Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (38 page)

I needed a diff erent tactic.

I pointed the gun at Denny’s head. “Don’t fucking move.”

He froze, then swallowed hard.

Good, that would keep the bile down. “Talk to me.

Swear to me you had nothing to do with this execution, 440

Denny.”

“I-I didn’t. Oh, man,” he glanced down at Roland’s remains and shuddered. “Oh, Jesus, I’m gonna be sick.”

“No! I said, look at me!”

His head snapped up and he gaped at the barrel of my Browning.

“Did you kill him?”

“No!”

“Did you hire someone else to kill him after he beat the shit out of your mother?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you saw Roland?”

“Th

-that day he used the stunner on us in Sturgis.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Jesus. What’s wrong with you?”

“Okay. Listen to me. Don’t look at him. Don’t think about what those dogs did to him. Turn around and get back in the truck. We’re getting out of here right fucking now.”

Denny didn’t question me; he just obeyed.

I waited until he’d shut the door before my gaze strayed. First to the bloody carnage that’d been Roland Hawk, then to the dogs, still chained to the tree, lying in the trash next to the metal skirting of the trailer. Th ey

were lethargic after their unexpected feast. I suspected if I got too close to the body, they’d see me as a threat 441

horning in on their prize and try to attack me, even when they hadn’t actually made the kill on Roland, just reaped the benefi ts.

I covered the distance to my truck in three steps, climbed in, and we roared off . Once we’d cleared reservation land, I pulled over on the shoulder, opened the door and threw up.

After I wiped my mouth, I faced a petulant Denny.

“What the fuck was that shit, Julie? Pullin’ a gun on me?”

“Sorry. I used it as a diversion to keep you from blowing chunks all over the scene.”

“Well, it worked, ’cept I almost crapped my pants. I thought you were gonna shoot me!” He was completely panicked. “Oh, God. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know.

Th

e legal parameters were diff erent on tribal land.

People who’d done business on White Plain told horror stories about glitches in the legal system. Add in the sov-ereign nation angle? I’d rather not spend months in the White Plain jail on a suspected murder rap while my legal rights were questioned and legal parameters defi ned.

Once again I’d lit out of a crime scene like a mad bull was chasing me. I hated that this shit was starting to become habit.

Would the tribal police even investigate? Blame it 442

on the dogs? Chalk it up to good riddance? I doubted anyone would mourn him. Might seem harsh but I wasn’t sorry Roland was dead, just sorry about my bad luck in fi nding him.

Tough talk. I knew the fi nal vision of Roland, as a dog’s chew toy, would haunt me for many years to come.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Denny said.

“Sure.”

“Did
you
have anything to do with him getting killed?”

Th

e question jarred me, but not as much as the question running round in my brain I’d refused to acknowledge until right that second: Had Martinez done this to Roland? In retaliation for Roland cutting and zapping me?

Th

en again, the list of people who wanted Roland dead was mighty long.

“Julie?”

“Not intentionally.”

Denny didn’t comment.

“I have to call Kevin. He has a clearer head than both of us right now.”

Kevin picked up on the second ring. I recited the details. Th

e silence was unbearable as I waited for his advice. Finally, Kevin sighed. “I know I gave you a rash of shit last time this happened to you, Jules. But I have 443

to be honest. I don’t see any other way for you to deal with this besides call it in anonymously and drive like hell away from there.”

“Can’t they track cell phones?”

Beside me, Denny snorted. “
Shee
. Th e rez police

don’t got enough money for gas for their patrol cars.

Th

ey sure as shit don’t got no kinda super spyware that can track you down.”

“He’s right,” Kevin said. “Call it in, then get back to Rapid City. Fast.”

“I don’t have the number for the tribal PD.”

Denny rattled it off .

I gave him a skeptical look.

He shrugged. “You surprised I had to call the cops a time or two?”

I dialed the White Plain Tribal Police Department before I lost my nerve. Yeah, I disguised my voice—

poorly—and ranted about Roland driving his Durango, obviously drunk, on the wrong side of the road. Th rowing

beer bottles on the highway and then cruising along home.

