The Fallen Read online

  “I’m tired of this,” Cord said. “Aren’t y’all tired of this? There’s only so long we can keep crossing the state line for some pocket change.”

  “You call forty grand pocket change?” Wilcox said, taking off the mask, putting his gloved fingers through the eyeholes. “You know, these Donald J. masks aren’t real.”

  “Are you in?” Cord said. “Or do you want us to keep fucking around with Mom and Pop?”

  “You know I prefer a little resistance,” Wilcox said, Cord stepping on the gas a little more, moving that truck up to eighty now. Wilcox watching for the turn coming up soon. “But how the hell can a damn chicken-wing shop have that kind of money?”

  “Like I said,” Cord said, seeing the turn at the same time Wilcox did and turning the wheel hard and fast. “They’re fucking drug dealers. It’s a drug house. The biggest fucking drug house in Memphis.”

  “Says your finger man.”

  “Yep.”

  “And who is he?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Then who am I to trust them?”

  The truck rocketed down the back road, gravel flying up behind, Cord taking two turns, barely taking notice. “Do you trust me?” Cord said.

  Wilcox didn’t say anything. He took in a deep breath, letting down the window with his gloved hand, feeling high and light but not as good as he felt during battle. When the bullets were on you and you lived to tell the story, nothing felt better.

  “OK,” Wilcox said. “Tell me everything you know about these boys.”

  Opie leaned up between the seats and placed a hand on each’s shoulder. “I knew it,” he said. “I just knew it. Hot damn.”

  • • •

  “Just what the hell did you hope to accomplish?” Lillie Virgil said, hands on hips, looking down at Caddy and Boom in the sheriff’s office boardroom. “Y’all should be charged with aggravated assault.”

  “Against Blue Daniels?” Boom said. “C’mon, Lillie. That’s giving the law a goddamn gift.”

  “Maybe you don’t get the law, Boom,” Lillie said. “I don’t care if you kick ole Charlie Manson in the nuts, it’s still assault. The shitbird status of the victim doesn’t make it any better.”

  Caddy’s hands were still shaking, now coming up on five hours since she hit Blue with the truck. Lillie had called in Reggie Caruthers to help bring in her, Boom, Blue, and Blue’s girlfriend, Dynasty. Lillie driving her and Boom to the jail and not speaking the whole way. That was late last night. And now it was six a.m. and they were no closer to leaving the jail.

  “Are you going to tell Quinn?” Caddy asked.

  “Goddamn right, I’m telling Quinn,” she said. “He’s not only the sheriff, he’s my boss. I don’t tell him and it’s my ass. Do y’all know what kind of crazy son of a bitch you’re messing with?”

  Boom nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And you?” Lillie asked, looking toward Caddy.

  “He was pimping out Tamika and Ana Maria,” Caddy said. “No one’s seen those girls since he was offering them up for forty bucks a throw at Cho Cho Porter’s place.”

  “You mean Goddamn Cho Cho Porter,” Lillie said. “When we get a call from dispatch, that’s how she says it. What’s your address? And the woman says, ‘Everyone know where Goddamn Cho Cho stay at.’”

  “You going to charge us?” Boom said. “Because I got shit to do.”

  Lillie just stared at Boom, shaking her head, trying to calm herself but not doing much of a job. She rubbed her temples in thought and started to speak but closed her mouth.

  “We went to the Ditch to talk to Blue,” Boom said, “and he just went plain crazy. Waving that gun around, threatening me, and then chasing me out in the street, where Caddy accidentally ran over his ass.”

  Lillie dropped her head into her hand, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “Accidentally?”

  “That’s right,” Boom said.

  “That’s the way you see it, Preacher Colson?”

  “I’m not a preacher,” Caddy said. “Never have been. Never want to be.”

  “Is that what happened?” Lillie said. “You and Boom taking a little ride down to Sugar Ditch to talk to Blue Daniels and he went so damn crazy he hopped in front of Boom’s truck?”

  Caddy didn’t speak, thinking. Again, she had the flash of half a dozen Bible verses on each side of things. But she nodded, looking to Boom, not wanting him to get into any trouble. “Sure,” she said. “Didn’t you find his pistol?”

