Soundkeeper (20 page)

“He’s here!” Arnold yelled. The fear in his voice was evident.

He and Gale had been watching
Jeopardy!
together for the second evening in a row. Gale was waiting for her chance to escape, and Arnold was beginning to wonder if his partner was coming back at all. He was supposed to have arrived with the final load of contaminated soil yesterday, and when there was no contact for two days in a row Arnold was hoping their partnership had already been dissolved. He was beginning to believe that his guest was warming up to him.

“Get in the closet,” he hissed at Gale.

She went into her familiar hiding place, and he rushed around the room trying to hide any signs of her existence. Gale heard a car door slam and Blondie yell.

“Arnold! Get out here!”

Fearfully he went outside.

“I think I saw someone.”

Arnold looked around shrugging his shoulders.

“They were out by the boat. Get a flashlight, you idiot!”

Hall felt a sharp oyster shell cutting into his leg as he squatted beside the dock. The smell of creosote on the pilings was so strong it burned his eyes, and any hope he had of not being seen vanished when he heard the conversation between the two men. He knew there were at least three because he had heard two voices coming from the building. He dropped to his belly and slithered across the mud.

“Shine it over there.”

Arnold obeyed and played the light across the ground. Raised in the city, neither man was going to trek through the marsh grass and muck during the day, much less at night.

“Go closer to the water.” Blondie ordered.

The yellow beam of light danced over the dock, the boat and the marsh. Arnold moved closer to the edge of the marsh and was thankful he had put on his rubber boots when he got the flashlight for he was certain Blondie would have made him chase the ghost in his bare feet. No matter what Blondie said, he was staying away from the black and scary water.

In his hiding place under the dock Hall was directly below the man who was giving the orders. He could see the beam of light where the other man was stumbling around and was convinced that he was using the flashlight to see where he was going, not to look for him. He kept one hand on the pistol that was underneath his shirt. Mosquitoes buzzed in his nose and ears, and he tried to shoo them away with his other hand, but they were determined and he was outnumbered. The mosquitoes were equal opportunity pests and began to feast on the hunters as well. Hall could hear them slapping and cursing the critters that fed on them without mercy. He checked the positions of his pursuers. One was still above him on the dock, and the other was making a lot of noise moving through the spartina grass. Hall began sliding toward the water when something exploded at his left foot.

The marsh hen didn’t surrender her roost without first loudly voicing her displeasure. The man on the dock almost fell into the water, and the other yelled and ran until he was on solid ground. Hall lay perfectly still and listened to his heart pounding in his chest.

“Get out from under there, or I’ll shoot through the dock.”

Hall knew it was a bluff. The man was guessing he was there because the bird flushed and gave away his position. He decided to stay put.

“I’m only going to count to five.”

He was walking back along the old wooden planking and was directly above Hall when he took his switchblade out and flicked it open. The blade of the knife locking into position sounded just like a gun being cocked. Hall changed his mind.

“All right. I’m coming out.”

Hall’s first instinct was to identify himself as a federal officer and detain the three suspects while he called for assistance from the sheriff’s office. But what would he do after that? The barge was high in the water which meant it was empty. He had no evidence these were the polluters even though he was sure they were. If they found out he was a cop they would leave before he had enough evidence to charge them. He would have to explain why he was sneaking around private property at night, out of uniform. He had made some mistakes already and didn’t want to add to them.

Two men were standing beside each other on the dock when Hall crawled out from underneath it. The one with the flashlight was short and wide and the other one was tall and had hair so blonde it looked white in the darkness.

“Get up here,” the blonde one ordered.

Hall did as he was told and noted that no one had told him to keep his hands up. He took this as a good sign. He also kept looking at the ground to keep the light from blinding him and stumbled on purpose. When he stepped onto the dock he was facing the two men and looking at the barge at the end of the dock. He did not see the third suspect he had heard earlier.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the one without the light asked.

Hall shrugged his shoulders and swayed back and forth. He kept his right hand hooked in a belt loop of his jeans, touching the butt of his pistol. No one had mentioned anything about calling the police. Most folks would call the police if they caught someone sneaking around their place at night, unless they didn’t want the police around.

“He’s drunk,” the shorter man said.

“Shut up. Shine the light on him, not me, you idiot,” the other man ordered. He acted like he was in charge.

In the split second the light wavered Hall saw the man who had threatened to shoot him had a knife in his hand, not a gun. He wasn’t going to wait and see what he was going to do with it.

Hall lunged forward with his outstretched arm and stiff-armed the man with the flashlight off of the dock and heard him scream when he splashed into the water. He tried to run past the other man, but his muddy boots betrayed him and he slipped and went down hard on the rough wooden planks. Hall felt a kick thud into the back of his head and he saw stars dance in his peripheral vision. Before he could get back on his feet another kick slammed into his lower back, and pain shot down his legs. Again, in his kidneys, and it hurt like hell. Another lick in the same place and he grunted with pain. The man cursed him with a new word every time he landed a blow. Hall finally managed to scramble away, stand up, and hold up his hands to defend himself.

He blocked one fist, but the other slammed into his jaw and Hall tasted blood in his mouth and his teeth slammed together. The man in the water was still screaming and splashing beside the dock. Hall covered his face with his arms and they took the brunt of the next two blows. He saw an opening, shot his fist straight out and didn’t know if the sound of popping tissue came from his hand or the man’s nose. He didn’t get his hand back up in front of his face quick enough and took another hit above his right eye. Blood started to trickle into his eye and he saw a flash of sliver in one of the man’s hands.

