May Cooler Heads Prevail (24 page)

“Shut up, you old hag, shut up!” Latham yelled back.

I didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was a crazy look, wild and darting. Suddenly, Latham picked up a gallon water jug that Aunt Nissa had fixed for Uncle Rudd and Freedom earlier and threw it at Aunt Connie.

It hit her in the chest. She lay on the ground fighting for breath. I got to her first. Bending down, I took her into my arms and held her up, praying for her to catch her breath.

Huffing and puffing, she looked up at me and then looked at each of us in turn with a disgusted look on her face. Finally, she managed to whisper, “You ninnies, you shoulda jumped him!”

I hugged her to me. This dear little aunt of mine had been willing to sacrifice her own life in hopes that while that madman was shooting at her, we would be able to get to him and save ourselves.

Feeling so grateful she was still alive, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tighter, until I heard her mumble, “Back off, Dixie June, it’s hard enough to catch my breath.”

I released my brave, but cranky aunt immediately. Freedom took over and helped her to her feet. As we stood there huddled together, I remembered what Freedom had said about keeping Latham talking. If Aunt Connie could be brave, then I could be brave, also. I decided to do what I do best. And that is to question and listen.

Struggling to keep the panic out of my voice, I asked Latham, “My guess is you buried Dolly somewhere around here, and since no one has found her you think that no one will find us?”

Another nasty, loathsome grin spread across Latham’s face as he commented, “That’s about the size of it. I’ll give you village idiots a few minutes to make your peace, and then we’ll take a little walk. I have some other business to take care of tonight.”

Other business? The thought flashed through my mind that Latham intended to go to the hospital and find some way to do away with Truman, also. Truman had tipped his hand about his suspicions to Latham somehow. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to shoot Truman at the flower shop.

Surely he didn’t think he could get away with so much killing. Nevertheless, my mouth went dry fearing for Truman. I hoped that Latham didn’t know about Sam. Maybe Otis could figure it out with what Sam told him. But it would be too late for us, and maybe too late for Truman.

With frightening clarity, I knew that Latham had reached a point where he liked killing. It made him feel powerful and in control. Yes, he liked it enough not to want it over with too quickly. That was the only reason we were still alive.

In another flash of insight, I thought maybe I could use that against him. And in that moment, I knew what I was going to do.

After killing Dolly, Latham had forced himself to keep silent. Only one other person, Aaron Scott, knew what he had done, and Aaron ran away. With him still alive and out there somewhere, Latham felt threatened. He thought killing Dolly would end his troubles, but it hadn’t. All these years he had secretly thought about it, had been fearful about it, had obsessed over it. For over four decades, Latham Sheffield had only himself to talk to about killing Dolly and losing Aaron. And it ate at him—consumed him. I was staking all our lives on the guess that Latham wanted to tell someone, talk about it, release all those thoughts, and I was going to give him the opening he wanted and needed.

Pronouncing every word very clearly, very slowly, I said, “Has killing become so easy for you? Do you think you can kill anyone, however you want, just because you’re Latham
Sheffield? Was it that way when you killed Dolly?”

“You don’t have the right to judge me, Dixie Tanner! Not you, not anybody.” Latham’s voice was vicious. “I’m only doing what I have to do to survive.”

Glancing over at Freedom, I saw him nod slightly. His eyes told me to go on. I looked at each of my family, and each in turn silently told me the same thing. Encouraged, I stood a little straighter, pushed my shoulders back a little, and steeled myself, hoping he wouldn’t pull the trigger on that gun. I was afraid of Latham. I wanted to live out my life, die peacefully, not violently. I desperately wanted all of us to live.

I prayed for guidance. I had to stay calm, alert. I didn’t want to push him too far. I’ve always been fairly good at reading faces, watching for unspoken cues, so I focused on Latham’s face. I told myself to watch carefully, then said gently, “I’m not trying to judge you, Latham. But if I’m going to die, I want to know what it is we are dying for. You had it all. Money, status, looks. You started all this killing with Dolly. What hold did she have on you? What power did she have over you, Latham? Did you love her too much or too little?”

I saw it! I glimpsed relief on Latham’s face. It was just a flicker, but I saw it. He was going to speak the unspeakable things he had hidden away inside himself. In some ways, that flicker I saw on his face brought me hope, in other ways it brought dread. He was unstable, there was no telling, no
surmising what he might do. But, we were still alive. So far!

