JJ09 - Blood Moon (12 page)

Darkness had spread across the face of the moon, its slow expansion toward eclipse reaching beyond the halfway mark.

“How much longer ’til it’s eclipsed?” Ronnie asked.

“Not sure. Takes a while. It’s something to see.”

He nodded. “Really is. Cool how it changes everything about the night.”

He was right. The normally noisy woods were as quiet as I had ever heard them, the usual nocturnal chatter, the hums and saws and buzzes and chirps, nonexistent.

After another moment, we continued on.

Was this a setup? Would we be ambushed? Had I played this all wrong? Was Anna already dead?

I wondered if we were being watched—perhaps through a night vision scope or infrared goggles. Dying was one thing. Failing to save Anna was another.

I could feel the tension in my neck and shoulders, the pounding of my pulse in my throat and head, and though it was warm, I was sweating far more profusely than if just from the heat.

“Something’s not right,” Cardigan said. “Feels off. You feel it?”

“It’s just the moon,” I said. “And nerves.”

“I don’t know. Seems like more than that. Feels like I’m gonna die tonight.”

“You’re not. It’s gonna be okay. It’ll all be over soon.”

“Over?”

“I just meant . . . you’ll be with your mom. Hold it together just a little longer.”

As we walked, I scanned the woods, searching the darkness for darker figures, letting my eyes wander both sides of the path for movement.

Every few steps, I paused, listened, checked behind me.

There was no one. Anywhere.

Just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there.

I realize that, but . . .

We seemed to be alone.

Eventually, we reached the small pond the path had been sloping toward. Though rimmed by cypress trees and pond pines, an opening across the way made the moon visible.

Earth’s umbra was nearly three-quarters across the diminishing orb.

Seen in the reflection on the smooth surface of the pond below, the shimmering, shadowed moon appeared even more mystical as it moved atop the gently undulating waters.

“Nobody here,” he said. “What’s really going on? Is this all some sort of—

“Just be patient a few more minutes,” I said. “I still think they’ll show. They’re probably just being cautious. That’s a good thing.”

“They—whoever
they
are—are probably about to cap us. No warning. No time to . . . we’ll just be here one moment and gone the next. Never know what hit us.”

I’m having a hard time not hitting you.

We stepped off the path and made our way down to the pond, standing at the dark water’s edge like two naïve supplicants awed in the face of an inexplicable phenomenon.

“See anything?” Ronnie asked.

I shook my head––something he couldn’t see in my position beside and just behind him. “Nothing yet. I’ll tell you when I—”

“John? Is that you?”

The disembodied voice was the same one from the phone, the one that haunted me, the one that echoed through my dreams, the one I’d never forget no matter how long I lived.

“I’m here,” I said.

Not only could I not see anyone, I had a difficult time distinguishing where the voice was coming from.

“Who’s with you?”

“Who you asked me to bring,” I said. “Ronnie Cardigan.”

“Who are you?” Ronnie yelled, surprised. “Whatta you want with me?”

“John, stay where you are. Send Cardigan around the pond to your right to meet me and I’ll send Anna around to the left to you.”

“Okay.”

I searched for any movement, any sign of Anna.

To my left, through the trees and undergrowth, light from the prison backlit an area of mostly pines and I could see Anna beginning to ease her way through them.

“I ain’t goin’ until you tell me who you are and what you want me for,” Ronnie yelled.

“Thought the chaplain would’ve told you. To see your mom. Your family hired me to get you out and bring you to her.”

“Who?”

“Who what?” the kidnapper asked. “You need to walk this way—to your right. John you need to send him over here now. We’ll grab Anna again if you don’t. Anna stop where you are. Don’t move until Ronnie starts heading over here.”

Anna continued walking.

“Who hired you?” Cardigan said.

“Anna stop where you are or we’ll shoot.”

“I did what you asked me to,” I said. “Leave her alone. Let her keep coming.”

“Something’s not right,” Ronnie said to me.

“I told you,” the kidnapper said. Your family.”

I watched Anna as she continued toward me, tracking her progress. Things were unraveling. If the balloon went up, I wanted to be able to get to her fast.

“No. Who in my family?” Cardigan said. “I don’t buy it, don’t believe you.”

