Blood in the Marsh (29 page)

“May I see your driver’s license?”

“Oh, of course!” Nick pulled the fake license from his billfold and handed it to the man.

“Bernard Getties.” The man read the name. “From North Carolina. Tell me, Mr. Getties, what brings you here, and why are you driving a vehicle with a Georgia plate?”

Nick laughed. “That must seem strange, I admit. Do you mind?” He opened the door and stepped out of the Jeep. “Circulation isn’t what it used to be, you know. Must move about now and then. Afraid it goes with the job. Oh my! Please excuse me, I’m babbling. I’m Dr. Getties, of Duke University and this is my assistant and associate Ms. Estelle Banks. We’re here on what you might call a fact-finding mission. You see we’re compiling data for an updated version of the American History text we currently use in our undergraduate program. Sadly, the existing text is terribly outdated. Obsolete, in fact.”

He laughed and looked in the car at Lyra. “My, that was a rather odd choice of words to describe history, wasn’t it, my dear. Obsolete.” Lyra smiled and waved her hand at him as if amused by his comment. “Would you be a dear, Estelle, and hand me my pipe from the glove compartment?”

He turned to the man beside him. “A vile habit, I admit, but one I simply cannot seem to break. Now where was I? Oh yes…”

The man grabbed Nick by his shirt and jerked him. “Enough of the act.”

He looked over at his partner who was standing in front of the Jeep. “Get her out and put her in the car.”

Lyra looked at the man as he started for her door and opened the glove compartment. She saw the gun and grabbed it. “Dr. Getties?”

“Shoot!” Nick yelled.

Lyra jumped as her door was jerked open. She turned and pointed the gun at the man. “Get away!”

The man eyed her for a moment then made a move toward her. Her hands trembled as she tried to hold the gun steady. “Nick!”

Nick moved suddenly, breaking the man’s hold on him. His hand moved up swiftly, jabbing in under the man’s diaphragm. The man doubled over but pulled a gun and started to fire. Nick grabbed his wrist and twisted it sharply as the gun when off. As the man fell, Nick whirled around and dove in the window of the Jeep, wrapping his hands around Lyra’s and pulling the trigger of the gun.

The man at her door was propelled backwards by the blast. Lyra screamed and Nick pulled the gun from her hand and scrambled out of the car as the men from the Mazda got out and started toward him.

Lyra looked around as she heard the sound of car tires squealing on pavement and the roar of a helicopter overhead. Nick turned with the gun in his hand and the men moving toward him stopped, pulling their own weapons.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” one of them yelled.

But his partner refused, aiming his weapon at Nick. “See you in hell, motherfucker.”

“After you.” Nick’s words were punctuated by the sound of a gunshot. Lyra scrambled into the driver’s seat and climbed out of the Jeep, sure that he had been shot.

But Nick was still standing. Two men climbed out of the car that had pulled in behind the Mazda, their weapons trained at the back of the man who faced Nick. “You’re choice,” Nick said.

The man looked around at the agents closing in on him then turned to Nick, pulling the trigger of his gun at the same time. Lyra saw him and dove at Nick. “No!”

Nick grabbed her and threw her to the ground, covering her with his body as three shots were fired. She screamed as he raised his weapon. But the man was already dead. The two agents who had fired from behind him walked over and checked the body then one walked over to Nick as he helped Lyra up.

“We’ll take them in and see what we can get. But if they’re anything like the others, we won’t have much for you. So far, there’s nothing to connect any of the men. Different lines of work, live in different neighborhoods, go to different churches. There’s nothing—not even their wives or kids know the other’s families. Whatever this group is, they’re well organized and well covered. But we’ll keep checking.”

Nick nodded and led the man off a little way from Lyra. She looked around as the helicopter landed and four men got out. They began loading the bodies into the helicopter.

She got back in the Jeep as two of the agents got in the cars that had stopped them. Nick finished his conversation and got back in the Jeep. Within moments the road was clear, leaving them parked alone.

Lyra was in a daze. Nick put his gun under his seat and looked at her. “You okay?”

“My God! It happened so fast! Where did all those men come from?”

“They’re around,” he said as he started the Jeep. “Now, you ready to go do some research, Ms. Banks?”

Lyra just stared at him. “Is that all you have to say about what just happened? Four men just died and they could have killed us and you want to know if I’m ready to go do research? What kind of man are you, Nick? Don’t you have any feelings about what happened? How can you act so…so…?”

“Uncaring and cold?”

“Yes! You just killed three men and you act like it was nothing! How can you be that way? Don’t you have any remorse or regret at all?”

Nick turned to her with a hard expression on his face. “Remorse? No, I don’t. Those men deserved what they got.”

“Deserved?”

“Yes!” He grabbed her shoulders tightly. “You listen to me, and listen well. This isn’t some game. It’s not pretend and it’s not make believe. It’s the real thing and in this game the stakes are high. You either survive or die, it’s that simple. And I won’t let you die. You get it? If I have to kill a hundred more of them, I will. I won’t let them get you. So don’t start moralizing and trying to analyze me, Lyra. You want to know about my feelings, well I’ll tell you. Killing those men just means there are less of them than there were a few minutes ago. So that’s less that I have to worry about. I see the look on your face. You think I’m some kind of cold-blooded monster who enjoys killing. Well, you’re wrong. I don’t enjoy it—I’m just good at it. If you can’t handle that then maybe I’m the wrong man for you. I can understand that and when all this is over I’ll get out of your life and let you find someone else. But like it or not, until that happens, you’re stuck with me.”

Lyra stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re hurting me,” she whispered.

Nick released her and she continued to stare at him. “What could possibly make you so willing to take a life?”

