Liars table, p.16
Liars' Table, page 16
Preacher Brawley? The sheriff? Fine. Let’s get this over with.
With shaking hands, I turned into my driveway. A beat-up Ford Explorer was parked in my spot under the shade tree. It wasn’t the sheriff. Or the reverend.
Confused, I pulled in beside the Explorer and got out of my car. Belle came up to me, her tail wagging slowly. I reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. She sniffed my pants legs and then walked over to a grass patch, squatted, and peed.
Wait. What is she doing out?
I turned to call her when the license plate on the Explorer registered in my brain. A Tennessee plate.
A voice from behind me called out, “Not much of a watch dog, is she, old man?”
The tattooed man stood inside my house in the shadows of my kitchen.
25
The screen door squeaked open, and the tattooed man stepped out onto the porch. Behind him, my door frame was splintered where the lock used to be. A boot print was clearly visible beside the doorknob. I debated running, but I wouldn’t get far. Besides, my feet were frozen to the ground. I expected yelling, but he spoke in a quiet, measured tone that scared me even more. “Nice car.”
As he came down the steps, he extracted a crumpled pack from his pants pocket and tapped out a cigarette. He flicked his thumb on a plastic lighter, touched the flame to the tobacco, and inhaled deeply. He held his breath for several seconds and then blew a stream of smoke high into the air, his actions much like they had been the day before. As the smoke dissipated, he pointed at the car with the two fingers holding the cigarette. “Is it yours?”
The question threw me off-balance. Why wasn’t the first question about the money? Did the man really care about an old car? I decided to work the conversation like I did with Shelby—stay noncommittal until I knew what he knew and what he wanted. I opened my mouth to answer but discovered my throat was dry. My answer came out strained. “Yeah.”
“You the one who took it from me yesterday?”
I didn’t trust my voice, so I nodded and shrugged, an admission and an expression of innocence wrapped in one.
He studied me through the cigarette smoke curling in front of him. “Who was with you?”
I didn’t want to involve anyone else. Whatever was coming wasn’t going to change for me because I gave up others. I swallowed to clear my throat and tried to sound more confident. “Just me.”
The man studied the cigarette as though the secrets of the world were contained within. His voice shifted deep, the tone resonating with menace. “That’s lie number one, old man.”
I tried to protest, but he shushed me. “If you were alone, how did you get over there? You didn’t walk from here. And you didn’t just happen to be in that parking lot and snatch it like some punk looking for a joyride. Got it?”
I nodded.
“Don’t lie to me again. I don’t have the patience for it. Do you feel me?”
Feel him? What a weird phrase. I hesitated.
“Out with it. Who was with you?”
“A friend.”
“Here I thought it was just some stranger who gave you a ride.” He took a deep draw on his cigarette as the sarcasm settled over me. “Give me a name.”
I was too scared to lie, but I didn’t want to tell the truth either. I decided to use C.J.’s real name, but that answer wouldn’t do the tattooed man any good since nobody called him that. “C-c-c-cody.”
“Is C-c-c-cody around?”
I shook my head.
The man glared at me intently, probing to see if I lied. He must have been satisfied because his eyes finally dropped to the car. He admired it like we were standing on a used car lot, and he was considering a purchase. “How did you find it?”
“Just saw it.”
He sucked so hard on the cigarette, his cheeks collapsed. The tip grew bright red, and the crackling sound of burning tobacco was loud in the summer morning. When he lowered the cigarette to his side, ashes fell to the dirt. He looked up toward the mountain ridges and exhaled slowly. His voice was quiet and even, the tension clear. “That makes the second lie, old man. Don’t go for three. If you lie again, this conversation will get much less pleasant. Do you feel me?”
He really didn’t seem like the touchy-feely type.
“You didn’t drive all the way over to Knoxville for a day trip and accidentally stumble across your car. Somehow, someway, you knew exactly where to go.” His eyes shifted back to me in a laser focus that drilled into my skull. “So let’s try this once last time. How did you find it?”