“Your dad. Who else?”

“My dad’s been dead for three years,” Ronnie yelled.

“Oh shit.”

Ronnie looked over at me. “You just got me killed,” he said. “My dad’s not dead, but they don’t know it. What’s really going on here?”

“Grab him,” the kidnapper yelled.

A rustling in the underbrush, fast footfalls, running, snapping branches, crunching twigs.

“Follow me if you want to live,” I said.

“GET HIM NOW.”

I took off running toward Anna, the .38 out now, in my right hand. At my side. Pointed toward the ground. Hammer back. Finger on the trigger.

“Stay with me,” I said. “I’ll protect you.”

“Fuck that,” he said, and took off in the opposite direction.

Running.

Stumbling over tree limbs. Slipping on pine straw. Twisting around tree trunks. Bushes and plants and branches impeding my progress.

Looking for Anna. Scanning. Searching.

Shots fired. Small caliber gun.
Pop. Pop.

“ANNA,” I yelled. “GET DOWN. STAY DOWN. I’LL FIND YOU.”

“WE WON’T HURT HER, JOHN,” the kidnapper yelled. “SHE’S SAFE. YOU BOTH ARE. YOU DID WHAT WE––”

Another shot.
Pop
. Then another.
Pop
.

“STOP SHOOTING FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”

Still running.

Dress shoes sinking in soggy sand, sliding down the small embankment toward the pond.

“Anna,” I said.

“John.”

She was there. Not far away now. So close.

Get to her.

Diving beside her, I grabbed her. Hugged her. Held her.

She felt so good.

“You okay?”

“Am now.”

“JOHN,” Merrill yelled from the other side of the pond. “ONE RUNNING YOUR WAY.”

I was shocked to hear Merrill’s voice, but didn’t think about it, just responded to what he said.

Spinning around in a crouch, I came up behind Anna, shielding her body with mine, gun up, eyes scanning the area behind the barrel.

In the glow of the institution, I could see a figure sprinting––but away from and not toward us, perpendicular to the prison.

Then more rustling and running from the opposite side.

A shout I couldn’t make out. Another shot. Different gun this time.

A figure running toward us. Cardigan. Getting close. Merrill behind him, gaining.

Urge to stand, move toward him. Staying with Anna.

Merrill overtaking him, tripping him. Cardigan crashing hard on the forest floor.

Merrill snatching him up, zip-tying his wrists behind him, moving over toward us.

“Think they only two of ’em,” he said. “One down. One runnin’.”

“What’re you doin’ here?” I asked.

“Her ex,” Merrill said.

“Huh?”

I was helping Anna to her feet, continuing to scan the area as I did.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She nodded.

I hugged and kissed her and held her for a long moment.

Above us, the moon continued to disappear incrementally.

“Whatta you mean, my ex?” Anna asked.

“He hobblin’ over here,” Merrill said, jerking his head back in the direction he had just come from. “I’a let him tell you.”

“
He’s alive
?” Anna asked.

“But we better walk toward him if we want to see him anytime soon.”

We did.

As we made our way over toward Chris Taunton, who was moving like a man who should be in the hospital, I checked behind us periodically.

“Not her ex,” Chris said when we got near him. “Not yet.”

“Tell ’em how your ass helped save the day and my ass,” Merrill said.

He looked at me. “Day I checked myself out of the hospital and came to your house to ask you again if I could help you,” he said. “When you left, I went inside and looked around. Found the letter you left for Merrill.”

“Brought it to me and asked what we should do,” Merrill said. “We been watchin’ you ever since.”

“I didn’t want to do anything to risk Anna’s life,” Chris said. “But I didn’t want to not do anything that might help save her.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Chris had turned and started his way back toward the path. We had all matched his pace, moving slowly out of the bowl that formed the lake, up toward the trail we had walked in on, Merrill with a hand on the cuffed Cardigan.

“It’s not just my wife but my child we’re talkin’ about,” he said.

“So we watch and wait,” Merrill said. “Follow you out here tonight and––”

Ronnie said, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why am I cuffed?”

“You ran,” I said. “In the wrong direction.”

“Then your ass ran from me,” Merrill said.

