t move.”

“I can move a little. I’m going to cut my ankle cuffs.
I want to move because I don’t want to get cold.”

“A snake is headed for your leg. It’s about two inches
from you.”

Ollie glanced down toward his leg. “Like I said, snakes
don’t like caves.” Shuffling to his left, he moved from the snake’s path. When
he did, the snake followed him. “Caves are too cold for them.”

“Tell that to the snake.”

“I told you, I’m a caver. I’ve studied these things.”
Ollie shuffled to his right. The snake followed. “I don’t know what it is but
it’s not a snake.”

“You’re a nice heat source.” Rosswell shuddered. “Did
I ever tell you I was allergic to snake venom?”

Ollie squirmed, moving his head, obviously trying to
see the critter in the dimness. “It
is
a snake. I think it’s a copperhead.” The snake followed Ollie wherever he went.

“What’s it look like?” By that time, Rosswell had shined
the flashlight on the serpent.

“Can’t tell for sure.”

From a safe distance, Rosswell studied the reptile. “I’ll
Google it.”

Before Rosswell could fetch his phone, Ollie moved
around as best he could to check out the snake using his own flashlight. “It’s
a copperhead.”

“It would have to be poisonous.” The snake looked
fatter and moved slower than a normal copperhead. Then it struck Rosswell. “The
snake ate something. Caught a meal at the front of the cave. A rat or
something. The snake got lost and he’s headed for the heat. That’s you. You’re
a wonderful heat source. You’re big and have a bald head that radiates warmth.”

Rosswell puffed, inhaled, and exhaled, like a woman
practicing Lamaze breathing in preparation for childbirth. His tongue swelled
up, like a dry sponge taking on water. He wondered how his tongue could swell before
he’d been bitten.
Teetering on the verge of collapse, Rosswell tried
convincing himself that being scrunched up next to a guy tied up in a dark and
damp place wasn’t all that bad. As long as no snakes slithered into view.

Thinking happy thoughts didn’t work.

Rosswell reached for his gun. “Move aside, Ollie. I’m
going to shoot that bastard’s head off.” Talking was hard. He was sure he
sounded like he had a mouthful of mush.

“You want Nathaniel and Turk down here again?”

“Yes, and I’ll blow their heads off, too.”

“Judge, listen to me. You can’t use your pistol. Stomp
him.”

“I’m not wearing shoes. Maybe I could bash his head in
with my gun.”

“No, that’s too dangerous. You might shoot yourself.
Or worse, me.”

Rosswell stood and shook his arms. “I need some blood
circulating.”

“Use one of your shoes.” Ollie’s voice shot up an
octave. “If you don’t kill that snake, the blood circulating in me will be
poisonous.”

“A copperhead couldn’t kill a guy as big as you.”
Rosswell sneezed. “I don’t think.”

“Could we research that later? Kill the freaking frost
snake and we’ll talk about it over apple pie and coffee at Mabel’s.”

“I could smash his head with my gun.” He drew out the
pistol and stared at the weapon, as if an answer would appear on its handle.

“Don’t go into shock. Judge, stomp your feet. Move. Do
something.”

There was only one course of action if Ollie were to
stay alive. Rosswell swallowed the bile trying to shoot up from his stomach,
then stuffed the pistol into its holster. He knelt and grabbed the snake behind
its head with his right hand. “I’m trying to choke him but it’s not working.” The
thing began twisting, trying to wrap itself around Rosswell’s arm. “Don’t
snakes have necks?”