Evil in Me, page 22
Tina stomped her fuzz box, kicking the song into a sizzling haze of grinding guitar, driving Vutto’s wild primitive beat. The magic grew stronger and the song called it to Ruby. Her scar, the symbol on her arm, grew warm, began to glow as the warmth spread into her chest, taking hold of her, then, that sensation of floating.
Now, Beel urged. The ring!
The ring! Ruby thought, forcing herself to focus, to push the magic toward the ring, just like at David’s house. And just like at David’s house, the spell set to the ring.
The ring grew warm, then hot.
Ruby never stopped singing, just let go of the bass and pushed the glove up, exposing the ring. She grabbed it, gave it a tug. The ring twisted a notch.
It moved! Beel exclaimed. By the gods, it moved!
Tina gave Ruby a concerned look, but kept playing, she and Vutto keeping the chorus going.
Ruby tried again, tugging and tugging until she was sure she would tear her finger off, but the ring held tight.
Do not give up! Beel cried.
“It’s not moving,” she growled.
Harder! Beel cried.
Need more people … more magic, Ruby thought. Yet, still she pushed the spell, straining, trying to force it. She felt the magic draining away, fading as though used up. Her vision blurred, the room began to spin. She swooned and fell to her knees.
The song sputtered to an end, leaving everyone staring at each other with dazed and confused looks.
* * *
It’s me, Richard.
I hit the brakes.
“Whoa,” I cried, as I caught the song, Ruby’s song. “Hallelujah!” Tears, actual tears, sprung from my eyes. I’d been driving around all day, searching for her, sure I’d lost her, unable to contemplate what I’d do if I had.
I focused, concentrated, again that game of hotter-colder as I drove up and down, round and round different streets and blocks, getting closer and closer, my heart strumming as the song grew stronger.
I drove past a nightclub. She was there, had to be. I could feel the song in my chest now.
I turned around and pulled into the parking lot behind the place and—bingo! I spotted the black Cadillac. I pulled up next to it and—there she was! There … she … was! Just leaning against the wall, next to the back door all by herself, like a gift, like a flower waiting to be picked.
My fingers twitched, aching to squeeze her slender neck, crush her windpipe as she tried to scream, tried to beg me to stop.
I glanced around, couldn’t believe my luck, couldn’t believe there was no one else to be seen.
I cut the engine, reached behind the seat, groping blindly for my bag, afraid to take my eyes off her for even a second. I tugged out the pepper spray and my hammer. Found my cap and sunglasses, put them on.
I stomped the parking brake into place and hopped out, heading right for her.
She seemed drunk, or stoned, or something, staring at the ground, her hands trembling as she took a drag off her cigarette. I hoped the pepper spray would be enough, but had the hammer for backup. Only I needed to be careful. Knocking someone out isn’t like in the movies. You’re more likely to kill them. Trust me, I learned that one the hard way. And I didn’t want to kill her, not yet. Just get her into the van.
I was about thirty feet away when all the sudden a woman with blonde matted hair came running around the corner, heading straight for Ruby. She clutched a large screwdriver, holding it up like she was about to stab someone, and that someone was Ruby.
“Look out!” I shouted, dashing forward.
The woman lunged for Ruby, bringing the screwdriver down with all her might, aiming for her face.
Ruby dodged left, and the screwdriver hit the wall beside her head, taking a chip out of the cinder block. The woman fell onto her, screaming, wailing, clawing, and stabbing over and over.
“No!” I cried and rushed up behind the woman, slamming the hammer against the back of her skull. There came an awful crack, and she went limp. I followed with two more blows.
“Hey!” someone shouted. People were rushing down the hall.
Ruby’s face was smeared with blood, but she was alive. I started to hit her with the hammer, some voice deep within me screaming to kill her, kill her now.
“No,” I cried. “Not like this!” I wanted more, so much more than simple murder. I wanted to chew her flesh, drink her blood, hear her screams.
I turned and ran, slipping around the corner, melting into the night.
