Soundkeeper (18 page)

Two innings later his cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it. The communications supervisor told him he was needed to respond to a report of a stabbing on the far end of the county. A man had caught his brother sleeping with his wife and beat him with a tricycle in the front yard of their mobile home. The victim was critical and the patrol sergeant had requested a detective at the scene. Varnum told the dispatcher that he was on the way and lit another cigarette as he drove away from the construction site.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Can I eat over there with you, so I can watch TV?” Gale asked.

During the brief time Arnold and Blondie were gone Gale had decided to test her theory. She hoped she was prepared in case she was wrong.

Arnold unlocked the handcuff from her ankle and she rubbed the chafed skin.

“Thanks,” she said.

Her resolve to fight faded somewhat when she stood next to him and realized how enormous he really was. His odor nauseated her and reminded her it had been almost a week since she had bathed herself.

“I always watch
Wheel of Fortune
,” Gale said even though she never did.

She was surprised at how easily she could lie when she had too. She didn’t even own a television and there was only a radio for entertainment in the small apartment above her office. She hoped lying under these circumstances wasn’t a sin.

They were eating takeout burgers Arnold had brought when he came back with the boat. She was grateful Blondie had left without coming inside the old warehouse.

“I’d buy a vowel,” she thought out loud, hoping to stimulate some conversation.

Arnold grunted his agreement and made a terrible guess at what the unknown phrase was. Food fell out of his mouth when he spoke and he spilled his beer on his grimy shirt whenever he took a swallow.

Although she nibbled at her burger to make it last, it wasn’t long before her food was gone. Things were going well, but she didn’t want to go back to her shackle just yet. She hoped he would begin to doze off shortly, as she had watched him do almost every night about this time. She knew he never locked the door and she planned to make a break for it at the first opportunity.

She had decided her best way to escape was by water. Even as large and slow as he was, Arnold might be able to catch her on land where he had the advantage. He knew where the road led and how far it was to a telephone or safe haven.

In the water, she felt she had the upper hand. Navigating while she swam would be no different that when she floated in a boat, she reasoned. It would take him too long to ready his small boat for pursuit, and she could swim or wade in water that the boat would never be able to reach. She hoped the water was warm enough to avoid hypothermia, at least for several hours. She was ready to die trying if that was what it took.

“Would you like to take a shower?” Arnold suddenly asked.

Gale leaned away from him and fear rose in her throat, but she forced it back down.

“Yes, I would,” she said. “But only if you promise to give me privacy.”

The blush on his cheeks proved, she hoped, that he hadn’t thought of anything else. He led her to the far corner of the warehouse where a garden hose she had not noticed before came down from the ceiling.

“There’s a cistern on the roof that collects rain,” he said.

While she stood there looking at the hose, Arnold took a piece of rope and tied it from one wall to another. Then he took one of the sheets from his lawn chair and rigged up a make shift shower curtain. After showing her how to make the water flow, he went back to his spot in front of the television.

Gale undid the hose and started the water but watched Arnold before stepping behind the sheet. Arnold didn’t even glance her way, but still she did not trust him. She stripped to her bra and panties and stepped underneath the feeble stream of water in her underwear.

The water was warm from the sun which gave her hope that the marsh water would be too. There was an old piece of soap on the floor and after she felt like she had gotten any dirt off of it she lathered up her body and hair, quickly rinsing so she could keep her eyes open. Even when she spent months at sea on the hospital ship she had never gone this long without bathing. More importantly her spirit felt renewed as well. If she could have shaved her legs, she would have almost felt normal.

After she stopped the flow of water by crimping the hose with a piece of wire she listened to the water dripping through the floor and into the mud below the building. It was low tide. She had known that instinctively, just like a creature of the sea, but the dripping water confirmed what she already knew.

She knew the tide would be full again at one o’clock in the morning, six hours from now, and it also told her she had been a prisoner for six days. Over one hundred and forty hours, and she remembered every second of every hour. Gale knew she could swim to freedom if she got the opportunity and she was determined to be ready when the chance presented itself.

There was no towel for her to dry off with, so she stood and let herself drip dry. She thought about using the shower sheet to dry off with but couldn’t bring herself to touch Arnold’s bed linens. Only after she had been quiet for several minutes did Arnold turn her way, and then only after asking if it was all right.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, walking toward him. She was wearing the clean sweat shirt and warm up pants he had brought her.

Now that she was clean she realized how terribly pungent her captor was. She hadn’t seen him use the shower since she had been there and had no idea how long it had been before that since he’d bathed. She didn’t want to know.

“That was very nice of you. Thanks.”

Arnold seemed to enjoy the compliment.

They watched the end of
Jeopardy!
, and Gale saw his eyes begin to droop. Out of the corner of her eye she watched his eyelids dance until they were closed. Her heart raced and she worked to breathe as shallowly as possible to keep from making too much noise.

How much of a head start did she need? She decided if she could make it to the door before he reacted, she could make it to the water. Through the window she could see that the sky was clear. As soon as she was away from Arnold she would be able to orient herself by the stars. She knew exactly where Ursa Minor would be in late April and she felt certain the glow from the lights in Beaufort or Hilton Head would be visible as well. If she made it to open water, the tide and currents would direct her. She knew she could escape if she could just get to the water.

Each time Arnold’s chest rose and fell Gale considered herself one breath closer to freedom. By her watch, Arnold had not opened his eyes for eight minutes. His breathing was heavy and regular, and his chin rested on the folds of fat of his neck. Somehow he was able to keep from spilling the beer that was balanced on his belly.

