Bad Moon On The Rise (38 page)

“
Trey saw the men who
killed his mother,” I said. “There were four of them all
together.”

Shep nodded. “His father’s bringing
him in to talk to Perry County tomorrow afternoon. They can take it
from there.”

“
How many men did you take
into custody on the compound?” I asked.

“
More than forty,” he
said. “A couple wounded, but no one killed, and it was a clean take
on our side. Everyone who walked in there, walked out. Textbook
case, in fact. They’ll be teaching it one day, I suspect. As a
counterpoint to Waco.”

He stared silently at me.

“
What?” I
asked.

He handed me Ramsey’s cell phone. “I
know you took the kid out of there. We found this. It has my number
on it. You had help?”

“
A little.” I had no
intention of telling him who had helped me, amazing blue eyes or
not.

“
You want to tell me how
you got out without being seen?” 

“
Not really.”

“
Didn’t know you were so
mountain wise.”

“
Well, I am now,” I said.
“I spent a lot of hours on that mountain of yours.”

“
And it will never be the
same for that, trust me,” he said with a smile.

“
I kind of liked the
compound’s leader,” I confessed. “I don’t think he knew what his
men were doing to the women. At least not beyond the distributing
drugs part.”

“
You can write him in
prison and let him know how much you care,” Shep promised. “He’ll
be put away for a long, long time. They had enough assault rifles
to defend a small country.”

“
I don’t think they’d ever
have used them,” I explained. “I think they just needed to know
they could have used them.”

“
Can’t take that chance,”
Shep explained. “All it takes is one real crazy and, boom, you have
Armageddon.”

“
I’m sorry,” I said. “I
know you grew up with those men.”

“
Grew up with them in a
different world,” Shep said. “Sometimes I can’t seem to keep
up.”

“
Me, either,” I admitted.
“Where do we go from here?”

“
Back home. To Silver Top.
There’s something you need to do right away.”

“
Me?” I felt a flash of
panic. “You want me to go back to… Silver Top?”

“
Not inside,” he said. “I
promise. But I thought you might want to be there when I get your
friend out.”

“
Oh my god. Bobby. How
could I have forgotten about him?”

“
He’s fine,” Shep
promised. “He’s been a pain in the ass for the kitchen staff and
tripled the food budget for the month but, other than that, I think
he’ll survive. He got his own cell, mostly because no one else
could fit in one with him. He’ll be okay.”

“
Do you think he’ll ever
forgive me?” I asked.

“
You’re going to have to
ask him that yourself. You got any good-byes to say
here?”

“
No,” I said. “I’m done
saying goodbye.” I smiled at him. He smiled back. The world
shimmered, shifted and then settled back down as a better
place.

“
Let’s go then,” he said.
"You want to stop at home first? I’ve got your stuff in the car.
The things you left at the lodge.”

“
Let’s hit the road,” I
decided. “Bobby sprang me. It’s time to spring him.”

“
One thing I am curious
about,” Shep said as we left the hospice. “Do I want to know why
they found a six-foot Plexiglas hot dog in the woods behind the
prison?”

“
Definitely,” I said.
“I’ll tell you everything on the way up.”

We had reached his car. “Front seat
this time,” he said cheerfully. “I laid in a supply of Krispy
Kremes just for you.”

Oh god, what a guy. The fact that I’d
stuffed myself with doughnuts on the way down would just have to be
forgotten. Could I repay his kindness with rudeness? I think not.
I’d just have to eat more Krispy Kremes. It was practically my
civic duty.

I climbed inside the car and found a
little nest: two pillows arranged, just so, plus a blanket waiting.
All for little old me.

“
You did this for me?” I
asked in a tone of voice I’d normally puke when hearing.

“
I confess I do not
routinely provide pillows and blankets to the people I transport in
this car.”

It was too much for me to bear. That
man was as sweet as ten dozen Krispy Kremes fresh from the conveyer
belt. I scooted over until I was sitting in his lap. He smelled
like pine and soap. His cheeks were as soft and his mouth as warm
as I had remembered during those lonely nights lying in my prison
bunk bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“
I really missed you,” I
said intently. “Was it real?”

“
It was real,” he
whispered.

We kissed. Time passed. We kissed some
more.

“
I missed you, too,” he
said when we came up for air. And then he let me know he really
meant it.

It was a long time until we pulled out
of the parking lot and headed back to Silver Mountain. Once we hit
the highway, I plumped up the pillows, pulled the blanket around
me, placed my hand on his leg so I’d know he was there at all times
and I slept, happier than I’d been in decades.

By the time we reached Silver Mountain
again, the sun had climbed halfway up the morning sky and not a
trace of snow remained to remind me that the stunning beauty of the
mountain could turn cruel in the span of hours. The last
forty-eight hours seemed as far away and surreal as a
barely-remembered dream.

I had learned all I needed to know,
for now, from Shep in the last few hours of the drive: he had put
his career on the line for me when he got my message. He had
believed me, the feds had believed him, and we had both lived,
careers intact, to tell the tale.

Now it was time to spring Bobby. We’d
stopped at Bojangles before we left the foothills and I’d bought a
peace offering of six chicken-and-biscuits plus a side tub of gravy
and four extra biscuits. I knew Bobby ate to control his outlook on
life and I knew he’d need a jumpstart that morning.

So would I. When we turned into the
parking lot of Silver Top Detention Center, it all returned in a
rush: the inability to breathe, the feeling the sky was going to
crash in on me at any moment. Not even Shep could have calmed the
panic and he didn’t even try. He took one look at my face, pulled
into a parking space and ordered me to stay put.

“
I’ll have him out in
fifteen minutes,” he promised. “You wait here for me and I’ll make
it worth your while.”

