Krampus: The Yule Lord (15 page)

“What’s the word?” the General asked, his voice raw and scratchy like he’d been doing a lot of yelling.

Dillard switched the phone to his left hand and turned off onto Coal River Road. “The word?”

“Yeah, what’s the
fucking
word?”

There wasn’t any word. Jesse and that piece-of-shit truck of his had disappeared. There were several hundred coal roads crisscrossing the mountains around Goodhope and almost as many old mining roads, most of which weren’t on any maps. Even with all the General’s crew out driving around they didn’t have the manpower to search half of them.
Shit
, Dillard thought,
even if I had the entire state’s police force it’d still take over a week.
Problem was, the General didn’t want to hear that. “Noel’s north, combing the hills around Elk Run right now. I put the word out county-wide to the folks I know I can count on. Let them know it’s a personal matter between me and Jesse. They promised to keep an eye out.”

“What about the troopers?”

“Have to be careful about them. Hard to get too many police outside the regulars involved without answering a bunch of questions. Things could get sticky if Jesse gets picked up by the sheriff. Just no telling what he might say, and the last thing we need is Sheriff Wright nosing around.”

“As long as we got his little girl, he’s gonna keep his mouth shut tight.”

“Well, yeah, maybe. That being the case and all, it’s hard for me to understand why he was in on that shit last night. Makes me believe someone put him up to it. I got a nagging suspicion this is about them Charleston boys we took care of. That they’re playing Jesse to get back at us.”

“There’s a lot here I don’t like,” the General spat. “Don’t like one bit. But one thing you can count on, I’m sure as hell gonna get to the bottom of it.”

That makes two of us,
Dillard thought. He was still trying to sort out just what had gone down last night. One second he’d been fiddling with the radio, the next there were gunshots and Chet running toward him screaming his head off. Those men, whoever they were, had killed Lynyrd . . . and with a fucking spear no less, stole the goods, and got clean away. They’d killed a Boggs. And the worst of it was it had happened right from under his damn nose. Now, on top of everything else, he had a murder to cover up. But the thing that bothered Dillard the most was that strange man, the one dressed up like Santa Claus. He’d hit him, slammed into him straight on. The car’s crumpled front end proved it. Dillard couldn’t remember exactly what happened after that. He rubbed the raw lump on his forehead; that damn airbag had just about knocked him out. Still, he’d never found a trace of the man. It was as though he’d imagined it.
But he was real. I know what I saw.

“And about Lynyrd?” the General asked.

“Up to you.”

The General didn’t answer.

“Best not to take any chances,” Dillard suggested. “Should get rid of
all
the evidence.”

“Just can’t stand the thought of dumping his body like that. Known that boy since he was a baby.”

“Best to take him where I took the others.”

“Yeah, I know it. Just really bothers me, that’s all.”

“You want to try and find a secluded spot somewhere up on your land?”

“No, don’t bother me that much. Too risky.”

“How about his sister? Think she’ll raise a stink?”

“Naw,” the General said. “Lynyrd’s gone more than he’s not. Gonna take a long time for anyone to notice.”

They both fell silent. The snow began to pick up and Dillard clicked his wipers up. “Where’s Jesse’s little girl at?” the General asked. “She still over your place?”

“She’s at her grandmother’s.”

“You think that’s smart?”

“I plan on picking her up sometime this morning. Keeping her close.”

“I’d like you to bring her on over here when you get the chance.”

Dillard’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Relax, I ain’t gonna do nothing to her. What kind of a man do you think I am? Just want to make sure Jesse can’t nab her.”

“So your plan is to keep Abigail at the compound? Really? You’re kidding me, right? Why, her mother would bring the devil down on both of us.”

“Who am I talking to? Since when does Dillard Deaton let a woman, any woman, tell him how to run his business? I think Linda’s pretty eyes are getting the better of you.”

“Things are gonna be different with Linda.”

The General snorted and Dillard prickled. “You’re fooling yourself,” the General said. “You mark my word, first time she gives you lip, you’ll straighten her out, just like Ellen. See if you don’t.”