* * *
Ruby sat on Tina’s couch, her head bandaged. There’d been a lot of blood, but the slashes across her forehead and scalp had ended up not needing stiches. She and Tina were watching the morning edition of CNN Headline News on a thirteen-inch TV and despite the fuzzy picture, the reporter was coming through loud and clear.
“In our ongoing Special Investigation report on the effects of nihilistic music on our youth culture, we feel it’s important to bring to your attention an incident that hits close to home for all of us working here, in our Atlanta offices,” the reporter stated as the camera rolled across the front of the club. “Last night the Atlanta punk rock club 688 was the scene of a tragic murder.” The screen switched to the back of the club, where police and EMT lights were flashing off the walls.
“Christ on a cracker!” Tina cried. “Look! There we are!”
It started as a wide shot of Tina holding Ruby, then zoomed right in on Ruby’s face. Even with her new haircut and streaks of blood, Ruby knew she’d be recognizable to anyone back home.
“That’s national news, right?”
Tina nodded. “Boy, do we look like trouble.”
The reporter continued. “Two women were attacked in the parking lot, one sustaining life-threatening injuries, the other died at the scene due to a traumatic head wound.”
“Life-threatening my ass,” Tina sneered. “Not my Ruby, she’s too tough to die.”
“The assailant, a white male, no other details at this time, escaped the scene.”
“That’s not at all what happened,” Ruby snapped. “The woman attacked me. It was the guy who saved me.”
“Sources have it, one of the victims is the lead singer of a local punk rock band called the Night Mares.”
“Hey,” Tina said. “We got called out. That’s good … no, great! Folks gonna wanna know more about us.”
No, Ruby thought, not good at all. She thought of her mother, then of Pam. God, I need to call Pam. She grimaced. Shit. What am I gonna say to her? That I got her father killed by demons? A wave of sorrow flooded her heart, and in that moment, she felt willing to do about anything to be able to listen to Barbra Streisand albums with Josh again.
“Is this one more incident driven by satanic cults infiltrating our youth?” the reporter asked. “Our sources confirm that much of the music played at this club makes some reference to the occult, as well as murder and self-mutilation.”
The camera scanned the crowd, zooming in on some of the more intense-looking punks, while the reporter droned on about how their dangerous lifestyle was fueling drug abuse and violence nationwide. She speculated on drug use as a possible motivator in this incident, how many concerned citizens felt such clubs should be shut down, and on, and on, and on.
“Oh, kiss my ass!” Tina shouted at the TV. “Of course they’re gonna pin this on us. Some crazy junkie attacks you and somehow, it’s the punks that are the psychopaths. Damn woman wasn’t even part of the scene. Hate the stupid news! Bunch of morons.” She turned the channel to Captain Kangaroo and began pacing.
Ruby dug a cigarette out of her pocket, lit it, and took a long deep drag. And despite everything, found she still had room to hate herself a little for not being able to kick this nasty habit.
“Alright, Ruby dear, let me get this straight. You said it worked. The ‘Evil in Me’ song. It made magic, or called the magic. Right?”
Ruby nodded. “Yeah.”
“Just not enough magic.”
Ruby shrugged. “That’s what it felt like.”
“Sounds like we need a larger crowd then. More people, more—” Tina stopped. “Hey! No! No sir!” She stomped over to her bed where Vutto lay curled up beneath the covers. She kicked the mattress. “Hey! Get out of my bed!”
Vutto seemed not to hear her, responding with a deep nasal snore. A string of drool dripped from the side of his mouth right onto Tina’s pillow.
“Aw yuck! Gross!” She grabbed the end of the blanket and gave it a tug. Vutto, eyes still closed like in a dream, snarled, his face twisting into something dreadful and terrifying.
Tina fell back a step. “Fuck, did you see that?”
“Just … just stay away from him,” Ruby said.
Vutto’s face softened and he resumed snoring.
Look at his scar, Beel said. It grows ever smaller. He will soon lose control. Do you hear them? The worms?
