Minus Tide Page 8

  “Who are you?” the sheriff asked. He was distracted by music lifting out from somewhere deep inside his head, as if coming from a radio lying at the sticky bottom of a drying well. For a moment he dared himself to bring the sound into focus, and to his surprise he heard a scrotum-tightening chorus of all the women who’d ever told him to go to hell.

  This was not the end Dawkins had repeatedly dreamed of. He’d dreamt of being ambushed by men totting AK47’s — assault rifles that the Mexican cartels fondly called their ‘goat horns’. The dream played out like an action sequence from a 1970’s grind house film, the kind his older brother would sometimes take him to see at a rundown theater in Portland instead of the latest Disney flick their parents had given them money for. A prickly keyboard and a creeping bass guitar provided the tension as the assassins moved in closer. Filmed behind a smoked lens. . you were supposed to believe that it was night although moonlight would never ping off gunmetal that brightly. When the muzzles began to explode he’d sit up in his bed and scream, reach out to a bottle for a couple of hits.

  “My name is of no matter, Sheriff.”

  “Have we met?”

  “Not in person, no. But I know all about you.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “You helped with my business. That is until you decided to steal from me.”

  “I’m sorry but you’ve got the wrong person. It was some other guy that ran off with your love beads, man.”

  “I don’t have all morning, Sheriff. There are a couple of men waiting outside that you’ve come to know. Please don’t make me have them come in here. I’d hate to let it come to that, I really would. I just need you to answer a few questions. Once I have what I need, we’ll leave you and your sleepy little town be.”

  “What do you want to know?” the sheriff asked. It finally dawned on him that the man was another Russian. He’d thought the guy’s accent sounded off. He wished now that he were dealing with a pissed off hippie. At least we’d still have music in common. Skynyrd. Creedence. Eddie Van Halen. And if they wanted some pot he still had some stashed in a footlocker back at the station. But these Russians-they’re from another world. He’d smoked the cigarette down to the butt and it was burning his lips. Cyclops gently took it from his mouth and crushed it out between his fingers.

  “I’m only trying to clear up a little misunderstanding, Sheriff. If it hadn’t been for Duane Campbel, we probably wouldn’t even be talking right now. But now that he’s dead you’ve mistakenly come to the conclusion that your contract with me and my people in Portland has changed. Is that right Sheriff?”

  “I guess so.”

  “And instead of talking to me about renegotiating our contract, you chose to steal from me? Why?”

  “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’ve got problems.”

  “Do you still have the money?”

  “Every bit of it. You’ll find it stashed under the old doghouse in my backyard…”

  “And the product? What happened to it?”

  “It fell into the bay.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I shot the trafficker who was carrying it. I thought they were going to try and rip us off.”

  “And you’re instincts were right, Sheriff. I apologize. Those two turned out to be nothing but trouble for me. But what can you do? It’s just never enough for some people. They go and ruin a good thing for everyone. I understand an arm washed up on the beach?”

  “It’s stashed in the freezer in my garage. Beneath last year’s elk steaks.”

  “I’d like to see it before I go.”

  “No problem, you can swing by and look after you get the money. I guess this is it then?”

  “Pardon me Sheriff?”

  “Now that I’ve told you everything, aren’t you going to kill me?”

  “Come on, Sheriff. You must not have been listening. You’re too important to me to let go so easily. In the past, of course, it would have been different. Back then I would have had horrible things done to men like you so as to set an example. But it never works in the long term. No matter how many times you try to wipe it out it still comes back, until you learn to live with it, like learning that there will always be mice in the cupboards. The fact is that we all must struggle with temptation, and sometimes we get so intoxicated by it we make serious mistakes. This is the nature of our blood. Am I making myself clear, Sheriff?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Now there is just one more thing before I go. Please tell me everything you know about a woman named Ann Foster.”

  “You just missed her.”

  Chapter 23

  The warmth of the pineapple express had caused curling trunks of fog to begin lifting off the bay. Ann had always imagined them as phantasms freeing themselves from their watery graves. They were an unlucky confederacy of the drowned, and all they desired was to feel the certainty of earth below their feet, of moving amongst the living again. Most hunched cautiously across the bay in slow frothy masses, while the more daring spirits glided solo, hurrying to reach the shore before the threat of sun burned them away. She noticed a few that had made it as far as the road into town, anxious to return to their homes or back to a favorite bar. Many individuals weren’t so lucky, having burst apart into cotton balls of vapor before they could make it to land while still others were forced to spend precious time tapering around the hulls of boats in the marina.

  Electricity had not been restored to Traitor Bay, and only roving fingers of moonlight kept it from appearing totally abandoned. Parked cars glimmered in the distance, wood smoke spooled from rooftops. Even with daylight not far away there would not be a significant change in the level of darkness, as if the night itself had refused eviction. Ann knew today would be such a time, when everything was half-lit and the sun was a drifting sheet of gray steel, a lost wreckage, and many fog specters would visit far up country roads and into forgotten glades where the remains of chimneys stood wrapped in thick-fingered ivy and blackberry vine. It would be the kind of day when your instincts told you to light a fire and stay close to it.

