Authors: Steven Gossington
Chapter 61
Aaron screeched to a stop in his garage and slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “Aaron, you’re a damn idiot.”
He called Rachel’s number and left a message on her voicemail: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can I see you again soon?”
He called her three times the next day and three times the day after, leaving voicemails along the way.
Two evenings later after work, he drove to her house in his refurbished Volvo. His last voicemail: “Rachel, I’ll be at your house in a few minutes. Please let me in. I have a surprise for you.”
Aaron’s hand shook as he rang the front doorbell. His other hand held something behind his back.
Rachel cracked the door open. The usual smile was missing from her face.
“Can I come in?” Aaron said.
She crossed her arms and walked away into the front room. Her dogs were quiet.
“I have something, a gift.” He thrust out a small wrapped package. Rachel hesitated, then took it to the kitchen table and unwrapped a small black box.
She opened the lid of the box, and her face brightened. “A diamond necklace.” She walked to a mirror in the next room and draped the necklace around her neck. Aaron clasped it in the back for her.
“I’ve thought a lot about this,” Aaron said. “What you did took courage.”
Rachel snorted and put her hands on her hips.
“The reason I say that is because of your motive. You didn’t do it for the money. It’s clear to me that you had a noble purpose.”
She turned to him, her eyes moist.
“You can be proud,” Aaron said. “I’m proud of you.”
Rachel embraced him and sobbed on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
****
Grant Belkin sat at his kitchen table. One dim light bulb illuminated Grant’s figure. He smiled at the empty chair opposite. “You’re goin’ to need a bigger brush for all that pretty white hair.”
He sipped from a glass of water, and propped his face in his hands. “Yes, I am a little worried. The Doc has one final battle.”
He nodded. “Right. A whopper of a battle. We’ve got to support him any way we can.”
Chapter 62
On his way home from work the next day, Aaron fantasized about pinning Race Taggett in a wrestling match. Just as he had Race immobilized on the mat and down for the count, he slipped into the garage and stepped out of his car.
“No,” he shouted as he was knocked to the floor, his breath wheezing out through his nose and mouth. By the time he managed to gasp and inhale twice, his wrists and ankles had been bound with rope.
“Hello, Doc. It’s time.”
Race hoisted Aaron over his shoulder face down and jogged out of the garage and down the street.
It’s happening,
Aaron thought.
Soon, Aaron spotted tree trunks whizzing by and he sensed the familiar pine-needle smell of the Big Thicket. At times, he heard birds screeching and small animals bolting away. He strained and twisted his wrists, but the binding wouldn’t budge.
It seemed like an hour passed before Race sloshed through another marshy area and then stopped. Aaron’s abdomen was sore from bouncing on Race’s shoulder.
“Here we are,” Race said. He stood Aaron upright. They were at the edge of a large round clearing in the trees. “Welcome to my happy place. You’re the only person alive who’s seen it.”
Two structures stood in the clearing: a log cabin at the perimeter, and in the middle a crisscrossed pile of logs with a horizontal platform at the top. Wind gusts howled in the trees.
Race carried Aaron across the clearing and plopped him down on a wooden chair in the middle of the one-roomed cabin. Two other chairs stood at opposite ends of the room facing Aaron. A skeleton, roped upright, sat in each chair.
Race pointed to the chairs. “Meet my teachers. Before you, they were the only people that were almost as good as me.”
So, that’s what happened to those two schoolteachers that Preston Benningham told me about. The ones that disappeared shortly after Race left school.
Race nodded. “They’re here with me always. They keep me strong.”
Aaron studied the skeletons. Each was crowned with a ring of pine needles. Their bones were clean and bright white.
“Kind of like Olympic winners from a long time ago, don’t you think?”
Race strolled in a circle around Aaron’s chair, then he stopped and leaned toward Aaron’s face. “And you’ll soon join them.” He straightened up and took a deep breath. “I need you here with them, so I can breathe in your strength, too.”
Aaron’s heart skipped a beat and his chest tightened.
Stay calm. Don’t lose it.
