He guides me to a thick stand of bushes and trees and tells me to put the car in park and surrender the keys. I do, and he pops the trunk and tells us to get out. Now Rudy’s holding a flashlight, which he uses to motion us behind the car. Once there, he comes up behind us and points the flashlight into the trunk, and we see a thick, black plastic bag with a thick seam of sealing tape around the center. He’s put one bag over the torso, the other over the feet, and taped them together in the middle.
“You want to open it to make sure it’s him?”
“No, I’m good.”
Rudy chuckles. “All right, one of you on each end. Lift him out and let’s go.”
Richie and I can barely budge Oglethorpe. Employing a series of grunts and tugs and whatever leverage is available, we manage to get him to the edge of the trunk, where we pull so hard he crashes to the ground. It’s frosty cold outside, and I think how hard the ground must be, and seriously doubt Richie and I will have the strength to dig a proper grave if we ever get the body where it’s supposed to go.
Rudy surprises me by cutting an opening at one end of the bag and exposing Oglethorpe’s feet. He shows his experience, saying, “There’s rope in the trunk. Tie his ankles together and drag him.”
We tie his feet together and I ask, “Where to?”
“You lead, I’ll walk behind you.”
“How will we know where to go?”
He aims the flashlight toward a small break in the bushes. “Follow the bouncing ball.”
Richie and I begin the task of pulling Mr. Oglethorpe through the bushes. This turns out to be much easier than I anticipated, and within minutes Rudy says, “Okay, that’s far enough.”
Chapter 24
I can see from the light Rudy’s flashlight gives off that we’ve entered a small clearing. Rudy is moving around in it, looking for something. Suddenly a wide beam of light flashes, and I realize he’s turned on an electric lantern. There are three others next to it. He turns them on, and carries them far enough to illuminate a twenty foot square that includes a large tree. Next to the tree is a mound of dirt with two shovels propped against it, and next to that is a deep hole, the size of a grave.
“Okay guys,” Rudy says. “It’s show time.”
We see his flashlight on our faces and realize he’s aiming a video camera at us. I shout, “We’re doing this against our will!”
Rudy laughs and says, “Yell all you want. There’s no sound, dipshit. Now remove the plastic and let me get a close up of his face.”
We do as we’re told, and yes, it’s definitely Oglethorpe.
“All right, now drag him to the edge of the grave, then take the rope off his feet and give it to me.”
We do what he says. Then he nods at the hole in the ground.
“Dump him in and fill it with dirt.”
Even though the hard work has been done for us, it takes longer than I’d have thought to fill a six-foot grave with dirt. By the time we’re finished, we’re huffing so hard we can barely catch our breath. We look up and see the video camera still recording, only now it’s on a tripod. Rudy can’t hold it because he’s got two sets of handcuffs in one hand and a gun in the other. And he’s pointing the gun at us.
“That’s good enough,” he says. “Now put the shovels down and come over here.”
Richie and I exchange a glance, then do as we’re told. Rudy says, “Lie face down. Put your hands behind your backs.”
When we’re in position, he handcuffs us and tells us to stand.
Richie and I are not athletic. He might be less athletic than me, but it’s a moot point because neither of us can get to our feet. Here we are, rolling, grunting and flopping around, making no headway at all.
“Can you believe this shit?” Rudy says.
“Where did you find these guys?”
Richie and I freeze where we are, startled to hear a second voice. Suddenly someone hoists Richie to his feet and there are more lights being placed around the tree. I angle myself to where I can see a young man and woman standing to the left of the tree with another gangster. The woman is sobbing quietly. Rudy is standing to the right of the tree, and there’s a goon behind Richie, the one that pulled him to his feet. My eyes go back to Rudy, remembering the rope we tossed him a few minutes earlier. He’s made a hangman’s noose from it and looped it over the low-slung branch of the tree.
Richie is visibly shaken. Not by the noose, but by the couple standing before him. He screams, “What are you doing? This was never discussed! This was never part of the deal!” The goon behind him stuffs a ball in Richie’s mouth and wraps tape around his head to hold it in place. Richie is still screaming, but his words are muffled and garbled. The gangster pushes Richie several feet forward, directly in front of the couple. The goon standing with the couple says, “This is him.”
Richie screams something and shakes his head from side to side as if shouting “No!” His eyes are wide with terror.
The young man’s face is twisted with rage. He says, “Are you absolutely certain?”
“One hundred percent.”
The young man looks at me and says, “Who’s he?”
Rudy says, “He’s not involved. But this one, Richie, he’s your guy.”
The young man stares at Richie. “Do you have proof?”
Rudy walks over to the couple and hands them an envelope. “I found these in his desk drawer.”
Richie screams and shakes his head again.
The young man and woman open the envelope and look at the photographs. I have no idea what they’re seeing, but as the photos fall to the ground, the man lunges at Richie, who lets out a yelp and tries to run away. But Goon Number Two, the one behind Richie, grabs him and holds him while the young man punches his face again and again. I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m still on the ground, but I try to work my way over to them. Goon Number One, standing next to the woman, points a gun at me and tells me to stay put.