No,
Dillard thought. He pulled off the highway onto the side of the road, sat there with the engine idling.
Not this time. I’m done hurting the folks I love. Devil’s not getting the best of me, not ever again. Things is gonna work out with Linda. Gonna see to it.

“Dillard, hello? Fuck, you still there?”

“Do you want to catch Jesse or babysit?”

“What?”

“Jesse might be up in the hills, might be in Charleston, hell, might be in goddamn Mexico for all we know. But one thing I’m sure of is at some point he’s gonna come back around looking to get his daughter. Might be today, tomorrow, might be two weeks or even two months from now. You plan on keeping Abigail locked up in your office for two months?”

The General didn’t answer.

“Abigail’s the best chance we got of catching Jesse. If she’s at the compound, he ain’t gonna go for it. That boy might be stupid, but he ain’t that stupid. But if she’s here, at my place, he just might try something. And when he does, I’ll get him. He won’t make it out of Goodhope. I can tell you that.”

“Yeah, well, what about them boys he’s working with? What if they show up with him?”

“We’re talking about Jesse here. He ain’t calling the shots. Why would them Charleston boys risk their necks for his daughter? They got what they want. I wouldn’t be the least surprised if they hadn’t already poked Jesse full of holes and left him in a ditch somewhere.”

“I hope to hell not!”
the General shouted. “I want that boy alive. Gonna feed him his own pecker. Gonna douse his head in motor oil and set it on fire. Sure as shit I am! He’s gonna talk, goddammit! Gonna tell me who these coons are he’s been running with.” The General’s voice kept rising. “Gonna fucking cook them fucks alive! All of them! Let me tell you—”

Dillard pulled the phone away from his ear, sat it on the dashboard, and took another sip of coffee. The General sounded like an angry hornet trapped in a jar.

Here we go again,
Dillard thought and wondered how jacked up the man was. He knew the General had a taste for amphetamines, but he was beginning to suspect that taste might be turning into a habit. Seems his behavior was becoming more and more erratic of late, paranoid, losing control of his temper at the drop of a hat, but worst of all he was getting sloppy.

Dillard rubbed the spot where the airbag had hit him, felt a headache coming on. Erratic and sloppy didn’t sit well with him. He preferred things to be nice and tidy, like his Tupperware, all the bowls on one shelf, all the lids in the drawer below, each lid corresponding to the color of the matching bowl. But now, thanks to Jesse, nothing was nice and tidy, not anymore. The General was talking crazy and Dillard felt he was watching the man go down and didn’t care much for the notion of going down with him. More and more, he found himself wishing he could wash his hands of all of it, just walk away. Only thing was, you didn’t just walk away from the General, not unless you intended to walk all the way to Mexico. Even then there were no guarantees, not with Sampson Boggs, because no one carried a grudge like that man. Of course, there was another way.
It would sure be a shame if the General were to disappear.

When the volume dropped a notch, Dillard placed the phone back to his ear.

“—You know what I’m fucking saying?” the General said. “Do you?”

“We’ll get him. Just let me do my job.”

“I’m not fucking around, Dillard. No one steals from me. No one kills a Boggs and lives to tell about it. I’m gonna see that boy dead. I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life to do it.”

The connection ended and Dillard closed his phone. He pulled out, turned around, heading back up Route 3 toward Linda’s mother’s house. He didn’t much like the way the General was acting, thought it might be prudent to go ahead and get Abigail now and bring her back to his place.

He let out a long sigh.
Well, one way or another Jesse’s gonna be out of the picture. That should sure sweeten things up with Linda.

L
INDA HEARD THE
front door open, sat down her coffee, and peered out from the kitchen. Dillard came in carrying Abigail in one arm. She was wrapped in her blanket, still in her pajamas, fast asleep against his chest.

Linda started to ask what on earth he was doing with Abigail at this hour in the morning, when another question hit her: had something happened to her mother?

Dillard put a finger to his lips, handed Abigail off to Linda. Abigail mumbled irritably, clutched her doll, and fell back asleep.

“Dillard,” Linda whispered. “What?”

“Put her to bed. I’ll explain.”

Linda didn’t care at all for the look on Dillard’s face. She took Abigail to her room, tucked her in, and returned quickly. She found Dillard sitting at the table, warming his hands around a steaming cup of coffee.