Ruby did, faintly.
Lord Sheelbeth is trying to punch through. To get to Vutto. We are running out of time.
Ruby glanced at her gloved hand.
Show me.
Ruby slid the glove down. Her whole hand was black now, but that wasn’t what scared her most. It was how thin the film of blood covering the ring had become. Her efforts to dislodge it had only served to scrape off more of the coating.
Tina’s right, Ruby said within. Don’t you think? We just need more people? But at least it worked … a little. That’s something.
Yes, that is indeed something. I will admit, I am amazed. Perhaps with more people singing, it just might work. Only, how many more? A hundred, two hundred, several thousand? I can only guess. Human magic is so weak.
Tina took a long sip of her coffee, began pacing again. “If we want more people to sing along, we need to get them to our show.” She snapped her fingers. “That song is magic, literally. I’m betting if we can get some airplay, we’ll have a packed house.”
“Another gig?” Ruby mumbled, suddenly finding it hard to keep her eyes open. “Where?”
“Let me handle that. Why don’t you take a nap. You look beat-up and worn-out.”
Ruby nodded, stubbed out her cigarette, and lay down on the couch. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired.
Tina draped a blanket over her. “’Night, shug. I’m gonna go make some calls. See what I can make happen.”
Ruby felt like she’d only just shut her eyes, when Tina’s excited voice woke her back up.
“Hey, Ruby Dooby Doo, got some news for you!”
Ruby sat up, blinking.
“Okay, first, the Metroplex is all over this. Dan caught the news. Turns out getting stabbed by that nutjob wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. He thinks it’ll be a hoot having us open for Smuthouse. Did you hear me? Smuthouse! They’re gonna bring in a large crowd, a really large crowd!”
“When?”
“The gig’s tomorrow night, babe. The only problem is, we go on first … first of three bands. So, we gotta get folks there early. Y’know how it is at those shows. No one shows up for the first band.”
Ruby rubbed her eyes. “How we gonna do that?”
“I’ve got a friend down at WREK. I’m sure he’ll give us a play. But first … first we gotta get over to the church and record the song.”
“Church?”
“Yeah, Andre’s got a recording studio there. He recorded the Battz. I mean it’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do the trick.”
“You wanna take Vutto into a church?”
“What could go wrong?”
“Oh, boy.”
“It’ll be fine. Just fine. Trust me.”
* * *
Eduardo checked his watch. Martha had the night shift again, but should be on her way home by now.
He went to the bedroom, pulled out his duffel bag, dropped in a combat knife, brass knuckles, pepper spray, two pairs of handcuffs, and finally his handgun, a 9mm Glock. He added a box of ammo, started to zip it up, then decided to toss in another, because it was always better to be prepared than not.
When Martha finally pulled in, Eduardo greeted her at the door.
“What is it?” she asked. “Did you hear from Ruby?”
“Sorta.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you.”
Eduardo led her into the living room and pressed play on the VCR.
The CNN playback jittered onto the screen. He’d caught it that morning, nearly choking on his Pop-Tart when it first came on. When the segment came on again at the top of the hour, he recorded the whole thing, including that annoying commercial with the dancing raisins.
As soon as Ruby came on the screen, he hit pause.
Martha let out a cry. “Oh, baby. Oh, my little girl!” She touched Ruby’s face on the screen. “God, look at all that blood!” Martha tugged her keys back out of her purse. “We gotta find her. Did they say which hospital she’s at?”
Eduardo caught her by the shoulders. “Martha, hold up. Listen.”
Martha pushed past, heading for the door.
“Martha, I called the Atlanta Police.”
Martha stopped; he had her full attention.
“She’s not hurt.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you see all that blood?”
“I mean, she escaped with only minor injuries. She didn’t even need to go to the hospital.”
Martha let out a loud breath of relief. “Oh, thank God! But we still need to go get her.”
No, Eduardo thought. I need to go get her, this is my big break, my big chance.
