Moon Underfoot (17 page)

Walter flashed back to Minnesota, where ten years ago on a cold night much like this one, his own daughter had been physically abused by her husband.

S
EBASTIAN AND BERNARD
arrived at the apartment complex after only two missed turns. They parked facing Bailey’s apartment, and even looking through overgrown azalea bushes, they could tell someone was inside. Sebastian switched off the key, and they sat in silence. The truck windows began fogging as soon as the engine died.

“You see that punk’s car.”

“No, but he’s gotta be in there,” Bernard answered.

“Stay here, and if you see him approach, honk the horn,” Sebastian said, opening his door.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know for sure. But I have to check on her.”

Sebastian pulled a large stainless-steel revolver from under his seat and stuck it inside his waistband at the front.

Bernard watched, nodded his assent, and said, “You be careful.”

“I will,” Sebastian replied, and then shut the truck door.

The parking area was illuminated well, but Sebastian could not see Woody. He sensed that Woody was close. As Sebastian slowly approached Bailey’s apartment, he could hear raised voices that he recognized. In the center breezeway, he could see
Bailey’s door was slightly ajar. As he approached, the upstairs neighbor opened his door and made eye contact with Sebastian, who indicated through a hand gesture that he had this under control.

As he stood beside the door listening, he could hear Woody yelling, demanding money. Bailey was holding her own but losing ground fast to Woody’s increasing anger. Sebastian waved at Bernard to come join him. As he stepped through the entrance, he could see splinters on the floor from where Woody had kicked in the door.

Woody had Bailey cornered in the small kitchen, and he didn’t hear Sebastian step in. He was slinging her around the kitchen by her ponytail and was just about to hit her again when Sebastian caught his arm and forcefully threw Woody headfirst against the refrigerator. Woody was momentarily stunned and fell to the floor. Sebastian thumb-cocked his stainless Smith & Wesson model 686 .357 Magnum and touched the cold barrel to Woody’s forehead. As his vision cleared, Woody could see copper-clad, hollow-point cartridges in the two visible cylinders on each side of the barrel. There was no doubt the gun was loaded.

“Bailey, call the police,” Sebastian calmly stated as Bernard came in the front door. “Whether it’s a domestic disturbance or a justifiable homicide is entirely up to this piece of trash.

“Son, if you move even one inch, I’m gonna shoot you…and I’ll enjoy it. You hear me? I got absolutely nutten to lose.” Sebastian stood with all his weight on Woody’s left hand.

Woody was obviously angry, but the gun barrel in his face had served to temporarily subdue him.

Bailey was crying. She had been through this time and again. She couldn’t break free of Woody. She needed a restraining order, but she knew it wouldn’t work. She had endured all of the Woody tirades that she could take. There was no more defending him. She didn’t care what happened to him anymore.
She tried to dial 911 on her cell, but her hands were shaking too badly.

“Let me make sure you understand: you ain’t ever going to hit another woman. I don’t even want to hear about you beatin’ a dog. You listenin’ to me?”

Woody nodded his head. His eyes darted between the pistol, Bailey, and Sebastian’s wild, crazed eyes.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare,” he said as he squeezed the trigger and then caught the hammer with his thumb.

Woody tried to sit up straighter but couldn’t. “I’ve never, I’ve never seen you before today.”

“We’re her guardian angels.”

Bailey stood up slowly. She still hadn’t dialed 911 yet. Bernard was watching Sebastian and quickly went to help Bailey. He could tell she was going to have a black eye.

“What makes you hit a woman?” Bernard asked.

Woody didn’t respond; he just looked at the floor.

Sebastian studied Woody’s face and eyes, and he saw no emotion and no feelings. He was simply sorry he had gotten caught. But Sebastian realized they could use Woody. He might be very helpful to them in the next few days. He needed to talk it through with Walter. Bernard was about to dial the police, and Sebastian motioned for him to wait. On the floor was a can of Copenhagen with a customized silver lid that only the most refined rednecks possessed. Sebastian realized it had dislodged from Woody’s belt holder when he fell. He repositioned a foot and slowly pushed it between the refrigerator and the base cabinet.

Woody groaned in pain, and Sebastian asked calmly, “Where do you live?”

“Out on Military Road,” he said with a grunt as he straightened up and ran his hand through his hair.

Sebastian was very familiar with Military Road, as were most of Golden Triangle’s residents. Andrew Jackson had built
it after the War of 1812 to connect Nashville with New Orleans, and it ran right through the river town of Columbus. Sebastian bent down and looked him dead in the eyes. “Where exactly?”

Woody told him.

“You gotta job?”

“I’m a freelance gynecologist,” he answered, smirking.

Bam!
Sebastian slammed his fist into Woody’s face. Blood instantly began to flow from his right nostril.

Sebastian gritted his teeth as he watched Woody grimace in pain. “Let’s try this again real slow, you little prick. Do. You. Have. A. Job?”

Woody quickly nodded as he wiped blood from his face. “I work at the new steel mill. Out by the airport.”

Sebastian glanced at Bailey’s injuries and was furious. He then looked back at Woody. He knew he had the perfect punishment, if necessary.

“Look, I’m gonna cut you a break. If you swear on all that’s sacred to you that you won’t ever come back here again, we won’t call the police,” Sebastian said in a monotone voice. He was struggling to keep from killing Woody on the spot.

Woody was silent. He slowly raised his head to look at Bailey. “Is that what you want?”

Bailey paused and bit her lip. “Yes,” she finally answered.

Sebastian was relieved. He knew women sometimes defended the person who abused them.

