Jimmy (52 page)

Jimmy didn't answer.

“And you promised to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? That's what you're going to have to do if you want a drink of water. Raise your right hand.”

Jimmy hesitantly raised his hand.

“I don't have a Bible handy,” Jake said, “so we'll have to pretend.”

Jake repeated the words of the judicial oath.

“You can answer,” he said when he finished.

“Yes, sir.”

“Until I tell you otherwise, you can answer all my questions. Do you understand?”

Jimmy was not sure if the question was a trap.

“Answer me!” Garner screamed.

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy responded in a trembling voice.

“Who are Hal Sharpton and Pete Gambrell?”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Hal was the quarterback of the football team, but he got kicked off for fighting—”

“That's enough. And Pete?”

“He's a running back.”

“Did you ever hear them say my name?”

“No, sir.”

Jake gave him a puzzled look. “Did you ever hear them mention the snake man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who is the snake man?”

“You are.”

“How do you know that?”

“Are you the snake man?” Jimmy asked.

“Don't ask me any questions!” Jake yelled. He raised the bottle of water to his lips and took a long drink. “This is good water, but you're not going to taste it unless you do what I tell you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When was the first time you heard Hal and Pete say anything about the snake man?”

“When I was sorting helmets in the equipment room.”

“What did you hear?”

Jimmy related the conversation. When he reached the part about Hal's summer job picking up packages in Atlanta for delivery to Piney Grove, Jake swore and took a deep drag on his cigarette. Jimmy stopped talking.

“Go ahead,” Jake said, taking another drink from the bottle.

Jimmy continued to the end of the conversation.

“That's all I remember,” Jimmy said when he finished.

“What is a bookie?” Garner asked.

“I don't know.”

“Did you tell anyone about this conversation?”

“No, sir.”

“Liar!” Jake screamed. “Then why did the narcs start asking their little snits questions about Hal, Pete, and me at the high school?”

Jimmy wanted to give an answer but didn't know what to say. Jake stared hard at him.

“Is that the only conversation you overhead about the snake man?”

“No, sir.”

Jake nodded. “After the Dake County game. I thought I saw you when the lights came back on at the field. Where were you hiding?”

“I wasn't hiding. I took out some trash and heard Pete talking.”

“Who was he talking to?”

“You.”

“Are you sure about it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“Because now I know how you talk.”

“What did you hear?”

Jimmy, aware of Daddy's warning not to tell anyone, hesitated.

Jake stepped forward and raised his voice. “What did you hear?”

Jake glared at him. Holding the bottle of water in front of Jimmy's face, he turned it over and let the precious liquid spill onto the floor.

“Your mistake,” he said as he turned to leave the room. “You don't need to answer. I already know.”

The door shut; the locks clicked. The intensity of Jimmy's thirst had increased enormously at the sight of the water. He stared at the wet spot on the floor. Getting on his knees, he bent over and touched the dark wood with his tongue. All he tasted was a layer of wet grime. In despair, he turned his face sideways and laid his cheek against the floor. No Watcher appeared to show him the way to a refreshing drink.

Jimmy returned to the mattress but didn't lie down. The initial shock of what had happened to him was over. He was a prisoner. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd emptied the cats' litter box, but the memory of freedom was already becoming fuzzy.

He heard footsteps in the hallway outside the door, and his shakes returned. The footsteps continued down the hall; the shaking slowed down. When he closed his eyes, images of the snake man played across the back of his eyelids.

He began to pace. He counted five steps across the room and seven from the window to the door. Back and forth he went until he wasn't thinking anymore, just counting. Finally, he stopped in front of the window, bent over, and peeked through the largest crack.

Walking slowly across the narrow view of the outside world were two men wearing camouflage clothing and carrying guns. Seconds after he saw them, they were gone. Jimmy knew what to do.

“Help!” he yelled through the crack. “Help me!”

He kicked on the boards covering the window, but they didn't budge.

“Help!” he yelled again.

The locks on the door clicked in rapid succession, and Jake burst into the room. Jimmy saw him coming and cried out again.