Eduardo currently worked part-time armed security down at the Coffee County Landfill, which was as close as he could get to law enforcement at the moment. Frankly, it was an embarrassment, but at least he got to carry a piece on the job, which counted toward law enforcement experience. His father had spent his whole life in law enforcement, recently retiring from his position as Captain at the Enterprise Police Department. Eduardo’s older brother, Carlos, had been on the force almost fifteen years, something that made Eduardo proud and jealous at the same time, because there wasn’t anything Eduardo wanted more than to follow in his family’s footsteps. But Eduardo would never be able to join the force, because Eduardo had a felony on his record.
Eduardo decided if he couldn’t bring in the crooks as a cop, he’d bring them in as a bounty hunter. But first he needed a license and, again, his felony proved a problem. Only with bounty hunters, there was a work-around—you just needed approval from the county sheriff. Since the Sheriff and Eduardo’s father were fishing buddies from way back, Eduardo got his license.
Eduardo soon found out that the fine folks down at Baily’s Bonds didn’t hire someone just because they had a business card with BOUNTY HUNTER printed on it. No, they were looking for experience, a reputation. Eduardo had neither. But he was pretty sure Ruby was about to change all that for him.
“I agree,” he said to Martha. “Someone does need to go get Ruby. But there’s more to it.” He pulled out a chair. “Here, have a seat. Let me fill you in.”
Martha didn’t sit, just locked worried eyes on him.
“Like I said, I talked to the police. Made several calls around Atlanta.” What Eduardo left out was that the police sergeant wouldn’t tell him much of anything, and the only other place he’d called was the 688 Club, and only got an answering machine. “Still following up on a few leads, but I need to tell you, it sure sounds like Ruby has fallen in with a bad crowd. This group could be really dangerous.”
“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go get her, now. Right now. Get her the hell out of there!”
“I’m on it. Already packed. But … well, Martha, gotta tell you straight. I don’t think it’d be good for you to go.” What he really wanted to say was he was looking forward to seeing everyone’s faces down at the station when he brought Ruby in, especially his brother, Carlos. Especially since Ruby had escaped right out from under all their noses. He did not want to show up with Martha. God, he’d never hear the end of it. Eduardo and Martha, the bounty hunting dynamic duo.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“First we gotta find her,” he said. “Could take days, weeks. Can you afford to take two weeks off work right now?” He knew she couldn’t.
“I don’t care about that. This is my daughter.”
“Sure, I understand. But time away ain’t the half of it. What I’m leading to is Ruby isn’t gonna want to come home. You know that. She’s a grown woman, you can’t make her … but I can.” He flashed his bounty hunter license. “There’s a warrant out for her arrest, for what she done to that Stacy girl, for breaking probation, leaving the state, and a dozen other things. So, if I can find her, I can bring her in, legally. And by force if need be.”
Martha shook her head. “Don’t feel right, me staying behind. She’s my daughter.”
“These thugs she’s hanging out with, they’re like a cult or something. Into all kinds of drugs and weird satanic rituals. Like to cut themselves, sniff glue, prostitution and so on. Not trying to scare you,” he said, knowing that he was. “But think about all that crazy Charlie Manson shit that went down a while back.”
“Charlie Manson?” Martha exclaimed. “What does Manson have to do with anything? What are you even talking about?”
“Where’ve you been? It’s all over the news these days. These kids playing them demonic games, listening to Devil music. It’s especially bad in them big cities. Have you had a look around Ruby’s room lately?”
Martha put her hand to her mouth.
“Listen,” he said. “Let me make it simple. You being there is gonna make things messy. Ratchet everything up emotionally. Can’t you see that? Gonna make a volatile situation all the more volatile. If it’s just me, I go in fast, flash my badge, grab her and get out, bring her home. Law will be on my side. Anyone get in my way and I deal with them legally. You get involved and the law gets muddy.”
He could see she didn’t like it, could also see he was scaring her, which was good.
