Moon Underfoot (42 page)

Moon Pie yelled, “Hey, pretty boy, did you know you shot me?”

Jake heard what Moon Pie said, but he didn’t remember it. All that he could recall was being attacked from behind and hit over the head.

“There’s my very own personal reason for killin’ you right there. So quit your bitchin’ and moanin’ about shit and beggin’ for your life. You’re as good as dead!”

When Moon Pie stood at the front of the truck, Jake could see the vapor of his labored breath in the cold night air. It was a brief moment of satisfaction, knowing that he had inflicted some pain on the psychopath.

“I’m glad I shot you…you worthless piece of shit!” Jake screamed back at him. “I only wish I’da killed ya!”

Moon Pie blew out a deep breath and forced a smile. “Oh, you’re gonna wish you’d killed me when you see what kind of slow death I got planned for you!” Reenergized with desire for
personal vengeance, Moon Pie flung open the passenger door and then the small half door of the extended cab.

Instantly, Jake kicked Moon Pie with all his might. His boots hit Moon Pie square in the chest, knocking him back to the water’s edge, where he landed on his right side.

Struggling to get out of the truck, Jake wiggled quickly to the edge of the seat and tried to stand up. He had no balance, and when his feet wouldn’t move, his forward motion propelled him face-first down onto the levee. The steep sides caused him to roll to the bottom. He stopped with his face only a few inches from the cold water. Jake lay still, trying to catch his breath and cussing the zip ties that bound him so tightly.

Moon Pie fought to get up. Jake’s kick had knocked the breath out of him, and he had landed on his injured side. The pain was almost unbearable. When he finally got to his knees, he almost blacked out.

Jake tried using his arms to push himself into a seated position, but his muscles still weren’t as responsive as his mind. He was struggling to get out of an awkward position when suddenly Moon Pie grabbed his head and started screaming. Moon Pie dragged Jake by the hair two feet and dropped his head into the cold water. Jake’s mind raced, trying to find an out, but all he could do was hold what little was left of his breath. Moon Pie’s knees were in his back, pinning him to the muddy bottom. He was under the control of a merciless man.

After about forty seconds, Moon Pie slid off of Jake, grabbed him by the hair again, and pulled him out of the water. Jake gasped for air. His lungs burned, and he threw up cold swamp water.

“Not yet,” Moon Pie said, struggling also to breathe. “It ain’t gonna be that easy or that fast.”

Jake couldn’t speak. He lay there, struggling just to breathe. Moon Pie pulled the stun gun from his back pocket and zapped Jake’s exposed back for about three seconds. Jake flopped briefly
and then passed out.
That oughta give me enough time to stuff him in the pipe
, Moon Pie thought.

When Moon Pie realized that he was wet from the waist down, he began to get cold. He grabbed Jake under the shoulders and started dragging him to the drainpipe. The deep mud made it very difficult to get Jake to the pipe. When Moon Pie finally got Jake on top of the circular beaver dam, he stopped to rest and lit a cigarette, inhaling a long drag. The nicotine calmed him a bit.

Moon Pie lit some thatch from the dam and dropped it into the pipe. It was relatively clean deep down to just about where it made its bend. He held the cigarette in his lips as he stuffed Jake’s feet into the pipe. He then grabbed him under the arms and strained to lift him to the edge of the metal pipe.

Moon Pie, his side burning from the strain, held Jake above the narrow abyss and in a singsong voice said, “One is for Johnny Lee, two is for Reese, and three is for me…asshole!” Then he let go.

The grotesque sound Jake made when he hit the mud and debris at the bottom made Moon Pie double over laughing. He then started pulling mud and sticks from around the pipe, allowing water to start flowing in. The more he tore out, the more the water helped as the cold swamp sought to level itself through the pipe. Moon Pie stopped to watch the water flowing and realized that he was hurt much worse than he had originally thought. As badly as Moon Pie wanted to stay to hear Jake’s dying screams, he realized that he needed medical attention or he was going to die too.

Moon Pie leaned over the pipe and yelled, “See ya in hell, Jake Crosby.”

He chuckled as he sloshed toward the truck.

M
ORGAN WATCHED THE
West Point police chief and two uniformed officers walk to their patrol cars. They had been at her house for almost two hours. She had given them all the information about Jake she could think of. One of the officers said he was going to spend the night parked in front of her house. Morgan was very grateful. The police chief put out a statewide alert for Jake Crosby and his vehicle.

The officer who was going to pull guard duty turned around and said, “Mrs. Crosby, please leave all of your outside lights on.” He said something to the two officers she couldn’t understand and then turned back to her and said, “I promise I’ll call if I see or hear anything. Go ahead and lock up now.”

As soon as Morgan closed the door, the house telephone rang. It was one of Jake’s coworkers. He was just one of several who had called. Jake’s boss had called twice to check on her and Katy and to see if Jake had made it home. Their friends and family were concerned because it was very uncharacteristic of Jake to leave without telling Morgan or someone else. Every law enforcement agency in the Golden Triangle area was looking for Jake and his truck.

When Morgan hung up the call, she could hear Katy crying. She went straight to her and tried to console her. Katy
had heard everything she and the police had discussed. Katy’s memories of that terrifying night in the swamp came flooding back. The fear. The screams. The gunshots. Katy Crosby was scared for her daddy, and nothing her mother said or did could help that.

