No Going Back (8 page)

Scott passed a mug of cold coffee to his pal. ‘When you’re done with that, check on Rob, OK? Me and Hunter are still talking business and don’t want him going off on one when he wakes up.’

When Scott returned to the counter and sat down, I prompted him. ‘You said that Helena just disappeared?’

‘Yeah, she was walking into Indian Wells to fetch some groceries. She never made it there. When she didn’t get back, I drove in and had a look around but no one had seen her.’

‘You drove in, but Helena walked?’

‘She couldn’t drive and I was sleeping off a hangover. The boys had been over and we’d been playing poker. You know how it is, man.’

‘Had you argued?’

‘First thing the cops asked. No. We didn’t argue. We were good together. Son of a bitch! You know what the cops suggested . . . that I was no good and Helena had finally seen the light and had upped and left me while she had the chance.’

‘They don’t seem to take missing persons reports very seriously,’ I said.

‘Same with your girls, is it? The cops just brushed it off?’

‘At first, but I spoke with a cop last night. Officer Lewin. He seemed OK.’

Burt, listening from his end of the trailer, chose then to intrude. ‘Lewin? He’s an asshole like all the other cops. He ran me in on a driving under the influence charge.’

‘Were you drunk?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, but . . .’

I didn’t say anything more and he finally got the message.

He lifted both palms. ‘Ignore me. I’m not here, OK?’

Just about then the other man, Rob, began to come round, and Burt helped coax him back to lucidity with a whispered warning not to try my patience again. Rob seemed content to sit cradling his head in his palms.

‘So . . . there was no reason you can think of for Helena to leave you? You were good together. No other guy? No other girl with you?’

Scott shook his head sadly. ‘People take a look at us, see poor white trash, and think we go round humping anything that moves. It wasn’t like that with me and Helena. We loved each other. I still love her.’

‘I had to ask,’ I said. ‘But it’s behind us now. Next obvious question . . . did you and Helena have any enemies?’

‘None to speak of.’

‘What about anyone giving Helena the eye? You know the type I’m talking about. She wouldn’t have to reciprocate for them to show an interest.’

‘I occasionally caught some of them Injun boys giving her the glad eye, but that was about it. They wouldn’t have done anything about it, they knew better than to mess around with me.’

Yeah, the back-up his
boys
offered made him a real force to be reckoned with, I thought sourly. Like they were going to put off anyone determined to catch Helena’s attention.

‘Anything out of the ordinary happen before or after Helena disappeared?’

‘What, like a ransom demand? No, nothing.’

I was floundering a little, not quite sure where to go with the questioning. I’m not much of a detective and right then I could have done with Rink or Harvey along: someone who knew how to conduct a real interview. It struck me again that I was tugging at a few loose threads – probably unconnected – and trusting too much in the coincidence that three of the missing four girls looked alike. But then again, coincidences do happen, and they often interlink to become synchronicity. And synchronicity can affect the eventual outcome of incidents in the real world. From his bunk, Rob muttered something. Scott and I looked his way, and he stood up and ambled towards us, hanging on to the trailer wall for support. ‘You’re forgetting about the Logans, Scott. Why not tell him about those crazy Logan boys?’

‘The Logans?’ I echoed. ‘Yeah, Scott, why don’t you tell me about them?’

He did.

Before he was even halfway through his story I was itching to get on my way.

The Logans – those
crazy
Logans – were definitely due a visit, and, judging by their local legend, I was pleased that I hadn’t wasted any bullets on Rob or Burt.

9

Jay woke up in a strange place. Stranger than even the two places she’d awakened in the past two mornings. For the briefest of time she’d no memory of how she’d got to this new place and she lay there, attempting to make sense of her surroundings. Above her was a ceiling so close that should she reach out with her fingertips, she would scrape her nails on the corrugated tin sheets. Spider webs clung to the grooves, old and dusty, and here and there corrosion had nipped at the edges of old nail holes to widen the gaps. Through the holes she could discern the pale blue of a sun-bleached sky. To both sides of her were walls made of timber that smelled faintly of creosote, and if she could see that far in the dim light she was sure that a similar wall would enclose the far end.

