The Bone Tree (46 page)

IT WAS NEARLY
midnight when Sheriff Dennis called me back and told me to meet him in the parking lot of the Ferriday Walmart Supercenter. He didn’t tell me the reason, but the near-panicked urgency in his voice told me I’d been right about the planted drugs. It took all my strength to haul myself out of bed and walk down to my car, and it took most of the drive over to Louisiana to bring myself fully awake.

Driving west on the dark, flat artery of Highway 84, I suddenly spy the Walmart glowing like a fluorescent island in the vast black fields between Vidalia and Ferriday. Fewer than twenty vehicles dot the parking lot when I pull alongside Sheriff Dennis’s cruiser. As I get out and cross between our two cars, I see a black cat with three kittens crouching in the shadow of a parked tractor-trailer, eating from a wet McDonald’s bag.

A hot wind escapes from Walker’s cruiser when I open his passenger door, and when I close myself inside, I see that the sheriff has mounted a sawed-off shotgun in the floor rack between us. His police radio chatters on low volume, and a dashboard computer glows softly with a screen saver that reads:
GO TIGERS!

Dennis appears barely in control of his emotions, so I speak in the calmest voice I can muster.

“Hey, bud. Looks like you’re sweating bullets. Why don’t you turn the heater down?”

Dennis wipes his face like a man waking from a trance. “You’re right. Shit, I didn’t realize.”

After he turns the heater to low, I turn and brace my back against the passenger door. “What did you find, and where did you find it?”

The sheriff shakes his head in disbelief. “A shitload of crystal meth, cooked and bagged and ready for sale. Right under my goddamn house!”

“How much is a shitload?”

“Three-quarters of a pound. Enough to put me in Angola for thirty years, not counting corruption charges.”

A strange serenity flows over me at this news.

“You were
right
,” he says, an edge of hysteria in his voice. “Those goddamn Knoxes.”

“Well, at least we have our answer. This is why the Double Eagles agreed to come back for questioning. They think you’ll be busted by your own men before you ask them your first question.”

Sheriff Dennis goes pale. “My own men?”

“Unless Forrest brings in the DEA—which I doubt—I’d bet on it. I imagine one of your deputies will receive an ‘anonymous’ tip sometime prior to tomorrow’s interrogations. A team will drive over to your house to search it, with the expectation of ‘discovering’ the hoard you found tonight. And if the dope was there, you’d have helped teach your colleagues a valuable lesson: crossing the Knoxes is career suicide for a cop.”

“And you figured this out from a story your kid told you?”

“That triggered it, yeah. Kaiser’s certainty about the Eagles not coming had been bothering me all evening. To submit to questioning, they had to have some kind of insurance. Subconsciously, I must have been wondering what the easiest way to move you off the board would be. I saw drugs planted on cops in Houston before. With this parish’s history of corruption, that would have been a slam dunk.”

Sheriff Dennis wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead with his uniform sleeve. “So what now?”

I don’t answer for a while. Then, after some thought, I say, “Are you asking me as the mayor of Natchez? As a former prosecutor? Or as a friend?”

“A friend, goddamn it.”

“These are the same guys who killed your cousin, right?”

“Yep.”

“They booby-trapped the warehouse that killed two of your deputies.”

Dennis nods soberly.

I turn and look over at the harsh light spilling out of the Walmart doors. “An elegant solution came to me while I was driving over the bridge.”

“What’s that?”

“Send that meth right back where it came from.”

Walker’s voice goes quiet, as though someone might hear us. “Plant it back on the Knoxes?”

Turning back to him, I answer with words I can’t quite believe are my own. “Put on a pair of latex gloves, then divide the meth into separate packages. You know how to make it look authentic. Stash those packets in or around the homes of the Double Eagles we’re going to question tomorrow. At least Snake and Sonny, anyway. Make sure the amount meets the standard for trafficking charges.”

“That wouldn’t be any problem with this load. What about Billy Knox?”

“Something tells me Billy’s likely to have serious security around his place. I’d leave him out of it. But Snake and Sonny won’t, and I doubt they’re back from Toledo Bend yet.”

Walker looks away from me, his jaw muscles working hard as he grinds his teeth. Then he nods suddenly. “Fuck ’em. I’m gonna do it.”

