Carnal Innocence (37 page)

“A half pint of Wild Turkey, for sure,” Dwayne said, and smiled. “Remember when we used to swim here, when we were kids?”

“Yeah. Still think you can beat me to the other bank?”

“Shit.” Dwayne’s smile widened to a grin. He rolled over in the water and struck out. Too many years of the bottle had slowed him. Tucker streaked by like an eel. In tacit agreement, they raced back, then floated awhile under the rising moon.

“Yeah,” Dwayne said after they’d stopped panting. “You used be slower. I guess things’ve changed.”

“Lots of things.”

“I guess I’ve messed things up.”

“Some things.”

“I get scared, Tuck.” Dwayne fisted a hand in the water, but there was nothing there to hold on to. “The drinking—I know when I should stop, but I get so I don’t see the point in it. Sometimes I can’t remember what I’ve been up to. I’ll wake up sick and headachy, and it’s like I’ve been dreaming. I can’t make it out.”

“We can do something about it, Dwayne. They’ve got places that take care of it.”

“I like how I feel right now.” Through half-closed eyes, Dwayne watched the stars wink into life. “Just a nice little buzz on, so nothing seems too goddamn important. Thing to do is to catch myself right here, where I like it best.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Sometimes I wish I could go back, see where I turned off wrong so I could fix it.”

“You could always fix things, Dwayne. Remember that model airplane I got for my birthday? I wracked it up the second time I used it. I knew Daddy’d skin me when he found out, but you fixed it all up. Mama always said you had a talent for putting things together.”

“I used to think I’d be an engineer.”

Surprised, Tucker shifted to treading again. “You never told me that.”

Dwayne merely stared up at the sky. “Wasn’t any point. Longstreets are planters and businessmen. You could have done something different maybe. But I was the oldest son. He never gave me a choice.”

“No reason not to do what you want now.”

“Hell, Tuck, I’m thirty-five years old. That’s no time to go back to school and learn a trade.”

“People do, if they want it bad enough.”

“I wanted it bad enough ten, fifteen years ago. That’s behind me. A lot of things are behind me.” He tried to make out the stars, but they were a hazy blur of light. “Sissy’s going to marry that shoe salesman.”

“I guess we had to figure she would—him or somebody.”

“Says he wants to adopt my kids. Give them his
name. ’Course she’d forget that soon enough if I upped the support payments.”

“You don’t have to take that, Dwayne. Those kids are yours. They’re always going to be yours no matter what game she’s playing.”

“Nope, don’t have to take it,” Dwayne said lazily. “And I’m not going to. Sissy’s going to have to learn that a man has his limits. Even me.” He sighed, letting his gaze drift over sky and water. “I got comfortable, Tucker.” Out of the corner of his eye Dwayne saw something bob in the water. An empty bottle, he thought, for an empty life. “Drinking makes things that way.”

“The way you’re doing it, drinking makes you dead.”

“Don’t start on me again.”

“Dammit, Dwayne.” He started to move closer when his legs brushed against something soft and slick that made him yelp. “Damn cats,” he said. “Scared the shit out of me.” He kicked away, glancing over his shoulder.

He, too, saw something bob in the water. But he didn’t mistake it for a bottle. As the spit dried to dust in his mouth, as his blood slowed to a crawl, he stared at the trailing white hand.

“Jesus. Oh my Jesus.”

“Catfish won’t do any more than nibble,” Dwayne said placidly. He swore when Tucker gripped his arm. “What’s got into you now?”

“I think we found Darleen,” he managed to say, then closed his eyes.

Some prayers, he thought, just weren’t meant to be answered.

S
ober and shaken, Dwayne dragged himself out of the water. On his hands and knees he crouched on the grass, fighting his rebellious stomach.

“Christ, Tuck. Jesus bleeding Christ. What’re we going to do?”

Tucker didn’t answer. He lay on his back, staring up at heat-hazed stars. It took enough effort just to concentrate on breathing when he was so cold, so bitterly cold.

“In the pond,” Dwayne said, his throat clicking as he swallowed. “Somebody dropped her in our pond. We were in there with her. Jesus, we were
swimming
with her.”