  Lillie nodded.

  “Didn’t know felons could possess guns,” Boom said. “Even down in Mississippi.”

  “He wasn’t even supposed to be within five hundred feet of Dynasty,” Lillie said. “She has a restraining order on him after he put her in the hospital last time. Between the shoplifting in Tupelo and the problems with men, that girl needs to be institutionalized.”

  “So why you messing with us, Lillie?” Boom said. “You don’t need directions to the bad guy. You know where he’s at.”

  Lillie blew out her breath, taking a seat at the table down at the end away from Boom and Caddy. She folded her hands, leaned in, and said, “I can’t just let you go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you two broke the law,” Lillie said. “And now I’m worried about you both. What did you think, that Blue Daniels was gonna have a come-to-Jesus moment and tell you the truth about those girls? I don’t care how much Boom whipped his ass or how far you knocked him with that truck. People like Blue won’t tell the truth. Shit, they don’t know how.”

  “Nope,” Boom said.

  Lillie looked to Boom, Caddy nodding at him.

  “Reason you can’t find those girls is ’cause Blue Daniels sold them,” Boom said.

  “Wait,” Lillie said. “Wait one goddamn second. What are you talking about?”

  Caddy caught Boom’s eye and nodded again, knowing the only way they were going to find those girls was to get help from the sheriff’s office and beyond. No telling where those girls had ended up.

  “Where’d they go?” Lillie said. “Tell me what he said.”

  “Will you let us go?” Boom said.

  “Boom Kimbrough, I love you like a brother,” Lillie said. “But, son of a bitch, you put me in a real tight spot. How about simple assault?”

  Boom shook his head.

  “Come on, that’s a bullshit charge.”

  “Not to Old Man Skinner,” Boom said. “He’s looking for any reason to fire my ass.”

  Lillie looked damn tired to Caddy, heavy-lidded and worn-out. But less physically exhausted than just put-out that she was having to handle their mess.

  “OK,” Lillie said. “What did Blue tell you? And if you try and lie to me, I’ll wake up Quinn and tell him to keep y’all here all damn day.”

  • • •

  There was a lot of fog that morning, steam rising up out of pastures, obscuring roads, making driving slow. Quinn was behind the wheel of the Big Green Machine, Hondo riding shotgun, with a thermos of black coffee between them in the console. He’d started off making the early rounds, trying to take on many of the same responsibilities of his deputies: early checks of local businesses, check for road conditions after heavy rains, and wellness checks of some of the older folks deep in the county. About the time he’d made sure that Mr. Williams was still alive, Quinn always being surprised by seeing the ninety-two-year-old heavy drinker and smoker come to the door in his bathrobe and offer him some eggs, he was on to running possible escape routes of the bank robbers. He’d been down the same roads time and again since the robbery but kept feeling like he and Lillie had missed something, maybe a patch of that white van showing in a clearing of trees or somewhere down in a creek bed or up a deer trail.

  Hondo could’ve cared less, head out of the window, tongue lolling, while Quinn drank
coffee and turned off onto Yellow Leaf Road, dispatch chatter battling it out with a new Sturgill Simpson CD. He could give equal attention to both.

  The road ran up from Yellow Leaf, a little hamlet about eight miles northeast of Jericho, into the wilds of the north part of Tibbehah. He wound down broken roads and cleared land, deep patches of second-growth woods, and deep plantings of pines for harvest. The trailers and cabins thinned the farther you drove north, the mist collecting, almost swallowing the truck whole, and then breaking, him running free, following creeks and pastures up into parts of Tibbehah that hadn’t changed much in fifty years.

  Quinn was recalling this forgotten part of the county where he and his uncle used to take metal detectors to hunt for Civil War relics when he nearly passed a road that had been cut off for years. Sometime long ago it had been the Jenkins place, but that family had died before Quinn’s time. It was closed now, with padlocked gates and a lot of NO TRESPASSING signs. Quinn had passed it a couple of times already that week, dismissing it as an escape route since the road came to a dead end a mile up the hill.

