Playing Doctor (Bandit Creek Books) (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

J
ack Daniels smelled like…Jack Daniels.

“How much do you drink in a day?” she asked as they drove down the street towards her house. Getting him into the Jeep hadn’t been as difficult as she thought. Getting the smell out of the upholstery might be a different issue, however.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether I have to beg, borrow or steal it.”

“Okay, different question, how much did you drink yesterday?”

“Doctors never stop with the questions. It’s always how much did you drink? When was the last time you ate, and when was your last bowel movement? As if my taking a shit has anything to do with anything.”

“Answer the damn question.”

“I don’t know, maybe a two-six of whiskey.”

“Is that typical?”

“Pretty much.”

“Any other recreational drugs?”

“No.” He sniffed. “I may be a drunk, but I’ve got standards.”

“Of course, how silly of me.”

“You’re a woman, you can’t help it.”

“Don’t insult your doctor, it could be detrimental to your health.”

He chuckled. “Maybe some, but not you.”

“What do you mean not me?”

“You’ve got a good heart, a kind soul.” He patted her knee. “You protect people. You don’t hurt them.”

“But I have JD, I have.”

“Is it really a sin to defend yourself from lethal force?” he asked, his gaze as sharp as a well-honed knife.

“I…don’t know.” She slowed the Jeep as they approached her house. “How did you know?”

“You weren’t the first one to be put in a situation like that, and you sure as hell won’t be the last.”

“But how did you know?”

“Whenever you think no one is looking an expression comes over your face, like someone shot your dog then kicked you in the gut.”

“You spying on me, JD?”

“Of course, it’s part of the drunk, homeless guy’s job description to keep an eye on everyone.”

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” She parked the Jeep in her driveway and got out.

JD opened the passenger door, but when he moved to get out, he ended up in a heap on the ground.

She came around the vehicle and crouched down next to him to see if he was okay. “JD, you all right?”

He looked at her, his face stone, cold, sober. “Ghost is here.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road then.” She stood. “You need a hand getting up?”

JD reached out to take her outstretched hand and yanked her down to his level again. A bullet hit the tree behind her.

She pulled her hand away, stood and stomped to the middle of her front lawn. “That’s enough of that,” she said, raising her voice loud enough for anyone in the near vicinity to hear her. “Ghost, or whatever your name is, I didn’t find the mine. I found some old dynamite. That’s all. I don’t expect you to believe me, so I’d like to show you where I got it.”

She paused, hoping for some sort of response, but none seemed forthcoming. “I’m going to go there now, so please hold off on the shooting. I’m never going to be invited to visit anyone anywhere at this rate.”

She walked back toward the Jeep. “Come on JD, you’re coming too.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Too bad. I’d rather be doing just about anything else, so welcome to the pity party.” She headed for the backyard, JD shuffling behind her.

The side gate to the yard wasn’t obvious, as it was hidden by a slightly overgrown shrub, but Abby managed to get it open and slip through.

“It’s back here?” JD asked, surprise making him sound slightly drunk.

“Yep. Grandma told me about it in a letter she left me in her will.”

“Told you about what exactly?”

They walked to a small stone garden shed that had been mostly taken over by vines, flowers and a couple of apple trees.

“This,” she said opening the rickety wooden door. On the floor next to the door was a flashlight. She turned it on.

Inside was mostly for storage. Plant pots, a wheelbarrow and gardening tools that had seen better days inhabited the space.

“This isn’t much,” JD said peering at the interior.

“Keep looking.” She handed JD the flashlight then moved the wheelbarrow out of the shed. “Shine the light here.”

The space on the floor where the wheelbarrow had been wasn’t stone like the rest of the floor. It was wood, and it had hinges.

“I thought it was just a root cellar.” She lifted the wooden door. “Turns out it’s more than that.” Stairs led down into darkness.

JD shone the light on the stairs then glanced at Abby. “I ain’t going down there.”

“I thought you wanted to know where the dynamite came from.”

“I don’t give a shit about that. Ghost is the one who wants to know.”

“You said Ghost thinks this is some hidden entrance to the mine. It’s not. Get down there and confirm it.”

“Ghost can go down there if he wants. Not me. I don’t like dark, dirty places.”

“You don’t like dark, dirty places?” She looked him up and down. “You’re covered in dirt.”

“Not dirt from some hole in the ground dirt. Like a grave. I’m not ready to die.” He shuddered. “Besides, it’s probably full of spiders and bugs.”

“Don’t be such a girly girl JD.”

“I’m telling you, I ain’t going down there.”

“We’re all going down there.”

Abby jerked back a step and whirled to stare at the doorway and the shadow that stood there. The voice of that shadow was deep, dry and filled with a lifetime of disappointments.

“Ghost, I presume?” she asked.

“Is that what Jack is calling me?”

She knew that voice, but she couldn’t place it.

“Among other things,” JD mumbled.

“You first, Jack.” The shadow gestured toward the dark hole in front of them.

“You gonna make me go down there? Man, that’s hard. I didn’t get in your way. Why you gonna do this to me now?”

“But you did get in my way. Get down there.”

Grumbling, JD put his foot on the first step then the second and the third.

“You next, doc.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you the one who’s been shooting at me? In town?”

“That piss you off, doc?” The shadow chuckled and she knew.

