Water Witch (21 page)

“…power of the
blood
of the
lamb
…”

I heard the engine to Angelle’s car roar to
life, so I hurried to the passenger door. The look she shot
Woodard’s way could have peeled varnish off a room full of
furniture.

“—and again, Sistah, you’re welcome to our
humble church any time during your visit here in Bayou Crow. Now if
you will please excuse me, I must take leave and ready myself for
tonight’s service. Our little congregation is at this very moment
preparing for a series of services.
Deliverance
services to
cast out the demons that might have infiltrated our little Sarah’s
soul. Should she be returned to us by the grace of Gawd, we need
time to be spiritually
prepared
for those deliverance
services. The demons are always at the ready to attack, and if
they’ve gotten their hands on her, things will only get worst. This
is urgent business, Sistah, urgent. But, oh, what a friend we have
in
Jeee
-sus!
Thank
you, Lawd! Praise you,
Jee-
sus.” With one hand held skyward, Woodard turned and
headed back for the church, all the while waving and shouting about
the glory of
Gawd.

Without a doubt, Poochie had been right. The
man was a cuckoo—fruitcake—a serious lost cause. And there was
little question that if Sarah was found and returned to that man,
she’d need a series of services—psychiatric services.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

As far as I was concerned faith and Woodard’s
Gawd were the only things that kept us from careening off the
highway into the bayou. Angelle was so infuriated with the preacher
when we left the church, she took a left out of the parking lot
when she should have taken a right, and we wound up ten miles out
of Bayou Crow before either of us realized it. She was still
cursing a blue streak by the time we finally reached home.

“I swear to God, could I be any goddamn
dumber?” Angelle fumed as she stormed up to the house, me at her
heels.

“Stop being so hard on yourself. You were
going through a tough time. Hell, you still are. I should have
never asked you to bring me there. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,
Dunny. That fucker should be sorry.” We’d reached the front door by
this time, and Angelle grabbed the knob, turned it, and kicked the
door open. “Goddamn, I still can’t believe I ever asked that
low-life sonofabitch for help!”

Poochie was sitting on the couch when Angelle
burst into the living room, and she gasped in surprise. “Lord of
Mary, what’s de matter? You scared me so bad my heart almost bus’
out my ches’. Which sumabitch you talking about?”

“Sorry, Pooch, didn’t mean to scare you,”
Angelle said, closing the door with a lot less force than she’d
used to open it.

“So what sumabitch?”

I started to say, “That wacko preacher,” but
Angelle beat me to the punch.

“Woodard,” she said. “You should’ve heard
what that bastard said about those kids. About his own niece for
heaven’s sake! He was talking about that sweet little girl like she
was some kind of prostitute or something.”

Poochie’s mouth fell open. “He called his
niece a pew-tan?”

Angelle gave her a puzzled look. “I said he
talked about her like she was a prostitute. Not a. . . whatever you
said.”

“Pew-tan, dat’s de same thing as a ‘ho’. I
can’t believe he called his own blood dat. He said dat? She was a
‘ho’?”

“Yeah!” Angelle said.

“To be fair, Woodard didn’t exactly use the
word whore when he talked about Sarah,” I said. “But he just as
soon have.”

“You’ve got that right,” Angelle agreed.

“I tol’ y’all he was cuckoo, didn’t I say
dat?” Poochie looked over at me. “I said dat, huh?”

“Yep, you were right, crazy,” I said. “He
ranted and raved so much he could’ve held church right there in the
parking lot.” I shook my head. “And he thinks demons took over the
town because Sarah was messing around with Nicky. How crazy and
pathetic is that?”

Poochie tsked. “Bad.”

Angelle tossed her car keys on the coffee
table. “He’s the demon if you ask me. I swear if that man is
treating his niece that way, he should be brought up on charges.
Child neglect or child endangerment, something. Whatever they can
stick on him for screwing up that poor kid.” She cocked her head
suddenly, and it was then I noticed all the shoes on and around
Poochie’s lap.“What are you doing with all those tennis shoes,
Poochie? Aren’t those my Sketchers?”

“Yeah,dem’s you shoes. Y’all come over here
and grab each of y’all a pair. We gotta go do—”

“Wait a minute,” I said, something else
suddenly occurring to me. “What are you doing here, Poochie? Aren’t
you supposed to be at the Bucket?”

