Heartwood: A Billy Bob Holland Novel by James Lee Burke

Author:James Lee Burke [Burke, James Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780440224013
Publisher: Island Books
Published: 1998-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

The quarry looked like a large meteor hole filled with green water, the shale sides tapering down to the surface under a sky that was bursting with stars. The mop-heads were belted into the backseat of their Mercedes, both doors open, their wrists fastened behind them with plastic flex-cuffs. In the darkness their faces were the color of eggplant, welted and glistening with blood.

But they weren't afraid, Wesley thought. They had proved that when they took their beating without asking for mercy. One of them had even told Chug he'd give him a discount on diet pills.

But now Jeff was taking a gas can and an emergency flare out of his car. Oh man, this wasn't happening, Wesley thought.

Hammie, Warren, Chug, and the other guy were sitting on a grass-tufted mound of dirt, eating fried chicken from a plastic bucket and drinking more beer. How could you eat after you pounded the shit out of two guys? Wesley thought. These East End guys were meaner, more unpredictable and dangerous than anyone he'd known inside. Jeff had a crazy light in his eyes, like he'd loaded up on screamers or whites on the half shell melted down in booze. He was squatted down on his haunches now, eating a drumstick not five feet from the Mercedes, with the gas can resting by his foot. He finished chewing and threw the chicken bone at the mop-head who was closer to him.

"What do you think is about to happen in that insignificant life of yours?" Jeff said.

"My mother give me over to de spirits when I was born, mon. I don't argue wit' what they do," the mop-head answered.

Jeff stood up and unscrewed the plastic cap on the flexible hose that was screwed into the top of the gas can. He held the emergency flare under the mop-head's nose like a police baton and pushed his head back on his neck.

"You ever read about Nero? He used Christians for candles. You guys Christians?" Jeff said.

When the mop-head didn't reply, Jeff popped him across the nose with the flare, then swung the can idly back and forth, letting the gas slosh against the tin sides.

Warren and the others had stopped talking now, their faces suddenly tuned in to what Jeff was saying. Warren rose casually to his feet, wiping the grease off his hands on the back of his jeans. He picked up a jack handle that was stuck sharp-end-down in the sand.

"We already got their stash, Jeff. Maybe we should just remodel their car a little bit. Let them take a visual lesson back home," he said.

Warren walked in a circle around the Mercedes, breaking head- and taillights as though he were cracking hard-boiled eggs with a spoon.

"What'd you think I was going to do?" Jeff asked him.

"What do I know?" Warren said.

"You guys are too much," Jeff said, and walked to his yellow convertible and unscrewed the cap on his fuel tank and inserted the gas can hose inside.

A wind smelling of distant rain and watermelon fields seemed to blow out of nowhere.

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