“She’s past being bothered by it.” He wanted to toss an arm over his eyes. Maybe that would help block out the image of that hand sticking out of the dark water, its fingers curled. As if it had been reaching for him. As if it would grab hold and pull him under.

It had been worse because he’d felt obliged to be certain. To be certain it was Darleen Talbot, and to assure himself that she was beyond help.

So he’d gritted his teeth and had taken that stiff, dead wrist, tugging against the weight that held the body
down. And the head had bobbed up. He’d seen—oh, God, he’d seen what the knife had begun and what the fish were already ending.

The human form was so frail, he thought now. So vulnerable. So easily whittled away into something hideous.

“We can’t just leave her in there, Tuck.” But Dwayne shuddered at the prospect of going back into the water and touching what had once been Darleen Talbot. “It’s not decent.”

“I think we have to.” Tucker thought regretfully of the bottle he’d tossed away. A few swallows of sour mash would do him some good just now. “At least until Burke gets here. You go in and call him, Dwayne. One of us ought to stay here. Call Burke, and tell him what we found. Tell him Agent Burns better come along.” Tucker sat up to drag off his wet shirt. “And bring me out some dry smokes, will you? I wouldn’t say no to a beer either,” he began, then swore when he caught sight of Caroline walking toward them. Tucker scrambled up, intercepting her after three long strides.

“Glad to see me?” Caroline laughed and gave him a quick, hard hug. “You two decide to take a swim? Della sent me down to—”

“Go on back up with Dwayne.” Tucker wanted her as far away from death and misery as possible. “Go on up and wait for me.”

“I’ll wait for you.” Drawing back, she saw by his face that there was trouble. Cautious, she looked from Tucker to his brother. Dwayne’s lip had opened up again, and the blood was dark against his pale face. “Have you been fighting? Dwayne, you’ve got a split lip.”

He ducked his head. Della’d give him hell about it. “I’ll call Burke.”

“Burke?” Caroline grabbed Tucker’s arm when he tried to nudge her along. “Why do you need Burke?” Her heart did a slow roll in her chest. “Tucker?”

She’d know soon enough, and it might as well come from him. “We found her, Caroline. In the pond.”

“Oh, God.” Instinctively, she looked toward the water, but Tucker shifted to block her vision.

“Dwayne’s going up to call Burke. You go with him.”

“I’ll stay with you.” She shook her head before he could protest. “I’ll stay, Tucker.”

When Tucker merely shrugged, Dwayne took off in a half run. A whippoorwill began to call, sweet and insistent, for a mate.

“Are you sure?” Even as she asked, Caroline knew the question was foolish.

“Yeah.” He blew out a long breath. “I’m sure.”

“God, poor Happy.” She had to ask the rest, but it took a moment to force the words from her throat. “Was it like the others?” Caroline took his hand, holding tight until his gaze shifted to hers. “I want to know.”

“It was like the others.” Firmly, he turned her away from the lake. With his arm around her waist they listened to the night bird’s song and watched the lights of Sweetwater glow against the dark.

The official process worked with callous efficiency. Men crowded around the pond, their faces washed white by the harsh spotlights hooked to Burke’s truck. Pictures were taken to record the scene.

“All right.” Burns nodded toward the water. “Let’s pull her out.”

For a moment no one spoke. Burke pressed his lips together and unhooked his gun belt.

“I’ll do it.” Surprising himself, Tucker stepped forward. “I’m already wet.”

Burke set his gun belt aside. “It’s not your job, Tuck.”

“It’s my land.” Turning, he took Caroline by the shoulders. “Go inside.”

“We’ll go in together when it’s finished.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Tucker.”

He didn’t know about that, but as he slipped into the water, he was certain he was a stupid one. Burke was
right, it wasn’t his job. He didn’t get paid to deal with this kind of horror.

He eased his way through the cool, dark water toward the hand, white as bone, fingers curved beckoningly.

Why did he feel it was his responsibility to drag a dead woman out of the water? She’d been nothing to him in life, shouldn’t she be less than nothing to him now?

Because the pond was Sweetwater, he realized. And he was a Longstreet.

For the second time, he curled his fingers around the lifeless wrist. As the head rose, he watched her hair float and spread toward the surface. His stomach lurched. He tasted acid in the back of his throat and ruthlessly forced it down. Using his feet to tread, Tucker hooked an arm around the torso.

