“I take it you weren’t pleased with his decision?” Harper asked.
“I wasn’t. Neither were his siblings. But, Buck is headstrong. Always has been. Danced to his own tune.” He cleared his throat. “We butted heads over his stubbornness more than a few times.”
Headstrong stubbornness just might serve Buck Buckner well about now. If it didn’t get him killed. And if he was still alive.
“What else can you tell us?” Harper asked.
“Is all this important?”
“Very. The better we know him the better we can predict his decisions. His choices and actions. How he might react to his captors.”
“I suppose. I can tell you he’s smart. Thinks well on his feet. That’s why he was top of his residency class. He’s tough-minded. Maybe his best skill is that he’s good with people. He’s a good looking young man with a sense of humor. People like him.”
Cain hoped that included his captors.
“Was he an athlete?” Cain asked.
“Yeah. We hiked and hunted and fished when he was younger. When I was younger. In high school he ran cross-country on the track team.”
“Do you have a photo of him?” Harper asked.
“Sure. I have as many as you need.”
“Send me a couple.” She gave him her email address.
“What now?” Buckner asked.
“You sit tight. Let us get boots on the ground and see what the story is. Then, we’ll be in touch.”
“I wish I could come there. But travel isn’t in the cards. I have Parkinson’s. It’s very limiting. And since timing can always be unpredictable, and at times maddening, his brothers are away. One in Europe on an anniversary trip, the other in Australia at a medical conference. His sister is eight-months pregnant. She has two. The youngest is ten. This one was the later in life surprise.”
“Don’t worry,” Cain said. “We’ll do our best for Buck.”
CHAPTER 9
6 1/2 HOURS EARLIER
“No way,” Marla said. “I’m not going to fuck you for a fix.”
“Not what I hear,” Jason said. “You fuck Tommy all the time. Rumor is you’ll lay down for anyone with a dose of meth. Or money. Or whatever. Maybe you just like to get down and dirty.”
She wanted to punch him in the face, rip his eyes out, kick his balls up into his throat. None of that was really an option. He held the keys and right now she needed him to open the medicine jar.
He gave her another sneer-smile. “What makes you think I would fuck a skank like you anyway?”
His words, like a knife, physically hurt. God, she hated him. God? There’s a joke for you. If He were real, He’d deliver Tommy and wipe Jason from the Earth. She hadn’t seen God, or Jesus, or the freaking Holy Ghost since Sunday school. Another lifetime ago.
“Oh,” Marla said. “I thought that’s what you meant.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a blow job.”
“Not a chance.”
“Okay. Have a nice evening.” He turned and started to walk away.
“Wait.”
Jason spun toward her and waited, saying nothing, just looking at her with that same smirk.
A chill worked its way into her bones. Nausea rose in her stomach. Withdrawal or revulsion? Probably both. Her mind raced, seeking some other option, but finding none. She was short on cash and had nothing to barter with, except herself. But blow him? Right here in the park? Did she have a choice? As bad as she felt right now it was only going to get worse. A lot worse. Should she tell him to fuck off and hope Tommy showed? And if he didn’t, what then?
Finally, she sighed. “Okay.”
“All right. Twenty and a blow job will get you a couple of quarters of each.”
“I’m not going to do that and also give you twenty bucks.”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got somewhere to be so make up your mind.”
Five minutes later he stood with his back against a large oak tree, Marla on her knees before him. It seemed to take forever. She was sure he was delaying his release on purpose just to fuck with her. But finally he did, grabbing her hair and pulling her to him. She choked and gagged and pulled away, coughing and spitting.
“You fucking asshole.”
“Part of the deal, bitch.”
She stood and slugged his arm.
He laughed. “You’re pretty good. Maybe I could sell you on the street. Bundle you with a gram of coke. I could call it a blow and blow package.”
“Fuck you.”
He removed two small glycine folds from his pocket and handed them to her. She gave him the twenty.
“Meet me here tomorrow night and we’ll do it again,” Jason said. He laughed and faded into the night.
She spit a few more times as she made her way to one of the park benches, where she sat, her backpack on the ground between her feet. Maybe a little taste of the meth first, she thought. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the glycine wrapper. Using the single long nail she had, left little finger, she lifted a dose of crystals. She snorted it, felt the raw burn in her nose, and sat back, waiting for the rush. Didn’t take but a few seconds and it was a good one. Hard and heavy. Her heart pounded and her anxiety began to melt away. God, she loved that feeling.
She looked across Main, toward the hospital. She felt bad about using the money that doctor—what was his name?—she couldn’t remember—gave her for drugs, but she needed meth more than she needed food. Besides, Reverend John always had something she could eat.
The hammering