  He parked the truck and whistled for Hondo to get out with him, Hondo already on high alert for a little walkabout. Quinn brought his coffee with him, stretching after the last hour in the truck, feeling the chill coming on from the day, a mist breaking apart into the hills but lingering down below.

  Hondo trotted at his side, sniffing the air. Quinn reached down and scratched his pricked ears, thinking the house was somewhere around here. He recalled years ago, back when he’d been a kid, breaking into it and finding a mess of furniture, a piano turned to shit, shattered windows, and a roof caving in. No one had bothered to clean it out after the last resident died.

  And there had been a barn. A big, ragged barn filled with two rusted-out tractors and lots of snakes. So many black snakes, grown fat from gobbling up the rats, that it was impossible to shoot them all. Quinn kept on walking, seeing deep into the woods and weeds the old structures still hanging on, although mostly falling down, with rusted roofs and caved-in walls.

  Hondo ran ahead, making his way toward the barn. Quinn let him run, catching up with him, getting a call from dispatch that Lillie needed him to call in to the office. He was about to radio back when he noticed the tire tracks, rutted deep into the mud.

  There’d been a lot of gravel off the road where he’d parked and a lot of rain overnight. But closer to the barn and into the weeds it was nothing but deep mud. Someone had been down this path recently. He followed his dog and the tire tracks toward the high barn. All around the structure, people had dumped rusted appliances and old cars, tires, and trash. As Quinn walked, he picked up a deer skull and whistled for Hondo.

  But Hondo was already inside the barn, barking. Quinn reached into his pocket for a small flashlight as he walked into the leaning structure, praying like hell the thing didn’t topple over on him and Hondo.

  As he moved past the empty stalls heaped with wood and machine parts, he spotted the vehicle. A newish model white Ford Econoline. Son of a bitch. Hiding in nearly plain damn sight.

  Quinn reached for his radio and called into Cleotha at dispatch.

  “Call Batesville,” he said. “We need a unit to head this way pronto. I’m not moving until we get this van dusted and photographed. Park down along the road and follow the tracks. They must’ve headed up into the Big Woods.”

  13

  “Can I have a beer?” Caddy asked.

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea, baby?” Jean Colson said. Her momma stood over her in her newly refurbished kitchen, Caddy seated at the end of the table, tearing a paper napkin to shreds.

  “My hands won’t stop shaking,” Caddy said. “I hadn’t had a beer in almost two years. Don’t make it a big deal. Just something to calm me down a little bit.”

  “I have some Valium.”

  “And how’s that any better?” Caddy said. “Anyone who knows Elvis like you do should know that’s a horseshit idea.”

  “Caddy Colson,” Jean said, leaning her sizable backside against the sink, drying her hands, watching her daughter. She had on an oversized gray sweatshirt that said STUNTS UNLIMITED, her daddy’s old outfit. Had it been Caddy, she’d have tossed that damn thing in the trash.

  “Just pour me some of that god-awful boxed wine,” Caddy said. “That’ll work fine.”

  “It’s not god-awful,” Jean said. “I’ll have you know it’s a delicate blend of the finest grapes from South Africa. I’ll pour you some, but don’t act like I’m trying to pour you some g.d. Boone’s Farm down your throat.”

  “Appreciate that, Momma,” Caddy said. “Son of a bitch, what a day. Thank you for taking care of Jason and getting him off to school. I haven’t had a bit of sleep.”

  “You want something to eat?”

  “No, ma’am,” Caddy said. “I’m fine.”

  Jean poured out a rosé-looking blend into some stemware and set it on the kitchen table. They’d lived in the same house on Ithaca Street her whole life. Quinn had always made a big deal about where they lived. He once called it the address of warriors. Caddy called it middle-class Southern living at its finest.

  “Don’t worry,” Jean said. “I didn’t tell Jason a thing. Do you think it’ll be in the paper?”

  “I wasn’t arrested,” Caddy said. “I was questioned. Just thank God it was Lillie and not Quinn. If Quinn had found me down in Sugar Ditch, he would have shit his britches.”