“Most of all, I don’t want to have to worry about you getting hurt. You’re not trained. You being there would put everyone in danger. Might get Ruby, or me, hurt … killed even. Is that what you want?”
Now, Beel urged. The ring!
The ring! Ruby thought, forcing herself to focus, to push the magic toward the ring, just like at David’s house. And just like at David’s house, the spell set to the ring.
The ring grew warm, then hot.
Ruby never stopped singing, just let go of the bass and pushed the glove up, exposing the ring. She grabbed it, gave it a tug. The ring twisted a notch.
It moved! Beel exclaimed. By the gods, it moved!
Tina gave Ruby a concerned look, but kept playing, she and Vutto keeping the chorus going.
Ruby tried again, tugging and tugging until she was sure she would tear her finger off, but the ring held tight.
Do not give up! Beel cried.
“It’s not moving,” she growled.
Harder! Beel cried.
Need more people … more magic, Ruby thought. Yet, still she pushed the spell, straining, trying to force it. She felt the magic draining away, fading as though used up. Her vision blurred, the room began to spin. She swooned and fell to her knees.
The song sputtered to an end, leaving everyone staring at each other with dazed and confused looks.
* * *
It’s me, Richard.
I hit the brakes.
“Whoa,” I cried, as I caught the song, Ruby’s song. “Hallelujah!” Tears, actual tears, sprung from my eyes. I’d been driving around all day, searching for her, sure I’d lost her, unable to contemplate what I’d do if I had.
I focused, concentrated, again that game of hotter-colder as I drove up and down, round and round different streets and blocks, getting closer and closer, my heart strumming as the song grew stronger.
I drove past a nightclub. She was there, had to be. I could feel the song in my chest now.
I turned around and pulled into the parking lot behind the place and—bingo! I spotted the black Cadillac. I pulled up next to it and—there she was! There … she … was! Just leaning against the wall, next to the back door all by herself, like a gift, like a flower waiting to be picked.
My fingers twitched, aching to squeeze her slender neck, crush her windpipe as she tried to scream, tried to beg me to stop.
I glanced around, couldn’t believe my luck, couldn’t believe there was no one else to be seen.
I cut the engine, reached behind the seat, groping blindly for my bag, afraid to take my eyes off her for even a second. I tugged out the pepper spray and my hammer. Found my cap and sunglasses, put them on.
I stomped the parking brake into place and hopped out, heading right for her.
She seemed drunk, or stoned, or something, staring at the ground, her hands trembling as she took a drag off her cigarette. I hoped the pepper spray would be enough, but had the hammer for backup. Only I needed to be careful. Knocking someone out isn’t like in the movies. You’re more likely to kill them. Trust me, I learned that one the hard way. And I didn’t want to kill her, not yet. Just get her into the van.
I was about thirty feet away when all the sudden a woman with blonde matted hair came running around the corner, heading straight for Ruby. She clutched a large screwdriver, holding it up like she was about to stab someone, and that someone was Ruby.
“Look out!” I shouted, dashing forward.
The woman lunged for Ruby, bringing the screwdriver down with all her might, aiming for her face.
Ruby dodged left, and the screwdriver hit the wall beside her head, taking a chip out of the cinder block. The woman fell onto her, screaming, wailing, clawing, and stabbing over and over.
“No!” I cried and rushed up behind the woman, slamming the hammer against the back of her skull. There came an awful crack, and she went limp. I followed with two more blows.
“Hey!” someone shouted. People were rushing down the hall.
Ruby’s face was smeared with blood, but she was alive. I started to hit her with the hammer, some voice deep within me screaming to kill her, kill her now.
“No,” I cried. “Not like this!” I wanted more, so much more than simple murder. I wanted to chew her flesh, drink her blood, hear her screams.
I turned and ran, slipping around the corner, melting into the night.