He looked at her as if she were stupid. “You really are naive, aren’t you? Well, let me ask you a question. Why did you dive out of the Jeep when that man started to fire on me?”

“Because I thought he was going to shoot you and I…”

“And you wanted to save me.”

“Yes.”

“And why is that, Lyra? Why would you risk your life like that?”

“Because … because I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” Her voice was stronger and her face flushed.

“Then why do you need to ask me why I’m willing to kill?” he asked in a low voice. “Don’t you understand? I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

After a few moments, she shook her head. “You’re sure full of surprises, Nick. One minute you some kind of terminator and the next you’re someone else all together. You think I’ll ever figure you out or will you always be a mystery to me?”

He shrugged. “Only time will tell. So, I’m leaving it up to you. Where to?”

She shook her head. I must be a crazy as he is, she thought. “To Brunswick, where else?” she said. “We do have a lot of research to do.”

“That’s my girl.” Nick smiled..

They drove to Brunswick and stopped in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant while Nick made a call. Assured that there was no one else tailing them, they drove to a rental agency and rented a car in the name of Estelle Banks and paid cash. Then they drove to the county courthouse and asked to be shown to the department where the birth and death records were stored.

It took them several hours of going through the old records and checking them against the old property listings, but finally they found five possible names and addresses. Nick called called Michael and gave him the names of two of the people on the list whose address was a nursing home in Brunswick.

Michael said he and Chelsey were leaving to go check it out and they agreed to call him back at one o’clock and compare notes. Then they left and headed for the first address on the list, a Mr. Ranson Creek. They found Mr. Creek’s house off Frederica road, in the northern section of the island. It was a small wood-frame house, painted a pale yellow with deep green shutters.

Walking to the front door, Nick knocked on it. After a few minutes, an old man looked out of the screen door.

“Mr. Ranson Creek?”

“Who you?”

“My name is Dr. Bernard Getties and this is my associate Ms. Estelle Banks. We’re here on St. Simons doing research for a book and were told that perhaps you might be of assistance to us.”

“What kind of book?”

“Actually it’s a history book,” Lyra spoke up. “We’re focusing on the period between the Battle of Bloody Marsh and the emancipation of the slaves. I understand your family was originally of the Igbo tribe.”

Mr. Creek pushed open the door. “Come on in.”

They went inside and took a seat in the small living room. Mr. Creek sat down in an old worn recliner and leaned back. “What you want to write ‘bout them times for?”

“We want to record the real history,” Lyra said. “Not just facts and dates, but the story about the people, your people, and the things they were made to suffer.”

“Why two fancy white folks interested in something like that?”

“We are historians,” Nick answered. “And as such we are always interested in learning the truth behind the stories. Do you think you could help us, Mr. Ranson?”

“Depends on what you want to know.”

Lyra cut Nick a look then took a deep breath. “Well, we’re particularly interested in the old Baxter plantation and its various owners. I understand it was once quite large and prosperous but then the young Baxter disappeared and the estate passed into disuse until it was purchased by a man by the name of Gilyard Cannon.”

Mr. Ranson gave her a suspicious look. “You lookin’ to find out information about that devil?”

“Devil?” Nick asked. “Why do you refer to him in that way, sir?”

Mr. Ranson straightened up and regarded them with a frown. “Look here, I don’t know nothing ‘bout those times and I don’t want to. All I knows is that them was some bad times for lots of my people and that man was the Devil. So, I can’t help you.”

Lyra stood up at the same time Nick did. “I understand. I’m sorry if we upset you.”

They walked to the door with Mr. Ranson following. Lyra stopped just outside the door and looked through the screen at him. “I really am sorry we upset you. Thank you for your time.”

They started down the steps and Mr. Ranson stepped out onto the porch. “Ms. Banks?”

Lyra stopped and turned. “If’n you really wants to know ‘bout that devil Cannon, you should talk to old May-May. Her family was on that plantation and she knows more ‘bout them things than anyone on this island.”

“May-May?”

“Yes, ma’am. May-May Carter. Her place is down to Bloody Marsh—round ‘bout Postell Creek.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ranson,” Lyra said gratefully. “I really appreciate this.”

He nodded and went back into the house. Lyra and Nick got in the car and he looked at her. “So, where to?”

“To find May-May Carter.”

Brunswick

It took Lyra and Nick the better part of the day to locate Mrs. Carter’s home. They had gotten in touch with Michael and he told them he had struck out with the people at the nursing home. One of the men was suffering from advanced cancer and wasn’t even conscious, and the other didn’t know anything, or at least nothing he was willing to talk about.

They agreed to meet back at Lucius’ house after Lyra and Nick checked out Mrs. Carter. They found her house at the edge of the marsh. It was a tiny little house of white wood trimmed in grey. Flowers grew in the yard and old oaks sheltered the house, offering shade from the hot sun.

When they pulled down the dirt drive to the house, they saw an old woman sitting on the porch in a wooden rocking chair. She watched them intently as they got out of the car and walked to the front steps.

“Mrs. Carter?” Lyra asked.

“Most people round here just call me May-May,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Estelle Banks and this is Dr. Bernard Getties. We’re here to do some research for a history book about the island and were told that you might be able to help us.”

May-May stared at Lyra for a long time. “Folks who come looking for information wearing false faces are usually up to no good.”

Lyra’s eyes widened in surprise and she looked at Nick. He turned to May-May. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you…”

“No,” Lyra interrupted him softly. “Don’t lie to her.”

She pulled the gauze out of her mouth and removed the glasses and wig, letting her blond hair tumble down her back. “May-May, my name is Lyra Seville. I came here because I need help and you might be the only one who can give me the help I need. The Adversary has returned to the island and he’s chosen me as his next victim. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”