  “Caddy.”

  “Well, you know it’s a fact,” Caddy said.

  “I guess so,” Jean said. “Did you find those little girls?”

  “No, ma’am,” Caddy said, taking hold of that nasty wine and taking a big gulp. It may have been the sweetest-tasting swill she’d ever had in her life. “Boom tried to talk some sense into a grown man who’d been using them up.”

  “Talking some sense?” Jean said. “I’ve known Boom Kimbrough since he was in diapers. Only way that boy talks sense is to beat the damn tar out of someone.”

  “I hit him.”

  “Who?”

  “The fella who’d used the girls,” Caddy said. “He pulled out a gun, so I hit him with Boom’s truck. Got him good, too. Knocked him about five feet into the road. Hell, I thought I’d killed him. And I wasn’t sorry about it one damn bit.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “And you know what else?” Caddy said. “It worked. We might know where those girls had gone on to next. I’m getting just a little closer to getting them back home. Or as close to home as they can get. Probably have to make room for them at The River. None of them wanted by their families. No one gives a shit for them. No one cares what the hell happens. They’re just a couple stupid little girls.”

  Caddy downed the rest of the wine. She picked up the glass by the stem and pointed it at her mother for a refill.

  “I know where you’re headed,” Jean said. “And I’m asking you for your sake, and for Jason’s, to please just take a long breath and slow it down. I know you want to help and do the right thing. I know you have something personal with them. And you’re thinking about everything that happened to you and how you got left out alone up in Memphis. But, Lord, Caddy. You’re gonna get yourself straight on back in that mess. Can you imagine what that would do to Jason? You’d break that boy’s heart. He’s finally got his momma back.”

  “Momma?” Caddy said.

  Jean had her arms crossed over her big chest, staring down at Caddy. She’d seen that terrified look about a million times before.

  “Please just pour me some wine,” Caddy said. “I hadn’t showered or slept in twenty-four hours. I spent most of this morning listening to a fucking sermon by the Reverend Lillie Virgil. My ears are starting to bleed.”

  “I’m not trying to preach,” Jean said, “I just want you to take care of your own. I know you have a good heart. But you’ve become obsessed
with those little girls.”

  Jean went back to the refrigerator and refilled the glass, only halfway this time, and set it in front of Caddy. Caddy let it sit there by the torn-up napkin, the wine having a little fizz to it, watching the bubbles, so damn sleepy but not being able to close her eyes. “I have to find them.”

  “Slow down,” Jean said. “Those little girls started on that road long before you met them. They were fast, fast children. There’d been something that had poisoned them from a long time back.”

  Caddy felt her face flush, reaching out for the wine, draining the glass, and pushing back her chair. She stood up, unable to speak, and grabbed her keys. What she really wanted to do was take the glass and shatter it against the kitchen wall.

  “Caddy?” Jean said. “Caddy Colson. I didn’t mean it. Not the way you’re thinking.”

  Caddy was already out the door and on the lawn, Jean yelling from the front steps as she got in her truck and slammed the door behind her. She took a little pleasure at tearing up a little of her momma’s grass as she spun out and headed back to The River.

  • • •

  “If you weren’t so good in the sack, I just might be offended,” Fannie said.

  “Holly Springs was halfway,” Cord said. “You said not Memphis. Not Jericho.”

  “You show up at Vienna’s again and the girls will start to talk,” Fannie said, sitting across from Jonas Cord at the Huddle House, just off Highway 78. “Those girls are worse than a bunch of hens, clucking away in their cheap lingerie and fake pearls. I expect you’re buying.”

  “I’ll even ask for extra cheese in your grits.”

  “Damn, you’re too damn good to me.”

  “You look good, mama,” Cord said. “That a new dress?”

  “You ever seen me in an old one?” Fannie said, fumbling into her purse, pulling out a lighter and then putting it away. “Son of a bitch. Do you remember when you could smoke in a place like this? Who the hell got all uppity and offended with a little smoke to cut through all this goddamn grease?”

  “The dress suits you.”