Race strutted to a small desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a rope and tied Aaron’s chest and arms snug to the chair. From the drawer, he raised something else up in his hand. Aaron saw the glint from a huge butcher knife.
Race admired the knife for a few seconds, then his body stiffened and he ran to the cabin door.
I didn’t hear anything,
Aaron thought.
After Race passed through the door into the clearing, Aaron’s body tensed as he glimpsed the silhouettes of two tall figures in the trees. One of them had long, flowing hair.
Is somebody out there? Maybe with the Texas Rangers?
Aaron squinted and searched the trees. The figures were gone.
At times, he heard Race’s feet crunching in the underbrush of the forest. After a short while, Race’s frowning face appeared at the door. “No one knows about my secret place,” he mumbled.
Race stepped inside and grinned at Aaron. “Back to business.” He whipped Aaron’s chair around to face the rear wall of the room, directly opposite the doorway. He walked over to a crown of pine needles on the floor near the wall. “This will be your special spot, a place of honor in my castle.”
Race licked his lips and held the knife high, twisting it, admiring it.
“Now, it’s time.”
Aaron saw the knife closing in until he felt its sharp cold edge against his neck. Then Race bent down so that his eyes were only inches away from Aaron’s face.
“Look at me. Look into my eyes,” Race said.
I’ve got to keep my head. It’s the only chance I have.
Aaron stared through Race’s pupil and into the blackness of his eye. He imagined his own vision to be a searing laser beam that could penetrate the deepest recesses of Race’s eyes, a beam that could not be extinguished.
Race growled, “You belong here, with me. It’s time for you to die.”
Aaron stared into the blackness. His body relaxed.
Like a tiger with its prey, Race wants to feed on my fear.
“Are you ready to die? How about if I cut off your head?”
Sorry, Race. There’s no fear in here.
Aaron took a deep breath. “If it’s my fate, then so be it,” Aaron said.
Race threw his head back and laughed. “It’s your fate, all right. I’ll kill you and burn you on my funeral pyre, then I’ll polish your bones spic and span.”
An unexpected surge of warmth swelled Aaron’s chest.
Race closed in again and their noses almost touched. Aaron narrowed his laser beam vision to burn deeper into the void of Race’s eyes.
“If it’s my God-given fate, then so be it,” Aaron said.
Race’s face contorted and his voice echoed around the room. “So, what if it is your God-given fate? All people are cowards compared to me.” His nose smashed against Aaron’s. “I want to smell your fear. Give it to me.”
Aaron didn’t blink or vary his probing stare. He imagined how Race’s retinas would appear, with their pulsating blood vessels.
“Show me your fear,” Race shouted. His face was bright red and swollen, and his breath was hot against Aaron’s face and smelled of rotten meat. “I want to taste it.”
Aaron didn’t flinch, even though the foul, pungent air scorched his face and nose and mouth. He searched inside Race’s eyes for a spark of light, a flicker of hope.
Race screamed. “Show me. Show me.” His piercing shrieks vibrated Aaron’s body.
Aaron took slow, regular breaths and remained still and focused. He spotted a glimmer in Race’s eye, like a distant star in the blackness of space.
Race’s voice became raspy and his screams weakened, and after one minute or so, Aaron heard a faint moan. Race backed away and began to sob. He fell to his knees and jammed the knife into the dirt floor.
Race sat cross-legged on the floor and wailed. Aaron heard a coyote howling from somewhere in the Big Thicket. Shadows deepened in the room as sunset approached.
Race became quiet and lay back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Aaron noticed healing wounds on Race’s arms and legs.
“Race,” Aaron said.
He looked up at Aaron.
“You don’t have to do this anymore.”
Race leaped up and ran out into the clearing. Aaron managed to twist his body and head around enough to see out the door.
Race shouted at the sky and then dropped to his knees and sobbed, holding his hands out to the trees, rocking back and forth.
It was dark when Race crawled back into the cabin. He kneeled down in front of Aaron.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me. I’ll try to help you.”
Race gave a slight nod.
“Good. Is the killing over?”
He sighed. “I’m tired.”