I tried to think of a plausible explanation, but nothing came to me but the truth. No harm for me in the truth, and frankly, I didn’t know Noah. I didn’t owe him anything. If I had to blame it on him, I would, but I’d try not to give up his name if possible. I could do that much for Wyatt. “We were told where it was.”
“By who?”
“A friend of my grandson’s, but I don’t remember his name. They were friends when my grandson lived there, but he’s been living here for five years now. They don’t hang out anymore, and I’ve never met him.” Mostly the truth, except for the not remembering his name.
He squinted. “So, this friend of your grandson’s, who you’ve never met, sees your car, recognizes it, thinks to call your grandson, and tell him where it is. Quite the coincidence.”
It didn’t sound convincing the way he said it, but I was committed to the story now. “Just luck.”
“Luck?” The tattooed man picked a fleck of tobacco off his tongue and flipped it through the air. “I want to make sure I never sit at the same poker table as you.”
I shrugged.
The tattooed man locked his gaze on me. “That friend of your grandson’s wouldn’t happen to be Noah, would it?”
So much for not giving up the name. He already knew it. What else did he already know? “Maybe. Like I said, I’ve never met him.”
The man extinguished the cigarette under his foot and closed the distance between us faster than I expected. He reached out his hand, and I stepped back, flinching before the punch landed. But it didn’t come. Instead, he smiled and ran his hand along the hood of the Nova. “Fixed up the right way, this car could rock.”
Standing so close to me, his smells assaulted me. The cloak of old cigarette smoke rose from his clothes. His body smelled of sweat. His breath matched his browned teeth. I did my best not to react and waited in silence. He leaned back against the car and crossed his arms. “When I came out of that store, I was stunned. What’s the possibility a car gets stolen twice in a couple of days? A fancy, expensive car maybe, but an old piece of junk? And how was I going to find it? Because I really needed to find it. Call junkyards? Chop shops?”
He let a silence settle over us as he tapped out a new cigarette. I hoped he’d smoke enough to drop dead from a heart attack. “Then I saw the diapers and cigarettes right where the car should’ve been. That really confused me. A thief or a couple of kids taking a joyride wouldn’t have done that. Even if they’d thrown them out the window to make some room, they would never have left them in a nice, neat little pile. I mean, what kind of person does that?”
He stepped toward me, and I shrank back as far as I could. I tried to keep my voice steady as I replied, “A nice guy. Someone who wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Exactly. Only an honest person would do something like that. What kind of honest person steals a man’s car? The only answer I could come up with was the guy who owned the car.”
“So you thought of me?”
“No, because I had no idea who you were. I didn’t steal your car. I bought it off a guy.”
“Noah?”
He laughed. “Nope. Like you claim, not that I’m sure I believe you, I’d never met Noah in my life. But it turns out he owed money to the guy I bought it from. He’d given it to him to pay off his debt. My guy didn’t want to be on my bad side, so he told me everything he knew about the car. Then I asked to meet this Noah character. You know what he told me?”
My breakfast rumbled in my belly, threatening to come up. The tattooed man’s voice was even and steady, too much so. The calmer he remained, the more nervous I grew. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I waited.
“Noah must’ve been a good friend to your grandson. He didn’t want to tell me where he stole it from. That made me really suspicious because why would some junkie care about the guy he stole from?” He paused in his story and sneered. “You’re just like everyone else. You look at me and think I’m some idiot. I’m actually pretty good at figuring things out. Just like I realized leaving my stuff behind when you stole my car meant you were the thief, I knew that Noah was trying to protect someone. Strange to see so much loyalty in someone like him. Took quite a bit of persuasion ’til I had the truth.”
I gasped. “You beat him up?”
The tattooed man burst out laughing, a hacking, guttural sound. “I was going to, but it only took a couple of hits. Yeah, he was coughing up blood when he started jabbering about how this Wyatt fellow is his old buddy, and he told him where to find the car.”
“He gave you my address.”
“Better than that. He gave me your registration. He kept it. Seems he thought your grandson might help get him clean someday. Because they were buddies. And suddenly everything made sense. Noah, that little lying piece of shit, stole your car and used it to pay off his debt, but then he turns around and tells you how to get it back. Very cute.”
