From Pharaoh's Hand Page 5

  They were traveling a gravel road that paralleled the Buffalo River. Beth could see the water below between the trees and beyond the valley on the driver’s side. They were climbing a steep embankment, and Catfish had to put the truck into low gear to make the hill. When they reached the top, the land flattened out somewhat, the trees parted, and before them lay the vast, indomitable kingdom of Phineas Jones.

  Directly ahead Beth saw what appeared to be a mobile home, although it was so rough and weathered that it could easily be mistaken for abandoned. It was small, maybe fourteen feet by seventy, and a faded salmon color with faded black shutters. The underpinning had been torn off around most of the foundation, and a few chickens ran out from under while being chased by a mangy-looking, half-breed dog, who upon seeing Catfish’s truck pull in, ran to greet him with his tail wagging. The front storm door was missing, and concrete blocks served as steps.

  The wealth of the kingdom was on grand display, with old vehicle parts strewn about the yard, along with tires and tools and garbage. A fifty-five gallon blue drum sat beside the front door, and was full of briny water. A crude clothesline hung out beside the trailer and was strung between two trees. Beyond that lay the remains of a garden plot trodden down with the tomato sticks still sticking up from the ground, and rags hanging from the dead vines. The grass was brown and patchy with muddy spots in odd places. Plastic covered the windows, but had been blown loose by the wind on the end and was flapping in the January wind. Set against the backdrop of the gray skies of winter, the scene was bleak and cheerless.

  “Well, missy, I reckon we’re home. Now ain’t no use’n hollerin’. Ain’t nobody around for miles this time of year. I’m still good fer my promise of throwin’ you in the river yonder if you’ns don’t behave.”

  Beth nodded. “I have to go really bad.”

  “To yer right, inside the door, and first left. And no funny business.”

  They made their way up the concrete steps. Beth entered slowly, not sure of what she might encounter. The stench hit her nostrils before she had gone two steps inside--the smell of animal waste, human waste, and stale smoke. Spoiled food and rotten garbage lay rotting in plastic bags. She felt her stomach lurch as she hurried down the hall. She flipped the switch for the bathroom and heaved into the toilet, which was black and yellowed and unspeakably nasty. When she was finished, she tried to flush, but nothing happened. She lifted the back off the toilet. No water was running. She turned the faucet in the sink; nothing came out.

  Beth pulled back the nasty shower curtain and turned the knobs of the tub. Nothing. But there was a five gallon bucket half full of the briny water. She lifted it out of the tub and poured it into the back of the toilet and flushed.

  Elizabeth’s mind was reeling. How could a human live in these conditions? She felt dirty and grimy, and now she had to drip dry. There wasn’t even toilet paper. She longed for a shower and clean clothes, and then she remembered that she was wearing the only clean outfit she had brought with her. Her dirty clothes were in the truck. She cleaned up the best she could and went back to the living room. “I need clean clothes.”

  “So skeered you wet your pants, eh? Tomorrow you can haul some river water up here to wash your dirty clothes. I’ll make a fire and heat some water in the kettle. Then you can scrub ‘em and hang ‘em on the line to dry. And unless you’re fond of doin’ the laundry that a way, I suggest you learn to wear ‘em a few days. You must of left home in a hurry. And where’d you get all this here cash? You get caught stealin’?”

  “I’m not a thief. Or a liar and kidnapper,” she spat back. “What are you going to do with me, just keep me out here in the wilderness to be some kind of slave?”

  “I ain’t decided jest yet. You best be watchin’ that sharp tongue. Old Catfish might jest cut it out with this here knife.” He took the stainless steel knife off the bar, unfolded it, and pointed it toward her. “This here will skin a buck quicker than you can say ‘Jack Rabbit.’”

  Beth’s eyes widened. She bit her lip, and then the tears began to form and roll down her cheeks. The shock of the last two days began to spill over and out from her, and her shoulders shook in heaving sobs.