Her eyes darted from him to the door and back. Her pulse was racing and she was ready. She briefly considered trying to sneak to the door before she began to run but was afraid he would stir as soon as she moved. Like an Olympic sprinter, she had to reach her maximum velocity within her first few steps. She closed her eyes and said a quick but sincere prayer.

The loud crack of thunder startled her and she and Arnold rose from their chairs at the same time. They were both wide-eyed and staring at each other. Arnold looked like he was trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. He’d slept in so many different places it always took him a few minutes to get his bearings.

“That storm sure is getting close,” she said.

Arnold nodded tentatively and opened his mouth as if he was trying to talk.

“Uh-huh,” was the best he could do on such short notice.

Gale said she had to use the bathroom and walked out of the blue light from the television. Arnold struck his forehead with his fist so hard that it made an audible “whack”.

“How stupid can I be?” he asked himself when she was out of earshot. When he wasn’t with her, he could think of so many things to say to her. He wanted to start off with an apology to make sure she knew that none of this was his idea. If he wanted her to like him, he had to show her he and Blondie were nothing alike.

Arnold owed Blondie almost ten thousand dollars from gambling with him and when Blondie offered to forgive his debt and pay him for a few weeks work, he jumped at the chance. He had no idea that they were going to dump toxic dirt into the sea, but even when he found out he didn’t care. Like most people Arnold saw only the vast expanse of water and salt marsh and assumed Mother Nature could handle anything that man threw at her. He needed the money.

Not long into the deal he saw his partner threaten the real estate developer with his switchblade and realized his partner was capable of really bad things. Arnold didn’t care what his partner did and didn’t feel sorry for anyone who got involved with Blondie. He just didn’t want to go back to prison. He wouldn’t, couldn’t go back. Then his partner had murdered someone, at least Blondie believed that he had. And now Arnold found himself right in the middle of it, bound to Blondie with Gale’s blood. He knew he had to keep Gale a secret, but that was only half of the battle. He wanted her to like him.

Standing with his fists clenched and beads of sweat pimpling out on his forehead, he worked up the nerve to apologize. He wanted to ask her forgiveness and ask her if they could be friends. That was the first step. He hadn’t spoken like this to a girl since the seventh grade when that awful Fatima had laughed at him for trying to hold her hand on the school bus. He’d never been with a woman he hadn’t had to pay for. If he could get away from Blondie and make Gale like him, he thought he could change his life around. With someone to help him he could find a decent job and start over. Gale represented the best opportunity he’d had in a long, long time.

Gale came out from behind the bedsheet, where the hole in the floor was, and walked over to her bedroll without looking at Arnold. She hoped if she didn’t make a big deal about being chained up again, he wouldn’t either. Maybe he’d even forget.

But a few minutes after she had been lying there, she heard the chain and handcuffs jingle when he picked them up. She stuck her leg out of the blanket and he stared at it for a moment before he fastened the cold steel around her ankle once again. Her best opportunity was gone. She told herself not to, but couldn’t help it. She cried herself to sleep one more time.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The spring pollen was settled by the previous evening’s storm, and the warm breeze promised an even warmer afternoon. It was just light enough to see the road when Hall hopped on his mountain bike and rode the three miles to the visitor parking lot as fast as he could in the highest gear. He rested in the parking lot and drained his water bottle when the first visitors to the refuge arrived and parked their cars. A young couple with children unloaded picnic baskets and daypacks, and a serious birdwatcher started down one of the trails with a telephoto lens so large it dwarfed the camera it was attached to. He enjoyed watching everyone with anonymity for a few minutes then sprinted back to his cottage on the bike, feeling the burn in his thighs.

After eating breakfast, he wrote a letter to Jimmy Barnwell, telling him about the fish kills and getting the boat stuck. He thought Jimmy would be glad to hear he hadn’t sunk it yet. There was much more he wanted to talk with Jimmy about—the wreck on the bridge, his first taste of the criminal justice system, and the fish kills, Gale. Depressing things he didn’t want to put into a letter.

After studying his navigational charts for over an hour, Hall believed he had a good idea where the barge would be if it was still in the area. If the skipper had fuel problems, the boat would most likely be docked at one of the commercial docks along the waterfront in Beaufort.

Belker chased a tennis ball Hall threw for him until he saw the squirrel. The two creatures stared at one another until the squirrel’s prey instinct kicked in and Belker assumed his role as predator. Hall joined the pursuit, not wanting anyone to know he was guilty of violating the strict “No Dogs” policy for refuge visitors. He had convinced himself that being a resident and not a visitor excused him from that that particular rule. He found Belker at the foot of a sweet gum tree where the squirrel was perched safely out of harm’s way.

Hall put the pup in the back yard and got dressed for work. He pulled the wide elastic straps of his body armor tight against his torso and knew it would be soaked through with sweat before the day was through. The brown, polyester uniform shorts were ugly as sin, but he was more interested in comfort than style and put them on instead of his trousers. He threaded his handcuffs, extra magazines, and holster onto his belt and when he put the .40 Glock in the holster he was twelve pounds heavier than he was in his boxers.

After checking the oil in his boat motor, Hall took the shotgun out of its locking rack under the console and confirmed it was loaded, replaced it, and motored into Skull Creek. Hall knew a lot of recreational boaters and fishermen would be out on a Saturday, so he swung south around the tip of the island and back up Mackay Creek to the public boat ramp.

The parking area was full of trucks and cars with empty boat trailers parked in the gravel lot. A couple was trying to launch a brand new bowrider, and their words grew heated as their frustration with the boat and trailer manifested into anger with one another. Finally the boat slipped into the water, and they were happy again.