Repairman Jack [07]-Gateways (33 page)

“Right, mister,” Luke said, licking his lips. “That’s because you’ll be full of holes if you do.”

“That won’t make you any less dead.”

“You won’t,” Semelee said to Jack. “I know it, and you know it.”

She was right. This wasn’t a killing situation. He lowered the pistol a few inches.

“Maybe not. But one of these hollowpoints can mess up a knee like you wouldn’t believe.”

Luke was sweating now. Taking one in the knee seemed to bother him more than one in the chest.

“Semelee…?”

“You won’t do that neither. Because we ain’t hurt Carl and we ain’t keepin’ him here but for a few days.”

“You’ve got no right to keep him a minute.”

“Yeah, we do,” Luke said, emboldened by the fact that Jack hadn’t pulled the trigger again. “He’s kin. He’s blood.”

“I promised I’d get him back home. I intend to keep that promise.”

“It’s only gonna be three days,” Semelee said. “We want him to stay for the lights. But I tell you what: You find my other shell and we’ll do a trade…the shell for Carl.”

“Semelee,” Luke said. “You got no right. Carl belongs here.”

She turned on him, eyes flashing. “What’s more important—givin’ Carl a light show or gettin’ my eye-shell back?”

Luke looked away and said nothin’.

Semelee turned to Jack. “So that’s the deal. How’s it set with you?”

“Lady, I don’t know where this shell of yours is. If I’d known it was going to matter, I’d have kept track of it.”

She pointed to Carl’s borrowed canoe. “Maybe you’d better start lookin’.”

Keeping his pistol trained on Luke, Jack considered his options. He had a few, but didn’t like any of them.

He could do a little shooting, but he could see how that could turn counterproductive. He could do his own search for Carl, but he’d be a stranger looking for someone who’d been stashed away by folks who knew every nook and cranny of the terrain. He could head back and take one of these guys with him, then trade him back for Carl; but Jack had no place to stash him.

Or he could go back and find the shell, which was one tall order.

Going back…there was another challenge. He wasn’t Woodsman Jack. The closest he ever wanted to get to outdoor life was a copy of
Field & Stream
.

“I don’t know the Everglades,” he said. “I’ll get lost out there.”

Semelee laughed, a musical sound, void of harshness or derision.

“No, you won’t. The drought ain’t left too many wet channels. Every time you come to a fork, just take the eastmost. It ain’t all that far.”

“And if I do find this shell, how will I let you know?”

“Easy. Just stand outside you daddy’s house and say, ‘I found the shell.’ I’ll hear you.”

Jack didn’t think she was lying, and that gave him the creeps.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll go.” He hated to leave without Carl, but he’d be back. He also hated leaving without satisfying the reason he’d come here in the first place. “But I want to know something before I go: What have you got against my father?”

Semelee looked away, then back to him. “Nothin’.”

“Like hell. You folks tried to kill him the other night, and somehow sicced that freaky alligator on him yesterday. Let me ask you: What did he ever do to you?”

“We ain’t after him,” she said.

Jack caught Luke giving her a sharp look, but she didn’t see it.

“Why don’t I believe that?” Jack said.

She shrugged. “That’s up to you. But I tell you true, your daddy ain’t got nothin’ to fear from us.”

“How about me?” Jack said. “What happens when I turn my back on you and your clan?”

“Nothin’. You can’t find me my shell if you’re dead, now, can you.” She turned to the clan. “Ain’t that right, fellers.” They looked at one another but didn’t say much. Semelee’s expression turned fierce. “Ain’t that
right
? Cause I hate to think what would happen to anybody who stopped this man from doin’ what I need him to do.”

Jack saw a lot of uneasy, fearful expressions as the men nodded and lowered their weapons.

What kind of hold did she have on them? What could that slim little woman threaten them with?

Taking a breath and hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, Jack holstered the Glock and walked back to the canoe. He stepped into the water, pushed off, and slid in. A couple of pulls got the engine going. He putted away, propelled by the weight of dozens of eyes on his back.

6

“Why’d you let him go?” Luke said.

Semelee stood on the bank and watched Jack’s retreating form as he turned the canoe left and disappeared around the bend.

“Told you why.”

“You believe him?”

She could hear lots of anger in his voice. She knew he was jealous, but she figgered his pride had got hurt bein’ on the wrong end of Jack’s gun.

“Yeah, I do.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she had the feeling that he’d thought there was only one shell until she told him otherwise.

“You’re actin’ like a fool, Semelee. We coulda gone lookin’ for that eye-shell ourselfs.”

“Yeah? Like where? Like how? We can’t go to the hospital and ask about it when I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. We can’t search his daddy’s place like he can.”

“We coulda tried. Way it stands now we ain’t never gonna see him or your other eye-shell again.”

“Oh, we’ll see him again…one way or the other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t you hear him? He said he promised Carl he’d get him back home. If he finds the shell he’ll be back to make the trade. But even if he don’t find it he’ll be comin’ for Carl. He’ll take him home again or spread a whole lotta hurt tryin’.”

Luke snorted. “What makes you think you know so much about him? You ain’t spoke to him but twice.”

She turned to him. “Let me tell you somethin’, Luke. That’s a man who keeps his promises.”

She’d seen that in his eyes. Not a lick of fear, just stubborn as all get out. And that made him all the more special. Brave and loyal, two traits any woman wanted in a man. But Jack wasn’t just any woman’s man. He was destined to be hers.

The way things was fallin’ into place…it was like it was all part of a plan. His daddy gets chosen to die, but he don’t. He lives and that brings Jack down here where he and Semelee can meet and be together. She lost an eye-shell, but now Jack was gonna find it, and that was gonna bring them even closer together.