“Just trust me. Don’t fight me.”
Aaron stared into Race’s pupils.
A life of pain, constant pain
, Aaron thought, then he saw the tiny spark.
Race untied Aaron, and they walked together across the clearing. Race stumbled into the trees and along a dirt path. As Aaron followed, he heard no sound from the Big Thicket.
“Why did you rescue me from the man with the machete?”
Race slowed and dropped his head. “Killing you was for me, not him. It wasn’t your time yet.”
Aaron pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling EMS and the police.”
Race stopped.
“Remember, you can trust me,” Aaron said.
Race sighed and walked ahead.
Aaron noticed that Race struggled to walk in the Big Thicket, and when they approached the back yard of the old Taggett house, Race collapsed onto his knees.
“Let me help you.” Aaron hoisted Race across his forearms and marched toward the police officers and Texas Rangers who stood in a semicircle in the yard, their guns drawn and pointed.
“It’s okay,” Aaron said.
The officers lowered their firearms.
Race’s voice broke. “Nobody’s ever carried me before.”
“Listen to me,” Aaron said. “There’s always hope, no matter where your life is. Never forget that.”
A weak smile appeared on Race’s face.
“I’ll be checking on you,” Aaron said, as he walked toward the red and white flashing lights of a waiting ambulance.
Race gave a slight nod, his eyelids fluttered, and he passed out.
Aaron took a deep breath.
You’re right, Race. It isn’t my time yet.
Chapter 63
Word spread around town the next day about Aaron’s amazing feat of delivering Race Taggett out of hiding. Congratulatory phone calls and messages and emails poured in. Rachel treated him to a delicious dinner of rainbow trout and stewed okra.
Later that night, Aaron stretched out in bed and thought about his recent adventures. His eyes went to the painting on the wall, and after several minutes, he sat bolt upright.
That’s strange. I can’t make out the people in the trees anymore.
He walked over to the painting and studied it. His eyes widened.
They’ve disappeared. Maybe they were hallucinations, too?
His eyes wandered over the trees and sky and winding trail.
I’d like to follow a real trail like that one, in the Big Thicket.
That night, he slept better than he had in months.
Near noon the day after, Stella and Aaron stood talking in the clinic hallway. She suddenly froze, looking past his shoulder.
Aaron wheeled around. A man in a white shirt walked toward them.
I recognize him,
Aaron thought.
“Do you remember me?” the man said. “You wouldn’t give me Percocet a couple of weeks ago.”
Oh, crap. What now?
Aaron clenched his fists
.
Stella moved next to him.
He stopped in front of Aaron. “I want to thank you.” He extended his hand.
Aaron hesitated and then shook hands with him. “Thank me?”
Is this a joke?
“You told me I might have a problem and that you could help me in other ways. I remember your eyes. I could tell you really meant what you said.” He looked down and put his hands in his pockets. “I talked with my wife. It turns out she’s been worried about me. I even think my marriage was in trouble. I didn’t realize how far gone I was.”
He sighed and looked up at Aaron. “I’m trying to turn myself around. I’m in a drug withdrawal program, and I’m getting counseling.”
Aaron smiled. “That’s terrific.”
“I’m going to stick with this program, for the sake of my marriage, and my life.”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
“Thanks again for seeing me for how I really was.” He nodded at Aaron, then turned and walked away.
Stella touched Aaron’s shoulder. “From the look in his eyes, I think he just might make it.”
Aaron took a deep breath and grinned at Stella. “We did good.”
“Yes, we did.”
“The last time we saw him in the clinic, you mentioned forgiveness. Do you still think about Brad and your son’s death?”
“Not really. At least, it’s not painful anymore. I’m just glad he and Preston are doing well.”
“Preston is still working and off drugs?”
“That’s what Myra tells me. She looks happy, and she says father and son are getting to know each other again.”
“You talk with Myra? That’s good.”
Stella smiled. “We have brunch together after church most Sundays.”
Later in the afternoon, Aaron spotted someone sitting in a hallway chair.
“Hi, Tucker.”
