What You See (21 page)

“Let’s get out of here,” I said to Billy.

I backed out of the driveway and almost ran into the ditch
across the road. I muttered a few choice words under my breath. I’ve had enough
of these crazies, and was more than glad to get away from them. They might have
money, but they were just too weird for me.

“We’ve caught the crow,” Billy said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“They’re hiding something they thought they’d gotten away
with, but now they know they’re up against a wall.”

Ah! Now he was seeing things my way. I knew there was
something going on all along. I could feel it. My mind started to drift as I
stopped at the end of the road, ready to make the turn onto Rt. 15.

“Did the police question the boy?” I asked Billy. “I didn’t
see anything in the report that would indicate they had.”

“There wasn’t anything in the report about him, except that
he’s Rose’s brother. She told them he was at home with their parents at the
time.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t question him.”

“If they did, they didn’t put anything in the file.”

As I was waiting for a chance to pull out into traffic, an
idea came to me. Now would be the perfect time to use some of Billy’s
equipment. I was sure we’d stirred up a fuss at the Hudgins household with our
visit. They were probably discussing us right now.

“Billy, I have an idea,” I said, turning to face him. “Why
don’t we park the car on one of those dirt paths, and sneak back up to the
house. We can take that gismo you have, and listen to what they’re saying. I
bet we got them all riled up. There’s no telling what’s happening in that
house. We don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us, because their house is the
only one on this road.”

On one of our earlier fact-finding missions, we’d discovered
that Rose and her family were the only people who lived on this dead end road.
According to the information Billy got from the tax assessor’s office, Lawrence
and Rita Hudgins not only owned that grand house, but the fifty-two acres of
land surrounding it. We had plenty of room to snoop without being seen.

“Did you hear what I said?” I snapped, thinking that Billy
wasn’t paying attention to me.

“Yes, I heard you,” he replied. “Sorry, I was thinking about
that kid.”

“He’s a strange fellow. He sure seems awful immature for
someone who’s eighteen. Don’t you think?”

“Not only that, but did you see the look in his eyes when he
said he killed that rabbit with his bare hands? He was proud of what he did.”

“It’s the shock value, Billy. He was trying to get a rise out
of us. Did you know that most serial killers start out torturing small animals?
They torture them until they die. Eventually, they move onto something else...
like people.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go back.”

I turned around and headed back until I came to a little dirt
path just big enough to drive the Jeep down. I pulled over and parked between
two trees. We were far enough from the house not to be noticed, yet close enough
so we wouldn’t have to trudge through a lot of woods. I thought about what
Billy had said about the snakes as soon as we started making our way through
the tangled mess of downed trees and underbrush. Summer was here, and I didn’t
like the idea of exploring what could be snake-infested territory.

Fortunately, the edge of the woods had plenty of large trees
that were just right for hiding. Crouching down, Billy went about connecting
his audio equipment. He had a satellite dish the size of a saucer, with a cable
that plugged into a jack on the side of a small black box. He opened the box,
pushed a button to turn it on, and then pulled out a set of headphones. He
plugged them into the side of the box.

“Whatever we pick up will be recorded on the mini-cassette
recorder inside,” he explained. “If I plug in the headphones you won’t be able
to hear. I won’t do that, unless someone comes out of the house. We don’t want
to take a chance they might hear us. It’s awfully quiet out here, and sound
carries through these woods.” He aimed the dish toward the house, scanning for
sound waves. Upstairs, several of the windows were open, and I could hear
voices. I could barely make out what they were saying, until their conversation
blared through the receiver. Billy adjusted the sound level. The reception was
so clear, I could’ve sworn we were in the room with them.

“I told you, I don’t know what they want! I didn’t have
anything to do with that girl’s disappearance. I don’t even know her. All I did
was talk to her when she came into Bubba’s.”

“Why do the cops keep coming back, if you don’t know
anything? They must suspect you of something or they wouldn’t keep bothering
us.”

“I don’t know, Daddy.”

The girl began to cry. After what seemed like an eternity,
the man spoke.

“All right, sugar. Here’s what we’re going to do. I don’t
want you to talk to anybody who comes to the house unless I’m with you. Don’t
even let them in the house. I’ll talk to Betty and make sure she understands
the situation. I’ll also talk to your mom and Jay. I don’t want anyone talking
to the cops without me around. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

We heard a door slam and the room fell silent. The door
opened again and then we heard the voice of the teenage boy.