“What’s happened?”

Dillard tapped the chair next to him. “Have a seat, Linda. We need to talk.”

The sternness of his voice caught her off guard. “Okay . . . sure.” She sat down, braced herself, then noticed that he had her keys.

“Dillard, honey, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“It’s Jesse.”

“Jesse?” This threw her for a moment. “Oh . . . oh, no. What’s he gone and done now?”

“He threatened to kill you and Abigail.”

“
What?”
She stood back up. “What are you talking about?”

Dillard took a sip of his coffee. “Jesse went on a rampage last night.”

“Jesse? No. Is he all right? What happened? Dillard, is he okay?”

“It’s not him you should be so worried about,” Dillard said, a bite to his voice. “Seen this too many times before. Bitter split-ups leading to folks doing the worst sort of things to one another.”

“Dillard, just tell me what happened.”

“Jesse didn’t take the news real good.”

“What news? Dillard, what are—”

“About us getting married and all.”

Linda sat back down. “Wait. How did he find out . . . you
told
him?”

Dillard looked at her as though she were a child, she hated that look. “Dillard . . . no! You weren’t supposed to do that.” She struggled to keep her temper in check. “You had no right. That was just between us.” She glared at him. “Why, we haven’t even firmed anything up. It wasn’t your place to—”

He clamped a hand over her wrist. His eyes grew hard, his mouth tight. “It needed to be done, so I done it.”

She started to respond then caught the look in his eye: a deep coldness, it scared her. His grip tightened. “Dillard, let go. You’re hurting me.” She pried his fingers loose and pulled her arm away. “Now, please tell me what happened.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled deeply; when he reopened them he seemed back to himself. “Jesse met up with Chet and Lynyrd last night looking to do some work for the General. They said he seemed desperate and agitated, thought he might be jacked up on something. They told him the General was done with him and to go look for work someplace else. Well, Jesse didn’t take that so well. Got on a rant cussing the General, cussing me, you, Jesus, and everyone else in Creation. When Chet and Lynyrd tried to calm him down he pulled out his gun, threatened to shoot them. Said he’d see you and Abigail dead before he’d let another man have you. Fired a few shots into the air, got in his truck, and drove off.”

Linda covered her mouth.

“Chet called me last night and warned me. I’ve been up all night trying to track Jesse down.”

“Oh, God.” Linda planted both hands on the table to steady herself.

“Linda, this ain’t the Jesse you once knew. He’s upset, unstable. There’s just no telling what he might do.”

Linda shook her head, couldn’t make herself believe any of it. Jesse had done a lot of crazy things, but he’d never raised so much as a finger to her or Abigail—or to anyone that she could recall, for that matter.

“Linda, I need you to help me out here. Need to know I can count on you.”

She nodded quickly. “Of course, I’ll do whatever I can. What—”

“I need you to stay in the house until I tell you otherwise. Can you do that?”

No,
she thought.
I need to find Jesse. Need to talk to him.

“I need to find Jesse before someone gets hurt,” Dillard continued. “Before Jesse hurts himself, hurts you or the little girl of yours. Right now, I’m betting Jesse’s in his truck somewhere sleeping off a bad drunk. I’d like to catch him before he gets his blood up again. Bring him in and let him cool off in a cell for a few days. Maybe that way no one will get hurt. Be a lot easier on me if I know you and Abigail are right here.”

“Dillard, there’s no need to worry about us. Jesse was just upset. I promise you he’s full of talk, that’s all. Jesse would never hurt Abi.
Never
.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But can you tell me he wouldn’t grab Abigail and run off if he had the chance? Are you absolutely sure on that?”

Linda started to answer, then didn’t, because she couldn’t say for sure. “Just don’t see why—”

Dillard was looking at her that way again, like she didn’t know how to tie her own shoes. “Here, let me spell it out. I can’t do my job if I’m worrying and wondering where you and Abigail might be.” She could hear the growing aggravation in his voice. “You can’t stay at your mother’s, because she’s too far out of town. Need you right here, where I can keep a close eye on you. Okay? You think you can do me that one little favor?”