Tin God (24 page)

Storm clouds chased Darren and Jaymee’s escape and swiftly passed the speeding vehicle. Soon they were engulfed in the deep purple and black tempest, driving head-on into its wrath. A coffin on wheels, Jaymee thought as the storm swept the minivan into its embrace. Lightning shattered the purple sky and thunder boomed hard enough to rattle the van windows. They were at nature’s mercy.

And she was at Darren’s.

“Where are we going?” She spoke above the din.

“Don’t you recognize the route?” His answer was cheerful, as though they’d embarked on a summer picnic.

“No.”

Rain pelted. Winds whipped. The van trembled. Any minute now, a funnel cloud, the terrifying entity her mother called the finger of God, would reach down and toss the van into the abyss. She closed her eyes. Lightning hit so close it shined behind her closed lids. Crash! Raining harder, pouring. Darren whistling. Scream building, panic rising, consciousness waning. No. Stay alert. Be ready to fight. He could strike any moment.

She shifted in the seat, digging her heels against the floor and keeping her fists primed.

Darren kept whistling.

Nick had banged on every door in the trailer park and talked to at least half the residents, including a smarmy-looking manager named Shaw. Not a damned one had noticed Jaymee.

Soaked and still sweating, he climbed onto the hood of his car. He barely noticed the rain drumming on the top of his head. An awful, gut-numbing feeling started in his feet and crawled through his legs and torso, anesthetized his arms, and sucked away any sense of hope still left.

He’d been in this moment of agony before. The uncertainty, the paralyzing sensation of undeniable loss; he’d felt this way four years ago when Lana disappeared. Three days had passed in limbo. Staring at the phone, checking messages, searching the news. Purgatory. Worse than the finality of death.

Rain splashed into his eyes and slid down his cheek. Tasted fresh on his tongue. Even in the downpour, with the lightning still thrashing, the smell of rain prevailed. Sweet, clean. Summer rain always brought a sense of renewal. He curled his lip at the bitter irony. Today was a renewal, all right. Renewal of a damned nightmare.

A blast of wind sent a trashcan skidding. The lid went in the opposite direction, slammed another trailer, and fell to the ground. The hulking live oaks surrounding the park swayed. They’d survived for centuries, but it was nothing for a limb to topple off in a storm. Nick should get off his ass and leave. Keep searching.

He didn’t move.

Had to be Royce. Means, motive, opportunity–all there. Had Jaymee been his end game? Was he decompensating? Or did he plan to go out in a blaze of bloody glory?

Jaymee would fight. She was smart. She’d stay alive long enough to be found. Search warrant for Evaline was all they needed.

High beams blinded him. Nick blocked the light with his hand. Car door slammed and Maybe she’d come home.

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Cage’s shout was nearly drowned out by the wind and rain.

Shit
. He grabbed his pocket.
Gone
. Must have fallen out in the mud. “I dropped it.”

Cage jerked his head toward Jaymee’s trailer. “Charles said you couldn’t find her.”

“No.”

“Did you ask around?”

“Everybody I saw. Royce’s got her, Cage.”

“What’s the inside of the trailer look like?”

“Normal.”

“Can’t get a forensics unit out here until she’s declared missing.”

Red tape bullshit. Nick slid down off the Malibu. “So we just wait. Wait for Charles to get a search warrant. Wait for Jaymee not to show up. Wait while she’s being tortured.”

Cage’s head snapped to the side. He closed his eyes. Nick remembered his brother-in-law loved Jaymee, too. Cage blew out a raggedy breath, rolled his shoulders back, and opened his eyes to stare at Nick with hardened determination.

“Said a forensics team would have to wait. Didn’t say we would.”

“Gloves on?”

Nick grunted an acknowledgement. “My prints’ll show up anyway. I was just here an hour ago.” He’d left the door to Jaymee’s trailer unlocked and now pushed it open.

“Least you won’t be adding to it,” Cage went inside first. “Don’t touch anything. Smallest detail can sink a case.”

“I’ve been around a while.”

“As a reporter.”

“I’ve been to crime scenes.”

“On the other side of the tape.” Cage turned on the light, the yellow bulb reflecting off his hardened gaze. “I’m in charge Nick. Period. You shouldn’t even be here. Consider it a damned privilege.”

“Whatever.”

Stillness, heavy and breathtaking, dominated Jaymee’s home. Her flowery scent had wilted away in the heat.

“Officer said he dropped her off here about 4:30,” Cage said. “She told him she’d change and then walk to work. Long walk, but maybe she wanted to clear her head.”