“You didn’t tell him anything about me, did you?”

Billy and I looked at each other.

“No, I didn’t,”
the female voice replied. “Jay, I have to know where you
were that afternoon you were supposed to be home with Mama. I can’t keep
covering for you if I don’t know the truth. You have to tell me!”

“What I do is not your concern. Just keep your mouth shut or
you’re going to be real sorry. You hear me?”

A door slammed. Muffled sobs echoed in the room.

“I told you, Billy. She’s hiding something. She’s covering
for her brother. He probably killed Helen and buried her body on his parents’
property. That kid’s crazy!”

“`Ge ya, you sure have a wild imagination.”

“There you go, again. What does that word mean?”

“Woman,” he said with a smiled.

“This `ge ya might have a wild imagination, but at least we
found out there’s more to this than we originally thought. I’ll bet money the
boy had something to do with Helen’s disappearance. I’ll even go as far as to
say he either killed her, or knows what happened to her.”

“Jesse, he’s just a kid.”

“Don’t you read the papers? Kids kill. It happens all the
time. Just because they’re young, doesn’t mean they don’t get involved in
crime. I’m telling you...”

Before I could finish, voices echoed through the dish.

“Unless they show you a warrant, Betty, I don’t want you to
let any cops in this house again when I’m not here. Then you get in touch with
me immediately.”

“Sure, Mr. Hudgins,”
the woman said.

“I have to go to the office for a while. Keep an eye on the
kids and the minute Rita drags her butt out of bed, tell her to call me. I need
to talk to her. You got it?”

Everything went silent, except for the banging of pots and
pans. Shortly, Lawrence Hudgins came out of the house, got into the little red sports
car parked in the driveway, and sped off.

“What a creep!” I hissed.

Billy
and
I
sat
on the ground for two hours listening to what appeared to be
a typical Saturday at the Hudgins’ household. Rita, the mother, had finally
gotten out of bed and made it to the kitchen for her morning dose of caffeine.
Betty, the housekeeper, promptly informed her about the morning happenings.
Instantly, she went into a tirade. She cried, shouted obscenities and
eventually got on the phone to her husband.

“No, I don’t know where the kids are. I assume they’re
upstairs... Don’t shout at me. I just got out of bed and I have a headache...
Okay... Okay... I’ll take care of it. Betty, get the kids down here now!”

Within ten minutes, the kitchen became chaotic. Rita and Rose
were shouting at each other and in the background we could still hear pots and
pans being banged around. We didn’t hear Jay anywhere in the house. The last
time we’d seen him was earlier when we had encountered him in the front yard.

I was just about to ask Billy where the boy was, when I heard
a noise behind us. We looked at each other and turned around at the same time.
Jay was standing behind us with a double-barrel shotgun hanging from the crook
of his arm.

Billy was the first to react. “Son, you don’t want to do
this. You need to step back, put the gun down, and let’s talk about the
situation.”

“You’re trespassing on private property,” he raved. “I could
shoot you right now and nobody would say a word about it.” He raised the gun.

In two quick steps, Billy lurched forward and grabbed the shotgun,
but not before Jay had a chance to get off a shot. I heard a blast and then
fell to the ground. I felt a burning sensation in my shoulder and realized I
had been shot. The pain was ungodly.

“You’re a maniac! You shot me!” I screamed. “Billy! Help me!”

Blood was running down my arm. I grabbed my shoulder and
looked up at the two of them. I don’t know which one was more frightened—Billy,
or the kid who had shot me. I was terrified.

Billy came to my aid. He jerked off his shirt, balled it up
and pressed it to my shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. It’s just a flesh
wound.”

“You’re lying!” I screamed. “That’s what they always say! I’m
dying here, and you’re telling me it’s only a flesh wound! Are you crazy? You
didn’t even look at it.” I was quickly becoming hysterical. I was in agony.

“Yes, I did,” Billy said, trying to reassure me. “The wound
isn’t bad, and you’re not going to die.”

Once I finally calmed down enough to assess the situation, I
realized the boy was gone.

Billy glanced over into the woods and then said, “Oh, he’s
gone. Don’t worry. He took off the minute you got hit.”

I sat up. I’d never been shot and had no idea the pain could
be so intense. “Billy, it hurts something awful. I feel sick. Am I going to
die?”