“Good.”

Now his eyes seek me out. “Have you ever done anything like this?”

“No. In all my years as an assistant DA, I never broke the rules. I never looked the other way when a cop did, either. Not on a single case. I was a goddamn choirboy. And I don’t know why I’m advising you to do this now, except . . .” I trail off, unsure whether even I know the answer. “Tonight Billy Byrd tried to search my house, and I almost pushed him into a gunfight. It was stupid, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Sometimes the only way to fight fire is with fire,” Dennis says softly. “If the bad guys are wearing white hats while they break the rules . . . you throw the rules out the window.”

“I guess that’s it.”

“Part of it. The truth is, you’re worried about your father. If we can keep up the pressure on the Knoxes, it’ll definitely increase his chances of survival.”

I nod slowly, watching the mother cat and her kittens scamper from the shadow of the parked truck to a deeper shadow beside a Dumpster. “Once this is done, you’ll need somebody to make an anonymous tip call to you about the meth at Snake’s and Sonny’s houses, preferably
from a pay phone to your home. In case a defense lawyer checks later. Do you have someone you can trust?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Be sure you trust them, Walker. If you’re caught doing this, you’ll go to the penitentiary, if the Knoxes don’t kill you first. If it’s the only way to be sure, I’ll wake up and make the call myself.”

“I don’t want you to take that risk. I can get it handled.”

“All right. I guess we’re done, then.”

“What about tomorrow morning? You’re gonna be there for the interrogation, right?”

“Kaiser says I have no authority to question the Eagles. And technically, he’s correct.”

“Screw that. I want you in that room. Consider yourself a special deputy of Concordia Parish. I’ll swear you in tomorrow. I’ll even pin a tin star on your chest.”

A childish thrill of satisfaction runs through me. Walker Dennis is smarter than people give him credit for being. “I didn’t think about that. You know, with trafficking charges against Sonny and Snake, we’ll have some real leverage. Because of the mandatory sentencing minimums, you won’t even need the cooperation of the DA to charge them.”

“You’re goddamn right. What about Kaiser, though? Do you think he’ll show up and try to stop us?”

I think back to the discussions in Kaiser’s hotel. “I don’t know. He’s got a lot of other things on his mind. But he’s worried we’ll screw things up for him, so I wouldn’t be surprised to see him.”

Dennis shakes his head, obviously troubled by something. “You know, that Kaiser’s a pretty tough dude. He fought in ’Nam.”

“Yeah.”

“He also worked in the Bureau’s profiling unit, but he transferred out after attacking a convict they were interviewing. A child killer. He’s probably got a lot of experience with interrogation.”

“So do I, Walker. Don’t worry. With trafficking charges against the Eagles, you won’t require much finesse. And Kaiser won’t be able to interfere. Just make sure you don’t screw up while you’re planting the stuff.”

“I won’t.”

“Where’s the meth now?”

“In the trunk.”

A bolus of pure terror blasts through my veins to my heart. “
This
trunk?”

“Shit, where else was I gonna put it?”

An almost overwhelming urge to leap from the car grips me. “Okay, okay,” I say, closing my hand around the door handle. “Just get the job done as fast as you can. And be careful. This isn’t some prank, man. They’ll kill you if they catch you. They won’t hesitate.”

Sheriff Dennis leans forward, his eyes burning with long-suppressed rage. “That cuts two ways, brother. I owe these motherfuckers from way back. They come at me tonight . . . I’ll kill ’em. You can sort out the mess with a judge in the morning.”

This prospect doesn’t excite me, but I raise my hand and pat him on the shoulder. “Just watch your back, okay?”

“Just be at my office at seven
A.M.
You don’t want to miss their faces when I slap that meth on the table.”

I can’t help but smile. “You’re right about that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey, wait,” he says as I pop the door handle.

When I turn back, Walker is holding out his hand to me. In it gleams a gold star with
Concordia Parish Sheriff
engraved in the metal. He’s taken the star from his own chest and offered it to me.

“I can’t take that, Walker.”