He went to the bathroom. “Sink looks recently used.”

“I checked the bedroom. It’s clean.” He followed Cage into the small area.

“She must not have changed,” Cage said. “Laundry basket’s empty.”

“Then he got here before then. Maybe he followed her from Gereau’s.”

“That place is on a busy corner. I’ve seen people fight for parking spots. Jaymee wouldn’t notice if anyone was following her, especially if she was keyed up about Gereau.”

“Plus, it’s Friday. Town’s full of tourists.” Nick ran his finger over the cheap cedar chest of drawers. The thing had seen better days. A standard rectangular mirror with a brown plastic frame–the five-dollar kind available at any department store–sat on top of the tall cedar piece. Stuck between the glass and thin frame were a few snapshots.

Jaymee with her brother and a little boy Nick assumed was her nephew. Lana and Jaymee at Lana’s high school graduation, another of the two at Lana’s wedding. And one of Jaymee with a leggy blond. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, her eyebrows perfectly arched, and her lips outlined in pink. High cheekbones and wide eyes gave the woman the appearance of beauty and innocence, but her smirk and short skirt disagreed.

“Who’s this?”

Cage righted a picture of Jaymee and her brother and then turned around. He scowled. “Crystal. She put that picture up there, and Jaymee didn’t want to hurt her feelings so she left it. Why she put up with that woman I’ll never know.”

Nick studied the picture. It wasn’t taken at Jaymee’s but likely in another trailer. The dark paneled walls gave the location away. The two women stood side-by-side, Crystal tall and confident, her arm around Jaymee’s shoulder while Jaymee grasped her friend’s waist. Her smile was less exuberant, but she still looked happier than he’d ever seen her. Would he ever get to see her smile like that?

###

Almost eight. They’d been driving for nearly an hour. Darren’s heavy silence made Jaymee feel buried alive. The storm weakened, leaving only scattered rain and dense clouds. She strained to see in the dark, but she could only make out the gravel road they’d turned onto twenty minutes ago. Trees lined both sides of the road, still bending in the remnants of wind. No houses, no other vehicles since they’d hit gravel, no chance of escape.

Illuminated by the digital lights, the knife lay in front of the steering wheel. She had no hope of snagging it.

“Figured out where we are yet?” Darren was back to his affable tone.

“Too dark.”

Her mind raced. If he was taking her to a familiar place, she might be able to break free. The digital compass on the rearview mirror read south. How many turns had they made? Three. Right out of Ravenna Court, then left onto a narrow blacktop, and then right onto this gravel road. Jaymee leaned toward the dash, wincing as the dried blood pulled one of the fine hairs on her collarbone. The winding road was more mud than gravel now. Look at the trees–no magnolias. Cypress. Cottonwoods. Was that a wild lotus?

When they were kids, Holden had taught her and Darren how to recognize Mississippi’s many trees, especially the ones growing in the thick woods near his cabin.

The jolt of her heart traveled up her throat and out of her open mouth with a sharp gasp.

“You remember.” Against the green glow of the dash, Darren’s broad smile looked manic.

“Lyric Lake. The cabin.”

“Some of my favorite memories are there.”

Jaymee dug into the shadows of her memory. Lyric Lake stretched ten or twelve miles through Wilkenson county. Holden brought Darren to his cabin often, and Jaymee had always been jealous. Begging earned her a few trips, but nothing like the excursions Darren enjoyed.

The three-room cabin was primitive, built with cheap ply-board and standing on cinder blocks. Vinyl dating back to the seventies covered the floor, and the furniture looked even more ancient. The bed Jaymee shared with her brother had smelled like mothballs. No television, no phone. Nearest town wasn’t really a town at all, just a small populated area of backwoods with people living mostly off the land. Isolated.

Acid boiled in her stomach. Gooseflesh spattered her arms and legs. Fear mutated into panic.

Isolated
.

“Remember the last time you came out here with us?” Darren swung the van onto an even more narrow and mud-filled road.

Jaymee scrawled a mental road map as the memories rushed back. The cabin was just off this path. She remembered now. No neighbors, but soon the cypress trees would thin, the lake would appear, and the cabin would emerge. They would park in the tall grass. No other cabins for miles–at least that’s how it seemed when she was a kid. But the sparse community was to the west. Bait store and a few crappy houses. Hopefully one of them had a phone. If she followed the lake, she’d find the makeshift town.

If she got the opportunity.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, sorry.” Jaymee tried to sound as normal as Darren. “I don’t remember much about this place at all.”

