Cry Baby Hollow (27 page)

“An M4 is a pretty comforting weapon,” he agreed, clearly not buying her story but willing to play along.

“Can you get me one?” She asked, letting a pleading note enter her voice.

“I don’t suppose you can think of anything a little less illegal that would comfort you as much?” He asked.

“You and I both know that the safest gun is the one you’re most familiar with. Unless you can get me a ship mounted 50 cal, the Mossberg, M9 and M4 will have to do.”

“I don’t think they can mount a 50 cal on a Mini,” he joked.

“I was thinking more of a turret on the roof,” she told him, “but I agree that either would be problematic.”

“All right,” he agreed. “But you have to promise me you’ll order a gun safe. I know I can get you a mark 18, but I can’t have you sleeping with it under your pillow.”

The Mark 18 was a shorter barreled version of the M4, and instead of three round bursts, it was full automatic. Aubrey smiled.

“I promise,” she told him. “How soon can you get it here?”

“I’ll make some phone calls and see what I can do. Are you busy tonight?”

“I’m never busy,” she assured him. “I don’t suppose you could pick up a night scope for the M9 and M4 while you’re at it?”

He sighed.

“Why don’t I just go raid the armory and bring you some night vision goggles?”

“The straps always get tangled in my hair,” she said, smiling for the first time in ages.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Matt arrived at
six bearing a Styrofoam cooler filled with hot b
ricks and Chinese food, a duffle bag full of ammunition, and guns. Aubrey was careful to use her cane, even though she could get around the cabin well enough without it. For once, she didn’t want to look too healthy.

Matt rummaged around the kitchen, looking for plates for the food, and Aubrey inspected the guns with unrestrained glee. She would have preferred a .45 to the Beretta M9, but the bigger gun would have been harder for her to handle, weak as she was, and it wasn’t as if she would be firing at someone wearing body armor. The Mossberg 12 gauge might knock her on her ass if she fired it, but it was used as a riot gun with good reason. Both weapons would be pushing their range to reach Joe’s dock, which was why she’d asked for the M4. Even with the shortened barrel of the mark 18, a decent scope would allow her to pick off the individual leaves on the gardenia bush next to Joe’s trailer with ease. A person standing on the dock would be easy pickings.

“Thirty rounds?” She asked, tapping her cane on the ground. “You only brought me thirty rounds?”

“As I recall you’re a pretty good marksman,” he said with a grin. “Are you planning on taking out more than thirty people?”

“No,” Aubrey said, resisting the urge to pout. “But I was hoping to do a little target practice with it just to test it out.”

“Well you can practice with the first 29,” he said, bringing over two plates of food. He sat them down and cleared away the guns and ammunition, placing them on a high shelf in the closet. “But don’t let anyone see you even practicing with that thing. The new sheriff isn’t likely to make any waves after what happened to the last guy you crossed, but don’t forget the state police are still patrolling. They know damn well that’s not a legal firearm.”

They ate, chatting about trivialities and times long past, which seemed safer, and then went out onto the back deck and sat down in lawn chairs so Matt could smoke a cigar. She brought the tennis ball and threw it for Drake, careful to aim for the side yard since the weather had turned cold.

“I bet you’re glad you can finally get some use out of that thing,” Matt said, pointing to the hot tub.

Aubrey shrugged.

“Must feel good after a therapy session…”

“I can’t get the cover off,” she confessed. “It weighs a ton.”

Matt grinned.

“I bet I can. You up for a soak?”

“No,” she told him frankly. “You didn’t bring a suit and I refuse to be seen in mine.”

“I have a pair of clean running shorts in my trunk,” Matt countered. “And you don’t have to wear a suit if you don’t want to.” Seeing the look on her face, he lowered his voice and took her hand. “I’ll take the cover off while you change, then you can come out here while I go to my car and get my shorts. We’ll be like ships passing in the night. If we don’t turn on the tub’s light, I’ll never see a thing.”

It was already dark, and he was right, but she still didn’t feel like it.

He stood up and began tugging at the cover, unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Go on,” he waved her toward the cabin.

She wanted to protest, but then remembered that he’d brought her the M4 and the two night scopes, as well.

“I don’t move very fast,” she warned. “So give me plenty of time, okay?”

“Roger,” he said, pulling off the cover easily. Waves of steam came roiling out and he stuck a hand in the water to test the temperature. “It’s perfect,” he called in to her.