“Hell yes you can. In case you beat me to my office tomorrow. Consider yourself a sworn deputy.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I take the badge and slip it carefully into my pocket. “Thanks. Remember what I said, now. Watch your six.”

Dennis grins and gives me a quick salute. “Adios, hombre.”

BILLY KNOX HAD
been drinking bourbon at his desk for so long that he’d started talking to the big stuffed razorback standing against the opposite wall. Forrest had planted the spear in that animal’s back as deeply as he’d planted the metaphorical one in Billy’s. Surely there was a rule against asking a man to betray his own father in order to succeed, or even to survive? But rules meant nothing to Forrest. They never had.

Billy had expected his dad to give him hell when he heard the chopper taking off without being told why, but all Snake had done was walk into the study and ask where the bird was headed. When Billy denied knowing its destination, his father had accepted his answer and disappeared. But Billy had known that couldn’t be the end of it.

Sure enough, as he sat staring at the glazed eyes of the hog, the study door opened and Snake stepped into the room wearing a black sweatshirt and weathered Levis. He raised his right hand in greeting, then took a seat across the desk from his son.

“You’ve made a hell of a dent in that whiskey,” Snake said. “Something bothering you?”

“Nah,” Billy lied.

A fleeting smile crossed his father’s features. “Listen to me, boy. I’m not gonna fill you with a bunch of bullshit. I’m here because we’ve come to the fork in the river.”

Billy stirred from his anesthetized stupor. “What do you mean?”

“No games, son. You know what I’m talking about. We’re at the place where some go one way, and the rest go the other. Forrest means to leave all this behind him. And by ‘this’ I mean ‘us.’ He wants to go with the moneymen and the power whores in New Orleans and Baton Rouge. He thinks he can step right up into that life and it will be great. And he’s gonna tell you that you can do it, too, if he hasn’t already.”

Billy wished he would simply pass out, so he wouldn’t have to lie anymore. He could hardly believe that three days ago he’d been trying to hire Jimmy Buffett for his forty-fourth birthday party. Now he couldn’t imagine celebrating anything, except staying out of prison.

“The truth is,” Snake went on, “you’d do better in that world than Forrest ever would. Because Forrest has got something in him that you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Self-destruction.”

Billy blinked and leaned forward. “What are you talking about? Forrest is the most careful guy I know.”

“You think that because you don’t really know him.”

“What? I’ve known him all my life.”

Snake reached out and took a slug straight from the bourbon bottle. “How much do you remember about Granddaddy Elam?”

“Not much. I remember that weird hat he’d wear, like something from pilgrim times.
The Scarlet Letter
or something.”

Snake chuckled darkly. “Yeah. He was a lay preacher, and he wore that thing to impress the suckers. God only knows how many offering plates he robbed and children he fucked in that old hat.”

Billy blinked in surprise, unsure that he’d heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing but life. The truth of it. And one truth is, when your own daddy fucks you in the ass, you ain’t ever the same.”

When your own daddy fucks you in the ass . . . ?
“Are you saying Uncle Frank was molested by Granddad?”

“Not just Frank. Frank, some of the cousins, God knows how many kids in Elam’s various flocks . . . and me, of course.”

It was all Billy could do to stop himself from disgorging the liquor he’d drunk. “
You?
”

“Sure. I was there, wasn’t I? And I was too little to stop him. That’s all old Elam needed, boy.” Snake shook his head and sucked his teeth the way Robert Duvall sometimes did in the movies.

As far as Billy was concerned, this was no longer a two-way conversation. His father had the floor. Snake seemed to sense this, because he began to speak without prompting.

“When that kind of shit happens to most people, they either bury it
and move on, or it buries them. I’ve seen it bury people. We had a cousin who killed herself when she was fourteen. But Frank . . . he buried it. Most people never suspected a thing.”

“And you?”

Snake waved his hand. “I’m different. I didn’t have to bury it. It’s like prison, you know?”

Billy’s stomach rolled again. He did know, and he didn’t want to be reminded.

“That kind of shit’s generally gonna happen when you’re inside,” Snake said, “and if it does, it does. Ain’t no different than getting stabbed or having your head stove in, if you look at it right. Except it tends to happen regular until you find yourself some protection. Anyway . . . Frank buried what your granddaddy done and moved on. But it was always part of him. You follow?”