* * *
Ruby sat on Tina’s couch, her head bandaged. There’d been a lot of blood, but the slashes across her forehead and scalp had ended up not needing stiches. She and Tina were watching the morning edition of CNN Headline News on a thirteen-inch TV and despite the fuzzy picture, the reporter was coming through loud and clear.
“In our ongoing Special Investigation report on the effects of nihilistic music on our youth culture, we feel it’s important to bring to your attention an incident that hits close to home for all of us working here, in our Atlanta offices,” the reporter stated as the camera rolled across the front of the club. “Last night the Atlanta punk rock club 688 was the scene of a tragic murder.” The screen switched to the back of the club, where police and EMT lights were flashing off the walls.
“Christ on a cracker!” Tina cried. “Look! There we are!”
It started as a wide shot of Tina holding Ruby, then zoomed right in on Ruby’s face. Even with her new haircut and streaks of blood, Ruby knew she’d be recognizable to anyone back home.
“That’s national news, right?”
Tina nodded. “Boy, do we look like trouble.”
The reporter continued. “Two women were attacked in the parking lot, one sustaining life-threatening injuries, the other died at the scene due to a traumatic head wound.”
“Life-threatening my ass,” Tina sneered. “Not my Ruby, she’s too tough to die.”
“The assailant, a white male, no other details at this time, escaped the scene.”
“That’s not at all what happened,” Ruby snapped. “The woman attacked me. It was the guy who saved me.”
“Sources have it, one of the victims is the lead singer of a local punk rock band called the Night Mares.”
“Hey,” Tina said. “We got called out. That’s good … no, great! Folks gonna wanna know more about us.”
No, Ruby thought, not good at all. She thought of her mother, then of Pam. God, I need to call Pam. She grimaced. Shit. What am I gonna say to her? That I got her father killed by demons? A wave of sorrow flooded her heart, and in that moment, she felt willing to do about anything to be able to listen to Barbra Streisand albums with Josh again.
“Is this one more incident driven by satanic cults infiltrating our youth?” the reporter asked. “Our sources confirm that much of the music played at this club makes some reference to the occult, as well as murder and self-mutilation.”
The camera scanned the crowd, zooming in on some of the more intense-looking punks, while the reporter droned on about how their dangerous lifestyle was fueling drug abuse and violence nationwide. She speculated on drug use as a possible motivator in this incident, how many concerned citizens felt such clubs should be shut down, and on, and on, and on.
“Oh, kiss my ass!” Tina shouted at the TV. “Of course they’re gonna pin this on us. Some crazy junkie attacks you and somehow, it’s the punks that are the psychopaths. Damn woman wasn’t even part of the scene. Hate the stupid news! Bunch of morons.” She turned the channel to Captain Kangaroo and began pacing.
Ruby dug a cigarette out of her pocket, lit it, and took a long deep drag. And despite everything, found she still had room to hate herself a little for not being able to kick this nasty habit.
“Alright, Ruby dear, let me get this straight. You said it worked. The ‘Evil in Me’ song. It made magic, or called the magic. Right?”
Ruby nodded. “Yeah.”
“Just not enough magic.”
Ruby shrugged. “That’s what it felt like.”
“Sounds like we need a larger crowd then. More people, more—” Tina stopped. “Hey! No! No sir!” She stomped over to her bed where Vutto lay curled up beneath the covers. She kicked the mattress. “Hey! Get out of my bed!”
Vutto seemed not to hear her, responding with a deep nasal snore. A string of drool dripped from the side of his mouth right onto Tina’s pillow.
“Aw yuck! Gross!” She grabbed the end of the blanket and gave it a tug. Vutto, eyes still closed like in a dream, snarled, his face twisting into something dreadful and terrifying.
Tina fell back a step. “Fuck, did you see that?”
“Just … just stay away from him,” Ruby said.
Vutto’s face softened and he resumed snoring.
Look at his scar, Beel said. It grows ever smaller. He will soon lose control. Do you hear them? The worms?
Ruby did, faintly.
Lord Sheelbeth is trying to punch through. To get to Vutto. We are running out of time.
