Secrets of St. Joe, page 19
Sally stared at the doctor for a moment and then looked as though she had made a decision.
“I’ll make a deal with you then,” she said. “If you survive this and promise to keep your mouth shut about my involvement, I’ll tell you a secret.”
“A secret?”
“Yes, I have some information that you might find interesting.”
“What?”
“If I tell you, will you promise to keep your mouth shut about me? If not for my sake, for my kids’?”
“Okay, I’ll keep quiet. What is it that you know?”
“You promise?”
“Yes, damn it, I promise.”
“I know where Annie is.”
“What?”
“When Sheriff Batson was looking into your past, he not only found out about your morphine habit—when exactly were you going to tell me about that, by the way?—he also found your long-lost wife.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure. He had friends with all kinds of records in all kinds of places.”
“Where is she?”
“Not a word about me to anyone?”
“Not a word, I swear. Where?”
“Remember, you cross me on this, all your friends are dead,” she said, staring at the doctor. “Understood?”
“Yes.”
“One more thing: no police. I don’t want to chance Lucky confessing to any lawman. I don’t think he would, but you never know. But I do know that Lucky will kill them immediately if he sees any lawman.”
“So they’re still alive?”
“Only if you go alone.”
“Where?”
“Kenney Mill.”
“And Annie?”
“You promise, no police, no more talking about me?”
“Yes, yes, where is she?”
“The Florence Crittenden Home in Charleston.”
The doctor was up and out of his chair before she finished speaking, but as he was descending the stairs he heard her call, “Van, wait … I love you too.”
He just kept right on going.
Chapter 29
The doctor had to find a gun fast. He drove over to Bob Huggins’ house at the end of St. Joseph Drive and found him pushing a lawn mower across his yard and sweating profusely. He explained his situation to the lawyer.
“Doc, I’ll be damned if you don’t get yourself into the weirdest predicaments I’ve ever heard of. How do you do that?”
“I don’t know. I have a talent, I guess. Can you loan me your shotgun or not?”
“It’s against my better judgment,” Huggins said, wiping his face with his handkerchief. “And, as your attorney, I’m advising you against it.”
“Bob, it’s Jewel and her kid, for Christ’s sake. Come on!”
“Okay, wait here. But I never saw you today.”
“Not a glimpse.”
With the gun and a box of shells, the doctor drove toward the Kenney Mill, wondering where Gabriel and Django and Gator were. He didn’t have time to track them down. He just wanted to get to Jewel and Marcus before it was too late.
The Kenney Mill looked abandoned as he drove up through the mountains of logs and parked in front of the little pine cottage that served as the mill’s office. There were two other buildings: the long, narrow sawmill shed where he had treated the man with the amputated hand and a two-story barn behind the mill. He loaded the shotgun, released the safety, and stepped up onto the porch of the office building. He tried to open the front door, but it was locked. He looked in the windows on each side of the door, but it was dark inside and the windows wouldn’t budge. He walked around the cottage, peering in each dark window, until he got to the back and tried the back door. It too was locked.
The sawmill and the office were the two buildings that were used daily so it was unlikely that Lucky was hiding in either of these or else he would have been noticed by the mill workers. The doctor had never been in the windowless barn in back so he didn’t know if there might be a hiding place in there, but it seemed the mostly likely spot. He walked all the way around the big barn and determined that there was only the one door. He slowly tried to open it, but it was locked too.
Before he started shooting locks off and alerting Lucky to his presence, he decided to check the sawmill. The windowless mill was a high, untreated clapboard building about fifty feet long with big swinging doors at both ends to allow logging trucks in and out. Both doors were closed and secured with heavy chains and padlocks. The doctor stood at the rear door, the one nearest to the barn, and listened. He didn’t hear a sound coming from any of the buildings or from the scrub thickets surrounding them. He waited in the midday sun, thinking that Lucilla might show himself or that some clue might materialize. But nothing happened. He stood there alone, becoming more and more fearful by the moment.