Angelle’s head snapped back in surprise.
“Yeah . . . we were supposed to pick you up at . . . how did you
get here?”

“Pork Chop. I had him bring me back to de
house.”

“You did
not
have that alcoholic drive
you over here!” Angelle said, incredulously.

Poochie batted the air with a hand. “Aw, de
man wasn’t too poo-yiied when he drove me out here. He made de
truck go pretty straight.”

“Damn, Poochie,” Angelle said. “Like we don’t
have enough stuff—“

“Look, y’all need to stop running off at de
mout’ and listen to what I gotta say. Y’all come see. I wanna show
y’all something.”

Knowing we were probably going to be racing
along the same old track until we did as she asked, I stepped over
to Poochie. Angelle followed reluctantly.

“What?” Angelle asked, frowning.

With her lips folded in tight over toothless
gums, Poochie handed me a pair of sneakers that looked very much
like the Jordan’s I’d packed in my carry-on bag, only the laces
were knotted together. She gave Angelle the Sketchers along with a
pair of large, dirty black tennis shoes., both pairs with knotted
laces.

“Okay,” Poochie said, “Here’s what y’all
gotta do, and y’all gotta go fas’ about dis business. Bring dem
shoes outside and put dem up in my prayer tree. I can throw dat
myself, but I can’t throw too good. We gotta get de shoes all de
way to de top in de branches. Dat’s’ where dey need to go.”

Angelle’s shoulders slumped. “Just put the
shoes back in the closet, Poochie. We don’t have time for
this.”

I saw steam building in Poochie’s eyes and
decided to jump in before she exploded. “Why do you want us to put
the shoes up there?”

“Dunny . . .” Angelle snapped a hard look my
way.

Taking advantage of the opening and
opportunity to make her point, Poochie said, ’CauseI said to, dat’s
why. We gonna need it.” She handed me a pair of faded, open-back
house slippers. A hole had been bored through the sides of each,
and a piece of twine bound them together. “Here, take dese, too.
Dat’s mine. Now I need for you to throw dis one all de way to de
tippy-top of de tree if you can.
All
de way to de tippy-top,
you understand?”

Angelle held out the black sneakers. “If
Trevor sees how you’ve screwed up his shoes, he’s going to have a
fit.”

“Trevor don’t need to know nothin’ dat Trevor
don’t need to know. And he’s not here anyways.”

Angelle glanced at her watch. “It’s not even
one o’clock. His shift isn’t until three. Where’d he go?”

Poochie shrugged. “He said he was gonna pick
up Allen, de man he was workin’ wit’ tonight, and dey was goin’ to
check traps before work. Said he was gonna come back here before
his shift and drop off de boat. He didn’t say, but I bet he’s
bringing de boat back because de big boss over to de plant tol’ him
he couldn’t bring Bullet back dere no more.”

Slightly confused, mostly because of her
accent, I asked, “So
is
he bringing the boat back here?”

“Dat’s what he said. But you know how dem men
are .Sometimes dey say one thing and do something else. So in case
he don’t come back,I already got us another plan. “

“A plan for what?” Angelle asked.

“Listen up, and you gonna see. Now, de first
thing we gotta do is pack us some stuff that we gonna need out dere
in de swamp. You know, a flashlight, some rope, a knife in case we
got to cut something. When we get de boat, I’m gonna ride in de
middle, and Angelle you gonna drive de boat. Dunny, her, she’s
gonna sit up to de front and hold de flashlight so—”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Angelle said. “What are you
talking about? Poochie, you aren’t coming with us.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m comin’. If you think you gonna
leave me here while y’all two go get youselves killed out in de
bayou, you cuckoo. We got to go together to find dem babies, and we
gotta go fas’. Dat’s why I came back here from de Bucket. When I
was over dere I saw me a picture of de prayer tree in my head, so I
made Pork Chop hurry me back here to see if de picture was true.
And it was true. I come back here to look and sure ‘nough, just
like de picture. Dat little girl’s shoes was gone. Gone out de
prayer tree.”

“You mean, Sarah Woodard’s shoes?” I
asked.

Poochie nodded. “Yeah, de little pink ones
dat was up dere. Dey missin’ just like some of de shoes on de
purgatory side of de tree is missin’. I’m scared for dat little
girl bad. Somethin’ in my belly is sayin’ if her shoes is gone,
maybe her life is gone it, too, you know?”