Ruby glanced at her gloved hand.
Show me.
Ruby slid the glove down. Her whole hand was black now, but that wasn’t what scared her most. It was how thin the film of blood covering the ring had become. Her efforts to dislodge it had only served to scrape off more of the coating.
Tina’s right, Ruby said within. Don’t you think? We just need more people? But at least it worked … a little. That’s something.
Yes, that is indeed something. I will admit, I am amazed. Perhaps with more people singing, it just might work. Only, how many more? A hundred, two hundred, several thousand? I can only guess. Human magic is so weak.
Tina took a long sip of her coffee, began pacing again. “If we want more people to sing along, we need to get them to our show.” She snapped her fingers. “That song is magic, literally. I’m betting if we can get some airplay, we’ll have a packed house.”
“Another gig?” Ruby mumbled, suddenly finding it hard to keep her eyes open. “Where?”
“Let me handle that. Why don’t you take a nap. You look beat-up and worn-out.”
Ruby nodded, stubbed out her cigarette, and lay down on the couch. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired.
Tina draped a blanket over her. “’Night, shug. I’m gonna go make some calls. See what I can make happen.”
Ruby felt like she’d only just shut her eyes, when Tina’s excited voice woke her back up.
“Hey, Ruby Dooby Doo, got some news for you!”
Ruby sat up, blinking.
“Okay, first, the Metroplex is all over this. Dan caught the news. Turns out getting stabbed by that nutjob wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. He thinks it’ll be a hoot having us open for Smuthouse. Did you hear me? Smuthouse! They’re gonna bring in a large crowd, a really large crowd!”
“When?”
“The gig’s tomorrow night, babe. The only problem is, we go on first … first of three bands. So, we gotta get folks there early. Y’know how it is at those shows. No one shows up for the first band.”
Ruby rubbed her eyes. “How we gonna do that?”
“I’ve got a friend down at WREK. I’m sure he’ll give us a play. But first … first we gotta get over to the church and record the song.”
“Church?”
“Yeah, Andre’s got a recording studio there. He recorded the Battz. I mean it’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do the trick.”
“You wanna take Vutto into a church?”
“What could go wrong?”
“Oh, boy.”
“It’ll be fine. Just fine. Trust me.”
* * *
Eduardo checked his watch. Martha had the night shift again, but should be on her way home by now.
He went to the bedroom, pulled out his duffel bag, dropped in a combat knife, brass knuckles, pepper spray, two pairs of handcuffs, and finally his handgun, a 9mm Glock. He added a box of ammo, started to zip it up, then decided to toss in another, because it was always better to be prepared than not.
When Martha finally pulled in, Eduardo greeted her at the door.
“What is it?” she asked. “Did you hear from Ruby?”
“Sorta.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you.”
Eduardo led her into the living room and pressed play on the VCR.
The CNN playback jittered onto the screen. He’d caught it that morning, nearly choking on his Pop-Tart when it first came on. When the segment came on again at the top of the hour, he recorded the whole thing, including that annoying commercial with the dancing raisins.
As soon as Ruby came on the screen, he hit pause.
Martha let out a cry. “Oh, baby. Oh, my little girl!” She touched Ruby’s face on the screen. “God, look at all that blood!” Martha tugged her keys back out of her purse. “We gotta find her. Did they say which hospital she’s at?”
Eduardo caught her by the shoulders. “Martha, hold up. Listen.”
Martha pushed past, heading for the door.
“Martha, I called the Atlanta Police.”
Martha stopped; he had her full attention.
“She’s not hurt.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you see all that blood?”
“I mean, she escaped with only minor injuries. She didn’t even need to go to the hospital.”
Martha let out a loud breath of relief. “Oh, thank God! But we still need to go get her.”
No, Eduardo thought. I need to go get her, this is my big break, my big chance.