  Tammy opened her hand and showed her the bloody tooth. It had taken Ann a moment to realize what it was.

  “Do you think they can still save it?” she asked.

  “They might,” Ann said, handing her a paper napkin from her jacket. She was always taking the extra ones the waitresses left on the table. “Here, soak this in some water and wrap it up. You can’t let it dry out.”

  Tammy did as Ann told her and wetted the napkin in the bay. She spread it out on her knees and set the tooth in the middle, then folded the napkin over and over until it was in the rounded shape of a white stone with threads of red in it. The napkin had left a damp rectangle on her jeans. She touched the tooth to her lips and sobbed.

  Ann squeezed Tammy’s hand and watched James at the back of the boat. He lit a cigarette off the dying cherry of another. In the time it had taken for him to smoke five, they’d traveled up from the bay and into the river that fed it. They were relieved to find no lights coming off the dark bridge they had to pass under, no bullets boiling up the water next to them. James thought he’d heard voices, but it turned out to be crows raiding a swallow’s nest beneath the darkened steel beams.

  When Mitch’s head dropped forward again, James leaned over to gently shake him awake. Mitch sat up straight again and stared around groggily. His face was pale and he had two developing black eyes.

  “Stay awake, bud. You might have a concussion,” James said.

  “I don’t have one…” Mitch said.

  “Well you still better get an x-ray.”

  Mitch leaned over the boat and spat more blood. “And how much will that cost?”

  They passed close to some derelict barges and a tugboat covered with flaking patches of paint. A rusted crane loomed above them from one of the barges with a giant hook suspended on the end of a frayed cable. There was no sign of life here on the widest part of the river, which carried e
nough fresh water to keep the barnacles killed off. James told them he knew of a barn up stream where they could drop off Tammy and Mitch. By land it was hard to get to unless you were familiar with the local roads. The barn was owned by his uncle Lefty, who always kept it stocked in case he needed to pull all nighters during calving season.

  Tammy leaned her head against Ann’s shoulder. “I’m worried about what’s going to happen to the baby. Those bastards knocked me around hard.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” Ann said. And we’re going to get you and Mitch to a safe place.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Something tells me those guys are going to keep looking for us no matter what. You two are in no condition to keep running but we are. If we split up our chances are going to be a lot better that we come out of this.”

  “Right, and then what happens after help comes? I’ll get my ass busted for assaulting a cop… Not that it didn’t feel good at the time.” When Tammy smiled Ann saw the dark gap left by the missing tooth and looked away.

  “That bad?” Tammy asked.

  “Don’t get mad, but you remind of that year when we dressed up as hillbillies for Halloween.”

  Tammy laughed. “That’s just great. Mitch and I must make quite a pair.”

  “What you did to the sheriff isn’t going to matter, Tam. After they find out what he’s been up to, he’ll no longer even be a cop.”

  “I hope you’re right. I don’t want to have this baby in jail. Are you sure we shouldn’t all stay put somewhere and wait this out together?”

  “I think that’s what they’re hoping we’ll do. It would make it a lot easier for them to clean their slate that way.”

  “Coming up on our right side,” James announced. The others leaned over to see a wooden dock floating on the river, its wooden railing half twisted off from last year’s storms. Uncle Lefty didn’t do a lot of fishing anymore, the cold was just too much on his arthritis.

  Ann took out her cell phone and handed it to Tammy. “Try and call for help. If you reach somebody, make sure they come and get you guys first.”

  “And where should I tell them you’re going to be?”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’re going to be on the move. And be sure you turn off the phone when you’re not using it. It loses its juice fast.”

  James helped Mitch and Tammy out of the boat and onto a small dock. Behind it was a bank of tall yellow grass and the smell of cow manure coming from the field above. Mitch got down on his knees and cupped some water onto his face. Its coldness seemed to revive him. He stood up and wrapped his arm around Tammy’s waist and together they watched as James turned the boat around to head back downstream toward the bay.

  “Just follow the path and go through the gate to the left,” James said. “My uncle keeps a key under the plastic dwarf standing guard next to the front door.”

  “Thanks,” Mitch said. “You guys be careful now.”

  Chapter 24

  Worried about how much gas they had left, James cut the motor and let the boat drift for a while. They listened to the water slurp and gurgle, felt the current draw them back as if the river were a retreating appendage of the sea. A raccoon trotted excitedly along the shore, stopping to dip its paws into pools in search of stranded salmon fry. It lifted its head as they glided past, then began to follow them until the cut bank got lost under a tangled shelf of dense tree limbs draped with neon yellow moss. River mud bubbled and belched, filled the predawn air with exhalations of wet clay and old death. Bats darted over the boat-black leathery shapes squiggled traces against the patches of starlit sky.

