On Emma's Bluff - Sara Elizabeth Rice, edited by davebccanada (best ereader for academics .txt) 📗

pickup. He had parked on the side of the two rutted dirt road and planned to walk the rest of the way to the cabin. He was about seven miles out of the Bluff in the direction headed for Rolling Fork. The land he was on belonged to the Frank's plantation. It had been left uncultivated for a number of years to let the soil replenish and to enable the owner to pick up a healthy government check. The cabin he headed for was a dirt-floored, one room shack that had once been used to house cattle feed.

Red had a man tied up in the cabin. It was the man he figured had killed them two kids or least helped to kill them. The trouble was the way the law worked. The way the law worked murderers could hardly ever be brought to justice anymore. That was why a county needed a strong sheriff. Yep, Red would just have to handle this on his own and he knew how to do just that. It was a harsh job for a man to have to take on all that responsibility, but Red figured it was worth doing if it kept his county safe.

He kicked in the door of the cabin with a polished boot.

"You in there, boy?"

"Shit," was the single word that answered him.

Red walked into the room cautiously. Once inside his eyes adjusted and he saw the wiry muscled black man crouched in the corner. "Now, what you think you be doing?"

"What do you want from me, sheriff?"

"You know what I want. We had this same here conversation a few days ago. I want to know why you killed them teenagers."

"You are a crazy man."   The prisoner stood and stretched his arms and shoulders. Around his foot was a shackle. On to the shackle was attached a chain connected to a metal ring encased in a concrete slab which measured about three feet by three feet. This slab marked the centre of the room. "When you gonna let me out of here, sheriff?   I done told you I don't know nothing about it."

"Why did you mutilate them?"

"Oh Jesus."

"Coroner said you cut out both their hearts and their tongues. Why would you want to do something like that?"

"Why would anyone? I told you man I didn't do it! I don't know anyone sick enough to do something like that."

"Some real sharp cuts had been made on those bodies, like a man with a sharp fishing knife and a knack for splitting open flesh." Red struck a match on the bottom of his boot. "Why'd you do it?   Did you run across the girl first?   Maybe her screams brought the boy?"

"I told you, man."

"Coroner said they were already dead before you took a knife to them. So what did you use to kill em first?"

The hostage sat on the slab, his head in his hands in exasperation. "So when you gonna bring me something to eat, sheriff?"

"No more food."

"What?"

"I said, no more food. You are making this tough on me. Maybe a hungry belly will make you see things more my way."

The man stood up and rushed the sheriff. Red stepped back and struck a pointed boot tip to the man's groin. "Gotta learn to control that temper, boy." Then he turned and walked back to his truck.

 

 

Chapter 8

  Emma wondered if she had gotten up at all if her Uncle Roy had not come upstairs to talk to her. He entered her room slowly after knocking and settled his bulky form down on the side of her bed. He had heard the whole scene from the back porch. He knew first hand of Elizabeth's razor sharp tongue, and he was sorry to hear her let it loose on the girl. He wasn't sure just what to say. He had always considered her the sensitive type even as a child she had been the first to cry over a scolding.

"Your Aunt Liz, well, she's a real spit fire." He managed an uncomfortable laugh, trying to ease the tension. " Sometimes she can't help but explode, but deep down she really don't ever mean to hurt no one," this was the hard part to explain, "it's just the only way she knows."

Emma turned on her side to look at her uncle. It was not his words that soothed her. It was the tenderness in his voice. A voice like that could not help but make you feel better, "Thank you," she whispered.

She was in his car. She couldn't believe it, sitting right on his blue bucket seat. The only problem was that she could not bring herself to move, not even turn her head toward him.

"Is this too much air for you?" Bill adjusted a vent. He was ill at ease as well.

"It's fine." She finally managed to meet his eyes. She thought to herself in amazement, "I have dreamed of this, but right now I think I would rather just be somewhere else."

"You like pizza?" What a stupid question they both thought. Only a week back things had been different.

Emma had been afraid that her aunt might not let her go, but at six thirty Liz had pranced in her room all smiles. She had insisted on picking out clothes for Emma to wear. Some three changes later, Emma had finally been ready.   She had not given any thought to being nervous, until now.

