Filed to story: Return of the Reaper Story
“Give me until ten tonight. I’m in Austin. I’ll call you at this number.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Think of it as a portion of the down payment on all I owe you, brother.”
The call ended. Isaac continued south on US 65.
Isaac was pulled in to refuel the Rover an hour north of Tallahassee when Tobey called back with the goods. The traffic on US 10 was a river of light in the dark beyond the blinking glow of the fluorescents over the pump stations. Isaac sat in the front seat and took notes on a pad as Tobey spoke. He filled five pages before they were done.
“That enough?” Tobey said.
“It’s all I needed.”
“You’re fucking with the wrong guys. Whatever you’re into, they’re not going to forget about you.”
“I know how to hide.”
“That’s harder when you’re alone. It’s expensive too. You have a kid, right? You thought of her?”
“It’s gone too far along for that.”
“Shit, brother.”
“It is what it is, Tobey.”
“If you need money you let me know. Hell, you live through this and need a job you let me know.”
“I’ll be in contact about some fresh paper. The works.”
“It’s yours. Good luck.”
The line went dead.
Isaac pulled to the back of the lot where the semis were parked. He lay down in the back seat as best he could and slept until just before dawn.
The dog was barking.
Delia Wiley elbowed her husband.
“Your dog’s barking.”
Joe Bob awakened. It was his dog when it barked or shit on the rug. He grunted and fell back to sleep.
“Still barking.” She nudged him again.
“Damn it,” he huffed, sitting up.
Joe Bob sat up in the king-size bed listening. Mojo was sure barking at something. Deer crossing the property. The neighbor on the next lot coming home late. Maybe someone poaching firewood off the sixty acre conservation area that ringed the subdivision. Hoopies from the trailer park over by the county road started doing that every year when the weather turned cold.
Out in his fenced-in run Mojo went silent.
“He stopped. Deer probably,” Joe Bob said.
His wife moaned in the affirmative. They were back to sleep in moments.
Something nudged Joe Bob. Something hard pressed down into his shoulder. He grunted. It pressed again. Wrong side of the bed for Delia.
Joe Bob opened his eyes to see a big man standing over him. The man wore a black mask that covered his face. The man was pulling back the black pistol he’d used to prod Joe Bob awake. The man motioned for Joe Bob to sit up. Joe Bob saw that a smaller man, also in a mask, was on the bed straddling Delia and holding a pistol to her head. The smaller man nodded in greeting to Joe Bob.
The big man helped Joe Bob to his feet then shoved him into a padded chair in a corner of the room. The smaller man had Delia out of the bed. She was mewling wordlessly. Joe Bob thought she was praying. The smaller man shoved her to the floor at Joe Bob’s feet. She was whispering his name over and over again.
“Joe Bob? Joe Bob? Joe Bob?”
The smaller man took a seat on the corner of the bed. The gun in his gloved fist at rest on his leg.
“You know this man Isaac Kane?” Nestor said.
Joe Bob nodded. “He used to work for me.”
The smaller man shook his head lazily.
“He still works for you. You gave him a new job,” Nestor said.
“Okay,” Joe Bob said.
“You will tell him to stop this job you gave him. You will tell him to come home. When he has come home you will call us,” Nestor said. He plucked a strip of paper from the pocket of his leather jacket. He held it out for Joe Bob.
Joe Bob took the paper. It had a ten digit number hand printed on it.
“You understand? You tell him to stop working and come back home. You changed your mind. Okay? You understand what will happen unless you do this.”
Joe Bob nodded.
“Good,” Nestor said patting his knees before standing up. The two men walked for the door of the master bedroom.
“Sorry for the dog,” Karp said before stepping into the dark hallway.
Joe Bob fell to his knees on the carpet. He drew his wife to him and held her close, whispering assurances in her ear.