  Ann sat facing the monochrome image of James and the river trailing behind them. He seemed to be absorbed by the river, but she knew he was only brooding over something and not really looking at anything at all. He seemed like more of a stranger now, the person he’d become after leaving Traitor Bay and joining the navy. She could see now that things hadn’t changed for him much. He’d left behind everything to take a different path and was just as unlucky with it as any other he’d tried. Everyone said going away would help him grow into a fuller person, but he’d just been led around in another circle. It seems like he can’t ever catch a break, Ann thought.

  “How far do you think we should go?” she asked.

  James turned from the river and looked into her eyes. She could see that he was simmering inside, not ready yet to open up. It always took him longer than most people. He’d grown up fearing he’d somehow light his father’s short fuse, until he met Ann and began to stand up for himself. Ann had always thought it was the true reason his mother didn’t like her anymore.

  “I was thinking we’d pull off just before the jetty and take the beach back to get help.”

  “It will be light before we get into town. They’re going to see us.”

  “Look at the fog rolling in, Ann. It’s supposed to stick around all day, thick and soupy.”

  “And then what do we do?” Ann said. “If we still can’t call the cops?”

  “We find a place to hide for a day or two. I was thinking we could look up Coach, since he’s got a place right on the beach.”

  “I didn’t think you liked coach,” Ann said.

  “I don’t. But I have to admit he’s honest. Maybe we weren’t on the best of terms when I was in school, but I think he was just worrying about what I was going through with my mom and dad fighting all the time. I was stupid because I couldn’t see until later how much it tore him up inside.”

  “Are you planning to see your folks?”

  “Not sure if I will yet. Have you seen them around much?”

  “Your mom stops in once in a while. She acts like she’s in a hurry to get somewhere. Mostly just pays, nods and leaves. With her it’s like we’re not much more familiar strangers.”

  “And my dad?”

  “I saw him at the 101 one night last fall and he stopped by my table to say hello. He’d just been elk hunting with some of his buddies and wanted to brag about a ten pointer he’d bagged. He was feeling pretty good and wanted to tease me, knowing how I’d feel about it. When I asked him if he’d heard from you he kind of switched gears and went back to join his friends. I guess it must have been around the time you up and went to Mexico.”

  “Did he sell the boat?”

  “Not sure.”

  James lit another cigarette and stared up at the bridge they’d passed under before. He noticed swallows nests beading the concrete belly-small, upside down jugs of dried mud where black specks darted to and from. The swallows’ pre-dawn chirping was still frenzied despite having driven off the chick-stealing crows. Maybe they were celebrating their victory, he thought. But the crows would be back. He was sure of it.

  A dense mountain of fog had begun to devour the bridge a piece at a time. Just great, James thought, we’re heading right into it. Pretty soon we’ll be in the soup too, and I won’t be able to see a damn thing. When he glanced up to watch the last fragment of bridge disappear, he thought he saw three figures peering down at them from the steel railing, their outlines limned by headlights of a vehicle left idling.

  “Ann, look,” James said. But when Ann raised her eyes, the men on the bridge were already hidden by a sweeping arm of fog.

  “What is it?”

  “I think it was them. I’m sure it was them. Who else could it be?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got no choice but to drift into the fog. They’ll only be able to guess where we’re going after that.”

  “But it’ll only be a matter of time before they find us again.”

  “Unless we’re able blow town without them catching us first. If we have a decent head start we could get to a bigger city where they’d never find us.”

  “I can’t leave. My aunt depends on me. I can’t go anywhere now.”

  “It’s up to you what you do. All I’m saying is that since Duane is a pile of stinking ashes…”

  “So t
hat’s the real reason you’ve come back?”

  “Of course it is. Do you really think I came back to make peace?”

  “I don’t know James. A few minutes ago I was feeling sorry for you. But I guess I’ve forgotten how much you hate it here.”

  “But you do remember what we agreed on?

  “I remember.”

  “Then would you please tell me why the money’s not where we left it?”

  “You went to get it?”

  “How else would I know it got moved?” James said.

  Fresh tears burned against Ann’s cheeks, making her conscious of how chilled she was. She wiped her face, fought back the sudden urge to bum a smoke. Her hand drifted down into her pocket. The.38 was cold against her palm.

  “I got scared, James. When I didn’t hear from you I thought something might have happened…”

  “So you thought you’d move the money just in case someone else came looking for it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you expect me to believe you?”

  “That’s up to you. All I know is that you’re here to get what’s yours. And even if Duane is sitting in an urn at his crazy mother’s house, he kind of isn’t dead if we’ve still got problems.”

  James leaned forward and studied Ann’s face as it was being swallowed by fog. “Well look at you. You haven’t even left town and you’ve grown so smart. I have to believe you, Ann, I’ve got no choice. Now will you to tell me where it is?”

  Chapter 25

  After her mother was gone he’d started making more trips to Portland. He often brought Ann. She was a good lookout, could tap the horn to let him know when anyone was coming, when anyone looked like they had trouble in mind. And her aunt would go to bed early and had no clue they where leaving town late at night and getting back before sunrise. Duane had told Ann not to say a word to anyone, that it could put a lot of people in danger, including her.