Chapter Nineteen
“Thought you’d lost me, didn’t ya?” he said, closing the hospital room door, then sliding a chair underneath the door handle.
“Get out of here before I scream!” Alison said. “I’ll call the nurse, and they’ll call the cops!”
“I don’t care. Do whatever you want! See what you did to me?” He pointed to the bloody gauze on his neck. “You’re gonna pay for this. You’re lucky I didn’t bleed to death. If Dad hadn’t found me and doctored me up, I’d be six feet under, and it’d be all your fault. You’re gonna be locked up for attempted murder!” His shrill laughter sounded more like a girl than a nineteen-year-old guy.
“I wish I had killed you!” she shouted as loud as she could. The drugs in her system slowed her thinking, but she knew she had to get out of here before he actually finished what he’d been trying to start ever since she came to live with the Robertsons. He was their biological son, dirty-minded and dumb. He couldn’t add two and two if his life depended on it. Alison called him an idiot every chance she got, and for this, he decided she should pay for her words with her virginity. She’d managed to fight him off, but the stupid idiot didn’t give up easily.
He laughed again. “Dad’s at the police station now filing charges against you. I can’t wait to see your skank ass locked up for the rest of your life. You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t ya?” He walked over to her bed. She inched as far away from him as she could without falling out of the hospital bed.
“I am better than you and your trashy family. I hate all of you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, adrenaline giving her more strength than she’d had a few short seconds ago. She jumped down, nothing but the bed between them.
“We’ll see about that,” he said before jumping on the bed, then jumping off on the same side. She screamed as loud as she could.
“Alison, dear, I’m here. Open the door,” said Violet from the other side of the door. “I’ve brought clothes for tomorrow.”
“He’s here! Call security!” Alison yelled at the top of her lungs.
Forcing her against the wall, he yanked her hospital gown off in one swift motion. Naked except for the cast on her arm, she tried to cover herself with her one good hand. He looked at her as though she were nothing more than a piece of meat.
The door flew open. Violet ran toward him, trying to pull him away from her. He tossed her aside, her head slamming against the hard tile floor.
Alison screamed as loud as she could. She was unsure how long it took for security to find her. When they swarmed her room, he tried to run.
“Don’t move,” said one of the members of the security team. In a matter of minutes, Roy Lee Robertson was handcuffed, then led out of the room by security. Alison crawled across the floor to where Violet lay, blood pooled behind her head. Alison wrapped her one good arm around her, feeling the life leave her body.
Wanting to die with Violet, she screamed until a team of doctors gave her a shot to knock her out.
Two days later, still in the hospital in a state of semi-shock, Alison was able to tell the police what had happened—all of it. What had led her to leave the foster home, and the worst part of all, how much Violet had done to help her. And now Violet was dead.
The only bright light in this dark ending was that Roy would be locked up for a very, very long time.
Chapter Twenty
“It’s all good, kid. I’m just glad I was there to help. No telling what woulda happened if you didn’t have the guts to crawl outta that horror hotel.” Tammy opened Ali’s fridge, then stepped back. “I’m gonna wipe this down before I put anything inside,” she said.
Ali managed to get the disinfectant and a roll of paper towels, handing them to her one at a time. As Tammy wiped down the inside of the freezer, she told her about the fish guts someone had left.
“That’s the sign of the killing bucket.” Tammy stopped and turned to face her.
“What?”
“The killing bucket. Redfish, they’re bad luck here. You get a load a guts, well, some of the folks say it’s the signal for a killing. Meaning whoever finds them is marked for death.”
Shocked, yet knowing there had to be a ring of truth to this, Ali asked, “How do you know that? Is it just another rumor? Have you heard of anyone actually living to tell this . . .” She wanted to say, “fish story” but didn’t, instead saying, “Rather, anyone who experienced this, and survived to tell their story?” Surely if this were true, Kit would’ve come across it in his research.
“Not me, but I hear stuff at the store. That’s where I heard about the killing bucket. The redfish being bad luck has been known among the locals for years. It’s some sick fool who’d do this,” Tammy told her. She put the groceries in the now-clean refrigerator, then wiped her hands on her shirt.
“Hey, the water is on, and I have soap,” Ali told her.
“No worries. I’m going to get those chairs, and then we can talk, if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” she said to Tammy’s back as she hurried out the door. Not wanting to lock her out, she stood in front of the door, waiting for her to return with the chairs. As soon as she saw her, she opened the door. “That was fast.”
“Now.” Tammy unfolded two plastic lounge chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll fix us a bite. You go ahead and talk all you want. I’m a good listener.” Tammy found the bar of yellow soap she’d bought, washing her hands before preparing the meal.
Ali was curious as to what Tammy planned to make. She hadn’t paid much attention to the food she’d bought. With no pots and pans, no dishes, she’d have to buy all those items when and if she decided to. “First tell me what you’ve heard about the killing buckets.”
“People from the island, mostly the fishermen, I’ve heard them make jokes about the extra cash they get when so and so is ticked off. I don’t have a specific name; as I said, it’s mostly the fishermen. Most of them come and go, some are local, others not. I gather when there’s a call for redfish guts, it’s trouble.”
Tammy took a package of some kind of deli meat, cheese, and a small jar of mayo from the fridge, along with a loaf of wheat bread. “Hope turkey is good with you. It was on sale, and it’s the good stuff.”
Ali nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.” She really didn’t care what she ate. After hearing about the killing bucket, what little appetite she had was gone, though she wouldn’t say this to Tammy after all the trouble she’d gone to. Not to mention, she had paid for the food.
Tammy gave her a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel and a pack of potato chips. Alison took a bite of the sandwich, realizing she was hungry in spite of what Tammy had just told her. As soon as she finished, she took a can of soda and downed it. “Would you be willing to tell this to Kit? My reporter friend.” She wanted a full explanation for the grisly mess she found, and Kit could get to the bottom of it.
“Absolutely. I’m happy to, if it helps you find out who’s trying to harm you. Shit, they already have harmed you! I’ll do whatever it takes,” Tammy said, wadding her paper towel in a ball, then tossing it in one of the grocery bags. “You need to take these.” She whipped out a small white bag from the Publix paper sack. “Antibiotics, and a pain pill.”