“I didn’t know what was going on. Guys in correctional uniforms. Guns goin’ off. Figured y’all brought me out here to kill me ’cause of what I know.”

“Which is what?” Merrill said.

“How I know you not in on it?” he said. “Ain’t sayin’ shit.”

My arm was around Anna. I held her as we walked. I had no intention of ever letting go again.

“What happened?” I asked. “Why would they let Anna go and then start shooting before Ronnie even made it over there? And where is the other guy, the one who didn’t run?”

“Soon as they let Anna go and start shootin’,” Merrill said, “I start easin’ up on ’em. Then this fool”––nodding toward Cardigan––“come running up behind me and knock me down. I look up and they got the drop on me. My ass staring up at the barrel of a cannon.”

“A cannon?” I said.

“Well, least a .357. Do this fool help? No, he off runnin’ again—in the opposite direction this time.”

I continued to glance behind us, making sure there weren’t more of them or that the one who ran hadn’t doubled back to come up behind us.

“What was I supposed to do?” Cardigan said.

“Hop-along Taunton here with a little hitch in his giddy-up stumble out of the bushes and shoots the guy. Save my black ass from dyin’ in the dirt where I sat.”

“He’s dead?” Anna said.

“As I would’ve been,” Merrill said.

“Thank you,” I said to Chris.

“Yes, thank you,” Anna said.

“For everything,” I said.

Chris shrugged. “Happened so fast I didn’t have time to think. If I had . . .”

When we reached the path, the last of the moon’s paleness appeared to be vanishing, as if evanescent in nature––a vapor instead of a planet.

Merrill looked at his watch. “Whatcha say you don’t do any jail time,” he said to me. “Maybe even save your job. You might just have time to get him back in before anybody realize he gone. Call your dad on the way. Tell him what’s what. We stay and wait for him.”

“Could work,” I said.

“Worth a shot,” he said.

“And tell him to send an ambulance,” Chris said. “I think I ripped something open.”

“Okay,” I said. “Wish me luck.”

“I’m going with you,” Anna said.

I nodded.

“I mean everywhere. For the rest of my life.”

“You sure you didn’t recognize him?” I asked.

Anna, Cardigan, and I were in her Mustang racing back toward the institution. I was driving, Anna was in the seat beside me, Cardigan stuffed in the nearly nonexistent backseat.

Anna had been telling me every detail she could recall from her time with the kidnappers while they were fresh on her mind, and my question to Cardigan had been intentionally abrupt.

Before we had left the path near the pond, we had taken Ronnie over to look at the kidnapper to see if we could get an ID on him, which was the reason for my question now as I looked at him in the rearview mirror.

“Positive,” Cardigan said. “Never seen him before in my life.”

The kidnapper was just that. A kid. His youthful appearance matched the voice I had been hearing on the phone.

He was a pale, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy in his early twenties, in khaki pants and a light blue short-sleeved sport shirt. Average height. Average build. Though not overweight, there was a certain softness about his body. He looked more like a camp counselor or fast food manager than a kidnapper.

His soft body was sprawled out across the narrow path, his pale-blue shirt wet with blood, blood that looked black in what was left of the moonlight.

“He was so young,” Anna said.

“Wonder who he is and what he wanted with me?” Cardigan said.

“Dad will try to get an ID first thing.”

“He was genuinely good to me,” Anna said. “Incredibly so. It’s not Stockholm syndrome. He really was.”

I looked in the rearview mirror at Cardigan again. “You said you wondered what he wanted with you,” I said, “but you probably know.”

“I’m not lying. I really don’t.”

“Think about it,” I said. “Only a couple of things it can be.”

“Well, please enlighten me,” he said, “’cause I honestly don’t know.”

“Could be what he said. Your family. And it just went wrong. But if it’s not, there are two obvious possibilities I can see, and I just met you.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Your case. You claim to be innocent.”

“I am.”

“If that’s true, it could be whoever’s guilty. Or maybe someone who believes you’re guilty of not only robbing your neighbor but killing her too.”

“Hadn’t thought of that. What’s the other?”

“You know what it is. You keep talkin’ about knowing something that’s going to help you get out. Hasn’t crossed your mind it could be connected to that? Wanna tell me what you know?” I said. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what it is.”