I started to say something smartass
back, but Shep’s phone rang and, by the tone of his voice, I knew
it had to be something big. “Now?” he asked his caller, with a
glance at me. “No, actually I’m at Silver Top now. Just give me
fifteen minutes. I want to get another informant out of there
first, so he doesn’t get hung up by this.” He frowned. “Yeah, okay.
Give me a warning call five minutes out.” He ended the call and
stared at me, expressionless.

“
What?” I asked
defensively.

“
Nothing. I’m just trying
to figure out how to play you so you don’t get all stubborn on
me.”

“
How about not playing me
at all?” I suggested.

“
Fine. If you dare to so
much as move more than ten feet from this car, I‘ll skin you alive.
I’m going in there, and bringing your friend out, and then the two
of you are going to stay here with the car, without so much as
moving a muscle, while I help the state and federal boys finish up
some business.”

“
You’re taking them down
now?”  I asked jubilantly. “I know the guards work in
three-day shifts, Shep. There are men in there who have no idea
what went down on the compound. Tell me you’re going to arrest the
rest of the guards involved in the drug ring right in front of all
the prisoners, then handcuff them and goose step them
out.”

“
You want me to set fire
to them while we do it?” he asked.

“
No. I just want the women
in there to know that it’s over, that what those men made them do
was wrong, and someone gave a crap and stopped them, and that they
won’t have to do it anymore.”

“
Well then,” Shep said.
“You shall get your wish. But first, I’m going to get your
friend.”

The prisoners on the male wing of
Silver Top had been let out for morning exercise. As Shep strode
toward the front gate, I searched the men’s exercise yard for Bobby
D. The male prisoners all wore dark blue jumpsuits—except for one
dressed in bright orange who lumbered like a neon mountain trapped
in a glacier’s push. It had to be Bobby D. There could not possibly
be another prisoner of his size in the entire state. But what the
hell was he doing dressed in a color usually reserved for Death Row
inmates?

Ignoring Shep’s orders to say within
ten feet of the car and willing to taunt my claustrophobia, I crept
a few parking rows closer to get a better view of Bobby D., prison
kingpin in action. I couldn’t see much, though, so I returned to
the car and rummaged around until I found Shep’s binoculars under
the front seat. He was smart enough not to leave a gun there, but I
did find a clean pair of socks and a new box of condoms next to the
binoculars. Woohoo! I like a man who’s prepared for
anything.

My god, but the magnified view of the
prison yard was entertaining. Bobby D. had jumbo charm to go with
his jumbo size. He moved from group to group, fist bumping inmates,
shaking hands, slapping fellow prisoners on the back, bullshitting
his way to King of the Prom. I could only imagine the stories he
had told, most of them no doubt centered around owning millions of
dollars worth of houses and yachts and promises of providing
prisoners with rich rewards if they didn’t jump him in the
shower—none of which he actually owned and not that I could imagine
Bobby D. being able to bend over, much less an inmate being able to
hold on to his slippery bulk long enough to complete an assault.
From what I could see, Bobby actually seemed to like being in the
joint and that surprised me. He was a ladies man to the core and
usually avoided hanging with the dudes. I had to admire his
flexibility.

It didn’t take Shep long to process
Bobby’s discharge. Within ten minutes, a guard had approached and,
amidst hoots and jeers from prisoners who were convinced he had
done something wrong, Bobby was escorted from the yard. I figured
he’d stop and change into his regular clothes before he left, but I
was wrong: five minutes later, he was happily shaking the hands of
the front gate guards as he left the prison behind, beaming like
Santa Claus who’d swapped his red threads for a bright orange
jumpsuit. He even had a sack with his possessions in it slung over
his shoulder.

I scurried back to Shep’s car and was
casually leaning against the hood by the time they reached me.
“Sustenance?” I asked, holding out the box brimming with Bojangle’s
biscuits.

I am sure Bobby would have thanked me
had he not been too busy unwrapping biscuits and shoving them in
his mouth.

“
Why the orange jumpsuit?”
I asked. “Surely you didn’t get Death Row for helping me
escape?”

He glanced up and crumbs tumbled out
as he spoke. “It was the only thing that fit. It’s real
comfortable. I might get me a couple for lounging around the
house.”

“
Stylish,” I said. “You
could wear one of those fake ball and chains around an ankle when
you go to the grocery store. When you hit the junk food aisle, the
clerk could call out, ‘Dead man shopping!’”

Bobby ignored me, but Shep thought it
was hysterical. And that made me happy.

“
More calories?” I asked
politely. I offered a gallon-sized Pepsi to Bobby. He grabbed it
and slurped in contentment.

“
Thank you,” I said to
Shep, remembering my manners, even if Bobby D. had forgotten his.
“Thank you for everything.”

Shep was too busy watching Bobby D. to
answer. That often happened when people witnessed the phenomenon of
Bobby eating for the first time. He was the only person I knew in
the entire world who ate utterly and completely without guilt. He
shoveled it in with gusto, humming and groaning in pleasure,
savoring every hit on his taste buds, experiencing eating as one
massive sensory rush. It should have been obscene, but honestly, I
envied him his pleasure.

Four chicken biscuits later, Bobby
attempted conversation: “It’s good to see you, babe,” he said to
me. “You’re looking swell.”

“
Thanks.  I was
worried. I thought I’d lost you back there in the
woods.”

“
Me, too,” Bobby
confessed. “I was sure my bum ticker was kicking in. I had this
stabbing pain in my chest, you know? Turns out this corkscrew on my
key chain had popped open. Almost punctured a lung.”

Yeah right, the corkscrew would have
had to be three feet long to get through Bobby’s layers of
fat.

“
I saw you sacrifice
yourself to the dogs,” I said. “You’re a true friend, Bobby
D.”