“Love her! Love Dolly?” Latham’s voice was high-pitched, almost hysterical. I didn’t like the way his eyes looked. He was sweating, and it was cold in the mill. I didn’t like this at all, but there was no way to stop it now.

“It wasn’t about love, Dixie.” Latham’s darting eyes began to focus on me. “It was about having a good time. That’s all! But Dolly didn’t see it that way. She thought I was going to marry her. I tried to tell her I couldn’t marry her. I told her I was already engaged and everybody expected me to marry Barbara. I didn’t want to hurt her. I tried to break it off. I did!”

Latham wiped his forehead and chin with his free hand. His breathing was becoming rapid and shallow. The stress of telling the story was beginning to take a toll on him. I had to keep him talking. “But she wouldn’t let you break it off, is that it? What did she do to you, Latham? Did she threaten you?”

Latham looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “Yes… yes, that’s exactly what she did. She threatened me. I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore. I thought it was over with. But she found me that night. Everyone had gone home after Aaron’s bachelor party. I didn’t want to go home, so I went out on the boat. Dolly knew I liked to spend the night on the boat, so she came there. She told me she wanted to make it big in Hollywood, and if I wasn’t going to marry her, then the least I could do was to give her
enough money to make that possible for her.” Latham started laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard himself say. He fell to his knees, but he kept the gun pointed at us. Finally he stopped laughing and started talking again. “Oh, that was funny, don’t you think? Well, maybe you had to be there. I told her I couldn’t give her any money. My parents had the money, I didn’t. Not yet. She kept insisting, yelling at me, telling me I was nothing but a stupid rich boy. Then she said that if she didn’t get the money she would ruin me. She would tell everyone about us. I couldn’t have that! My parents would disinherit me if they knew about Dolly. If that happened, then Barbara’s parents would make her break off our engagement. I would lose everything before I even had it.”

Latham shook his head. His chest heaved, his mouth opened and closed as he gasped for breath. He started blinking rapidly, darting his eyes like he couldn’t decide what to focus on, then he lifted his gun, and in a low menacing voice said, “I had to stop her. You see that, don’t you?”

Latham looked about as much like the Grim Reaper as anyone I’ve ever seen. Cold, murderous, he stared at us for a moment. Then he changed. His body relaxed. He seemed calmer, more in control, like he had made a decision. I took that as a bad sign. Maybe I had pushed him too far. But there was no going back now. I had to keep him talking.

With a voice shaking as much as my body, I asked, “How did you kill her, Latham?”

He sounded dead, emotionless. “Kill her? I hit her just to make her stop yammering, and she fell overboard. I reached down to grab her hand and that’s when I knew I could make her go away. I simply grabbed her by her hair and pushed her under. I held her that way until she quit struggling. That’s when Aaron showed up.” Latham started laughing again. “Stupid little man. Seems he felt bad about all the ribbing we gave him about not going on the boat. He knew I was still at the boat, so he worked up his courage and came out there to see if I would take him for a ride. Said something about not wanting Connie to marry a coward. He even tried to save Dolly’s life. Did you know that, Connie? He thought it was an accident at first. But it didn’t take him long to figure it out. We fought, but he got away. I hunted for him most of the night. While I was trying to find Aaron, I figured out where I could put Dolly’s body. I brought her out here to Addison’s Mill. I found a place inside the mill where no one would ever think to look.”

Latham took a deep breath. “You know the rest of the story, don’t you, Dixie?”

“I can put it together, yes. I think when you realized Aaron had come back, you knew he would go see Aunt Connie at the flower shop. All you had to do was watch and wait and call the sheriff when Aaron showed up. Then you followed Aaron inside, stabbed him, and got out of there, waiting for Otis to come. But then Dennis Reager had his little fender-bender and Otis never made it.”

Latham’s face turned purple with rage. “Morons! It was the perfect plan—it would have been over and done with right then if I wasn’t surrounded by idiots.”

I continued recounting my theory, praying I was buying us a chance.