Lame? Totally. Hopefully they’d check it out before the dogs needed another snack.

Denny and I didn’t talk at all as I cruised straight to the offi

ce. I’d use drudgery to block out the horror of my morning. Maybe it’d work on the rest of the nasty things I’d dealt with in the last week too.

444

I buckled down and had done a fair job in forgetting about my hellish morning, when the door clicked open and Kim shuffl

ed into my offi

ce.

Her pasty complexion didn’t scare me as much as the way she inched across the room. I pushed back my offi

ce chair and skirted the desk. She looked ready to topple over.

“Kim?” I clutched her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

She sagged against me. “I’m bleeding. I think I’m having a miscarriage.”

“Oh, shit. Sit down.” After I’d situated her in the chair, I asked, “Who’s your doctor?” She whispered the name and I found the number and dialed. I explained the situation and received instructions.

I hung up and glanced at her. Tears streamed down Kim’s cheeks. My throat closed. I knew—I remembered—exactly how she felt right now. “I’m taking you in. Sit tight while I tell Kevin I’m going to be gone for awhile again.”

Kevin, being the (nosy) helpful sort, brought my truck around and helped me bundle Kim inside.

At the doctor’s offi

ce, Kim watched the pregnant

women waddling in and out of the reception area with the most forlorn expression. She’d wanted this baby way more than she’d ever let on.

I clasped her hand in mine. “You need anything?”

445

“No.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“I-I don’t know. What’s going to happen, did they say?”

“Th

ey’ll do a pelvic exam and an ultrasound. If everything is okay, they’ll send you home and tell you to rest.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What if it’s not okay?”

“If it’s no longer a viable pregnancy then they’ll do a D&C, send you home and tell you to rest.”

Kim studied me strangely. “Th

ey just told you this?”

No.

Th

e nurse called Kim’s name and she opted to go in alone.

Sesame Street
didn’t take my mind off what might be happening to Kim. Or what’d already happened to Roland Hawk. I suspected nothing would erase the images besides booze.

My stomach rumbled. Food was out of the question.

Another hour later Kim emerged. I scrutinized her face but couldn’t detect a damn thing about her diagnosis. She didn’t speak until we were in my car and I demanded, “Well?”

“Everything is fi ne. I’m just spotting a little. Th ings

are normal. So is this constant nausea. Apparently I freaked out for no reason.”

446

“I’m glad everything is okay.” I signaled and turned right onto 5th Street, past Rapid City Regional Hospital.

Th

e Emergi-Flight helicopter sat on the pad like a big, hungry bird of prey, eager to swoop down on misfortune.

I hung a left on Minnesota Street and followed it past the clusters of single-family homes and generic apartment buildings until I reached the rows of condos, neatly lined up like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine.

Inside Kim’s place, I tucked her in bed with a cup of herbal tea. Fluff ed her pillows. Brought her crackers and juice.

“You don’t have to do this, Julie.”

“Let me fuss a little, will you?” I mimicked in her southern drawl.

She smiled and sank back into the mountain of pink pillows. Chiff on, lace, silk, satin, velvet. All different shapes, all diff erent sizes, all diff erent shades . . .

of pink. Be interesting to see how Kim would handle having a boy.

“How did things go with Murray?”

“Good, I guess. We’re taking it day by day. No major changes. He wants to be involved in everything.”

“Th

ere are worse things, Kim.”

“I know.” I knew she knew, but she had something else on her mind.

447

I straightened the puff y coverlet. “Anything else you need?”

She said, “No,” but was strangely hesitant.

“What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

I almost pulled a Martinez and said, “Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” Instead I shrugged. “I guess.”

“What happened in the last few days?”

Revelation and revulsion. Disenchantment and dismemberment. She didn’t need to hear my woes in her current frame of mind so I shrugged again and said,

“Some stuff I can’t talk about.”

An angry pause.

I sighed and searched for patience. “What?”

“I thought since we’d both been burned by bad friendships in the past, that we’d made some progress in willingly sharing things about ourselves in the last few months.”