“Help me now!”

Jake knocked him to the floor with a blow to the right side of his head. Jimmy tried to get up, but Jake was on top of him with his hand covering Jimmy's mouth. Jimmy struggled with all his strength but couldn't get free. Garner released his hand for a second, but before Jimmy could scream, Garner jammed a rag into his mouth and, while holding it in place, slapped some tape across Jimmy's face and around his head. Jimmy grunted. There was a loud knocking on the front door.

“Hello! Anybody home?”

Jimmy tried to break free, but Jake flipped him over onto his stomach and wrapped his ankles in tape. Bound hand and foot, Jimmy lay helpless on the floor. Garner got up and left the room. The door closed. Jimmy lay still, hurting in new places.

He prayed that the men would rescue him.

Time passed without sound. Then a single gunshot rang out. Another long period of silence followed. Jimmy shifted on the floor, but no position gave him any relief from the tight bands around his head, hands, and feet. The sides of his head ached from the repeated blows and slaps.

The door to the room opened slowly. Jimmy strained to see the feet of the person or persons about to enter, but no shoes were in sight. He heard a voice.

“They're gone,” Jake said into a cell phone. “I had to run them off as trespassers with a shot in the air.”

There was silence as Jake listened. Jimmy shut his eyes in despair. He didn't feel like crying.

“Squirrel hunters,” Jake said. “Deer season won't be open for several weeks. They were toting shotguns and tried to argue with me that they had permission from the owner to hunt on this land. They may be right, so there's going to have to be a change in our plans. I can't wait until nighttime.”

Jake kicked Jimmy in the ribs. A sharp pain shot through his side, and he winced.

“Nah. I don't think they heard him hollering, because they seemed more interested in arguing with me about hunting on the property than anything else.”

Jake put his foot directly in front of Jimmy's nose, then pulled it back.

“No, I'm not going to do it here. It's got to look like an accident. Otherwise, this thing will never go away.”

Jake closed the cell phone, took out a cigarette, and lit it. He turned Jimmy onto his back with his foot and knelt down beside him.

“Boy,” he said. “I would like to introduce your neck to the hot end of this cigarette.”

Jake removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke directly into Jimmy's face. He held the orange end of the cigarette close to Jimmy's throat. Jimmy tried to squirm away. Jake withdrew his hand.

“But I can't do that. I don't want to leave any marks on you that don't make sense. Are you still thirsty?”

Jimmy lay still.

“I bet you're very thirsty. But don't worry. In a little while, I promise you'll have all the water you want. You're about to go swimming.”

Terror flashed across Jimmy's face.

“I thought that would get a reaction out of you,” Jake said. “I hope you like the deep end.”

J
AKE LEFT THE ROOM, AND SOMETHING IN
J
IMMY SNAPPED.
His stomach was empty, but what little remained forced its way up his throat in a foul tasting bile. Needlelike pain attacked his body in countless directions. He dragged himself to the mattress and rolled over on it. He tried to sit up but collapsed on his side. His fight, his will to live, was gone. All that remained was the wait for death. At least in that, there would be release from torment. Jimmy lay still. Time passed. Jake returned.

“Resting?” he asked.

Jake removed the tape from Jimmy's ankles.

“Let's get going.”

Jimmy didn't move. Jake grabbed him by the shirt and forced him up, but Jimmy collapsed back onto the mattress. Jake slapped him across the cheek, but Jimmy didn't respond.

“Checking out on me?” Jake asked. “That will make everything that much easier.”

Jake put Jimmy's cap back on, then half carried, half dragged him out of the room. Without a blindfold, Jimmy could see the house. There was a small living room with a single couch. The rest of the room was bare. Jake propped him against the wall by the front door and looked outside.

“No trespassers in sight,” he said.

Jake shoved Jimmy across the porch. It was late afternoon. The sun dipped below the treetops of the woods surrounding the small house. The fresh air restored Jimmy, and he took a few steps on his own.

“Feeling better?” Jake asked. “Just don't get too frisky.”

