The Devil's Right Hand (12 page)

 
This is one cool
ride
, DeWayne thought. He was headed south on I-95,
going slightly under the speed limit. He had the windows rolled
down and Steve Earle cranked on the CD player.

About the time that daddy left to fight the
big war

I saw my first pistol in the general
store

In the general store,

 
when I was
thirteen

Thought it was the finest thing I ever had
seen…

He could feel the vibrations of the big
engine through his boots on the pedals. The dude that had been
chasing him had obviously done some serious modifications to the
engine. DeWayne wished that he could really open it up and see what
that engine could do, but he didn’t dare take the chance. He had
gotten lucky with the two cops and the bounty hunter. If he had
learned anything from his life, it was that luck like that never
lasted.

So I asked if I could have one some day when
I grew up

Mama dropped a dozen eggs, she really blew
up

She really blew up,

 
I didn't
understand

Mama said the pistol is the devil's right
hand

The police scanner under the dashboard
crackled. DeWayne leaned over and turned it up. A garbled voice on
the other end checked in with the dispatcher. DeWayne squinted as
he passed an exit sign. A Highway Patrolman was three exits ahead,
a good ten miles. DeWayne figured he’d better get off the main
road. He wasn’t sure that anyone was looking for this car, but he
wasn’t taking any chances.

 
There was a cluster of businesses
at the top of the ramp: a shabby-looking motel, a discount
cigarette outlet and a Handi-Mart convenience store. Only the last
one was open, its bug-spattered floodlights creating an island of
harsh brilliance in the darkness. DeWayne swung the car into the
empty parking lot of the convenience store. There was nobody inside
except the guy behind the counter. DeWayne could see him through
the window, flipping through a magazine. DeWayne looked at the gas
gauge. About a quarter-tank. He took a deep breath. He needed money
and gas. A cigarette and a beer wouldn’t hurt, either.

The devil's right hand

the devil's right hand,

Mama said the pistol is the devil's right
hand

DeWayne reached for the gun on the seat
beside him.

He had tried to argue with the nurse about
the wheelchair, even though he knew from the start it was a losing
battle. “I know, I know,” she had cut him off when he tried to
protest that he could walk. “You a big, strong man. But you fall
down and break your leg leavin’ this hospital,” she said, “it ain’t
your silly ass they’re going to blame. It’s me, and I got two years
left ‘till my profit-sharing plan vests, so I ain’t losin’ my job
over you, hear? Once you get to the front door, you can do anything
you want. Right now, sit your butt down in that chair for Emma like
a good boy, okay?” Keller sat. They made the elevator ride down in
silence.

Angela stood up as they came off the elevator
into the lobby. She stood there and looked at him as he stood up.
He walked over to her.

“
You all right?” she said.

“
Yeah.”

She reached up and touched the bandage on his
nose, lightly. “Does it hurt?”

“
A little.”

“
Damn it, Keller,” she said, her voice
breaking, “you scared the shit out of me,” She threw her arms
around him. He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly to him.
After a few moments, she pulled away, wiping her eyes. Keller
looked back at the nurse who was standing with the wheelchair.
“Look like my ride’s here,” he said.

The nurse smiled. “I see that.” She looked at
Angela. “This your man, honey?”

 
Angela looked at Keller. “No,”
she said, a small smile playing over her lips. “I’m his
boss.”

“
Good for you,” the nurse said. “Get
him trained right.”

Angela laughed out loud at that. “No, I mean
he really does work for me.” Her smile turned a little sad. “We’re
just friends.”

“
Uh-huh,” the nurse said. She sounded
unconvinced. “Well, y’all have a good day.” She backed into the
elevator and closed the doors.

“
Ready to go home?” she
said.

“
I need you to find out something for
me first,” he said.

“
What?”

As they walked to the parking lot, he told
her about Wesson’s shooting. She listened in silence to the end. By
that time, They were sitting in Angela’s car.