I trembled under his glare as I swallowed down bile.
“Now, let this be an important lesson for you for the rest of our time together. I don’t like cute.”
I had to ask. “What’d you do to Noah?”
The tattooed man looked up at the mountains. “Let’s just say Noah’s habit will never bother him again.”
My stomach clenched in fear. “Did you k-k-kill him?”
He turned his icy eyes back on me. “Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answer to, you feel me?”
Oh, I felt that.
“Now that we’ve reached an understanding about what I do to people who cause me problems, this should go fast. I want what’s mine.” The tattooed man leaned in close to my face. “Now!”
26
I pulled the keys out of my pocket and dangled them in front of the tattooed man. “The car’s all yours.”
He swatted my hand away. The keys went flying into the grass. “I don’t want the car. I want what was in it.”
I licked my lips and opened my mouth to speak. Only a squeak slipped out. I swallowed hard and tried again, my voice strained and warbling. It didn’t sound like me at all. “We ate the pizza.”
“Oh, you’re a funny man.” The smile drained off the man’s face. He pointed at the car and demanded, “Open the trunk.”
Earlier, I had dreaded the arrival of the sheriff or one of his deputies. Now, I was praying for them. I wanted to hear a car approaching, but nothing crunched on the gravel behind me. My knees felt weak as I answered, “There’s nothing in there.”
“There better be.”
I didn’t know what else to do. I retrieved the keys, unlocked the trunk, and let the lid float open. The man stepped forward and looked inside. His eyes grew wide, and color ebbed from his face. He bent over and reached behind the spare tire. His hand flopped around in the shadows before pulling back and reaching in from the other side. He straightened and turned slowly, inches away from my face. His breath reeked. Spittle from his lips landed on my nose. “Where’s the bag?”
“What bag?”
The man’s face flamed red. He grabbed my shirt front and slammed me against the car. I hadn’t been in a fight since—I don’t know, since almost ever. Maybe middle school. Jimmy Kinston had bloodied my nose in eighth grade. That was nothing like this. The man was wiry but strong, and he easily pinned me against the hot metal. “Where’s the damn bag?”
I gasped for breath and struggled to speak. My voice squeaked as I said, “I don’t have it.”
He picked me up by my shirt. My feet left the ground. My heart raced. Then I was flying backward toward the car. I slammed into the metal, and my neck snapped backward. Pain fired down through my legs. My head slammed against the roof. I slid down the side of the car as my legs gave out, but he grabbed the collar of my shirt. I felt blood trickle down the back of my neck and under my T-shirt. “Last chance, old man. Where is it?”
I struggled to stand, but my legs were rubbery. He was so much stronger than me. I couldn’t move. My breath wheezed out of my lungs. I choked out the words. “It’s gone.”
The man released his grip and took two steps back. I slid down the side of the car and crumpled to the ground. He kicked me in the gut, and all the air in my lungs raced out. I vomited on the gravel and cradled my stomach with my arms. All I could see were his shoes, but I felt his presence lean over me. “Don’t play around, old man. I want… I need… it back. Every last cent.” He emphasized the three words, pausing between each one. His teeth grated in anger. “Start talking.”
I figured I was going to die, so I had nothing to lose. I told the truth. “I gave it away.”
I heard the rustle of a cigarette pack and the flick of the lighter. The smell of tobacco smoke drifted down to me. I struggled to focus on an ant walking across the gravel. The ground swayed in my vision. His voice sounded far away. “Then we have us a real problem.”
My head swirled, fear paralyzing my brain. I needed time to think. Anything. “I’ll get your money back. I swear.”
“My money?” A harsh laugh. “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”
I tried to nod, but I wasn’t sure if I did or not. The world swooned.
“I’m not the one you should fear. That money belongs to Rudy the Roach, not me.”
I spit into the dirt, surprised to see a bright-red glob on the ground. I stuttered, “R-R-Rudy the Roach? That’s a name? Why do you have his money?”