  “Oh God… God,” she cried hysterically. Then she began coughing violent, heaving coughs, as if she were going to throw up again. She could not get her breath.

  A look of shock crossed Catfish’s face, unnoticed by Beth. He laid the knife on the counter and crossed to where she was. He started to hug her, and then backed off, not knowing exactly what to do with his hands. He put one hand on her shoulder.

  “Listen here, missy. Stop crying. Settle down. No use makin’ yerself sick again. You act real good. Just settle down. Once they stop lookin’ for you and the heat is off, then maybe you can go wherever it is you was a headed. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Beth mumbled. Catfish took a dirty handkerchief from his back jean pocket and held it out to her. She took it, hesitated slightly, then dried her face. “Can I please just have a drink?”

  “What you want, a beer? Naw, of course not. I got a Coke. I got a little bit of drinking water left...hafta get more tomorrow down at the store. That dern well man couldn’t get through the limestone. Wanted six thousand dollars to haul his fancy equipment all the way out here. I figgered when I got me the money to build the new house, I’d take care of getting’ a well dug then. No sense in runnin’ a line to this heap of metal.”

  Her crying had tapered to light sniffling at this point as she sipped from the can of off-brand cola he had handed her. Beth looked around her in disgust.

  “Sit down. Youn’s been through a lot.”

  “Why did you take me?” she asked, trying to sound calm as she moved piles old newspaper out of a dumpy green stained recliner.

  “Well, see, here’s the thing,” Catfish began. “They had this here Amber alert out on the radio. That’s how I figured out who you was. And about two miles before we got into Jackson, right along where I planned to let you out, there was a bunch of State troopers on the other side of the Interstate checking trucks and cars. I had no choice but to roll on through, and the same was happening when I got to the other side of town. Luckily, it was right past the exit I turned off on. I could see the roadblock up ahead of the Law Road exit. By that time, I had done decided that you was on the run for something bad. I just figured it would be easier for you to hide if I brought you up here. You was runnin’ and hidin, warn’t you?”

  She did not want to tell him the truth. If he found out she was pregnant, he might go berserk and kill her. So she lied.

  “I...uh...was running away to see my boyfriend. He got sent to Memphis to a private military prep school. My parents hated him. I was going to come home after a few days.”

  “Uh-huh. Sneakin’ off to see that there young buck done caused you a heap o’ trouble, missy.”

  If you only knew, she thought, but nodded.

  “Yore name’s Eliza Beth ain’t it?”

  “Elizabeth,” she answered. “It’s Elizabeth.”

  “That’s what I said.” And then he said, “Liza,” turning it over in his mind as he rubbed the knife up and down against his thigh. “I like that. I reckon that’ll do, Liza.”

  “I bet my mom and dad are out of their minds with worry right now...”

  “Didn’t think of that did ya? All you was studyin’ was getting’ with that young buck.”

  “No, at the time, I just wanted out.”

  “Well I reckon we all feel that a way at times. Been there myself. Just take a look around at my world. You probably had it real good back there in Jackson, now didn’t ya?”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. Can I have something to eat?”

  “Pickled baloney and Saltines. Take it or leave it. Get up and fix us a bite. You might as well earn yer keep. Crackers is on the table. Baloney in the fridge.” Beth just stared at him. Is this coot for real?

  Catfish settled into the dirty recliner and flipped on the television. It was a bit early
for news, so he settled on reruns while Beth fixed their supper. The day was fading fast into night; sundown came early in the winter months. They ate in silence and watched reruns until the five o’clock newscast out of Nashville came on the air. Catfish turned up the volume as the newscaster recounted the story of the search for the missing teen.

  “The search for 17-year-old, Elizabeth Morgan Merriweather, has turned up empty handed as investigators search for clues in a desperate bid to find her in the critical hours of the investigation. Her abandoned car was found in the parking lot of Wal-Mart where she worked part time after school. They found her purse, minus her wallet and cell phone. She is believed to be a runaway, as there is no indication of foul play at the present time. A widespread search is being conducted in the five counties of Madison, Gibson, Crockett, Henderson, and Hardemen. Roadblocks set up along the Interstate earlier today yielded no leads. Carolyn and John Merriweather are here to make a desperate plea for their daughter’s safe return.” The reporter held the microphone in front of Carolyn. Her face was etched in sorrow. Her voice trembled.