He had to do something. He walked over to the barn’s heavy door and aimed his shotgun at the lock. He backed off a few steps so the pellets wouldn’t ricochet off the door and hit him, aimed again, and pulled the trigger. The door sprung open, and the doctor cautiously peered in. All he could see was a shaft of light streaming from the door down a narrow aisle, lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. He stepped inside and thought he heard something at the back of the building. He tiptoed down the aisle toward the noise. As he got further into the barn, the sunlight shining through the door began to fade, but his sight was beginning to adjust to the gloom. He heard another noise, like scratching on the floor, so he moved more rapidly down the aisle toward it. A gray rat sprung from the darkness and crossed his path, stopping his heart. And then everything went black.
When he awoke, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but it was apparently long enough for someone to move him to the sawmill, and tie him to a chair, and gag him. He turned and saw Jewel and, next to her, Marcus, both tied and gagged. Jewel’s eyes were filled with fear and tears, her white dress soiled and wrinkled. Marcus had his eyes closed and, despite his gag, was sobbing uncontrollably. The doctor tried to move his hands and feet, but they were tied too tightly to the chair. He might be able to push the chair over, but then what? All he could think to do was to continue wiggling his hands and wrists in hopes of somehow loosening the ropes. Jewel peered pleadingly at him while Marcus continued to cry.
They all jerked when they heard the lightning snap and then a rumble of thunder rolling across the bay. The rain began a minute later, pounding madly on the tin roof above them. And then the wind came in angry gusts against the sawmill’s walls.
The doctor was not sure how long this deluge continued before Lucky Lucilla appeared before him. He was tall and lanky, with wild green eyes and a full head of black, unruly hair. He wore blue cotton work clothes and heavy, steel-toed boots and cradled the doctor’s shotgun in his hairy arms. He spoke in a hoarse whisper that made the doctor tremble.
“Welcome to the slaughterhouse,” he sneered as the gale hammered the walls and the rain continued to pummel the roof in wave after relentless wave. “What took you so long?”
The doctor tried to speak, but the gag was as tight as the ropes. All he could do was shake his head and make angry, growling, incomprehensible noises.
“When I couldn’t find you at your house,” Lucilla continued, “I figured I’d lure you out. I knew if I couldn’t find you, you’d find me—and your friends here—sooner or later.”
The doctor shook his head violently in the direction of Jewel and Marcus. Lucky Lucilla just looked at them and snorted.
“Oh, they ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he grunted. “Once I tied the boy on the crosscut sled and started the saw, she told me all she knows about me and Sally … and it’s way too much. Too bad the boy had to hear it too, ’cause now all three of you gotta go.”
The doctor struggled with all his strength to break free as the howling wind and drenching rain shook the building and rattled its roof. A deafening clap of thunder cracked above them just as Lucilla raised his gun butt and slammed it into the doctor’s jaw. The pain went through his head and down his spine. He felt the loose teeth with his tongue and tasted the blood as it mounted in his mouth and rolled down his chin. For a moment he thought he would lose consciousness, but he could still see Lucilla standing blearily before him through the tears.
“Okay, who goes first?” he growled, looking from the doctor to Jewel and then to Marcus. “I was thinkin’ the boy, so’s I can see the look on your faces. Which part of his puny, little body you think we should start with? His head? How ’bout a foot? Maybe an arm?”
Jewel was screaming mutely through her gag, tears streaming down her face. Marcus, defeated, just hung his head and whimpered. Lucilla, seemingly tired of talking, moved fast. First, he went to the wall and pulled a large red switch, and then another one under the saw platform, and still another next to the saw itself, and suddenly the big circular saw, at eye level before them, came to life with a high, whirling, howling scream, all but drowning out the storm that continued to swell around them. Lucilla rushed to Marcus and picked him up, chair and all, and carried him to the in-feed table next to the saw. He then untied him, slammed him onto the crosscut sled, and strapped him down with the heavy leather restraints so that his right arm was out in the path of the saw. Then, with a vulgar grin, he slowly pushed the sled toward the spinning saw’s hungry teeth.