“
So what do you want me to do?” she
said. Her voice sounded strange to Keller.

“
Internal Affairs will be
investigating. They always do in a cop shooting. I need you to make
a few calls to your friends in the department. Find out what’s
going on, when the hearing is. I need to be there to tell what
really happened.”

Angela shook her head. “Why are you doing
this, Keller?”

He was getting angry. "I don’t know why I
have to keep explaining this, especially to you. She didn’t do
anything wrong. She’s getting screwed by her own department. And I
can do something about it.”

Angela shook her head. She was silent for a
few minutes. A couple of times she opened her mouth as if to say
something, then shut it. She looked as if she was debating
something with herself. Finally, she sighed. “Jack, this is why I
won’t go out with you.”

He was baffled. “What does this have to do
with you not wanting to go out with me?”

She turned and looked him in the eye. “For
some reason, you think it’s your job to rescue the world. So now
you’ve found yourself another damsel in distress.”

“
Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous
now. Jesus, your timing is worse than mine.”

“
That’s not what this is about!” she
snapped.

“
Then what is it?” he
demanded.

Angela looked away for a long minute. She
took a deep breath. Finally, she said in a quiet voice: “That look
in your eyes you get when you talk about her. I’ve seen that look.
It’s the same way you look at me. You treat me like I’m someone who
needs big, strong Jackson Keller to pull her out of the fire.” She
turned back to him. “Well, Jack, I have news for you. I may have
been beaten up, fucked over, and set on fire, but I don’t need
help. I can rescue myself. And so can she.”

Keller threw up his hands. “I can’t figure
you out, Angela. One minute, you’ve got your arms around me like
you never want to let me go, the next you’re telling me what an
idiot I am.”

She looked at him soberly. “I never said I
didn’t care about you, Keller. Like I said, you’re a good man.
You’re kind and strong, and let’s face it,” she gave him that sad
smile, “you’re easy on the eyes.” The smile vanished and she looked
away. “There’ve been times when I’ve wanted to take you up on your
offer. But we both know what it would mean. There’s no way either
of us could just casually date.” The smile this time was almost
bitter. “We are not casual people. It would be way too easy for me
to fall for you, Keller. And I don’t know what being in love with
you would do to me. I’m afraid I might end up feeling the same way
you do. And that would destroy me, Jack. It would make me the same
scared, dependent person I was with … with my husband.”

Keller put his hand on her arm. “I’m not that
guy, Angela.”

There were tears in her eyes. “But I’m that
woman, Jack. At least I know I can be. I have been. And I’ll spend
the rest of my life alone before I’ll be her again.”

He thought about that as she started the car.
They didn’t speak for a long time. Finally she said, “I’ll make a
few calls. In the morning.”

“
Thanks,” he said. She just
nodded.

There were two cops, a little guy with a
mustache and a big one. Raymond closed his eyes as they entered,
but he wasn’t fast enough. “Forget it, Chief,” the big cop said.
“We know you’re awake.”

Raymond opened his eyes. “I got nothing to
say.”

“
You don’t want to find out what
happened to your brother?” the big one said. Raymond didn’t
answer.

The short cop, the one with the bald head and
the moustache, pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. He took a
piece of paper from his file folder and laid it on Raymond’s chest.
It was a color photograph of John Lee sprawled against the wall
next to the door of the white house. His eyes were wide open in
shock. His shirt across his chest was shredded and the flesh
beneath looked like chopped meat. Raymond closed his eyes.

“
Someone shot your brother with a heavy
gauge shotgun,” he heard the big cop say. “We didn’t find a gun on
or near him, so we figure he was unarmed. That sound right,
Chief?”

“
Quit calling me Chief,” Raymond
said.

“
Stace,” the bald cop said, “Zip it,
okay? Go sit down outside or something. You’ve done enough this
evening.”

There was a short pause. Even with his eyes
closed, Raymond could feel the tension in the room. Finally, he
heard a rustling of curtains as the big cop left. He felt something
else being laid on his chest. He opened his eyes.