The heat was stifling.

She could barely breathe.

Panic struck and she tried to throw her hands out, to push up on the tin sheets, but a rope had been tied to each wrist and passed beneath her lower back. She struggled in vain to pull free, but all that she gained was chafed skin and less oxygen. Her heart hammered in her chest and she realised that she had to concentrate, to stop herself from hyperventilating, or she would pass out again and then she would be no use to anyone.

That random thought brought everything flooding back to her, all of the memories crashing down on her like an avalanche. She decided the crushing feeling in her chest was the weight of all she’d endured until she understood that she was still straining against the rope and it was actually the pulling of her overtaxed muscle fibres.

Finally she sank down, making an effort now to subdue her frantic breathing, to calm herself. But it wasn’t easy.

She recalled the incident at the gas station all those days ago, and the subsequent chase by the mad men in the pick-up truck.

‘Why didn’t I just keep my fat mouth shut, Nic?’

Her words came back to her, and not for the first time either, because never had a sentiment proved more exact. It was wholly unjust that she’d been so right then whereas her next statement had turned out so wildly wrong: ‘I won’t let anything happen. I promise.’

The second she’d seen the pick-up truck materialise from the heat haze she’d known they were both in big trouble. Nicole had known it as well, but had placed her faith in Jay to get them out of it. The problem was her promise had been empty: she’d no idea how she was going to stop the men from catching them.

As the truck had speeded up, Jay told Nicole, ‘Call nine-one-one, Nic. Tell the police what’s happening and to get here as quickly as possible.’

Nicole tried, but with no luck. ‘I can’t get a signal, Jay. We’re out in the desert . . . there’s no network coverage!’

‘Keep trying,’ Jay said. Beside her, Nicole bounced in the seat, her frustration at her cellphone manifesting itself upon her features so that she looked like she was about to implode.

‘It’s no use!’

The pick-up loomed in the rear-view mirror, growing exponentially so that all Jay could see was the front grille of the large truck. Momentarily Jay thought they were going to be pushed off the road and in reflex she jammed down hard on the gas pedal, winning them a few seconds’ respite as their car surged forward.

‘Oh God, oh God,’ Nicole cried like it was a litany.

‘Strap in tight, Nic,’ Jay yelled. ‘I think things are going to get worse.’

‘Why are they chasing us? What have we done to them?’

‘They don’t need a reason. They’re just crazy!’

As though to prove the point, the driver of the pick-up pulled alongside them, driving parallel in the opposite lane, and it was a good job that the road was otherwise deserted or they’d risk a head-on collision. From the passenger window leaned the young man with the straw-like hair. He was slamming his palms on the outside of his door and yelling obscenities. Jay yelled back, but that only caused the young man to lean out further and reach for her, as if intent on tugging her out of the window. Although it was practically impossible for him to do so, Jay reacted by swerving away, and her offside wheels went off the road and into the soft sand of the shoulder. The SUV was sturdy enough to power through the grit, but it was still enough to cause the steering wheel to judder and almost rip out of Jay’s hands. Beside her, Nicole screamed in terror.

‘Call the police, Nicole!’

‘I’m trying but it’s still no good!’

Jay yanked on the wheel, sending the SUV back on to the carriageway and again the pick-up truck hastened towards them. It was so close that Jay could have reached out and touched the hole where a wing mirror was once fixed.

She snatched a glance at Straw Hair and wished she hadn’t. He had pulled out a gun and was aiming the shining steel barrel directly at her face.

‘Pull over, bitch, or I’ll ventilate your goddamn head!’

In response, all that Jay could think to do was scrunch her head down into her shoulders and keep on going as fast as possible.