“I guess.”

“See, what people sensed in Frank was this burning thing, but cold at the same time, like a cold flame. Some things he did during the war—crazy, heroic things—I knew it was that pain driving him. Even if
he
didn’t know . . .
I
did.

“But it’s a funny thing, Bill. You can hate the person who does that to you, and yet still become like them. It’s like you absorb part of them with their damn spunk—part of their black soul. Especially if you’re young.”

“Daddy, I don’t think I—”

“Oh, you’re gonna listen,” Snake said. “You’ve got to hear this. See, when your old man does that to you, the way Elam did us, it can turn you inside out. At some level, you realize that you came into the damned world through that man’s dick. Then you find yourself lying under him with a pillow or a sock stuffed in your mouth, screaming while he’s shoving it into you. . . . That’s about as painful as it gets, in every meaning of the word. That’s what taught me the first law of the damned universe.”

“Which is?”

“Pain begets pain, boy. If that ain’t in the Bible, it ought to be.”

Billy looked at the liquor bottle, but when he nearly lost his supper, he focused back on his father. “Daddy, why are you telling me this?”

“I’m trying to save you. And myself. People think I’m crazy, I know that. Hell, I
like
’em to think that. It makes life easier in a lot of ways.
And I may
be
a little crazy. Who ain’t? But I’m crazy like a fox, Billy boy. Because I always rein it in before things spin quite out of control. A crop duster don’t get to be my age without knowing how to rein it in.

“But Frank . . . he was the opposite. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was cool as ice. But one time in a hundred, he was gonna jump off the rails and do something so extreme you couldn’t believe it.”

“Like?”

“Hell, it don’t matter now. Things somebody like you couldn’t even imagine. My point is, Forrest has that in him, too.”

Billy shook his head, not quite believing this.

“You ever notice how he is with women?”

Billy had heard stories, but he motioned for his father to continue.

“Sure, I’ll slap a woman around if she gives me attitude,” Snake said, “and I like rough pussy. But Forrest is different. He’ll really hurt a woman, and worse, he’ll enjoy it. Not just physically either. He likes breaking women down.”

“He’s been with his wife a long time.”

“His
second
wife. The first one died. And it’s a good thing nobody looked too close at that. But there’s two reasons that second wife has lasted. First, he learned some things the last time around. He don’t let the demon all the way out with wife number two. But more important, that woman
likes
being broke down. She don’t show it, but she does. There’s women who love pain, son, and she’s one. She’s also got the same ambition Forrest does. She likes shopping in Dallas and New York with those trust-fund bitches from New Orleans.”

“I don’t see where you’re going with this, Dad.”

“Yeah, you do. Because you think the same way. All that bullshit sounds exciting to you. You want to fly around with rock stars and gamble in the private rooms in Vegas. But I’m here to tell you, Forrest can’t live that life long without blowing it up. It’s just his nature.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because Elam got Forrest, too.”

Billy’s face felt hot. “What?”

Snake leaned forward, his eyes burning with conviction. “You only missed it because you were born so late. Elam died in ’66—right about the time he would have started on you. But not before he got Forrest, and also his big brother, Frank Junior.”

Billy still couldn’t quite accept this. “Has Forrest ever talked to you about it?”

Snake shook his head with regret. “No. I tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he wouldn’t have it. But I know. I’ve seen it in him, man . . . that same cold fire that was in Frank.”

“Then you don’t know for sure.”

“Yes, I do. Listen close now. I’m only gonna tell this once. Forrest’s big brother—Frank Junior—enlisted in the Corps in ’64, and he went to Vietnam in ’65. I can’t tell you how proud Frank was of that boy. Junior was the reincarnation of his daddy, a born soldier. All the news we got from over there was good. The race war had heated up pretty good over here by ’64, so we were pretty busy with the Double Eagles. Old Elam came and went like he always did. He was in his sixties, but he was still a rounder and still getting in trouble—sometimes with the law. Brody got him out of the pokey a few times, as a favor to Frank. Kept him out of prison.” Snake paused, reflecting silently, then went on.

“In 1966, everything changed. Frank got a visit from a casualty team. Frank Junior had been killed. At a place called the Rockpile.”

