Side by Side (26 page)

67

After what felt like an eternity, Lucy and Elijah arrived at a padlocked gate. Although she was hopelessly lost, she didn’t panic. Nothing that lay ahead of her could be nearly as bad as what was behind her. She had no earthly idea whether the direction to their safety was to her left or right. The main gravel road in front of her was wide, with steep shoulders, ditches on either side, and beyond that, tall weeds and the woods. Looking at the soaked ground, she could make out that vehicles turning right off the gravel road had made the majority of the tire impressions. So she’d go that way. She put down her hood and climbed over the gate, keeping Elijah in her arms as she did so. Then she struck out, keeping near the right ditch. If any vehicles came, they might be carrying more of the bad guys. She remembered that Dixie had boasted that her family
owned
that part of the county.

Elijah was fully awake now, and he was fussing steadily. Her left side was growing numb under his weight. His diaper was wet, and he was cold and hungry. There would be no quieting him now. The rain had stopped, but still dripped loudly from the trees.

Lucy walked as fast as she could. She was thirsty, and growing very hungry herself. After she had gone what seemed like miles, the road curved and she smiled because she could see a lighted sign in the distance. Buoyed by the sight of civilization, Lucy switched Elijah to her rested hip and, despite the pain of the gravel on her bleeding feet, she picked up her pace.

As she drew closer, she saw the building was a wood-frame country store with a low-peaked roof that extended out to cover a raised porch. The porch light was off and the store’s front windows—mostly covered with product logos and advertisements—were dark. There was a pay phone, but she didn’t have the coins to operate it. The store appeared to be closed, but an old pickup truck and a large sedan filled a rickety-looking garage that was just behind and off to the side of the main building.

As she went around the building, Lucy slowed in the way of a wary animal.

Her ears picked up the sounds being generated by a television set. Lucy tried to imagine some viable alternative to approaching the rear of the store. If the people inside weren’t friends or relatives of the kidnappers, weren’t aware of who she was, maybe she could get to a phone and call her daddy.

Suddenly Lucy Dockery felt a new stab of panic. Dixie and Buck’s father and twin brothers were close by, and although she couldn’t imagine how they might discover she wasn’t dead inside the warehouse, they might have a way and come looking for her.

Somebody would certainly report the explosions, and firemen and policemen would come. But what if they were under the influence of that family? It was hard to believe, but who knew what people were like in this rural place? She could be in some redneck backwater where everybody was related and everybody was suspicious of outsiders. Maybe the store owner was one of them. She might be able to steal one of the vehicles, or sneak in and use a phone without their knowing it. Maybe she could play to their greed and offer them money to help her and Elijah.

The only windows on the side of the long structure were in the last twenty feet of the store building, and they were lit up brightly. Obviously the owner, or manager, lived there. The place couldn’t be properly insulated, because she could hear the television set as though it was in the yard.

She crept forward and peered into the first window. In a cozy living room cluttered with porcelain knickknacks and family pictures, an elderly couple sat in matching recliners, watching television. One of the pictures Lucy could see clearly was of a young marine, and there was a black ribbon on one corner of the frame. She studied the couple’s faces. The woman looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. Her cap of white hair framed a face that looked to be accustomed to smiling. She was short and plump. The man was short, too, but thin. His white hair and mustache were neatly trimmed, his face stern. He reminded Lucy of pictures she’d seen of William Faulkner. Elijah started crying and the startled couple looked away from the TV and straight at her.

Lucy froze and stepped back out of the light.

The porch light came on.

The back door opened.

The man and woman came outside onto the small porch and stared out at Lucy, standing in the shadows with Elijah clasped in her arms. The woman grabbed her husband’s arm, looking frightened.

“What do you want?” the man demanded, frowning.

“You gave us a start,” the woman said. “Who are you, dear? What in the world’s happened to you?”

“Please,” Lucy began. She held Elijah tightly, and to her astonishment she started crying. “Pl . . . pl . . . please?”

“You in a wreck?” the woman asked, not moving.

“We were abducted,” Lucy sobbed. “Escaped.”

“What in the world?” the woman said. “Kidnapped?”

Lucy nodded. “Please . . . help us?”

The elderly woman looked questioningly at her husband. Then she stepped off the porch and went to Lucy and Elijah.

68

“Who kidnapped you, child?” the woman asked, her brow creased with concern.

“I didn’t know them. Buck and Dixie. These two big twins. A large man who drives a black truck. Near here.”

“Those got-damned Smoots,” the man said bitterly.

“Ed, language. You poor things. Come in, dear,” the woman said, putting her arm around Lucy’s shoulders.

“Are they important people in these parts?” Lucy asked.

“They’re crooks and worse. Some like them. More’s just scared of them. That Buck is a monster,” the man said.

“You’ll be safe here,” the woman told Lucy.

The old man stepped off the porch and stood for several seconds, gazing out at the road.

Lucy went into the kitchen with the woman. The old man came in behind them, closed the door, and turned off the porch light. She saw a long gun leaning against the wall beside the door.

“Sit down here,” the woman told her. “Let’s get y’all cleaned up. Your little boy looks starved. Ed, go get some diapers from stock. I’ll make these poor people something to eat.”

“Tell me what happened,” Ed said, not moving to obey his wife. His eyes looked worried.

“Where are we?” Lucy asked.

“Tuttle’s Ford,” the woman said. “About nine miles from Skeene.”

“My father is Judge Hailey Fondren in Charlotte. Please call him. He’ll give you whatever you want to get us back.”