Lucilla’s eyes were wide and frenzied as he shoved the sled forward. Marcus strained and looked away. Jewel continued her muffled scream. And the doctor closed his eyes and prayed, to what God he did not know.
Then everything stopped, except the wind and rain outside, and everything was black. The saw was silent, the lights went off, and the rain continued to batter the building in sheet after incessant sheet. In that moment, the doctor, for the first time in his life, found himself, he was sure, in the presence of God.
But it was Gabriel and Django, not God, whom he saw next, flinging open the wide door at the front of the mill and rushing forward, each with a flashlight in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Gabriel ran down the side of the table saw where the doctor had last seen Lucky. Django came toward the doctor and Jewel. When he reached them, he dropped his gun and fished a pocket knife from his pants pocket and started cutting the ropes around the doctor’s wrists.
Then a shot rang out on the other side of the saw. A bolt of lightning struck nearby and a flash of light momentarily streamed through the open door. The doctor saw no Gabriel, but he did see Lucilla atop the table that held the saw, coming fast toward them. Django had apparently seen him too because he swung the beam of his flashlight on him as Lucilla launched himself off the table and onto Django, whose flashlight flew across the floor. Then Lucilla picked up the flashlight and the doctor followed its beam as Lucilla shone it first on Django, who was lying still on the floor, then to Jewel, who was still tied to the chair with terror in her wet eyes, and then to the doctor, who was still in his chair, the ropes only partially cut before Django was attacked.
Then Lucilla shone the flashlight on Marcus, who was still strapped securely to the crosscut sled, his eyes wide with fright. The flashlight’s beam flickered to the other side of the table, but there was no Gabriel, who must have been shot when the gun went off.
Lucilla jumped up onto the table and shone the flashlight down on the floor on the other side of the table out of the doctor’s line of sight. He jumped down onto the floor, leaned over, and came back up with a shotgun in his hand. He slowly climbed back onto the table, stepped over Marcus, and faced the doctor and Jewel and Django, still lying on the floor. He was panting and his shirt was soaked with sweat, his eyes still wild and unfocused. He slowly raised the shotgun and nestled its butt against his right shoulder, holding in his left hand the barrel and the flashlight, its sharp beam blinding the doctor.
The doctor kicked the floor as hard as he could with both feet, and the chair fell over. He kicked and rolled with all his might. He heard the shot but didn’t feel any pain except in his shoulder where he had hit the floor. He was under the table now, he thought. It was too dark to know for sure. He could no longer see the beam of Lucilla’s flashlight. He lay there on his side on the hard dirt floor, listening and twisting his hands and wrists against the rope, which, with Django’s cuts, were beginning to give a little.
Suddenly he was blinded again as the lights in the mill blinked back on. Then the saw was humming and then twirling and then roaring at full speed. The doctor looked over and saw Jewel, still bound and crying in her chair. And then he heard footsteps coming across the dirt floor toward him. Oh, no. He struggled to get free.
“Easy, partner,” Gator said, leaning into his face and loosening his gag. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll cut them ropes.”
“Gator,” the doctor gasped as Gator began slashing the ropes around the doctor’s ankles. “Where have you been?”
“Better late than never,” he said.
Then Lucky Lucilla landed on top of Gator with a crushing thud. Gator rose and flung him to the floor, but Lucilla was up again before Gator could attack. The two stood toe to toe and swung viciously at one another. From his vantage point on the floor, the doctor couldn’t tell who was winning and who was losing. He only knew that there was blood and sweat flying everywhere and that he was finally beginning to slip out of his ropes. Then Gator fell to the dirt floor next to him, battered and bloody and unable to move.
The doctor looked over Gator’s head and saw Lucilla pushing himself up from the floor. He stumbled around the table saw and was soon back with a shotgun in his hands. He stood directly over the doctor and aimed at his head.