  “Beth, if you’re watching out there somewhere, please, please call us and let us know you’re alright. Your father and I are worried sick about you. We love you, and whatever is bothering you, we can work this out. If anyone knows of our daughter’s whereabouts or has taken her, please contact us so that we can meet your demands. We want our daughter back...please....” and her voice trailed off in sobs as John stepped forward.

  “Beth, please come home soon to us. We are looking for you. We love you. We want you home with us.” The reporter gave a hotline number for anyone with any information to call in and report to the police and then gave a grim sign-off before the broadcast was switched back to the main anchorwoman. Catfish turned off the TV. The two sat in silence for a space of thirty seconds before Beth spoke.

  “They’re looking for me. They will find me, eventually. And you will face jail time for kidnapping. Is that what you want?”

  “I didn’t want any of this to happen, but I had no choice. You’re here now. I can’t afford for them to find you. I can’t let you go home. You, you just know too much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Even if I let you go home, you’ll tell them. You can identify me. I’d be running the rest of my life.”

  “I won’t tell. I swear I won’t.

  “I can’t trust you. I have too much at stake. There’s too many things goin’ on. I can’t afford for them to find out about Frankie. They’ll kill me.”

  “Frankie? They who?”

  “Carnel. Frankie Carnel. The man you saw me with yesterday. I know you saw. I saw you staring right at us.”

  “What’s he got to do with anything?”

  “Frankie has everything to with everything.”

  Just as Beth thought she was going to hear the rest of the story, a boat motor from down at the river interrupted. Catfish jumped up, knocking over his beer.

  “Dang. That’s Old Poke. Stay in the trailer and clean that up. Or I will make you wish you never been born.”

  He ran out the door and down the concrete steps. It had grown dark, and there was no security light. Even though Beth stared out the blinds, she could not see what was happening. She thought about running, but she knew she would not get far in this wilderness. She wondered if Catfish had left the keys in the old truck. Her thoughts wandered back to the knife. If she ran to the truck and there were no keys, could she make it back to the house before Catfish? She had no idea how far away he was. She wondered who Old Poke was. Was that another thug Catfish hung out with? And who was Frankie Carnel? Part of a crime ring? Whoever he was, Catfish was terrified of any retribution at his hands. She had gotten herself tangled in a mysterious web of danger and deceit. She knew she had to get to that truck.

  Slowly she turned the doorknob, cracked the door, and listened. She could hear voices, but they were moving farther away. She stepped out onto the first step. Then she ran as fast as she could toward the rusty old truck. She was hassling for breath when she got to the truck door. When she opened the door, it let out a long creak. She felt strong arms grab her from behind and swirl her around.

  “Just where do you think you’re goin’, Liza Beth? Home to Mama?”

  “I...uh...I…was coming to get my other clothes.”

  “Don’t you lie to me,” Catfish spat out. “You was makin’ a run for it.” He reached inside, grabbing the keys from the ignition. He grabbed her clothes from the floorboard and flung them at her.

  “You just better be glad I stopped you. I know where you’re from, Missy. I would track you down and put a bullet in yer purty skull. Now back in the house. Now!”

  Elizabeth was breathless in her sobbing pleas.

  “Please...please just let me go home. Please, I beg you… Please.” She fell to her knees in the wet grass in despair, begging for her life.

  Catfish’s expression softened. He reached down and took her by the arm and helped her up. He took out the dirty bandana and wiped her face roughly.