There was silence on the bank, the kind so deep you could hear your own heartbeat. A graveyard silence, he thought while he struggled against the weight that was trying to drag him and his burden down.

His grip slipped, and when he shifted and tightened it, her head lolled back on his shoulder. Tucker stiffened, but it wasn’t revulsion that filled him. It was pity.

Tucker looked toward the bank. White faces stared back at him. He saw Dwayne, with an arm around Josie. Their eyes looked huge in the flood of light. Burke and Carl already hunkered down, ready to reach out and take the burden Tucker was dragging over. Caroline, her face wet, stood with her hand resting on Cy’s shoulder. Burns stood back, observing, as though it were a moderately interesting play.

“Something’s tied to her legs,” Tucker called out. “I need a knife.”

“That’s evidence, Longstreet.” Burns stepped forward. “I want it intact.”

“You son of a bitch.” Tucker managed to haul her another foot. “Why don’t you come on in and get your fucking evidence yourself?”

“I’ll help you, Mr. Tucker.” Before anyone could stop him, Cy was running over and slipping into the water.

“Christ, boy, get back from here.”

“I can help.” Slick as an otter, Cy paddled over. “I’m strong enough.” His face blanched when he swam close, but he reached down to take part of the weight. “We can do it.”

“Keep your eye on the bank,” Tucker told him. “And try not to think.”

Cy scissored his feet. “I’m thinking about what an asshole that FBI man is.”

“Even better.”

It was a short and grisly swim. When they reached the bank, both Carl and Burke hooked hands under Darleen’s arms.

“Look the other way,” Tucker ordered Cy. “There’s no shame in it.” He would have done so himself, but the angle was wrong. So he saw what had been done to the body. As it was dragged effortfully out and onto the grass, he saw everything. “Go on over with Caroline now, Cy. No.” He caught the boy’s head before Cy could turn it. “Don’t look this way. Go over with Caroline. You did good.”

“Yessir.”

Tucker hauled himself out. He sat there a moment, his feet dangling in the water. “Dwayne, give me a smoke.”

It was Josie who brought him a cigarette, already lighted. “After that, I figure you deserve a whole one.” She laid her cheek against his. “I’m sorry it had to be you, Tuck.”

“So’m I.” He took a greedy drag. “Burke, don’t you have a blanket to put over her? This isn’t right.”

“If you civilians would go into the house,” Burns began, “this area will remain off limits until the investigation is completed.”

“Goddammit, we knew her,” Tucker said wearily. “You didn’t. Least you can do for her is cover her.”

“Go on, Tuck.” Burke reached down to help Tucker to his feet. “There are things we gotta do. It’s best if you went on while we get to it. We’ll be as quick as we can.”

“I saw what was done to her, Burke.” Tucker said in a raw voice. “You can’t be quick enough.”

“You will stay available,” Burns put in. “You and your brother. I’ll need to question you shortly.”

Saying nothing, Tucker turned away to walk with Caroline and Cy back to the house.

Caroline wasn’t much of a cook, but she heated up some soup to go with the roast beef Della had sliced. Soup, it seemed to her, was one of those nerve-soothing foods. By the way Cy plowed through his, she decided it worked.

Dwayne scraped his bowl clean, then seemed embarrassed by his appetite. “That was mighty tasty, Caroline. I appreciate you putting a meal together.”

“Della did most of it before she left for the Fullers’.”

“We do appreciate it,” Josie put in. “Though I don’t know how Dwayne can eat with that fat lip. Run into a door, honey?”

“Tucker and I had a tussle.” He reached for his iced tea. He didn’t feel much like getting drunk tonight after all.

“Tucker hit you?” Smiling a little, Josie rested her chin on her hand. “That man’s been using his fists more these past few weeks than he has his whole life. Now, what could Y’all be fighting about? Don’t tell me you’ve taken a shine to Caroline here?”

Josie winked at Caroline to include her in the joke.

“Nothing like that.” Uncomfortable, Dwayne shifted in his chair. “We just had a disagreement, that’s all. That’s how it happened. We started wrestling and ended up in the pond. Guess we stirred up the water quite a bit between that and racing to the far bank and back. Then Tucker … he practically bumped right into her.”

