Sunken Graves Alan Lee (reading e books .txt) 📖

God doesn’t want us to murder. I have to come back and even out the dirt, but sometimes life gets in the way and I forget.”

Lynch stood at last. Oxygen returning. Jennings gasping air and rain water, coughing. Still stuck tight in the mire. Lynch a towering monster.

“I dig some of the dirt with a shovel. Therapeutic, like cutting trees.” Lynch lowered the maul head to sit on Jennings’ mouth. Let it bounce twice, bruising Jennings’ lips. “As you feel your face caving in, know that your final act is providing me relief.”

Jennings’ mind scrambling for options, coming up with nothing. Betrayed by his body, so tired, no energy. No reason to remain. No reason except Daisy…

“Open your eyes, Daniel. Open and watch.”

Lynch rose and hefted the maul.

As he did, a shaft of light blinded him. Sudden and brilliant. His face, his shoulders, his maul highlighted by a powerful LED, and a little girl screamed, “Daddy!”

Lynch’s focus tilted. Concentration melting as his world enflamed. He held up his hand, blocking the light.

“Daddy!”

“Ann?”

His little girl.

For thirty-five years Lynch had tried and failed to connect with others. He couldn’t sympathize, couldn’t empathize, couldn’t force himself to care. Until his daughter arrived. The one person who could engage his emotion. Hers was the single voice allowed to wander the halls of his mind.

She was there, perfect and pretty and crying, hiding under an umbrella. Holding her flashlight with two hands. The umbrella was held by Homer Caldwell, both of them drenched. Such a sudden anachronism to his muddy ditch that Lynch had to remember where he was.

“Ann, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Daddy, what happened? We couldn’t find you.”

“Go back inside. Homer, take—”

“But who is that?”

“That’s…” Lynch groaned in arrested gratification. Couldn’t break Daniel’s teeth with his daughter watching. Ann peered farther into the trench.

“Is he asleep?”

“The police, Mr. Lynch!” said Homer. He was crying too. Blubbering like a fool. “The police are, they are here.”

“Police are here?”

“Someone called them.”

“Who?”

Homer was too excited. He was losing muscle coordination, forgetting the pacing, the need to inhale. “They said, they said you’re in danger, Mr. Lynch.”

“Breathe, Homer, you idiot. I don’t understand. Which police? Who exactly, Homer?”

“Daddy, who is that man?” said Ann.

“That…is a man who came here to hurt me. He tried but I won.” Lynch spit out rain. Took a long look at Jennings’ body. Not now, not like this. His brain felt like it might explode, but Ann was here. Slowly he lumbered up the incline. Jennings had passed out. A fallen soldier. The dislodged prosthesis looked like a broken leg. “Where are the police officers?”

“Looking, looking for you, Mr. Lynch. Two, two, two cars. We found you first, we found—”

“Lead them away, Homer, damn it. Don’t let them come here.”

“They’re already coming, Daddy.”

A long pause. Jennings lived forever in it.

“Okay. Give me the umbrella. Ann, come here.”

“What about the man, Daddy?”

“Homer, grab the man. Drag him out. Drag him back to the house if you can.”

“Yes, yes sir I can, I can do that.”

“Come, Ann. Let’s talk to the nice policemen. We’ll take them to the house.”

Her tiny voice a pearl in the pigsty. “You’re disgusting. Did he hurt you?”

“No. Yes. But I’m alive. Let’s tell them about the bad man so they’ll lock him up.”

Lynch limped toward the tree line, holding the umbrella over his daughter. The gears of his mind churning. He made it nearly home before collapsing. Overcome by his injuries. He leaned against a tree trunk to wait. Ann ran for help.

42

Jennings knew he wasn’t in Landstuhl. The sounds were different from a military hospital. No, the same sounds but a different texture.

He knew it but his body didn’t believe him. The black hole threatened where he’d built hope. He hadn’t opened his eyes but he knew he was under a thin blanket, knew he had an IV, knew he was shivering, sweating, knew his leg was gone, but this wasn’t Landstuhl.

He came more fully awake, like waters clearing of silt.

His right arm was handcuffed to the bedrail. That was different.

Jennings’ leg was swollen purple like the weeks after surgery.

He peed and the nurse left, replaced by Officer Goodwin. Jennings was cuffed again. Goodwin touched Jennings’ shoulder with his left hand. With his right he read from a card and Mirandized him.

“I’m under arrest.” Jennings couldn’t prevent a grin. Lynch won again and it bordered on sick comedy now.

“You are. Think that’s funny?”

“I mean no disrespect, officer. What time is it?”

“Ten in the morning. Want to tell me what you were doing last night?” said Goodwin.

With his left hand Jennings brought the water close and drank through the straw. Set it back. The hospital’s white walls were absurdly clean after his nightmares of mud.

“Are my ribs broken?”

Goodwin shrugged. “That’s what the lady said.”

“What else did she say? I can’t remember.”

“Nasty cut on your neck. Something about head trauma, but you’ll be discharged today into our custody. Doc should be here soon. What do you remember about last night?” said Goodwin.

Jennings closed his eyes. “Everything.”

“Tell me the story.”

“Do you know Mackenzie August?”

“The private detective? I do.”

“Let’s call him.”

“Why would I call a private cop?”

“Because I trust him. And I want an attorney.”

Jennings drifted away again.

Josh Dixon was in his early thirties. Shaved head, fit, lots of energy. Black. Dressed in a sports jacket and bow tie. He quickly ended the game when Officer Goodwin refused to leave the hospital room; Dixon started dialing Judge Schmidt. Goodwin said, “Alright, dammit, I’ll be outside,” and he left.

Dixon closed the door and sat in the chair Goodwin had vacated. “Mr. Jennings, I’m Josh Dixon and I’ll be your attorney. Mack August explained your situation, or some of it. Tell me what you told the cop.”

“I told him nothing.”

“Perfect.”

Jennings felt like an ass in the bed, unable to move his hand. “Dixon, what are your thoughts on police chief Buck Gibbs?”

“His old boys club sucks and so does he. Roanoke is segregated as all get out and he’s part