Hall pulled his gun out and pointed it at the blond head when the man stepped toward him with the knife outstretched. Neither man moved except for the heaving of their chests. They blond man didn’t drop the knife and Hall didn’t tell him to. He wanted to shoot him right between the eyes and knew he wouldn’t miss from three feet away, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to call this in, to get some back-up here. It was time to answer for the mistake he’d made for coming here by himself before he made a mistake that could never be corrected. Before Hall could decide what to do next, the blond man jumped off the dock into the water.

Hall ran off the dock and past the darkened building where the light from a television still flickered in the window. He felt the cool breeze on his stomach and glanced down at his shirt to see that it had been sliced from his navel to his sternum. Too many close calls for one night.

Chapter Thirty-Two

That night was the longest of Gale’s imprisonment. Just after Blondie had arrived she heard some type of fight outside but couldn’t tell what was going on. At one point she mustered enough courage to look out of one of the windows and thought she saw someone running away in the shadows but couldn’t be sure of anything in the dark night. It scared her the most when the two men came back inside the warehouse.

“You idiot!” Blondie said. Gale heard several dull thumps and realized that Blondie was beating Arnold.

“I’ll throw your sorry ass in the water next time, and I’ll make sure it will be over your head.”

Silence followed, and Gale knelt on the dirty floor and looked under the door. Arnold was sitting on his lawn chair, and it looked like blood was dripping from his nose. Blondie was standing over him rubbing his forehead above his right eye. Both men were soaking wet and dripping water on the floor.

“Take the flashlight outside and find my knife,” Blondie said.

Arnold obeyed without any comment and walked out the door with his head hanging low. While Arnold was outside Blondie took a glass pipe out of his pocket and after he fiddled with something for a moment, held a lighter underneath it and inhaled deeply. Gale didn’t smell the sweet odor of marijuana and wondered if he was smoking crack or meth, but knew it didn’t really matter. She’d never seen Arnold do anything other than drink beer since she had been with him.

It was cool in the closet without a blanket, but she fell asleep curled up in a ball on the dirty floor with her head resting on one of her arms. The sound of a car engine woke her several hours later, and Arnold opened the closet door. He said nothing and led her to the chain.

“Are you all right?’ Gale asked him.

She could see that his upper lip was swollen, and he had a cut under his left eye. He was still wet and shivering.

“Yeah. I fell in the water.”

“Did he hit you?” Gale asked.

“That was a lot worse than getting hit.”

Gale gave him a puzzled look.

“I can’t swim.”

Gale didn’t say anything until after Arnold put the handcuff on her ankle and walked back to his chair and sat down.

“I can teach you,” Gale said.

“Yeah, OK.”

Maybe that was her way out.

The next time she woke up, sun was streaming in through the window and Arnold was gone. She ate one of the granola bars he had given her, drank some bottled water and stretched before she started her yoga. Today was the day, she told herself. She would escape today. She added another mark to the six other scratches on the floor.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sunday afternoon, on his way home from church, Varnum drove past the construction site. The dump truck was now loaded with dirt, and no one was around. The black Trans Am was gone, and the gate was chained up. He decided to see if his suspect was at his mother’s house before heading home. No one was there waiting on him, so he wasn’t in any hurry to get there.

When he got to the house, the Trans Am wasn’t there, but a navy blue pick up truck with government tags was parked in front of it. Varnum pulled up beside it and rolled his window down. A young looking guy with a swollen lip and short blonde hair looked down at him from the cab.

“What’s going on?” Varnum asked.

The driver took off his sunglasses and had white lines where the frames of the glasses had blocked the sun’s rays. One of his eyes was purple and blue. He gave Varnum a look that Varnum was used to giving, not receiving.

“Varnum, Beaufort Sheriff’s Office,” Varnum said when he held up his identification for the young man to see.

“Oh, yes sir,” he said. Varnum was pretty sure that the kid was showing respect for his age, not his position.

“I’ve got an interest in this house. What agency are you with?”

“U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. I’m refuge officer Hall McCormick. I’m looking for the driver of a black Trans Am.”

Varnum told the wildlife officer to follow him, and they drove to the same diner where Varnum had eaten breakfast with a stripper not long ago.

“What kind of case are you working?” Varnum asked after he ordered coffee and the young officer asked for a soda.

“Illegal dumping. I think the guy who drives that Trans Am is connected to a barge that is responsible for dumping chemicals in the sound.”

Varnum listened as Hall told him about the fish kills, and it was apparent how much the case meant to the young officer. He told him how he had collected the dead fish and discovered what chemicals were dumped and killed the fish. Last night the Trans Am was parked at an abandoned fish house where the barge was moored, and he’d had an encounter with the suspect. Varnum just listened, thankful that this Fed was unlike the others he’d worked with. In his experience they usually wanted all the information from local officers but weren’t willing to share the details of their own investigation. He was a little surprised when Hall told him about getting into a fight with the suspect.

“He did that to you, the guy who drives the Trans Am?” Varnum asked. In the diner the black eye and split lip looked worse than they had earlier.

“Yeah, all this and a few lumps and bumps you can’t see.”

“How long have you been an officer?” Varnum asked. He couldn’t believe any lawman would tolerate getting beat up without calling the cavalry and going back to even the score.

“Not quite a year,” Hall answered. Varnum could tell that he’d hurt the young man’s feelings by asking and changed the subject.