Jimmy saw Jake's white pickup parked in the front yard. Jimmy's bicycle was lying on its side in the truck bed. The sight of the bike, a reminder of his normal life, startled him. Jimmy tried to imagine riding the bike along the sidewalk near his house, but the thought broke down before he could follow it. Jake opened the door of the truck and pushed him inside.

“Go back into the dark,” Jake said as he pulled a bandana from his pocket and wrapped it around Jimmy's eyes.

Jimmy slid onto the floorboard and leaned his head against the dash. Garner got in and started the engine. He turned the truck around and drove down the bumpy access road. Jimmy, unfeeling, stayed in the black world behind the blindfold. Jake turned on the radio in the middle of a silly song. The singer made a joke and laughed. Jake turned it off.

They reached pavement, turned right, and accelerated.

“Your swimming lesson will be at Webb's Pond,” Garner said. “I saw in the paper a few weeks ago that your grandfather won second place in a fishing contest there. It's a shame that he died the next day. The article mentioned that you went fishing with him. Is that right? If that's right, nod your head.”

Jimmy nodded.

“Then it would make sense that you'd want to go back there. It's only a few miles from your house. You could ride your bike—kind of a sentimental journey. The only problem is that if you're not careful and ride too close to the edge of the water, the front wheel of your bike could slip in the grass and send you down into the water. Do you remember the deep water near the dam?”

Jimmy didn't respond.

“That's the best place for an accident. Everyone knows you can't swim a lick and could drown in the bathtub. It will be a sad accident. I bet you'll get a bigger write-up in the paper than your grandfather.”

Jimmy responded to the mention of Grandpa. To hear his heart go
thump
again and feel his strong arms around him would be heaven.

Scenes with Grandpa began to play in his mind: throwing a baseball, reading a book, climbing the pole, riding his bike. They were the first positive thoughts he'd had since Garner burst into Delores Smythe's kitchen. A flicker of light flamed within Jimmy's heart.

Jimmy put his head down on his knees.

“It's time to say your prayers,” Jake said. “We're almost there.”

The pavement ended, and they bounced briefly across the grass before stopping. Jake got out and opened the door. He reached in and took off Jimmy's blindfold.

“Get out. No problem with you seeing where you're going from here.”

Jimmy got out of the truck and leaned against it.

“Don't touch the door,” Jake said sharply. “Step away.”

Jimmy took a few shaky steps forward. They were in the place where the vehicles parked for the fishing tournament.

“The presence of my truck won't stand out at all, will it? There are tire marks everywhere.”

Jake was wearing white gloves. He lifted Jimmy's bicycle from the back of the truck, reached in again, and retrieved a short rope.

“Let's slip this around your neck. Don't worry. I'm not going to hang you. It's a leash to make sure you don't wander away. You have a nice dog, don't you?”

Jimmy thought about Buster. What would Buster do without him? Jimmy wanted to scream.

Jake wrapped the rope around Jimmy's neck and tied a knot that he could cinch against Jimmy's throat.

“Not too tight. I don't want any rope burns. Those bruises on your face came when you fell down the bank.”

Holding the rope with one hand, Jake pushed the bike through the trees with the other. Jimmy walked alongside him. They came out into the open area surrounding the pond. The sun was below the trees now, the water still. A bullfrog at the south end of the pond announced the approach of dusk.

When he saw the water, Jimmy stopped. Jake jerked the rope; Jimmy resisted.

“Don't make me hurt you,” Jake warned.

Jimmy shook his head. Jake dropped the bike on the ground, came around, and cinched the rope tighter around Jimmy's neck.

“Come on!” he demanded.

Jimmy was having trouble breathing, but the sight of the water gave him the will to stand firm. He didn't budge. Jake jerked harder, causing Jimmy to lose his footing. He fell forward, knocking over the bike before landing on the ground. Jake swore. His chest heaving, Jimmy lay on the grass. Jake knelt beside him and loosened the rope. Jimmy gulped in air. Jake pulled him up by the arm.