He laughed.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. Have you lost your
mind?”

“I’m sorry,” Billy said as he snickered. “Trust me. It might
hurt for a while, but you’re going to be okay. It’s only a flesh wound.
However, we do need to get you to a doctor.” He helped me up off the ground and
we ambled our way back to my Jeep.

“I can’t believe this,” I whined. “One minute I’ve finally
gotten myself a decent boyfriend, which is something I’ve wanted for a long,
long time, and then I go and get hooked up with you, and find myself almost
getting killed. Tell me what’s wrong with me? Am I crazy? Maybe I need to see a
shrink. Oh, that’s right, I’ve already been there.”

“Calm down, Jesse. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re just
a little upset.” He opened the car door and gently helped me inside. He walked
around to the other side, opened the door and then slid into the driver’s seat.

“Where’re the keys?”

I fumbled through my jeans’ pocket with my good arm and came
up with them. “Here,” I hissed as I threw the keys in his lap.

“You don’t have to be mad at me. It was an accident.”

I was steadily ranting at him as he drove out of the woods.
“Aren’t we going to the police first?”

“No, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Are we going to the police after we leave the hospital?”

“Why?”

“To have that kid arrested. He shot me. He belongs in jail.”

“We should think about this for a minute,” his said. “It
might not be such a good idea.”

I sat in silence, thinking about what he’d said, until we got
close to
Charlottesville
.

“We can’t do anything, can we? We were trespassing on private
property, and the gun did go off accidentally. If I have the kid arrested for
trying to kill me, his father would turn around and bring charges against us
for trespassing. Our name would go on a police report. Am I right? It’s a
Catch-22—a no-win situation.”

“Exactly,” he responded.

“What about my arm?” I asked. “Won’t the hospital have to
report my gunshot wound to the police? I thought that was standard procedure,
something they were required by law to do.”

“They are...”

“Oh, me, I’m going to jail. I can see it now.” I was on the
verge of hysteria. The pain in my shoulder immediately intensified. “I’m going
to spend the next five years of my life in some rat-hole prison with a stinky,
fat woman named, Big Mama, just dying to be my next boyfriend... or worse...
girlfriend.” I started crying. I hated for him to see me cry, but I was scared.
The thought of what had just happened and the prospect of what was going to
happen was too overwhelming.

“Chill out,” he said. “I’m going to take care of everything.”

“What about this pain in my shoulder?” I whimpered. “What are
you going to do about that? Are you going to get rid of it for me?” Lowering my
voice, I needled him. “Actually, it’s getting better, I think. It doesn’t hurt
as much now... now that it’s going numb!”

“Oh, you’ll survive.”

It was almost
five o’clock
when Billy pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. The name on the small
building was Community Veterinary Clinic.

I came to life. “Whoa! Wait a minute! This isn’t a hospital
for people. It’s a doggie hospital! Have you gone crazy?”

“Trust me,” Billy said. “I want the best for you and the best
is right here. Chief Blackhawk is the best medicine man there is on Earth...
and he’s my father. He’ll help us take care of our little problem.” He pointed
to my shoulder.

“I don’t know, Billy,” I said, hesitating to get out of the
car. “Don’t you think we should go to a real hospital? You know—a place where
they have machines and gadgets that keep people from dying?”

“I’m telling you, we have everything we need right here.
Please stop worrying. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah, right. It’s not you who has to have a bullet dug out
of your shoulder by a doctor who probably just castrated a dog, or delivered a
pony, or gutted a fish.”

“First of all,” he said as he led me through the front door,
“it’s not a bullet in your shoulder; it’s birdshot. You were lucky. I think you
only got the edge of the blast. You didn’t get a direct hit.”

“It’s birdshot?” I questioned, my anxiety easing up a little.

A small woman dressed in a bright pink housedress greeted us.
Her graying, black hair was pinned up in a bun on the back of her head. Her
skin was pale, and from the shape of her face, I could tell she was Billy’s
mother. He had her chin and nose.

“Mom, this is Jesse Watson,” Billy said as he leaned over to
kiss her on the cheek. “Jesse, this is my mom, Sarah Blackhawk—the wife of our
great chief, and the mother of the Blackhawk tribe. She’s also the backbone of
this clinic, among other things.” He smiled.

“I see you’re hurt,” she said as she wrapped her arm around
my waist and led me down a hallway.