“I’ve heard about that.”

“Not the real story, you ain’t. The government said young Frank had charged straight into machine-gun fire to save four members of his squad. He got hit getting the second guy, but he kept going back out. The fourth time he ran out there, the gun chewed him to pieces. There was talk of a Medal of Honor. In the end they gave him a posthumous Silver Star.”

Billy actually had heard all this before.

“You’d think Frank would be able to handle something like that,” Snake said, “as much war as he’d seen. But he started drinking, and he didn’t stop. He could always hold his liquor, but he was drinking enough to kill most men. Enough to put himself out every night. Then the letter came.”

“What letter? About the medal?”

“No. A letter from Frank Junior. He’d mailed it before he died. It had got delayed somehow, but it finally came.”

“What did it say?

Snake sighed and took another pull from Billy’s bottle. “Basically, Frank Junior told his daddy that he had no intention of coming back
home. Junior was messed up in his head, he said; he always had been, but he’d never had the nerve to talk about it. But once he got to Vietnam, and saw war up close, he just didn’t care anymore.”

“Because of Granddaddy Elam?”

Snake nodded. “He told Frank that Elam had been messing with him since he was a little boy. The old bastard done everything imaginable to him, and he’d threatened to kill us all if Junior told his mama or daddy about it. And Elam was so damn crazy, that poor boy believed it.”

“Jesus, Pop.”

“Junior had made up his mind he was gonna push it in battle until he found some peace. He said he was gonna give the gooks all the hurt he could until his own hurt stopped.” Snake nodded once. “And that’s what he did.”

Billy sat blinking in horror, not knowing what to say.

“Something busted in Frank when he read that letter,” Snake said. “He blamed himself, see? And I blamed
my
self. Because I was scared as hell the same thing had happened to you.”

“It didn’t. At least I don’t think it did.”

“I know. I made it my business to find out.”

“How’d you do that?”

Snake dug in his pants pocket and brought out a bent cigarette, which he lit with an old silver lighter. He blew out a long stream of blue smoke, then began speaking softly.

“Elam was preaching in East Texas when that letter came, but he was due home in a couple of days. I started checking on Frank every few hours, worried he might kill himself or something. But the day Elam was due back, I went over and found my brother a changed man. Frank was sober as a judge. He told me we were gonna talk to Elam. He told me to get a few of the boys together. Glenn, Sonny, a couple more, and have ’em at his house about dark.

“Elam got home about eight. Me and Frank went by his house and went in without knocking. Frank told Daddy we had an operation set up. We was gonna lynch a nigger that night. Well, old Elam was always up for that kind of party, so he came right along.

“We came out here to Valhalla and got in two boats. Then we headed to the Bone Tree. Elam was drinking moonshine from a clear jug. I still remember that, the jug in the moonlight. When we got to the tree, I
climbed out with a rope, and Frank got out with a toolbox. Just as we got to the opening in the big tree, Elam stopped drinking long enough to holler, ‘Where’s the nigger, boys?’” Snake shook his head, a strange smile on his face. “I’ll never forget what happened next. Frank finally looked old Elam in the eye, and he said, ‘You’re the nigger tonight, Daddy.’”

An electric chill raced up Billy’s spine. “Jesus Christ . . .”

“Frank knocked the old man down to the ground, then squatted over him and told him about Junior’s letter. Elam tried to deny it, but what the hell could he say? Me and Frank had been through the very same thing with him, till we got big enough to push him off.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t have to do much. Frank had gone off the rails, boy. It was like we was back in the Pacific. He told Elam he’d betrayed his family and his vows to God both. And for that, he was gonna get a special punishment. Then he tied Daddy’s hands, dragged him inside that hollow tree, and hung him upside down by his feet. After Elam’d been hanging awhile, with his face all red and about to bust, Frank nailed him to the wood in there. He had some ten-penny nails in his toolbox, and he did old Elam just like the Romans done Jesus. Crucified him upside down, you see? He’d seen something like that in a book once. He said that was the only fitting punishment for a preacher who done what Daddy had.”

“I saw those bones,” Billy said. “The only time I ever went there. You remember? You told me they were some nigger’s bones.”