“We have. But this isn’t something you want to hear about, Kim.”

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell me you had a miscarriage?”

I backtracked so fast I plowed over a beaded fl oor lamp.

Kim snagged my wrist. “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

448

No.

“I know how you hate being vulnerable, and how you never let anyone in—”

“If you’re all right, I have to go.” I didn’t need her prodding at another thing in my screwed up psyche after what I’d been through today.

“Julie, please stay. Don’t run away. Talk to me.”

No
. “Is Murray coming by?”

“Probably after work.”

“Good.” I slipped out of her hold without having to resort to a forearm strike. But I would have done anything to escape. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

“Julie, I didn’t mean—”

I said, “Take care, Kim,” and bolted from her pink palace.

449

I couldn’t face the office. Kevin had told me not to worry about coming back, so I didn’t. I drove aim-lessly. Nickelback’s
Animals
blasting from the speakers couldn’t drown out the thoughts spinning in my head.

I’d had a miscarriage about fi ve months before Ben’s murder. If I’d carried the pregnancy to term, my child would be about the same age as Jericho. Was that the reason I felt a need to cling to him? Because of my own sense of loss?

No time to dwell on it. I shoved it in the dark recesses of my mind where it belonged. As I passed the turn-off to June Everett’s house, I realized, with all the other stuff going on in my life, I’d forgotten about Jeff Colhoff .

Th

e red Dodge truck was parked out front. I didn’t see the ancient Chrysler Lebaron from the other day.

450

When I pulled up I noted a little dark-haired boy playing alone in a big tractor tire that’d been recycled into a sand box. Tonka trucks and other miniature construction equipment surrounded him.

I cut the engine, palmed my gun in my jacket pocket and slowly approached the kid. “Hey. What’s your name?”

He didn’t look up. “I ain’t ’sposed to talk to strangers.”

“But I’m not a stranger. I was here talking to your mom the other day, remember?” He kept rolling the mini-dump truck in the same set of tracks. “And I know your Aunt June.”

“She’s dead. Now she ain’t gonna be sad no more

’cause she’s where she wanted to be.”

“And where’s that?”

“Up’n heaven with Uncle Lang.”

Well, hell. I didn’t know what to say to that. Had June’s death offi

cially been ruled a suicide? “So, what’s

your name?”

“JJ.”

“Wow, JJ. You have quite the selection of cool machines. I bought one just like this for my nephew.” I tapped the cab top of a road grader.

“My mama bought that for me. Does he got one like this?” JJ held up a tiny bobcat with a bucket on one side, and the cab swiveled to the claw arm on the other side.

I shook my head.

451

“We gots a real one of these, too.” JJ pointed to the hobbled machine, missing a left front wheel, stuck alongside the metal barn. “My mama used to run really, really big trucks when she worked in the coal fi elds. Sometimes my mama takes me for rides in that one.”

“Yeah? Where do you go?”

“Out in the pasture.” His little chest puff ed out. “I even got to sit on her lap and drive.”

Something mighty strange was going on in my head.

“Awesome. Did you get to drop the bucket?”

JJ nodded. “And the claw. It digs really big holes.”

He scowled. “’Cept last time she went by herself and made me watch the crybabies. She was gone a long time and Dougie pooped everywhere.” He clapped a grubby hand over his mouth. “Th

at’s ’sposed to be a secret.

Doan tell her, ’cause I’ll get inta big trouble.”

Th

e truth hit me like a Wyoming coal train. Jeannie had dug up those bones and dumped them in the stock damn. Why? Who was she protecting? Her husband?

Or herself?

Th

e metal trailer door banged and Jeff inched down the steps with a baby on his hip, and a two-year old hiding behind his leg.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see how you were holding up. And to apologize for my rudeness 452

at the sheriff ’s offi

ce the other day.”

Jeff relaxed and nodded somberly. And for the briefest second, I caught a glimpse of the handsome man June claimed he was before marriage and children sucked the life out of him. But was he a monster? Like Ted Bundy?