  “You got to stop this. I can’t let you go. I done told you. My life is in danger. Stop crying. Just dry up,” he said, trying to appear gruff but his voice had softened. He pulled her to him; she was soft and pretty. It had been a long time since he had held a woman. Thoughts began to form in his deluded mind that she could grow to like him. He could keep her here forever. She would be his. His hands found the bottom band of her sweatshirt and swiftly they found their way underneath. Elizabeth was startled as his hands grabbed at her. She screamed and pushed him away.

  “No. No...stop it!” She pulled back, but he held her firmly.

  “No use fightin’ it missy. We’re gonna spend a lot of time together up in these hills. Might as well make it fun.”

  “No, Oh please, no.”

  He had jerked her back to his chest, and his hands were headed down the back of her sweatpants. He was rubbing his beard against her neck and making noises in his throat like he was enjoying making her squirm. The bile rose up in Beth’s throat.

  “Oh God, Stop! I’m going to be...” but before she could finish her sentence, the vomit was up and out and all over the two of them, splattering all over Catfish and Beth. He let her go. She was choking and bent double. She could not breathe. Catfish was stunned by this event. He had never had a woman throw up at the thought of being with him. Shame burned bright in his cheeks.

  “I weren’t gonna hurt ya, missy. I swear. I thought you might like it. Might need some comfortin’.”

  “I’m seventeen. I’m only in high school,” she choked out. “I don’t want you. Why would I want you? You’re dirty. You stink. You chew tobacco and drink beer. Oh no...” and she bent double and heaved again. By this time she was dry-heaving and hurting.

  “I suppose you’re right. Been a long time since I cleaned up.” His pride was wounded, what little he had. But at least she hadn’t called him stupid.

  “I’ll get some water heated up to put in the tub. I got a flannel shirt you can wear. Don’t cry. I won’t touch you no more. Just stop crying, for Pete’s sake.”

  Beth took long deep breaths, sighing with relief that he was not going to rape her, at least not tonight. For the first time this week, she thanked the Lord for the life that was growing inside her. Only morning sickness had stopped this ruthless man from taking her and making her a slave to his fleshly lusts.

  Chapter 6

  The Search

  “And it came to pass...”

  Months had passed since Elizabeth’s disappearance. The investigation had started with a flurry of activity, then slowed to a crawl. Finally the trail had ended with a reference to Mr. Merriweather’s Mastercard being used at the Wingate Inn right outside of Memphis on the day of Beth’s disappearance. A girl fitting that description had spent the night at the Wingate, and to the clerk’s recollection, she was alone. The clerk could give only the date of checkout and had no knowledge of Beth leaving. She had not worked the weeke
nd shift, the other clerk had; she had not noticed anything out of the ordinary either. This confirmed the police’s suspicions that Elizabeth was a runaway. The police questioned Elizabeth’s closest friends; they questioned her parents, her relatives, and her teachers. None could give them any reason why Beth would run away from home.

  Her textbooks were in her car, as well as her gym clothes thrown in the backseat. There were no notes to indicate why she had left or where she had gone. They rang her cell phone number , to no avail. They tracked her cell phone usage. She had not used the phone since the day she left. There was one call that day to the Wingate Inn at 8:45 p.m. Other than that, there was a call from her boyfriend, Chris at 9:40, Saturday morning with a message for Beth to call him, and numerous messages from Beth’s parents begging her to call home. All of those had gone to voice mail. Either Beth had ditched the phone, which was unlikely, or she had it turned off. The police noted that unless she had taken the charger with her, it would soon be of little value to her anyway. The charger was found plugged into the cigarette lighter of her car.

  Beth’s parents put out a desperate media plea and a hundred thousand dollar reward hoping to get their daughter back. The leads came rolling in faster than the police could follow up on them. Most of them led to dead ends, except for two. One was the bus driver of the casino bus who called to say he remembered a girl matching her description riding the bus to Memphis. He was very sorry to hear that she was a runaway. How could he have known? The other lead matched up with the bus driver’s. The Shell clerk had waited on the girl after the bus had departed. She remembered the girl asking for a phone book and buying a map. She said the girl left on foot in the direction of the Wingate. She had paid cash for the map and drink.