The pick-up continued to parallel them, easily matching them for speed. Jay wished that a huge rig would come from the other direction and smash the crazy men off the road, but she could see way across the desert and nothing moved except their racing vehicles.

‘Last chance, bitch. Now stop the goddamn car!’

The boom of the gun was so close that Jay expected to be dead in the next instant. She even pictured the hot bullet taking out the side of her face and spraying blood and brain matter all over Nicole. When she tore her gaze from the road ahead, she saw that the man was already lowering the gun so that the next shot wouldn’t be fired into the sky.

‘OK! OK! Take it easy. I’m pulling over.’

From beside her Nicole’s voice was plaintive. ‘You can’t stop, Jay. They’ll kill us.’

‘They’re only trying to frighten us. They’ll just do what they have to do, then leave us alone once they’ve had their fun.’

‘Jay, for God’s sake, don’t stop! You know what kind of fun those beasts are after . . .’

‘What else can I do? If I don’t stop they’re definitely going to kill us, Nic.’

And that was how she’d ended up here, in this coffin-sized structure, covered over with a tin sheet which she now recalled had been wedged over her and then chained down.

Before this, there had come two horrendous days that she could hardly bear to contemplate. Except the memories kept on coming, little snippets of terror and humiliation that stacked up in her mind, threatening to topple her into an abyss of endless torture.

Forced to stop, Jay had foolishly wound up the windows and locked the doors of the SUV while Nicole continued her fruitless task of attempting to call the police. Straw Hair smashed the window nearest Jay with the butt of his pistol and jammed the barrel under her ear. ‘Get outta the goddamn car.’

Jay was dragged on to the road and thrown down on her knees. Straw Hair straddled her back, holding her between his legs as he shouted to the older cowboy.

‘Quit your hollerin’,’ the cowboy yelled back. ‘I’ve got her.’

Straw Hair gripped the back of Jay’s head and she felt the cool steel of his gun alongside her jaw. Something inside forbade her to fear her own fate: she was too busy worrying about Nicole.

In the next instant her friend was forced to the ground beside her, the cowboy pushing her belly down on the dusty road. Nicole looked across at Jay, her eyes bottomless holes of despair.

‘I’ll get us out of this . . .’

‘You won’t do a goddamn thing, little miss,’ Straw Hair growled. The clicking of the hammer going back on his gun was super-amplified in Jay’s senses.

There was a crack and a flash, followed by interminable blackness, and this time Jay really did think she was dead.

When she woke up that first time, it was in the back of her father’s SUV. Straw Hair was driving, following the pick-up truck along a dirt trail. Beyond the windows, huge weather-worn mesas dominated the sky, but Jay barely noticed them. Crouching over her was a third man, who reminded her of the gargoyles that decorated the rooflines of Gothic cathedrals. He was broad and squat, with greasy black hair slicked back from a bulbous forehead. His pig-like eyes were small beads of light enfolded in puffy eyelids, and his mouth was a slack gash that showed yellow teeth as he grinned down at her. She hadn’t been mistaken back at the gas station. She recalled seeing a bent shape slipping from the pick-up and approaching the family in the station wagon. Looking at him, you could be forgiven for concluding that the man was of low intelligence, but Jay didn’t think that was the case. The way in which he stared down at her, the inner turnings of his mind were painted clearly on his features, and Jay knew that of the three crazy men, this one should be feared most.

‘You’re awake? Brent must have hit you hard with his gun . . . you’ve been out for more than an hour.’ The man wasn’t showing any remorse, merely stating a fact.

Jay now knew that Straw Hair – or Brent – had knocked her out and didn’t have to feel the large lump on her skull for confirmation. All that she was concerned about was the whereabouts of her friend, because Nicole wasn’t in the SUV with them.

‘Where’s my friend?’

‘Hush now,’ the gargoyle said. ‘You don’t have to worry about her. She’s with Carson.’