The bald cop had laid another photograph in
front of him. This was in black and white. The numbers along the
bottom identified it as a police mug shot. The picture showed a man
with shoulder-length curly blond hair brushed back from a high
forehead. His eyes looked pale in the camera. His square jaw was
clenched as if he were gritting his teeth.

“
This guy look familiar to you?” the
bald cop asked.

“
I never seen him before,” Raymond
said.

“
His name’s Jackson Keller. Works for H
& H Bail Bonds out of Wilmington.” The bald cop picked up the
picture. “He’s a bounty hunter. We think he was after a guy named
DeWayne Puryear. We found DeWayne’s cousin Leonard dead just inside
the house.” He stood up. “You get into some kind of argument with
him? Maybe you had some sort of personal beef with one of the
Puryear boys and Keller got in the way?” Raymond turned his head
away from the side of the bed where the cop was sitting. He watched
the green lights and numbers flicker on and off on the machines
beside the bed.

“
Sorry about your father,” the cop
said. “Must be tough losing a father and a brother the same
week.”

Raymond turned back to look at him. “You
don’t care nothin’ about my daddy. Or my brother.”

The cop obviously sensed an opening. He sat
back down. Raymond cut him off before he could say anything else.
“No one cares. I know damn sure you don’t.” He looked at the
ceiling. “I got nothing more to say. Get my doctor.”

The cop didn’t move. “We got two dead in that
house, Raymond, and no guns in anyone’s hands but yours. It’s only
a matter of time before we get a ballistics match between the
bullets we dug out of Leonard Puryear and the gun we found next to
you. So you’re not getting out of here. The guy that killed your
brother goes free. And one of the guys who killed your father does,
too.” Raymond must have looked shocked for a second; the cop smiled
slightly. Raymond silently cursed himself for letting his composure
slip.

“
Robeson County Sheriff’s been looking
for the Puryear boys in connection with your father’s death,” he
said. “You got no other connection we can see. But it’s the end of
the line for you, Raymond. If anyone gets the guy that killed your
father, it’ll be the cops.”

Raymond continued to stare at the ceiling. “I
got nothing to say,” he repeated. “Now get my doctor. I need
somethin’ for pain.”

“
Get him yourself,” the cop said. He
picked up his file folder and walked out. Raymond found the nurse
call button fastened to a cord on the side of the bed. He held it
in his hand for a moment, then set it back down. His gut throbbed
like someone had fed him burning coals, but he needed his head
clear.

His life was over, he knew. When they
matched up those bullets, they’d try to lock him up. He had always
told himself that any real man would die rather than submit to
that. He knew he was going to die soon, and violently. He had known
all along he would probably end like that. It had been something he
had come to accept about the life he had chosen. But there was some
family business to take care of before he rested. He remembered the
face of the man that the cop had showed him.
Puryear and Keller
, he thought. He had to kill
them. Then he’d come back after the cop who had called him Chief.
They would kill him then, most likely. But he would die on his feet
like a man, having done what a man would do. He closed his eyes.
There would be blood. Blood and fire, like the end of the
world.

A snatch of song came back to him, a hymn he
had heard in church. It seemed like a thousand years ago, but he
remembered then end down through the years. The song had been about
the story of Noah. “No more water,” the song had ended, “but the
fire next time.”

“
The fire next time,” Raymond whispered
to himself.

The counterman’s eyes widened when he saw the
gun in DeWayne’s hand. DeWayne set down two six-packs of Budweiser
and a carton of cigarettes.

“
Open up the register, buddy,” DeWayne
said. “And turn the gas pumps on--” he looked at the plastic badge
on the kid’s cheap polyester shirt, “--Todd.”

The guy didn’t move, except to start
trembling. He was a skinny guy, and young. He didn’t look to be
more than sixteen or seventeen. His hair was cut short and there
was a silver earring stuck in a fold of flesh above his left
eyebrow.