It seemed to take Aubrey an eternity to dig out her bathing suit and pull it on. She closed the closet door and turned on the light, examining herself in the full length mirror for the first time since being home. Her body looked tone enough at first glance, but the scar on her neck was hideous. She felt like Frankenstein’s monster with her oddly mismatched flesh. She also had a puckered line down her side, bright white against her olive skin, and another that ran horizontally below her left breast, where a feeding tube had been inserted to keep her alive until she could eat again. There was also the small matter of the chuck missing from her right leg. She felt like she should be going to Vina’s Halloween party without a costume this year.

She peaked out the bathroom door, checking to make sure Matt was nowhere in sight. She worked her way back to the hot tub and lowered herself into the water gratefully. Playing with the jets, she found just the right mix of bubbles and massage and leaned back, deciding this was the best idea ever. For the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. She wondered if they made motorized covers so she could do it herself every day. How much further would she be able to walk if she had this to look forward to every night?

“You want some company?” She heard someone call. Aubrey looked around, thinking it must be Matt from the front yard, but instead seeing Joe standing on the end of his dock, waving.

Aubrey’s heart froze in her chest. She hadn’t seen him, except from a distance, since returning home. He’d been a gentleman and respected her desire to recover in private. And now this. She heard Matt’s footsteps on the deck and knew that Joe would be able to see him any second. She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at the expression on his face, and wished that the entire world would just go away and leave her in peace.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

First thing the
next morning Aubrey grabbed the tennis ball and her cane and headed out the door. She taped a note to it telling Lettie and whoever’s turn it was to del
iver food where she was, then struck out purposefully.

Aubrey arrived at Joe’s while it was still very early, mist heavy on the ground. She went up to the door to the RV and knocked. There was a long pause and then a slew of curses before the door finally opened.

“Mornin’,” Joe said, forcing a grin. He was wearing nothing but boxers, which he’d apparently pulled on in haste, since they were inside out and backwards. The tag stuck out jauntily from just bellow his belly button, and Aubrey had to force herself not to laugh.

“May I come in?” She asked.

“Sure,” he told her, stepping out of her way and then struggling with whether or not he should offer to help. She eyed the fold down metal grate steps and then looked at her cane. Joe stuck out his hand and she took it, allowing him to hoist her up into the RV. Drake scampered up behind her, found a spot under the table, and curled himself into a little ball contentedly.

Aubrey had never been inside before, and was surprised to find it tidy and uncluttered, if a little dated. The drivers and passenger seats at the front were stacked high with books and journals, but otherwise it reminded her a lot of a ship, with everything neatly in its place. Joe motioned her onto one of the benches in the built-in booth and puttered around with the coffee maker. She slid in and hunched down, pushing up her shoulders so that the collar of her jacket hid the scar on her neck.

“You know you don’t owe me any kind a explanation,” Joe said. “I mean I’m glad to see you but…”

Aubrey had worked on her speech all last night and then again on the walk over. She had it planned down to the word, including his interruptions and her insisting that he let her finish. In her mind, in all of the versions she had imagined, it always began just like this. With him telling her she didn’t need to apologize or explain.

“God damn it, Joe,” she exploded, sick and tired of the words she’d imagined him saying so many times. “Can’t you just be pissed? I told you I wanted to get better alone. I told you that as soon as I was up to it I’d call you, and the next thing you know I’m in a hot tub with another man and his car is parked in the driveway all night. Yell at me! Hit me with my own cane!”

“You came over so I’d yell at you?” Joe asked, giving up on the coffee and pulling a beer from the tiny fridge.

“No,” Aubrey told him, crestfallen. “I came over knowing you’d be nice and understanding and I’d explain things and that would be that.”

“But you’d feel better if I hit you with your cane?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But probably only because I’m pretty sure I can take you, even as weak as I am.”

“You think because I don’t scream at you I don’t care?”

“No. I think you don’t scream at me because I’m damaged, and you don’t want to make it worse. Vina’s the only person who doesn’t treat me any differently.”

“I ever yell at you or hit you with your cane before?” Joe asked pointedly.

Aubrey shook her head.

“I didn’t have the cane before,” she pointed out. “But you yelled at Matt, so you are capable.”