Unless she and JD were very careful, they were both dead.

“Yeah, it did. You risked a lot of lives, innocent lives by taking shots at me in town.”

“You still believe there are innocent people in the world, doc?” The shadow snorted. “There aren’t.”

“Children, housewives, farmers, average every day people are innocent. They believe they’re safe here at home and you’ve taken that away from them.”

“We know different, don’t we, doc? We know no one is safe anywhere.”

“I don’t know what you know, but my nightmares are mine. I will never foist them on someone else.”

“Shouldn’t they know? Shouldn’t they know a little of the hell we’ve gone through? They treat me like a pariah. No respect, none, but if I have the gold, if I find the mine, they’ll all have to pay me the respect they’ve owed me for years.”

“There’s no mine here.”

“I’ve seen you with the dynamite. Every morning like clockwork, throwing a half dozen sticks into the lake. I kinda liked it. It shook people up and our uppity Sheriff hated it. Until that soldier showed up. You gave him the dynamite. Old dynamite. The only place you could have gotten it was the mine.”

“I don’t know how the dynamite got down there, but there’s no entrance to the mine. It’s a hole in the ground. Period.”

“Get down there.” There was no give in the voice. No compromise. No patience.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” Abby said, waving her hands at JD to get down the stairs.

“For the record,” JD said to the shadow. “This blows.”

“That,” Abby told him. “Is a distinct possibility.”

“Someone owes me a mickey after all this,” JD said as he disappeared into the dark.

Abby followed him down the stairs. The air was cool, dry, dusty and filled with earthy smells. As she reached the floor of the cellar, she bent over to keep from brushing the top of her head against the dirty ceiling.

Feet came down the stairs, then the rifle gesturing at them to back up. Finally the shadow emerged.

“I didn’t know you fought in
Vietnam
, Virgil.” Abby said.

Virgil Hackey was a local hunter and trapper who owned and ran a taxidermy business out of his home a couple of miles outside of town. He’d seemed old when she’d been a girl. He looked ancient now with his deeply wrinkled skin, white hair and droop eyelids. Something had aged him that had nothing to do with the number of years he’d been alive.

“Nobody knew,” Virgil snarled. “I was a sniper in a small group of men who went on long range patrols. We lived off the land and went after Charlie in his own backyard. But, when we got home, we were told to keep our mouths shut. The killing we did, a secret.” He scoffed. “No veteran’s benefits, no nothin.”

“I’m sorry you were treated that way, but as you can see there’s no mine or gold here.” She swept her hands in a wide arc.

The cellar floor and walls were packed earth, the ceiling stone framed with wood. Two barrels sat along the wall, one marked for potatoes and another for carrots.

“Where is the dynamite?”

“Here.” She walked to the far corner and removed a wooden plank from the floor. “There’s another hundred or so sticks left.” She stood to the side so Virgil could edge closer and see in the hole.

“How deep is it?”

“The size of one of the barrels maybe, or a little smaller. There’s no tunnel, no doorway, no map. I don’t know where the dynamite came from. My job was to dispose of it.”

“Job?” Virgil asked.

“Gran asked me to in her last letter to me. She said she’d found it a few years back, but didn’t know what to do with it. So she left it where it was and forgot about it until she heard on the news about the improvised bombs used in
Afghanistan
.”

“There’s nothing else in that hole?”

“No. Take a look for yourself.”

He stayed where he was, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You took all the dynamite out?”

“Yes, when I first opened it up.”

Virgil shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t believe you. JD, take everything out.”

“I ain’t sticking my hands in there. Dynamite that old is dangerous. You take it out.”

“I’m the one with the gun, so I’m giving the orders. Take it out.”

“You going to shoot me, Ghost?” JD asked in a tone that chided the other man.

“I should. I should put you out of your misery.”

“Yep, but we both know you won’t.”

Abby looked from one man to the other. “How well do you two know each other?”

“When it comes right down to it, missy,” JD said. “No one really knows anyone else. No one can really predict what someone else might do.”

“I certainly couldn’t have predicted a member of this community might endanger women and children by shooting through town.” She glared at Virgil. “Were you really trying to kill me?”

“The first time I took a shot at you I was. I was angry, but not the second or third time.”

“Why shoot at me again then?”

“I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

Abby stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re like us,” JD told her.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve been there too. Death. Destruction. War. Hell.”

She turned her gaze to Virgil. “I have no reason to lie. If I’d found gold or some map or entrance to the mine, I’d have shared that information with everyone in town as soon as I found it. I’ve been tossing dynamite into the lake to get rid of it.”

“That the only reason?”

“No. It felt good to blow something up, something that wouldn’t hurt anyone else, but me.”

“And a few fish,” JD added.

Chapter Twelve

“T
ake everything out.” Virgil’s tone was unforgiving and final.

“You’re going to get us all killed,” Abby said, but she knelt next to the hole and began removing the dynamite, laying out the bundles of sticks on the earthen floor. “JD, hold the light steady so I can see what I’m doing.”

For once he did as he was asked without any smart remarks.

No one spoke as she worked. A few minutes later, all the dynamite was out.

“That’s it, there’s nothing else in there.”

Virgil waved her away so he could look into the hole. He studied it for a moment then looked at her and JD.