“Will you tell me something?” she asked.
He rubbed at his forehead with his good hand. Even in the dim light she could see a huge lump forming. “Depends on what you want to know.”
“How did you know about the septic tank?”
“When we were nine or ten, Holland and I used to play army. We were best friends, played together all the time back then, when I was at my grandmother’s house, and he was at his. This was before I realized what a psycho he was. His grandmother had workers over there, draining the tank. Holland tricked me. He said I could be the American soldier, and I should jump down in the foxhole, and he’d be the Nazi, and then I should just pop up and shoot him. Next thing I know, he’s dragging a big sheet of plywood over and covering the pit. I was trapped. I couldn’t push it away. It was summertime and I was crying and begging him to let me out, and all the time, I could hear him up there, laughing his ass off. I don’t know how long he left me there. An hour? Eventually, he came back and let me out. But he told me if I ever ratted him out to my parents he’d sneak into my house and cut my throat with a knife. He was a sick little bastard, even then, and he grew up to be a sick, horny teenaged bastard.”
Hattie felt a twinge of sympathy for nine-year-old Davis, being bullied by Holland Creedmore. But then she remembered Lanier Ragan’s fate, and she felt the cold fury burning in the pit of her stomach.
“If it was an accident, how did Lanier’s skull get bashed in? You said she was screaming after she fell. The fall wasn’t what killed her.”
Davis was silent then. He dropped his head to his knees, and she saw his shoulders rise and fall as he wept.
She waited.
When he raised his head, tears glinted on his cheeks. “I was afraid he’d hear her. Holland. He’d been signaling her, with that stupid lantern. ‘Hurry. Hurry.’ We taught ourselves semaphore with an old book we found. Did you know that?”
“You haven’t answered my question. How did you kill her?”
“There was a big rock, like an old piece of coral or something. I kind of went crazy. I grabbed it. And I hit her. And then she was quiet.”
“You mean she was dead, Davis. You killed her. Then what? You ran away and hid?”
“No! I was trying to figure out what to do next. It was raining so hard. I went back to our house and waited for the storm to stop. After a while, I snuck back over there. I saw Holland’s mom. She had a flashlight, and she found the body. I kind of hid behind those big oleanders by the seawall and waited to see what would happen next. Pretty soon, old man Creedmore showed up. I watched them get a tarp from that shed in the backyard. They wrapped her up in it and put her in the shed. Then they left and they took Lanier’s car. It was parked in the driveway over here.”
“When did you move the body?”
“As soon as it was light outside. Holland must have left earlier. I saw his car was gone. I was afraid the Creedmores would come back and call the cops. I thought, if nobody knew where Lanier’s body was, they might think she ran away. Then I saw the big metal manhole cover back there. The rain had washed away a lot of the dirt that had been on top of it. I found a crowbar in the shed, and somehow, I jacked it open. I put her in there, then I got a rake and smoothed the dirt back on top of it, and then I went back to my grandmother’s house. I still had some weed, and there was some vodka left, so I got drunk and then I got stoned, and I guess I fell asleep.”
From off in the distance they heard an approaching police siren. Ribsy raised his snout in the air and began to howl.
Davis lowered his head to his knees and covered his ears with both hands.
70
Blue Light Special 2.0
The flashing blue lights of four police cruisers lit up the Tybee night. Makarowicz read Davis his rights. A uniformed officer led him away, in handcuffs. “I need to see a doctor,” Davis protested. “My hands are bleeding and I think I’m concussed.”
“Just as soon as you give us a statement, we’ll take you to the ER,” Makarowicz called. He looked over at Hattie, who was still holding onto Ribsy’s leash. “I know it’s late, and maybe you’re in shock or something, but I need to get a statement from you, too.”
“Hattie?” Mo’s voice cut through the darkness as he walked up from the seawall. He rushed over to her, and she leaned gratefully into his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she managed. “Tired, but okay.”
Mo looked over at the detective. “Can I take her home now?”