When Katy had finally cried herself to sleep, Morgan quietly left her side. It was heartbreaking to see her little girl so upset. Morgan knew she had to be strong for Katy and that if she also cried, Katy would fall to pieces. Morgan shut Katy’s bedroom door and then walked to the front of the house and stood with her arms folded, staring out at the dark, cold night. She could feel in her bones that something bad had happened to Jake. He would never leave work without telling her, and he most certainly would never stay out this late without calling.
He’d call if he could. If he could.
The thought of it sent a chill down her spine.

Morgan touched her belly and wished she could feel the tiny baby inside—Jake’s baby. Her lip trembled at the notion of raising the baby without him.
Lord, I want my baby to know its father. It’s a simple request.

She was frightened but was also getting angry—at everybody, including Jake. This was not the life she had envisioned. She wanted normal.

The headlights of the approaching car gave her a flash of hope, but when she saw that it was the police chief, her chest tightened. She just knew it had to be bad news. She could not fight back the tears anymore. The chief parked his sedan and gave a quick wave to the young officer in the patrol car. He trotted toward the house. Morgan felt like she was living a movie, watching herself on-screen—like it wasn’t really happening to her. She saw herself open the front door.

“Morgan, you heard anything?” he asked.

Thank God
—
he’s not here to tell me Jake’s dead
, she thought, but she just said, “No, nothing. Have y’all?”

“No ma’am, not yet, but I’ve got everybody lookin’.”

Morgan smiled weakly to show her thanks and folded her arms again. The police chief could see she’d been crying, but he needed to clarify some things. People under stress often forgot the simplest things, and talking could jog their memories.

“May I trouble you for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Morgan looked at him gratefully. She really liked him. He was a pillar in the community, a deacon in their church, and a friend of Jake’s. She could see that he, too, was upset. He just hid his feelings better than she did.

“Yeah, sure, come on in, please,” she said, realizing she was glad to have something to do.

“Thank you. Morgan, have you thought of anything else since I left that might help us? Anything?”

“No, and he still isn’t answering his cell.”

“We’ve still not been able to locate Ethan Daniels.”

Morgan stopped pouring the coffee when she heard that. It sounded serious to her that they couldn’t find him.

“Do you actually know this guy?”

“I arrested him once…years ago. He’s probably the best poacher around. He’s gotten into drug running for the money. Kinda took over the business, so to speak, from that first guy Jake had to kill over in Alabama.”

Morgan finished pouring the coffee and handed the cup to the chief.

“Thank you. He was picked up over the weekend on an unrelated charge but got out Monday morning. The Columbus PD is all over his lawyer and his known associates right now. We’ll find him.”

“I feel like I need to be out lookin’ for Jake—that I need to be doin’ something to help.” Morgan bit her bottom lip to keep from crying.

“Morgan, listen to me. You’re doin’ exactly what you need to be doin’. I need you here, by the phone; and Katy needs you to be here with her.”

“I know, but—”

“Listen, we have every available officer riding roads right now. We’re tryin’ to cover as much ground as possible because the weather’s about to get really bad. They’re callin’ for several inches of rain.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. It’s gonna hinder the off-road searches when it gets daylight. I need to go back and help the boys.” The chief stood, looked directly into Morgan’s eyes, and said, “Please, Morgan, just stay here…and call me if anything happens. Okay?”

“I will.”

The chief took a big sip of coffee and then gently set down the mug.

“We’re gonna have another baby,” she blurted, smiling tearfully.

“I didn’t know that. Congratulations.”

“We haven’t told anyone, and I…I just thought you ought to know. Jake wouldn’t just leave me.”

“I know that, Morgan, and we’re gonna find him. I promise you.”

T
HE FRIGID WATER
pouring over Jake woke him. Both his legs were burning, as if they were on fire. Dazed from the electrical shocks and disorientated by the circumstances, he took a few moments to realize what had happened to him. It was inky black around him; but, when he looked up, he could distinguish the night sky.

Though the pipe wasn’t flooding yet, Jake could not move his legs. Pain shot through them when he tried to stand. He surmised they must be broken. He could tell that his ankles were still zip-tied.

The air reeked of rotten bottomland mud. The top of the pipe appeared to be about six or seven feet away, and the walls were slick with algae. It was the flowing water that really concerned him. He had no way out, and stifling his growing panic was his most immediate challenge. His face was against the pipe wall, and his shoulders had only a few inches of room. with: He considered bouncing, to force his way out though the lower end of the pipe, but he was stuck too deep in the mud, and there wasn’t enough water flowing though to break the below obstruction of silt and beaver limbs.

Jake’s coffin was to be long, cylindrical, and rusty.

After several deep breaths, Jake remembered his cell phone. His wrists were still zip-tied together, but painfully and slowly, he contorted his arms until he pulled it from his pocket. He mashed the center key, and the screen glowed. It showed forty-one missed calls and eleven texts. He smiled as he recalled putting it on silent before he slipped up on Moon Pie’s trailer. Most of the missed calls and texts were from Morgan. His hands shook as he tried to click on her name to redial. On the third try, the phone dialed, but the call immediately failed. Jake noticed that he didn’t have service.

The phone started getting wet from the water splashing down around it, so he leaned forward a few inches to shield it so he could read Morgan’s first text, at 4:43: “Can u get some bread on the way home?”