He looked at me as if it was none of my business, but he answered anyway. “I’m a collector. I gather money from people who owe him and deliver it.”
I lay on the ground, sucking in desperately needed air. My mind swirled in confusion, trying to come up with something to say, something to get me out of this, but instead it kept picking at a detail. My former job where I managed inventory came to my mind. “But why do you still have it? Driving around with it hidden in a car? You weren’t collecting when we followed you.”
He spun and glared at me. The answer was obvious to me, and I couldn’t stop the thought from slipping out of my mouth. “You were stealing that money.”
“Watch it, old man.” Then his glare faded into a resigned look, and he shrugged. “I’m tired. I’ve got kids. You don’t retire from what I do.”
“And you had a car he didn’t know about.” I wondered aloud as everything became clearer to me. “You planned to disappear with your family before he figured out you were late turning in the money.”
He squatted so that we were on the same level. “Great plan, until you came along. That dude will put a bullet in my brain himself. Do you feel me?”
I nodded.
“In case you think this gives you some big advantage, ask yourself if I’ll tell him you took it if that gives me just the slightest chance I might live? Or do you think I’ll keep my mouth shut and take your bullet? I’m probably dead either way, but I’ll take you to hell with me, old man.”
I was too paralyzed with fear to answer.
“Now you understand the situation. I need to know who has the money. We’re going to pay him a visit.”
I tried to sit up, but the man stood and placed his foot on my shoulder. He shoved.
I fell backward and looked up at the towering opponent. “The sheriff.”
“The… Why does the…” The man cursed under his breath and walked several steps away. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care. How’re you going to go get it back?”
I sat up and leaned my back against the car. My head pounded, and blood soaked my collar. Even though he had removed his foot, I wasn’t sure I could stand. I was sure I couldn’t handle any more beating. If I died, this man would just wait on Wyatt to come home. I needed to get him out of here before that happened. The only way I could do that was to agree. “I can. I’ll have to convince the preacher it’s mine, then he’ll call the sheriff and get it back. It’s the only way.”
“The preacher? What…?” The man clenched his fists and looked toward the sky. “Never mind. Just go do it. I’ll wait here.”
“No.” I swallowed and licked my lips. “I’ve got to clean up. He’ll be suspicious of the blood, and he can’t think anything weird is going on. I’ll meet you with it.”
The man thought about it. “Okay, I’ll give you until three o’clock, but I don’t want to come all the way out here again. You live in the damned boondocks. We meet out by the interstate, but not the truck stop. Too many cameras.”
“Three? I need more time. Tomorrow.”
“Tonight. My clock’s ticking. I can’t let Rudy figure things out. I’ve got to be on the road with my family far away from Knoxville before that happens.” He pointed his finger. “Tonight.”
I knew asking the preacher was a long shot. The man would ask lots of questions, and then he would still need to convince the sheriff to give back the money. If he failed, I was dead. Shelby would be alone. I needed to have one last dinner with her. I needed to hug Wyatt goodbye and tell him to disappear. I forced myself to look the tattooed man in the eye. “Nine o’clock.”
“Nine?” The man screamed.
“The picnic area at Coogan’s Cove. No cameras. And it’s right off the interstate, so you can get home easily.”
“A picnic area? Tourists will be there.”
“Not at sunset. There’s a trail in the back fishermen use to get down to the Pigeon River. No one will be back there that late.”
The man chewed on his thumb. He appeared to be calculating in his mind. “Okay. See you at nine. Bring the money.” He shoved me hard, knocking me flat on my back. The clouds above me spun, and the ground became wavy. I watched the tattooed man’s shoes walk away from me, his words floating through the buzz in my brain. “Don’t even think about not showing. Do you understand? If you don’t show up, remember I know where you live. I’ll tell Rudy the Roach even if it’s the last thing I ever do. If you think you’re scared of me, you ain’t seen nothing. That man will kill you, but he’ll do it slow. And he’ll do that grandson of yours and your Cody friend. Do you feel me, old man?”