“That’s not necessary,” Ed said.

“Those horrible people!” the old woman said. “Those horrible, horrible people. Evil. Just pure-dee evil.”

“It’s not a good idea to call anybody about the Smoots,” Ed said. “They got kinfolks all around here and some are on our party line. I expect Smoot would pay a lot to keep you from telling anybody what he did. Money is hard to come by out here.”

“You still have party lines?” Lucy said.

“Might be the only one left on earth,” the woman said, smiling. “We want privacy, we write letters.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up and fed and I’ll take you out to a phone that’s safe, or drive you to Charlotte. I’m Ed Utz and my wife’s Edna. We had three children ourselves, but they’re grown and living all over.”

“Seven grandchildren,” Edna added proudly. “Three greats. We lost a grandson in Iraq this past July. Roadside bomb. There’s a lot of evil in the world, honey, and you don’t have to go all the way around the world to find it either.”

Lucy looked at the mirror on the kitchen wall and was stunned by the sight of the pitiful creature whose ruined, grime-streaked face stared back at her. Elijah, as filthy as his mother, sat in her lap silently, watching the elderly couple through wide-open eyes.

“You want to take off that rain slicker?” Edna asked.

“Sorry. I don’t have any clothes. I’m wearing an old T-shirt under this.”

“You’re closer to Ed’s size than mine,” Edna decided. “If you don’t mind wearing his pants, we’ll get you in something warm and dry.”

Five minutes later Lucy had put a diaper on Eli and washed both her own and her son’s faces and hands using a warm washcloth Edna furnished. Feeding her son a bowl of cereal and milk, Lucy told the couple the story. They listened quietly to her as they shook their heads in disbelief.

“We never liked the Smoots,” Edna Utz said when Lucy had finished. “They shop here from time to time, but we never cared at all for any of them. Wanted to sell us stock at a discount that they probably steal. Ed told them absolutely not.”

Ed said, “I can call your daddy from the pay phone out front. Peanut Smoot had it put there, but it might be safe enough. Never could imagine why the Smoots couldn’t get a phone put in at their place instead of having one out on my porch that nobody but them ever uses.”

“It’s handy for people you don’t want using your phone,” Edna said. “At least the Smoots don’t have to come inside to make calls.”

“Give me your daddy’s number,” Ed said. “I’ll go call him.”

Lucy scribbled the number on a church bulletin Edna handed her.

Taking the shotgun with him, Ed Utz went out through a door that led into the darkened store.

“So it was you started that big fire,” Edna said.

Lucy nodded.

“Very appropriate,” Edna said, nodding. “Didn’t the good Lord use the very same instrument to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah?”

69

Serge Sarnov lit a cigarette, more to pass the time than because he wanted one. He enjoyed pushing his smoking on people that didn’t appreciate it, because he was powerful enough to get away with it. He did it for the same reason a dog pissed on a tree that some other dog had already peed on.

Max Randall cracked the window behind Sarnov. Opening the one behind him channeled the smoke away from Randall without making the statement that he found the smoke annoying.

The two military-trained men in the back seat were napping like children without a care in the world. Combat-seasoned men like them learned quickly to catnap in the spaces between actions. When the time came, both would open their eyes and be good to go.

“How much further?” Sarnov asked.

“Twenty minutes,” Randall told him.

“The woman and child can’t get far in woods they aren’t familiar with, running from people who are. And if by some miracle she gets to a phone and calls her father, we’re covered, right?”

“Our people have the judge’s incoming calls blocked. Anybody dials his number, we’ll have their location inside five minutes.”

“You think this U.S. marshal is headed here?”

Randall shrugged. “If Click didn’t know, Massey doesn’t know either. If he does, it would save us the trouble of tracking him down.”

“He’s got some of your toys that he could use to make a big problem.”

Max frowned. “He’s competent.”

“Competent?” Serge laughed. “Yes, he seems to be somewhat
competent.
It’s too bad Peanut’s little family hasn’t been.”

“I should have handled it. But Laughlin was insistent on letting them do it.”

“We’ll deal with Peanut tonight.”

“The Major wants her sister the agent calling the shots on the Dockery deal. It has to be done a certain way.”

“And you agree?”

“Without the Major, we don’t have the connections into the Pentagon. She’s setting up the agent’s future, and I think having the agent’s credibility and insights is worth allowing her to clean up the kidnapping. That’s the sister’s expertise. She can make this into a kidnapping based on financial gain, not Bryce’s trial.”

“Needlessly complicated if you ask me,” Serge remarked, eyes on the wet road ahead of them. “Especially now with this Massey running amok. It seems a pointless bit of drama now.”

“Mine is not to question why,” Max said.

Sarnov was going to enjoy working with Max Randall.

Randall’s cell phone rang and he opened it. “Okay,” he said. “Directions?”

Serge watched as Max listened, his eyes on the windshield.

“We’re ten minutes out.”

Max snapped the phone closed.

“The Dockerys are in a store up the road from the Smoot place,” he said. “Time to wake up, boys.”

“They’re sure?”

“Smoot found her tracks.”

Max’s phone trilled again. “Yeah, Major. We’re on it.” He listened. “That’s confirmation on what Mr. P. told me ten seconds ago.” He closed the phone. “Somebody just placed a call to the judge’s phone from the store’s pay phone. The Dockerys are definitely at the store.”

Serge smiled. Behind him there were metallic clicks as the two men double-checked their weapons.

“It’s turned into a beautiful evening for a hunt,” Serge said.