“You must have been wild with frustration when, the next morning, it was business as usual in town. What happened to the body? And what about the murder weapon? Where was it? You broke into the flower shop that night, on a fruitless search for both. By the time you figured out that we weren’t going to the sheriff, we had already moved the body a couple of times. You followed us earlier today, thinking we would lead you to Aaron; and instead, you discovered we knew a lot more than you thought we did. We knew enough to question Chad Gunther. That’s when you tried to kill Freedom and me with the hay truck. And tonight you tried to kill Truman. Have I missed anything, Latham?”

Latham blinked a couple of times and his eyes narrowed. “I think you’ve just about covered it. Now you know why you are all going to die. So, now that that’s done, all of you move closer to that great big hole in the wall to your left.” Latham held the gun straight out with both hands.

Had we lost? Had we missed our chance? We moved in single file toward the hole in the wall. As I got closer I could see a broken-down, weathered grain bin near what used be a wall. Cobwebs were trailing in the breeze away from the gaping hole. It had quit raining and I could now hear the
waterfall that once powered the mill’s water wheel, splashing and crashing into the creek down below. Out beyond the hole stood the decaying water wheel, its massive gears pockmarked with rust for years. The millstone was gone, but the wooden chute that carried the grain to it was still partially intact. It hung inside the open wall by one rusty hinge.

As we huddled together by the hole in the wall near the water wheel, I decided to try one more time to talk to him. We had nothing else to try and nothing to lose. Taking a deep breath I plunged in, “Does Dolly still haunt your nightmares, Latham? Was there a time when you felt remorse at killing her? Do you feel any remorse at killing Aaron?”

Latham leveled the gun at my head. “Remorse is a luxury I can’t afford, Dixie. I gave that up long ago. Now it is time for you to shut up.”

I found that one can get reckless when one is about to die. I kept on, “Maybe you have managed to harden your heart so much that you feel no remorse. You might have even been able to keep killing Dolly a secret. But you’ve gone too far now, Latham. You can’t keep on killing and expect to keep it hidden forever. You’ll have all of us to think about now. We’ll be in your nightmares, Latham. Yes, I think very soon now, it will all begin to unravel. You won’t be able to stop it. You’ll eventually make a mistake. You know you will. Put a stop to it now, Latham. Jesus can still heal the wounds in your heart if you will turn to Him. You are in a prison much worse than any judge or jury could send you to. Please,
Latham, before it’s too late.”

Latham took a step toward me. Both of his hands were shaking now. “I’m going to shoot you first, just so I can shut that stupid mouth of yours!”

Latham fired the gun! Someone shoved me hard, and I landed on the floor on my side. Feeling a sharp stabbing pain in my shoulder, I rolled over and saw that Aunt Connie was on the floor with me. Aunt Nissa was bending over us, trying to help us up. My thoughts were muddled, but I had enough sense to wonder why we weren’t dead yet.

The answer to that question was less than ten feet away from us. While Latham was focused on me, Uncle Rudd and Freedom had jumped him. All three of them were on the floor struggling. We had a chance now, a good chance. But where was the gun? I didn’t see it in Latham’s hand. Surely if he had it he would have used it again by now.

I squinted my eyes looking for it. It had to be close. It had to be near the three of them. I saw that Latham was craning his neck. He was looking for the gun as well. Then I saw Latham grab something—not the gun, some piece of metal or a rock. He hit Uncle Rudd in the head with it. Uncle Rudd rolled off of Latham. His eyes were closed and he looked unconscious.

Now it was just the two of them fighting, each with purpose. While Freedom and Latham struggled, Aunt Nissa and Aunt Connie tended to Uncle Rudd. I got on my hands and knees to look for the gun. We had to keep that gun away
from Latham.… And then I saw it.

So did Latham. It was only inches away from him. Freedom didn’t seem to notice that Latham was trying to get to the gun. I lunged for it.

I couldn’t grasp the gun, but I managed to kick it out of Latham’s reach. Then I rolled over and scooted backward to get out of the way, but not before Latham kicked me in the head. The pain made me want to curl up in a little ball. I lay there leaning my head against the old grain chute and gave in to the pain.

Freedom and Latham were on their feet now. I watched through hazy eyes as Freedom tried to push Latham over the opening in the wall. They struggled and Latham turned, pushing Freedom to the edge. Freedom’s arms flailed outward, then he fell into the water below. I heard myself scream and felt my heart break.