“What do you need that other eye-shell so bad for anyway?” Luke said. “You been doin’ all right with just the one.”

“No, I ain’t. Ain’t the same. Much harder to keep control and see where I’m goin’. I need the two of them.”

“Awright awright. But you was kiddin’ bout layin’ off his daddy, right?”

“Wrong. We ain’t interested in his daddy no more.”

“But Se me—”

“We got us a new target.”

She didn’t know how, but Jack had somehow connected her and the clan to what had happened to his daddy. If his daddy got killed, he’d blame her, and that might keep them apart and wreck their destiny. No, she had a better victim, someone who
needed
killin’.

Luke was starin’ at her. “Who?”

“The old lady. She’ll be takin’ daddy’s place.”

7

How was he going to find that damn shell?

The question plagued Jack as he drove toward Novaton.

Semelee had been right: It hadn’t been all that hard to find his way back to the real world. He’d left the canoe beached by the air-boat dock and headed toward town. The clouds persisted but hadn’t dumped drop one of rain.

Where to start? The hospital was the obvious place, but Dad had checked himself out almost twenty-four hours ago. Jack was sure the room had been stripped and scrubbed by now. Probably even had a new occupant. That meant he might have to go pawing through the hospital’s Dumpsters.

He shook his head. Maybe if he had half a dozen people helping him they might—just
might
—come up with that shell. He doubted it.

He decided that before he gave the hospital another thought, he’d check out his dad’s place. Maybe by some freaky turn of good luck the shell had wound up there. But again, the chances—

If nothing else, he could get out of these sodden sneakers.

He’d stopped at a red light. A dump truck was turning in front of him, going the opposite way. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought except for the insignia on the door of the cab. It looked like a black sun…a shape that might be mistaken for the head of a black flower.

Jack would have hung a U right there if he’d been in the left lane. Instead he had to cut through two parking lots to turn himself around. By the time he was heading north, the truck was out of sight. Racing along as best he could in the Friday afternoon traffic, trying to catch up, he almost missed the truck parked in a Burger King lot.

Jack pulled in next to it and got out. It had been backed diagonally across two spaces at the rear of the lot where it was out of the way. The cab was empty but the big diesel engine was running. He checked out the logo—definitely a black sun. And beneath it:
Wm. Blagden & Sons, Inc.

He walked around it. It sure as hell looked big enough to inflict heavy damage on any car, even a Grand Marquis. He wondered what the left end of the front bumper looked like.

Jack stopped and stared at the dent in the fender…and the streaks of silver paint ground into its black surface.

“Can I help you with something?” said a voice behind him.

Jack turned to find a prototypical truck driver—big cowboy hat, big gut, big belt buckle, big boots—walking his way with a bag of burgers in one hand and a travel mug of coffee in the other.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Just admiring the ding in your fender here.” A euphemism; the “ding” was a deep dent. “Looks pretty fresh.”

“It is. Best I can figure it must’ve happened Monday night when the truck was stolen.”

“Stolen? No kidding? By who?”

The driver unlocked the door to the cab, put the burgers and coffee inside, then shrugged.

“Damned if I know.” He rubbed his weather-beaten face. “Never happened to me before. After she got the first part of her load Monday evening, I locked her up and hit the hay. I got up the next morning and she was gone. Couple hours after I reported her missing the cops found her in a liquor store parking lot. I was so glad to get her back—I mean, you don’t know what kind of shit was gonna come down on me if she was gone for good—that I didn’t notice the ding till later.”

“You report it to the cops?”

“No. Why?”

“Because your rig might have been involved in a hit and run.”

His eyes narrowed. “You a cop or something?”

“Nope. Just an interested party.” He saw the questioning look on the trucker’s face. “My dad’s car took a wallop early Tuesday morning.”

“He okay?”

“Luckily, yeah.”

“Good.” He hauled himself into the cab. “Because I can’t hang around for no investigation. I ain’t running or nothing, but I got a schedule to keep.”

“I hear you,” Jack said.

He thought about stopping him but decided against it. If his story was true—and Jack sensed it was—what good would it do? If he hadn’t reported his truck stolen, Jack could call Hernandez and the Novaton cops would pick him up.

Of course, the reported theft could have been a cover, but Jack doubted that.

As the cab door slammed shut, Jack said, “What’re you hauling?”

“Sand.”

“Where to?”

“North Jersey.”

Jersey? Jersey was loaded with sand.

“What the hell for?”

The driver shrugged. “I don’t set up the jobs or choose the loads; I just get it where it wants to go.”

Then Jack remembered Luke saying something about Semelee sucking all the sand out of the cenote and selling it. Could this be…?

“Where’d you get the sand?”

Another shrug. “It got boated in from somewheres in the swamp. That’s all I know.”

With that he threw the truck into first and headed for the exit.

Jack watched him go. He made a mental note of the company name. Wm. Blagden & Sons. He might look them up when he got back north, maybe find out who’d hired them. Shipping sand from a Florida nexus point to New Jersey…he couldn’t imagine the reason, but it couldn’t be good.

He started back toward his car. At least now he knew what had hit his father’s Marquis. And he had a pretty good idea who had been driving it.

But he still didn’t know why. Had a pretty good idea about that too, and hoped to nail that down this afternoon.

8

By the time Jack reached Gateways South he’d stopped at a local hardware store for a roll of duct tape, then called the Novaton Police where he reached Anita Nesbitt. After a quick check she told him that, yes, on Tuesday morning a dump truck had been reported stolen during the night and was found shortly thereafter.