Eduardo currently worked part-time armed security down at the Coffee County Landfill, which was as close as he could get to law enforcement at the moment. Frankly, it was an embarrassment, but at least he got to carry a piece on the job, which counted toward law enforcement experience. His father had spent his whole life in law enforcement, recently retiring from his position as Captain at the Enterprise Police Department. Eduardo’s older brother, Carlos, had been on the force almost fifteen years, something that made Eduardo proud and jealous at the same time, because there wasn’t anything Eduardo wanted more than to follow in his family’s footsteps. But Eduardo would never be able to join the force, because Eduardo had a felony on his record.
Eduardo decided if he couldn’t bring in the crooks as a cop, he’d bring them in as a bounty hunter. But first he needed a license and, again, his felony proved a problem. Only with bounty hunters, there was a work-around—you just needed approval from the county sheriff. Since the Sheriff and Eduardo’s father were fishing buddies from way back, Eduardo got his license.
Eduardo soon found out that the fine folks down at Baily’s Bonds didn’t hire someone just because they had a business card with BOUNTY HUNTER printed on it. No, they were looking for experience, a reputation. Eduardo had neither. But he was pretty sure Ruby was about to change all that for him.
“I agree,” he said to Martha. “Someone does need to go get Ruby. But there’s more to it.” He pulled out a chair. “Here, have a seat. Let me fill you in.”
Martha didn’t sit, just locked worried eyes on him.
“Like I said, I talked to the police. Made several calls around Atlanta.” What Eduardo left out was that the police sergeant wouldn’t tell him much of anything, and the only other place he’d called was the 688 Club, and only got an answering machine. “Still following up on a few leads, but I need to tell you, it sure sounds like Ruby has fallen in with a bad crowd. This group could be really dangerous.”
“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go get her, now. Right now. Get her the hell out of there!”
“I’m on it. Already packed. But … well, Martha, gotta tell you straight. I don’t think it’d be good for you to go.” What he really wanted to say was he was looking forward to seeing everyone’s faces down at the station when he brought Ruby in, especially his brother, Carlos. Especially since Ruby had escaped right out from under all their noses. He did not want to show up with Martha. God, he’d never hear the end of it. Eduardo and Martha, the bounty hunting dynamic duo.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“First we gotta find her,” he said. “Could take days, weeks. Can you afford to take two weeks off work right now?” He knew she couldn’t.
“I don’t care about that. This is my daughter.”
“Sure, I understand. But time away ain’t the half of it. What I’m leading to is Ruby isn’t gonna want to come home. You know that. She’s a grown woman, you can’t make her … but I can.” He flashed his bounty hunter license. “There’s a warrant out for her arrest, for what she done to that Stacy girl, for breaking probation, leaving the state, and a dozen other things. So, if I can find her, I can bring her in, legally. And by force if need be.”
Martha shook her head. “Don’t feel right, me staying behind. She’s my daughter.”
“These thugs she’s hanging out with, they’re like a cult or something. Into all kinds of drugs and weird satanic rituals. Like to cut themselves, sniff glue, prostitution and so on. Not trying to scare you,” he said, knowing that he was. “But think about all that crazy Charlie Manson shit that went down a while back.”
“Charlie Manson?” Martha exclaimed. “What does Manson have to do with anything? What are you even talking about?”
“Where’ve you been? It’s all over the news these days. These kids playing them demonic games, listening to Devil music. It’s especially bad in them big cities. Have you had a look around Ruby’s room lately?”
Martha put her hand to her mouth.
“Listen,” he said. “Let me make it simple. You being there is gonna make things messy. Ratchet everything up emotionally. Can’t you see that? Gonna make a volatile situation all the more volatile. If it’s just me, I go in fast, flash my badge, grab her and get out, bring her home. Law will be on my side. Anyone get in my way and I deal with them legally. You get involved and the law gets muddy.”
He could see she didn’t like it, could also see he was scaring her, which was good.
“Most of all, I don’t want to have to worry about you getting hurt. You’re not trained. You being there would put everyone in danger. Might get Ruby, or me, hurt … killed even. Is that what you want?”