“Yeah, and look how well that worked out. He yells back that you’re fine and the doctors have checked you out and yet here I am, months later, not gettin’ laid.”

“I don’t think I got septicemia because you yelled at Matt,” Aubrey said with a grin.

“Well it didn’t help none, that’s for sure.” He was silent for a moment. “Did he really spend the night?” He finally asked.

“In the loft, which I can’t reach.”

“You gonna give me your explanation now? I can feel the rage bubblin’ up…”

Aubrey explained about waking up and seeing the people on the dock.

“People plural?”

“There were four and maybe a dog,” she told him.

“You call the police? You know Larry is acting sheriff now, so even if the state police aren’t close, you could call him.”

“And say what? Arrest anyone you see out walking a dog? They were already walking away when I saw them. They’d have been gone before anyone could get here.”

“So you called Heck? In Knoxville? Any particular reason you called him instead of me?”

Aubrey bit her lip.

“He has access to lots of guns and you don’t.”

“He got anything else I don’t?”

Aubrey shook her head.

“I got somethin’ for you. I was gonna stick it in your mailbox, but I didn’t wanna get blown up,” he grinned and reached over to the counter, picking up a business card and handing it to Aubrey.

She looked at it and didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“He’s the best in LA. The plastic surgeon to the stars. I had Germaine get it from Lilli. She said she can get you in.”

“You’ve met Lilli?” Aubrey asked, surprised. Lilli didn’t often come home for visits.

“Only in my dreams,” Joe said with a sigh.

Aubrey picked up her cane and poked him playfully.

“It doesn’t mean I think you need it, you understand,” he told her, suddenly serious. “I just thought it might make you feel better.”

Aubrey nodded and stuck the card into her pocket.

“My Dad had a brain tumor when I was a kid,” he told her quietly. “They took out part of his skull, I guess to relieve the pressure. Anyway, I thought it was pretty cool. I mean, I was just a kid and the idea that my dad didn’t have part of his skull was awesome to me. I wanted to look at it, but he would always pull away from me. He didn’t even like to be in the same room cause he knew I was staring.”

“Finally, my mom bought him a baseball cap. After that, everything was fine. I didn’t stare anymore and he didn’t have to be embarrassed. Anyway, I just mean… I’ve seen your scars. I watched ‘em change your bandages. To me getting’ em fixed would be like you puttin’ on a baseball cap. I’m not sayin’ you should. The only reason I care if you do is ‘cause it might let you be in the same room with me.”

“Unfortunately, they don’t make baseball caps that cover your entire body,” Aubrey said. “What happened to your Dad?”

“The tumor came back and he died.”

“That’s not a happy story, Joe.”

“Yeah, sorry. I got a limited number of happy sick people stories to draw from, and I already told you all of ‘em in the hospital.”

Aubrey laughed.

“You should do that more often,” Joe told her.

She nodded.

“You still doin’ the alone thing?” He asked.

She nodded again.

Joe drummed his fingers on the table. “Any idea how long it’s gonna last?”

“I’ve decided I have to stop feeling sorry for myself when I can make it all the way around the lake.”

Joe scoffed. “It’s a big lake,” he told her incredulously.

“I can already make it to Wayne’s,” Aubrey said, stretching the truth a tad. She could already make it to within sight of Wayne’s was more accurate.

“That isn’t even halfway,” Joe said with a groan. “You know I was just teasin’ about not gettin’ laid, right? We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t feel up to it. I just want to see you, and it ain’t the same with binoculars.” He was leaning against the counter, fidgeting with his beer.

Aubrey stood laboriously and stepped over, using the furniture for support. “I miss you, too,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“Hold that thought,” he said, slipping away. “ I gotta find somethin’.” He disappeared behind the RVs only door and returned a moment later with a bandana in his hand. He folded it into a triangle, then folded the tip down again and again until he had a long, narrow band of cloth. He held it over his eyes and tied it in the back. “Gimme your hand,” he told her.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Come on, just gimme your damn hand.”

She reached out and took his hand. He pulled her gently against him and kissed her, hard.

“You can go back to bein’ alone tomorrow,” he breathed. “You’re takin’ today off.”

“Joe…”

“I can’t see any scars,” he said, grinning mischievously as he groped his way toward the bedroom, dragging her along behind. “And I don’t care how fast you can run, ‘cause I’d really rather you didn’t.”