My Cajun bipolar soothsayer.
Tucker Boudreaux stood and waved as Aaron approached him. “I had a thought about you yesterday, Doc.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I saw you walking in your yard. You were older. You’re going to live in that house for a long time.”
Aaron grinned and put his hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“But I’m confused about something.”
“What’s that?”
“I saw you standing by a bunch of cows. Do you have any cattle?”
Aaron lurched back laughing. “No, they’re not my cattle. They’ve been grazing behind my house.”
“I’ve been wracking my brain to figure it out. Why would I have a vision of you with cows?”
Aaron took a deep breath. “Let me put it this way. They’re unusual cattle, and those cows and their owner have been an important part of my life recently.”
Tucker clapped his hands. “Well then, that explains it.
Merci beaucoup.
Thanks.”
“You were right about Rachel. Someone did try to hurt her, and I appreciate your warning me about that. Feel free to let me know your thoughts and visions anytime.”
“I will. It makes me feel better to talk about them.”
“I imagine your visions are usually accurate?”
Tucker raised his hand. “No, not usually accurate. I’m always accurate. I don’t think I’ve ever been wrong.”
Aaron smiled as Tucker strutted out of the clinic.
After work, Aaron pulled into Rachel’s driveway in his new candy-apple red 1948 Ford F-1 pickup truck. He escorted her to the truck and spread his arms.
“What do you think? I just picked it up,” Aaron said.
“It’s old.”
“Sure, it is. It’s a classic. The one I told you about.”
He had a broad smile on his face as they puttered away.
“Where are we going?” she said.
“Let’s decide on dinner later. I want to make another stop first.”
“You sound mighty mysterious. Is this a surprise?”
“I need to find out something about myself.”
Aaron drove for a while along Big Thicket roads and stopped in front of the entrance sign to Ghost Road.
Rachel leaned forward. “Would you believe it? I’ve never been here before.”
“I have once, and it scared the bejeebers out of me.” He recounted to Rachel the stories of decapitated ghosts and strange wandering lights along the road.
Aaron turned onto the road and crept along until he reached the halfway point.
“Let’s get out.” They were alone on the road.
Rachel shivered. “Are you sure about this? Should we even be here in the dark?”
He touched her shoulder. “We can do this. For me now, I feel like it’s kind of a rite of passage. That’s why I came.”
They stepped out onto the road and crept along the grassy shoulder hand in hand. Aaron strained his ears. “The Big Thicket is quiet tonight.”
“It smells kind of nice out here, like fresh pine needles,” Rachel said.
Aaron smiled at her. “You’ve stopped shivering. Good.”
“It’s warm and comfortable.”
Aaron stopped. “Do you believe in angels?”
Rachel cocked her head. “I guess so. Why do you ask?”
“I may never know for sure, but since I moved here, I feel like I’ve been helped by angels. Is that just my crazy brain acting up again?”
Rachel squeezed his hand. “You’re not crazy, and I believe you have been helped. We all need help sometimes.”
Aaron laughed and lifted a hand to the sky. “Well, in that case, bring on the angels.” Images of Marley Brighton and Grant Belkin floated across his vision.
He peered into Rachel’s eyes. “You’re not a real angel, are you?”
“What if I was?”
“I know. You probably wouldn’t tell me if you were, but how about if I keep thinking you’re an angel?”
She hugged him. “I’d like that. I’ll try to live up to it.”
They strolled for about an hour up and down both sides of the road.
As they approached Aaron’s truck, a soothing breeze ruffled their hair.
Aaron stopped. “I haven’t seen any freaky visions, and the air out here feels really good in my lungs.” He smiled at Rachel. “I think we’re accepted.”
“What do you mean? Who’s accepting us?”
“The Big Thicket.” Aaron cupped his hands around his mouth. “Thank you, Big Thicket,” he yelled. He ran in circles around his truck, pumping his arms in the air.
Rachel laughed. “I’ve never seen anybody so ecstatic about a bunch of trees.”
Aaron stopped and put his hands on her shoulders.
“It’s more than that. I know for sure now. This is my home.”