I was glad to leave the reception area. It smelled like pet
supplies and wet dog hair. It’s a doggie doctor’s office, and once your dog was
made all better, you could buy an array of supplies to keep him that way. What
a racket, I thought to myself as Billy’s mom instructed me to get up on the
table. I’m such a nerd. I’m always expecting the worst of people. I just can’t
help myself.

Billy wandered off as Sarah asked me to lie down on the
table. She carefully removed Billy’s balled-up shirt from my shoulder.

“This might hurt a little, but I have to see what your injury
looks like. Just hold on for a minute. It’ll be over before you know it. Can
you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you.”

“The truth usually works,” she replied as she took a pair of
scissors and split the sleeve of my T-shirt. Dabbing at my shoulder with a
clean, white cloth, she added, “It looks like birdshot to me. We’re going to
have to x-ray this to make sure there aren’t any pellets lodged in the tissue.”

“And what if there is?” I cried.

“It won’t be a problem. We can handle it,” she promised.

I did have a problem. Billy was nowhere in sight and I was
lying on a doggie table, waiting to be cut up like a watermelon being split
open with a machete. My arm was throbbing, and my mind was going off the deep
end. I had to calm down. I tried to relax while Billy’s mother attended to my
wounds.

“Billy and I were trespassing on private land, spying on
people, when the teenage son came from out of nowhere with a shotgun. Billy
grabbed the gun and it went off. And as they say, the rest is history.”

“Ah, I see,” she replied. I could tell she was getting the
gist of the situation. “Please don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

I laid on the table, while she scurried around me, cleaning
up my bloody wound. She lowered the overhead x-ray apparatus and moved it here
and there before she finished situating it over my upper body.

“Most vets have only one large operating room just like
ours,” she explained as she looked around. “We have everything we need right
here. Whatever we have to do, we can do it in this room. You can relax. You
won’t have to get off this table until we’re finished. I’m going to give you
something for the pain. Are you allergic to any medication?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to give you an antibiotic for infection and some
Demerol to deaden the pain.” She produced a syringe and withdrew a clear liquid
from a small vile. I hated needles and this one was the size of a spear. She
rolled me over on my side and then injected the liquid into my butt.

“Hey, I hardly felt a thing. You’re good.”

“That was the Demerol. It was the easy one,” she said. “This
next one is Penicillin and it’s going to sting a little. Powder burns have a
tendency to get infected in an open wound, and we don’t want to take any
chances.” She disposed of the first syringe and filled a new one.

“Ouch,” I whined. I thought I was going to pass out.

“Lie down and relax,” she said, her soothing voice almost
putting me to sleep. She took several x-rays and then said, “It’ll take about
ten minutes to develop these. I’ll be right back.”

I was beginning to feel pretty good. I was in and out of a
fog, until I finally dozed off. I knew what was going on, but I tried not to
think about it. What on earth would I tell Mom? She would absolutely throw a
fit. What about Cole? The thought of telling him made me shudder. No, I can’t
tell them the truth. I’d have to lie about this one, and it would have to be a
good one.

Mom had told me more than one time that lies always catch up
with you in the end. Too bad—I planned to take my chances.

Billy entered the examination room followed by a man who had
the same physical presence and facial features. His face was tanned and
wrinkled, and he had the same long ponytail that I’d seen on the other
Blackhawk men. However, his was totally gray. This man had to be Billy’s
father. They looked so much alike.

“How’s she doing?” Billy asked. “She isn’t going to die, is
she?” He was trying to cheer me up by making jokes, but I didn’t think it was
funny.

“Oh, she’ll live, but she’s going to be in considerable pain
for the next few days,” Sarah answered.

I drifted off into never-never land again, listening to the
three of them banter back and forth in their native languages. One day, I told
myself, I’m going to take the time to learn that language even if it kills me.
What a thought—me speaking Cherokee.

“Jesse,” I heard someone say. “Wake up, dear. We’re
finished.”

“Wow, I was really out of it,” I said, forcing myself to sit
up.

“This is Billy’s dad, Chief Standing Deer, but everyone calls
him the chief, or Sam. He dug two pellets out of your shoulder. You were very
lucky. They weren’t deep.”

“As I explained to my son, this is not a good situation,” the
chief said as he helped me down from the table. “By law, gunshot wounds are
supposed to be reported to the police. Fortunately, I’m retired.”