“Don’t think about it.” Josie rose to put her arms around his neck. “It was just bad luck. Bad luck all around.”

“That’s a mighty cold way of putting it,” Tucker said as he stepped into the kitchen.

Josie kept her cheek against Dwayne’s hair. “It’s the truth. Sometimes the truth’s cold. If you hadn’t been wrestling around in the pond, you wouldn’t have found her. She’d still be dead, but she might’ve stayed down. Then the two of you wouldn’t be looking so peaked.”

Tucker dropped into a chair. He knew his temper was on edge, but Josie’s carelessness pushed a dangerous button. “We won’t look ‘peaked’ for long. Darleen’s going to be dead forever.”

“That’s just my point. Finding her like that only made things hard on you.”

“Christ, Josie, you’ve got the sensitivity of a codfish.”

She straightened at that, eyes hot, cheeks pale. “I’ve got plenty of sensitivity when it comes to my family. Maybe I don’t give two hoots about what happened to that little slut—”

“Josie.” Wincing, Dwayne reached for her hand, but she shook him off.

“That’s just what she was, and her being dead doesn’t change it. I’m sorry for Happy and the rest, but I’m just sick about how you and Dwayne came to be involved. If you think that makes me cold, Tucker Longstreet, that’s fine. I’ll just save my sensitivity for someone who appreciates it.”

She slammed out, leaving the smoke of her temper lingering in the air.

“Maybe I’ll go after her.” Dwayne rose awkwardly. “Smooth her feathers.”

“Tell her I’m sorry, if you think it’ll help.” Resigned, Tucker rubbed his hands over his face. “No use slicing at her for being what she is.”

“Mr. Tucker, you want a beer?”

Tucker lowered his hands and gave Cy a wan smile. “About as much as I want to breathe right now. But I think I’d do better with coffee.”

“I’ll get it.” Caroline opened a cupboard for a cup. “We’re all on edge, Tucker. She’s just worried about you.”

“I know. Did Della go over to the Fullers’?”

“Yes. She and Birdie were going to stay the night with Happy. Help take care of the baby. Cousin Lulu’s upstairs watching a movie.”

She didn’t add that the lady had commented that murders were much more interesting on TV than in real life, and had settled back with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Dixie beer.

“Why don’t you go on up with her, Cy?” Tucker suggested. “She likes company.”

“Can I take the pup with me?” He hauled Useless out from the dog’s spot beneath the table.

“Sure.” Caroline smiled. “Don’t let Cousin Lulu give him too much beer.”

“No, ma’am. ‘Night, Mr. Tucker.”

“’Night, Cy.” He touched the boy’s arm. “Thanks for helping out.”

“I’d do anything for you, Mr. Tucker.” The words came out in a rush. Then Cy colored deep and hurried from the room.

“Devotion like that’s a precious gift.” Caroline ladled out soup. “You’ll be careful with him, won’t you?”

“I’m going to try.” Tucker rubbed a hand over his rough chin. He hadn’t shaved, though he’d showered twice. “I guess I wish he wouldn’t look at me like I was Hercules, Plato, and Clark Kent all rolled into one.”

Caroline set the bowl in front of him, brushed a hand through his hair. “It’s tough being a hero.”

“It’s tougher trying to be one when you haven’t got the makings.”

“Oh, I think you’ll surprise yourself.” Smiling, she sat beside him. “I made you soup.”

“So I see.” He took her hand. “You sure are handy to have around, Caroline.”

“I’ve been pretty busy surprising myself lately. I’m glad you didn’t know me before, Tucker.”

“Before doesn’t mean diddly.”

“This from a man who’ll —at the drop of a hat—tell me stories about people who’ve been dead for a hundred years.”

“That’s different.” He started to eat, more to please her than because he was hungry. After the first few spoonfuls, he discovered he was ravenous. “What happened
before matters because it shapes things. But who you were a year ago isn’t as important as who you are now.”

“I like the way you think. Tucker?”

“Hmmm.”

“Do you want me to stay tonight?”

His gaze came back to hers, fastened there with a wealth of feeling and need. “I want you to stay.”

With a nod, she rose. “Let me fix you a sandwich.”