An hour later, Aaron and Rachel sat in their favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, munching on burritos and guacamole.
“You don’t like my truck much, do you?” Aaron said. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
She touched his hand. “I’m getting used to it. It reminds me of one of my grandfather’s old trucks. I have fond memories of that truck.”
“Then I’ll keep it for a while.”
“Good.” She took a sip of her margarita. “What will happen to Race Taggett?”
“He’s with his mother, Wanda, in the state psychiatric facility.” Aaron smiled. “I don’t think he’ll hurt anybody else.”
“I guess the insanity defense was tailor-made for those two.”
Aaron nodded. “I’m sure that will be his defense. Besides, I don’t think you could execute that guy anyway. He truly has nine lives.”
“At least he’s out of our lives now.”
“Speaking of the Taggetts, I heard something funny recently. Sid Taggett won a lot of money gambling in Las Vegas, and he told his friends here that Wanda’s voodoo charms may have helped him hit the jackpot.”
Rachel grinned. “I hear some gamblers keep voodoo dolls with them to bring luck.”
“Let’s go to New Orleans and check into that,” Aaron said.
Rachel snorted. “I’ll go to New Orleans with you, but I don’t know about the voodoo part.”
“All right, no voodoo.” Aaron snapped his fingers. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. One reason I left Connecticut was that there were some complaints about my clinical competence. Well, I got a letter recently from a doctor friend. I’ve been exonerated of any wrongdoing at my old hospital.”
“I find it hard to believe someone would charge you with that.”
Aaron blushed and smiled. “Thanks. Turns out it was all bogus anyway. A doctor lied about me, and she and the asshole chief of staff have been sanctioned.”
Rachel slapped the table. “Good.”
“And get this. The medical staff wants me to come back to my old job.”
Rachel frowned. “Are you considering that?”
“Hell, no. I’d never go back there. Besides, you told me that this is your home.” He squeezed her hand. “And I want to be where you are.”
Rachel smiled, and her dimples deepened.
A song popped into Aaron’s head.
“What are you humming?” Rachel said.
“ ‘Mayberry,’ by Rascal Flatts.” He laughed. “I guess it’s not exactly the Garden of Eden around here, but with you, my new town seems more like mythical Mayberry now.”
After dinner, they stood by his car and embraced for several minutes.
“I want to take something back,” Aaron said.
“What?”
“I had it backwards. It’s more than Mayberry. You do make this place seem more like the Garden of Eden to me.” Aaron stared into her eyes. “I feel like this is the beginning of a wonderful relationship, ours I mean.”
“I feel the same way.”
She planted her dimples on his lips.
Late the next afternoon, Aaron waved at Marley and Cristal walking their dog along the road. He stopped in his driveway to check his mailbox and wait for them.
“I heard you bought a classic truck,” Marley said.
Aaron nodded. “I drove it around town yesterday. Let me show you.” He opened the garage door and they walked over to his restored 1948 Ford F-1 truck. “What do you think?”
“It’s a beauty.”
“It’s a bit slow and bouncy, but I like it.”
Cristal ran her hand along the side of the truck. “It’s smooth. I like red.”
Aaron grinned. “Red is my favorite color.”
“Dale McCorkindale ordered it for you, didn’t he?” Marley said.
“Yes, and to his credit, he got me a good one, for a decent price.”
“I think he’s going to jail.”
Aaron’s jaw dropped. “Jail? For what?”
“The police think he was embezzling money from his car business.”
Aaron shook his head. “I had a feeling that something fishy was going on with him.”
I’ll bet he blew all that money on his wild investment schemes.
“His wife filed for divorce, too.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
She probably found out about his VD and his prostitutes.
Aaron stepped closer to Marley. “I guess Forrester is moving on with life?”
Marley sighed. “It’s a struggle, but he’s learning to live with his disability.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
You stayed by him, all these years
.
Aaron blushed and held up his hands. “Now, don’t laugh at me, but I get this strange impression. Sometimes I think you’re an angel. I mean, a real angel. Is that crazy, or what?”