When Richie’s body goes slack, the young man finally stops hitting him. Then he falls to his knees and sobs. The woman puts her hand on his shoulder. Ten second later, Richie starts coming to. The young woman walks up to him, slaps him hard, and spits in his face. Then Goon Two walks Richie over to the noose and slips it around his neck. Richie’s face is so full of blood it’s hard to make out his facial features. Rudy tightens the rope to the point that Richie is standing on tiptoes to keep from being strangled. At this moment, God help me, an old joke goes through my depraved mind, and I hear my internal voice ask if maybe one of Richie’s wishes was to be well hung.
I hate myself for having made that connection, but it’s weird how the mind works when subjected to horrific violence. My friend is crying out in fear. Goon One leads the couple over to the tree. As Rudy keeps the rope taut, Goon Two pulls Richie’s pants and underwear down to his ankles. He hands the young man a scalpel and says, “You still want to cut off his dick, now’s a good time.”
Richie screams and kicks the air with his right leg, trying to keep them away. He’s sobbing and yelling and the scene is so terrifying I start to wretch.
The young man looks at the scalpel a long time, and finally says, “No.”
Goon Two looks at the young woman and says, “How about you?”
She shakes her head.
Rudy says, “You still want us to hang him, though, right?”
The young couple look at each other. She says, “It won’t bring Tracy back, but…yes. It will keep him from hurting some other child.”
The man says, “Just do it quickly. We don’t want him to suffer unduly. We just want justice for Tracy.”
Rudy says, “We can hang him now, or after you leave. Depends on if you want to watch. One thing I’ll say, it’s not a pretty thing, watching a man hang. On the one hand, it might make you feel better. On the other, it might make you feel worse. He’ll be dead in five minutes either way. But it’s your wish. You make the call.”
They speak to each other softly, an
d then embrace. The young man says, “We’ll watch from a distance as long as we can. Then, if someone will walk us back to the car, we’d be grateful.”
Rudy nods to the two goons, and they pick up lanterns and escort the couple to the edge of the clearing. As Richie and I scream, Rudy pulls the rope and Richie’s feet come off the ground. He manages one blood-curdling scream but the noose chokes off any additional sounds. Richie is still alive and kicking the air. His eyes bug out and his face looks ghoulish. When he shits himself, the young man and woman can’t take any more. They turn their backs to him, and the goons escort them away.
Rudy immediately releases the rope, and Richie falls to the ground. Rudy removes the rope from Richie’s neck, and I start rolling across the ground toward them.
Chapter 25
We’re back in my car, heading home. Having soiled his own clothes, Richie’s wearing the extra underwear and pants I brought. He’s looking out the window again, crying softly.
“Did you do it?” I said.
I slap the back of his head. “Answer me, you son of a bitch!”
I think about the obscene comment and gesture he made about Lissie last Sunday, when all this wish business started. What he’d said, and the way he said it while grabbing his crotch, had pissed Mike off.
Mike.
For a split second I wonder what’s become of our friend. He was the first to fill out the list. I can only hope he’s okay. But I can’t concentrate on Mike right now. The idea of Richie being a child molester is too repulsive to allow me to focus on anything else.
“Tell me the truth, Richie. Did you do something to their little girl? I’ve known you twenty years.”
“Relax, pipsqueak,” Rudy says from the back seat. “He’s never been within ten miles of their little girl.”
“What? Then why—”
“Sally and Tom made a wish that their daughter’s killer would be caught and hung from a tree. Of course, Tom wanted to cut his dick off, as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We took the wish and found the guy, but too late. He’d already killed himself, hours earlier. Richie owed us a payment, so we decided to let him step in for the guy.”
“He could’ve been killed!”
“He could’ve been run over by a bus while crossing the street this morning.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Why, you think I can’t get a bus?”
I blink my eyes in horror. “You’re playing with people’s lives!”
“I wouldn’t call it playing.”
“What if that guy had cut off Richie’s dick?”
“Tell you the truth, I thought he would.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I were you, I’d dial it down. You don’t hear Richie bitching about it.”
He’s right, I don’t hear Richie bitching about it, and wonder why. In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t recall Richie making a sound until the other goons showed up with Sally and Tom.
“Richie,” I say. “What’s going on here?”
“He’s not much of a talker these days,” Rudy says.
“What have you done to him?”
“We gave him three tasks.”
“But you nearly killed him tonight. Hasn’t he done enough?”
“Normally he’d be done by now. But he refused to honor the second one.”
I drive in silence a few minutes. Then I ask, “What did he refuse to do?”
Rudy pauses a moment. “Normally I wouldn’t say. But now I’m thinking it might be a teaching opportunity. This gets a little tricky, so pay attention. Like I said, we got a wish list from Tom and Sally, to find the man who killed their daughter. The killer was Robby Billups. But we also got a wish list from Robby’s mother, Margot.”
“This is insane!”
“It’s not such a big coincidence. Margot’s first wish was that Robby would get professional help. Her second was that Tracy’s parents would die.”