Woody looked off. For a second, Sebastian thought he saw tears in his eyes. He realized he must have cared for Bailey at some level. He just lost control of his feelings and anger took over.
Gotta be on drugs now
, Sebastian thought. He had heard that meth drastically changed people. Woody had that meth-head look in his eyes.

Sebastian leaned down to Woody’s ear and then whispered through gritted teeth, “Swear to God that you’ll leave her alone, and I won’t cut your nuts off and shove ’em so far down your throat that it kills ya!”

M
OON PIE AND
Levi took their time driving back to Columbus. They stopped in Amory, Mississippi, and ate supper at one of the ubiquitous Mexican restaurants now scattered all over the South. They ordered steak fajitas after their cheese dip. Levi commented that they were probably the only diners in the state who had nearly a million dollars in cash stashed in their automobile at that moment. Moon Pie agreed with a loud laugh.

Levi was amazed at how the excitement of future earnings combined with the margaritas made Moon Pie talk. He yammered about their shared daddy and how he had taught him to poach, fish, and live off the land. They talked about the
Swamp People
show on the History Channel, and while he knew Levi wanted to be on
The Bachelorette
, Moon Pie wanted to try alligator hunting in the bayous of Louisiana. He had already poached a few gators in Tibbee Creek, near West Point, and he had his eye on a ten-footer in the Noxubee Refuge. He liked the challenge.

Moon Pie talked to Levi more than he ever had before, and he even opened up about that night in Sumter County that made him go on the run. Levi listened intently while Moon Pie drove.

“I blame all that shit on Johnny Lee,” Moon Pie said. “He never planned anything in his life. He just jumped on whatever opportunities came his way. I read what was in the papers about that night and compared it to bits and pieces that Reese told me over the two-way phone. They should have never been out there. There was no real money. It was just something for their drunk asses to do on a Friday night. When it got ugly and Johnny Lee got shot, they weren’t near prepared to deal with how much that guy wanted to survive and protect his little girl. Remember that…when folks are fightin’ for family, it’s all different. If I put a pistol in somebody’s face and ask for their wallet, they’ll give it to me…but if I try and hurt their kid, that changes everythin’, even if you got that pistol stuck in their ear. That’s love, man, and that’s some very powerful shit.”

“So how in the hell did you not get charged with anything?” Levi asked.

“I was really lucky. Really lucky. The chick I grabbed couldn’t or wouldn’t ID me…did you know they moved to Atlanta? Yeah, sure did; I think I freaked her out. Although the sheriff knew I had been to Johnny Lee’s trailer that night, that’s all they had on me. It still pisses me off that Reese is dead. He was my partna’. I liked him a lot. Johnny Lee, on the other hand, was a real pain in the ass most times. But the good news is, I got all that river-runnin’ business. I guess things work out…sometimes.”

“So? Reese just called you up and said go grab this dude’s wife and without askin’ any questions, you just up and done it?” Levi asked in amazement.

“Yeah, man…that’s how it works…plus, I was tryin’ to make a name for myself and they were the big dogs, and their ox was in the ditch. I was gonna help push or pull. Whatever was needed.”

Levi shook his head.

“I’d expect you to do the same shit for me. You would, right?” Moon Pie asked.

“Of course…I mean, hell yeah…of course I would,” Levi answered, although he wasn’t as positive as he tried to sound.

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem real sure. I get that. Reese asked a lot of me that night. He paid a heavy price…and hell, I did too. I’m still payin’. Those freakin’ deputies are still watching me. I see ’em. I just gotta be extra careful, that’s all. But that’s the difference in me and Johnny Lee. He’d do some off-the-wall, crazy shit, man. I think things through, and I’ve always got a backup plan,” Moon Pie explained as he parked the FJ Cruiser behind the Gold Mine.

The digital dash clock glowed 9:02 when Moon Pie turned off the ignition. He and Levi looked around for anything suspicious.

Moon Pie pulled a small semiauto pistol from the glove box and stuck it into the pocket of his fleece jacket and then looked at Levi. “You let me get the back door open, and then you bring the bag in. If someone drives up, stay in the truck.”

“Gotcha.”

Moon Pie keyed open the back door, then flipped on the light switch. After a quick glance around inside, he waved at Levi.

Struggling with the weight of the bag, Levi awkwardly hurried inside. Moon Pie slammed the door behind him and immediately threw the dead bolt. He calmly punched the alarm code, and the keypad turned a soft shade of green. Only he and Levi knew the entrance code. Moon Pie then went to the safe and punched in his six-digit code. Swinging the heavy door back, he pulled out two guns to make room for the cash. He handed them to Levi.

“We may need these this weekend anyway.”

“I love deer season.”

“It does make life easier when the season’s in…I don’t mean the huntin’, I mean the not gettin’ caught.”

“I hear ya,” Levi said as he grabbed the two rifles. One was a Steyr Mannlicher .270 with expensive night-vision optics, and the other was an old Sako .264 bull barrel with a high-powered scope. Both were covered in Mossy Oak camo tape, and Moon Pie bragged that if you laid them down in the woods, they’d
disappear. These were Moon Pie’s favorite guns, and he could remember exactly where he’d stolen them. Even with factory loads, they both shot dime-size groups at a hundred yards. Levi leaned each gently in the corner of the office behind the door.

“Hand me that bag,” Moon Pie demanded.

After some pushing and shuffling, the bag was in place. Moon Pie replaced one gun, leaving the other out for his opening-morning hunt. He slowly shut the safe door and locked it.