The flat stretch of highway spread before them offering no topic of conversation. They would be in Yazoo City in fifteen minutes.

"Em," Bill spoke without taking his eyes from the road. "I am a bit nervous here, would you mind too terribly if I held your hand?" Without answering she slipped into the upturned hand he had placed on the console. His hand immediately closed around hers, his fingers rubbing along the shape of hers and lightly squeezing. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem."   Her face lit up. The pizza place was dark and smelly, but they both seemed more at ease finally away from The Bluff. Emma almost forgot for a bit, it was like being back home when everything was a okay.

"You're something else," he said leaning across the table.

"Yeah, sure, is that your way of saying strange, different."

"Don't say that," he tilted his head to one side in a phony reproach.

"You," she faltered, "you pull that charm of yours on everyone. I don't intend to just…" she waved her hands in the air to finish.

"Oh, I am willing to wait."

"For what?"   She had not meant to say that. "I mean am I eating too slow or…"

He interrupted her with a loud laugh. "One minute you are miss 'I've been around' and the next you are," he stopped when he saw the look on her face. "I just…" he paused, "get a kick out of you. And yes, you are eating slow, so get a move on so we can get to the movie."

Emma could not have told anyone the story line of the movie. No matter how hard she stared at the screen the dialogue just refused to register in her mind. She was too busy with her own inner dialogue. He had wrapped his arm around her and was playing with her fingers, which he would occasionally bring up to his mouth to taste. Her senses were humming loudly in her ears. This was all so very new to her. She found herself examining his profile as he held her hand up to his face. As the movie wore on he leaned lower and lower in the seat pulling her with him, turning to breath warm air on her neck. She raised her brow questioning his intention.

"You know we could leave now," he whispered close to her ear.

"I don't know."

"Please, Emma, neither one of us is watching this movie."

"Yeah, I know." She resigned herself.

Bill turned off the motor after pulling into a narrow dirt road just outside of The Bluff.

"No, Bill, I don't want to park." Emma's eyes searched the open delta surrounding them. She was sure the car stood out on the horizon.

"Oh Emma," he had already slid one hip across the console and was wrapping his arms about her. "Emma, we are in a closed locked car. There is nothing wrong with what we are doing. And if you are thinking about..."

"No," she moaned lightly. Her mind knew that nothing could make them safe, but this was out of control of her mind. She felt like she had just inhaled something both tickly and numbing. She turned so that her back was against the dashboard to tell him that they were not safe. He drew her to him till her arms had to encircle his shoulders to maintain her balance. Then she forgot what she was going to say.

It was late when Emma flipped out the light and pulled her covers up to her chin. Neither her aunt nor her uncle had been up when she got in. Now she lay in bed puzzled and awake. She had been prepared, she thought, to tell him to stop if things got out of hand. But he made no attempt to do anything other than kiss and hold her. There had even been one long period of time where she had lain stretched across his lap, both of them so still they could have fallen asleep. When she had sat up and moved so that her head was against the passenger glass her legs across him they had talked and laughed.   At first it was all playful but then they began to discuss school, and home.   Emma found herself telling him about how it was to live with her Aunt Liz and Uncle Roy. He told stories about his family and childhood days. Once he had started to relate a story about Joy and things had become awkward. Soon after that he had taken her home. He had only kissed her once at the door and then watched as she let herself inside the house.

Now, she lay in bed wondering if he thought it had been a good evening.

Across the room on the dresser, the letters and papers she had worked so hard to obtain earlier had been forgotten.

"Don't you touch me." Cindy Basset sat upright in her bed. She had been dreaming. She and Emma were back in that old house again. The house in the dream had been much the same except for the loud rock-n-roll music that came pouring from the upper floors. Cindy and Emma had raced each other up the stairs. In the dream the steps had been limp like spaghetti and they had to hang on when the whole structure swayed and wobbled. It had been great fun, like a ride at an amusement park. She and Emma were laughing uncontrollably as they swooped and twirled on the stairs.

On the second floor they had run into Martha Penn, who was hanging sheets out to dry on a awkward clothes line. The sun shone bright on her and the wind whipped the sheets all about them. They had waved and shouted at their friend as they passed.

The sound of the music and the loud wind deafened them to Martha's shouts.

The climb to the third floor was laborious.