“Why would you grant a wish like that?”
“Look at it this way: when we get a wish from someone to kill a grieving couple like Sally and Tom, we figure there has to be a connection to their little girl, Tracy.”
“Which is how you found Robby in the first place.”
“That’s right. And a couple of days ago your friend, Richie, got the call.”
“What call?”
“To kill Sally and Tom.”
“What?”
“But he refused. So tonight we wanted to show him what happens when you refuse to pay back a wish.”
What bothers me about what I’m learning is that there’s a sort of logical pattern to the whole wish-granting and payback system. But some things aren’t as easy to follow. “You told Richie to kill Tom and Sally before telling them about Tracy.”
“Robbie Billups was dead, so we couldn’t grant Tom and Sally’s wish. So we decided to kill them, so Margot could get her wish. We gave the call to Richie. When he refused, we thought, why not grant both wishes? We’ll tell Tom and Sally that Richie killed Tracy. By cutting off his dick and hanging him, they’d get two of their wishes. When we kill Tom and Sally, Margot gets one of her wishes.”
My brain was fighting to keep up. I should have been horrified, but I was determined to comprehend the logic. I said, “And if Richie had died tonight?”
“You’d have gotten the call to kill Tom and Sally.”
From my vantage point I could only see Richie’s side and back. But I’d seen enough tonight to know he’d never be the same. “You’ll let Richie go now, right?”
“He’ll get the opportunity to kill Sally and Tom again, if that’s what you mean.”
“And after that, he still owes a fourth payment?”
“That’s right. If he lives to do it, he’ll be part of a group repayment.”
“What does that mean?”
“When a number of people wish for the same thing, we lump them together, if possible. If twenty people want front row seats to a concert tonight, we’d fulfill twenty wishes in one shot.”
“But that would be a group wish, not a repayment.”
“True. Group repayments aren’t as much fun as attending a concert.”
“Tonight I’ve completed my first repayment,” I say.
“Actually, you’ve made two. You just don’t know it yet.”
“What’s the other one?”
“We’ll let you know when the time is right.”
“You made a video of us burying Oglethorpe. Why?”
“My boss likes to watch.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“Not your concern. But the video will also help prevent you from going to the cops.”
“I could tell them you forced me.”
“We’ve got the murder weapon, and your prints are all over it.”
“That’s not possible.”
“We transferred them. Also, we’ve got a pair of your sneakers with Oglethorpe’s blood on them. We’ve got…trust me, we’ve got plenty of evidence to put you away for life. But that’s just a contingency. We’ve got something much better.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We know your biggest weakness.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Let me put it this way: what’s the most important thing in the world to you?”
Lissie!
He sees my expression.
“That’s right, Buddy. We can do whatever we want to your precious Lissie. Anytime we want. And don’t forget it.”
Chapter 26
Rudy tells me to take I-265 west to 64, and says I’ll be dropping him and Richie off in Simpsonville.
“What’s in Simpsonville?”
“You have to ask?”
“No.”
“Say it.”
“It’s where Sally and Tom live.”
“See? I keep telling our people you’re not as dumb as you look. By the way, we’ve got a tracking de
vice on your car. If you try to stop somewhere on the way home, we’ll know it.”
I know these people are well-funded, but I’m pretty sure he’s bluffing. They couldn’t possibly have someone watching me full time on a monitor.
Rudy says, “I can tell you don’t believe me, so I’m gonna give you an example. When you get to the next exit, get off and try to hide somewhere.”
I take the next exit and drive two blocks and park my car behind a strip center. In less than a minute a car pulls in front of me and the driver flashes his hi-beam in my face. He gets out and walks to my window with his gun aimed at my face. He motions for me to roll down the window.
“You’re not allowed to stop on the way home,” he says. “You’re not allowed to use a phone, or enter a business, or any other structure. Not even a porta potty.”
He looks at Richie a long moment, then at Rudy. “Everything all right here?”
“I just wanted him to understand the rules.”
The guy nods and walks back to his car and waits for me to pull out. I do, and get back on the interstate, headed for Simpsonville. I don’t see him again, but I know he’s back there in the distance.
I drop them off and watch Rudy lead Richie to a black sedan. Richie never said a word to me before getting out of the car, and even now there’s not so much as a wave. I think back to the three guys who were hanging out in the basement of my split-level ranch less than a week ago, smoking a joint, dreaming about having sex with movie stars. As I watch Richie climb into the back seat I fear I will never see him again.
I check the clock on the dashboard and see I’ve been gone five hours.
All the way home, I’m trying to figure out how to make a phone call to the one person who might be able to help me, a contract killer named Donovan Creed. I just don’t know how to make the call without getting caught.
I drive back to my place and put the car in the garage. I go inside and race up the stairs to our bedroom to check on Lissie, and find her sleeping on her side, just the way I left her. I look for her cell phone, find it, and try to place a call. But there’s no dial tone. I pick up my home phone and hear a click. Rudy wasn’t lying, they’ve tapped our phone.