Something about the conviction in Poochie’s
eyes, the way she kneaded her fingers as she spoke, made her words
ring too true. It sent a chill up my spine. Angelle must have felt
something similar because her face went pale.

“When did Sarah’s shoes disappear?” Angelle
asked. “How long ago did you notice there were gone?”

“’Bout a hour maybe.All I know is we gotta
get outselves out dere fas’. Dat’s why I got dis plan. You see, if
people see me in de boat, dey gonna think y’all just taking me for
a little ride out to de bayou. Dey already know how much I like to
go fishing.” She nodded at Angelle. “You, dey know you go help
Trevor wit’ de traps sometimes, so de already know you can drive de
boat, but what you need is de reason to drive de boat. Dat’s why
I’m gonna go me, so you can use me as de excuse.”

“But—”

Poochie didn’t let Angelle finish, she nodded
towards me “And you, you, people gonna think you just wanna ride in
de boat ‘cause you from out dere in Texas, and dey don’t got all
dat water in Texas.” She held out her hands. “So you see how dat’s
gonna work? You riding in de boat ‘cause you wanna see de water, me
I’m in de boat ‘cause I like to fish, and Gelle her is in de boat
‘cause she’s drivin’ de boat. Dat way it’s gonna make sense to any
of dem hard-legs dat want to stick dere nose to our business.”

“Whether it makes sense or not doesn’t
matter,” Angelle said. “You can’t come with us. It’s too dangerous
and—“

“No, no, hol’ up and let me tell you
somethin’.” Poochie sat tall, her eyes snapping bright green
fireworks. “Look here, I cut sugar cane for twenty-five years out
in de middle of de Louisiana heat, and I can bus’ me a nutria trap
faster den anybody in dese parts. I know dangerous me. I can work
wit’ dangerous. But you, you too soft.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

“Non, you wait a minute. I’m not saying you
soft like dat’s a bad thing You teach school. Me I don’t. So dat
means y’all can’t go out in de swamp by youself. You don’t know de
bayou like me.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Look, we don’t got no time to fuss about
dis. I’m tellin’ you. I got me a feeling right in de middle of my
belly. Dat little girl is in some serious trouble. We got to go
find bot’ of dem fas’. If we not too late already.” Poochie looked
at me. “And you, I know you understand what I’m sayin’. I know you
feelin’ dat it’s coming close.”

Reflexively, I glanced at Angelle.

“No, no, I’m talkin’ to you, you. You got to
look at me.”

I turned back to Poochie. “All I know is the
direction we’re supposed to head, Poochie. I don’t have a handle
yet on whether the kids are alive or dead.”

“We don’t need no handle, we need de boat.
You hear what I’m sayin’? Dat’s de other side to my plan. You see,
if Trevor don’t bring de boat back to de house, I know where we can
get another one. Vern’s got a second boat over to de Bucket. I’m
just gonna go borrow it.”

“What makes you think Vern or Sook’s going to
let you borrow their boat?” Angelle had her hands on her hips. She
looked completely exasperated.

“Dey don’t gotta know I’m gonna borrow it
right den and dere. I’ll let dem know when we get back.”

Angelle’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Are you saying steal their boat?” I said, arching a brow. “Your
worried about us going out into the middle of the water but you’re
not worried about grand theft?”

Poochie shrugged. “Vern’s boat’s not but
eighteen foot, if dat. Dere’s nothing grand about dat. Now if we
was talkin’ about takin’ somebody’s shrimp boat, dat would be
different. Dem things is almost forty foot—”

“You know what she’s talking about, Poochie!”
Angelle snapped.

“Don’t you get loud wit’ me and—“

“You can’t steal a boat! And even if we get
Trevor’s you still can’t come with us. Look, think about it. Those
skiffs hold three people at best, and even then it’s a tight fit.
If you’re with us and we find those kids, how are we supposed to
get everybody back? Or what if we find the kids and there’s
somebody around we have to deal with, like the person who took
them? Then what are we supposed to do with you then?”

“Dat’s easy. If we find de chil’ren, all you
gotta do is set me out by a cypress tree somewhere, then y’all come
back and get me after you bring de babies back to de landing. And
if somebody out dere gives us some trouble like you said, I can
fight ‘em me too.”

Angelle threw a hand up in exasperation.
“That’s ridiculous. As if I’d leave you stuck on some small piece
of dirt out in the middle of the bayou.”