“Well, Doc,” he said with a malicious sneer. “This wasn’t exactly how I planned it. I wanted to watch your face while I sawed up your friends. But now that we’ve been interrupted, maybe I’ll just blow your head off and then shoot the rest, except maybe for the boy, of course, since I already got him tied to the in-feed table, and then maybe his mama too. But maybe you’d rather stay alive a little longer and watch. You ever seen what a saw like this one can do to human flesh? Quite a sight. On second thought, I think you might enjoy it.”
Then he lowered the shotgun and started back toward Marcus. The doctor kicked out his right foot, which he had finally wriggled free, and landed a hard shot on Lucilla’s left shin. Lucky looked down at the doctor in surprise and groaned in pain. The doctor kicked again … and again … and still again. Lucilla, backing away from the doctor and howling in anger and agony, dropped the gun, which landed on top of the table, where it slid toward the buzzing saw. He finally managed to stagger away from the doctor’s kicking attack and crawled up onto the table to retrieve the shotgun.
As Lucilla limped toward the gun, the doctor freed himself from the rest of the ropes. He looked for a weapon and saw Django’s pocket knife lying next to his body. He grabbed it and flung himself up onto the table with Lucilla, who had now reached the gun and was raising it to shoot. The doctor lunged at him with the knife and buried it in his side before Lucilla could get off a shot. The doctor felt the dampness of his victim’s blood, withdrew the knife, and wildly plunged it again as Lucilla pounded the doctor’s head and shoulders with the butt of the shotgun. Despite the pain, the doctor pulled the knife out and plunged it again in an adrenalin-charged rage. Lucilla continued to back up toward the buzzing saw as the doctor swung the pocket knife wildly toward him. When the doctor raised his arm to bury the knife in Lucilla’s heart, Lucilla slammed the butt of the shotgun squarely into the doctor’s forehead. He went down, and the knife slid casually across the table.
As Lucilla put the shotgun to his shoulder and aimed at the doctor’s head, the doctor heard a distant pop and saw a red hole appear in the middle of Lucilla’s sweating forehead. With a surprised look on his face, the madman lurched backwards and twisted around as his stomach crossed the whirling saw.
Chapter 30
Lucky Lucilla’s flesh and blood flew everywhere. The doctor went to Marcus first, slipping on a gory piece of Lucilla’s intestines. The boy had passed out, but he was breathing easily. He was covered with blood and pink pieces of the dissected man. The doctor left him strapped there for the time being, jumped off the table, and cut the power switches to the saw. Now the mill was quiet except for the constant pounding of rain on its tin roof.
He found Django’s knife, went to Jewel, removed her gag, and began cutting ropes.
“How’s Marcus?” she cried.
“He’s okay,” the doctor answered. “Out cold but unharmed. I hope he fainted before he saw what happened to Lucilla.”
Once loose, she rushed to her son and began releasing him from the leather restraints. The doctor found Django coming to and hurried on to Gator, who was still lying on the floor next to Django with a dazed look on his face.
“You okay, Gator?” the doctor asked him.
“Uh … I ain’t sure,” Gator moaned. “I ain’t never been hit that hard before.”
“Rest here. I’ll be right back. Let me check on Gabriel.”
The doctor hurried around the table saw and found Gabriel lying on the floor on the other side. He was covered in blood and gore and looked gray. The doctor felt for a pulse and found none. He put his ear to Gabriel’s bloody chest and felt nothing. Jewel ran around next to the doctor and knelt with him beside her blood-soaked husband.
“Is he alive?” she bawled.
“No,” the doctor told her.
Jewel threw herself on her new husband and cried. The doctor watched her helplessly. After a while, he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Come on with me now.”
She reluctantly followed him to the saw, where Marcus still lay unconscious. He told her to clean him and make him as comfortable as possible until he woke up. He did not tell Jewel that he was most concerned about the boy at this point. He didn’t know what he had seen or exactly what he had been through. But if Lucilla was telling the truth and the boy had been strapped to the crosscut sled before, then his level of trauma would surely leave lasting effects.