“You were probably eleven, maybe twelve. I didn’t know why Holden agreed to bring you–by that time you were more into your little girlfriends than roughing it.”

She’d been jealous. Jealous of all the time Darren got with Holden. And resentful of his freedom from Paul’s tyranny.

“You threw me in the lake.”

He belly-laughed. “Got tired of you complaining about the heat and the bugs. You were so mad.”

“I plotted my revenge the rest of the time we were here. Never got it.”

Maybe she’d find a way tonight.

Her memory hadn’t failed. The cypress trees slowly thinned, and then the lake appeared, black in the cloudy night. Caught in the beam of the van’s headlights, the cabin stood weathered, leaning dangerously on its cinder blocks. Jaymee braced herself. The muscles in her arms knotted; her fists ached from clenching. She didn’t dare relax. If he came at her with the knife, she’d deflect it.

Don’t worry about getting cut on the arm. Surface wounds heal. Protect the throat, the heart, the stomach
.

Darren put the van in park and killed the engine. He grabbed the knife, opened his door, and shut it. Jaymee didn’t move when he came to her side, knife at the ready, smiling as though he’d brought her a surprise.

He unlocked her door and then inched it open, brandishing the knife in front of him. “Now, be good. Let’s not fight like we did last time we were here.”

Grabbing her bound wrists, he pulled her out into the muggy night. When he shut the door, darkness closed in. She smelled the lake water layered with the scent of fish. Ducks quacked, and all around, night creatures rustled through the grass. A dove cooed.

She stumbled on rubbery legs. Compliant. Glanced to the west. No lights. But they were there. Those few other residents. They had to be.

Overgrown grass tickled her bare legs below her shorts. Her work shoes–the only pair of decent tennis shoes she owned–sunk into the soggy ground. Another waft of fishy air filled her lungs, the scent heightened by the fresh rain. Her stomach twisted, but Jaymee swallowed her disgust. Darren still held her wrists, leading her forward through the dark night. Knife in his right hand now.

Blood rushed in her ears, her fingers swollen and half-numb, body a live wire of tension. Lungs moving too fast for comfort. Stinking air, scratchy grass, soggy ground. Wait for the one moment. One chance.

Darren stumbled.

Now.

She jammed her right foot between his and swept his leg out from under him. He dropped to his knees, cursing and bringing Jaymee with him. She landed in the wet muck. Dirt splattered in her eyes and open mouth. She screamed. Kicking, pulling, punching. Knife stuck into the mud. Darren loosened his grip on her wrists. She pulled as hard as she could.

Free. Her nails dug into the putrid mud. Her feet slipped, but somehow Jaymee fumbled her way to a standing position.

Run.

She plowed through the slick grass. Ducks quacked again, smacking their wings against the water as they escaped the ruckus. Get to the trees. Dodge the dim moonlight emerging from the thinning clouds overhead.

Tension grew in her head until she thought it would explode. The air felt raw in her heaving lungs. She tasted the fish-tinged air and gagged.

The tree line was straight ahead. The cypress waited, with the wild lotus and bushy cottonwoods as backup. They would hide her race to freedom.

Jaymee’s escape lasted all of six agonizing seconds. Longer legs and experience caught her by the shirt and jerked her backward. She slammed against Darren’s chest, and what little breath she had evaporated. Fingers digging into her shoulders, he whipped her around.

His eyes were wild. Nostrils flaring and teeth bared. Mud spattered across his fair skin and onto his polo shirt. He glared at Jaymee with such hatred she froze. Her stomach literally rolled, and her bowels threatened to give up.

Darren started laughing. Nearly hysterical at first and then controlled and menacing. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers, his hot breath making her gag. She pressed her fists against his chest, but he was bigger and stronger. Darren’s hands slid from her shoulders, across her collarbone, to her neck.

Panic now consumed her. She beat at his chest and slapped his face. Heart skipping and pounding and racing, she tried to fight, to raise a knee, but he deflected her. He had the experience. She had only bone-numbing terror.

His hands tightened on her neck. Dead eyes stared into hers as she clawed at his slender fingers. “Please.”

Another squeeze. Her vision blurred into a bright tunnel.

Stay conscious. Fight
.

Energy waning, she reached up, dug her nails into his cheek, and raked them across the tender skin as hard as she could. Darren howled in pain, but his grip only tightened.

The tunnel narrowed, and her breath ceased.

“After all the trouble I went to in order to protect Holden,” Darren’s voice hovered somewhere in the rapidly darkening tunnel. “You still destroyed him.”

Jaymee drifted away.