Under the Blood Tree Read online

  He wasn’t concerned about his family’s health. His beautiful wife, Cheryl, and two young daughters, age six and four, were in excellent health. Life was good, and improving, as long as he kept his mind on work at the office, kept his family happy at home, and kept the two separate.

  Tommy worked long hours, ensuring that his customers were properly insured. He used every tool at his disposal to recruit new customers. The growing business was largely based on referrals. His excellent reputation in the community, and his business ties through a number of civic organizations, also helped him connect with new leads.

  His wife entered the kitchen and noticed him staring off into nothingness…again. Something was on his mind, which wasn’t unusual. He was a deep thinker, his thoughts frequently wandering to the next great idea. She snuck up behind him and cautiously got his attention by clearing her throat while placing a hand on his left shoulder.

  Tommy tensed but didn’t flinch. His mug of coffee remained steady. He smiled, the back yard coming into focus, as the trance disappeared. From behind him, Cheryl’s arms looped around his waist and she planted her head between his shoulder blades.

  She commented, “The girls are dressed and ready for school. They should be down in a few minutes.”

  Tommy put his left arm over his wife’s arms and squeezed lightly, then took a sip of coffee. He set the cup on the ceramic countertop and turned around, taking his wife in a warm embrace.

  She looked up into his eyes. “Hey, sweetie, what’s got y’all twisted up?”

  She knew him too well, read him like a cheap airplane novel. He gave her a weak smile. “This drought. I mean, look at the lawn. It’s baked to a crispy brown. I hate to walk on it, the dirt’s so hard underneath. Gonna be another scorcher today, and tomorrow, and Sunday.”

  “It can’t last forever, baby. I know we haven’t had a good rain since…well, it’s been a while. But, like the Good Book says, this too shall pass.”

  “Yeah, but it’s already done a lot of damage. Insurance companies are paying out a lot of claims. I’m worried.”

  He hugged Cheryl tight and kissed her lightly on the lips until he heard his older daughter say, “Yuck. Don’t come in here, Mommy and Daddy are kissin’.”

  The younger daughter smiled, then mimicked her sister. “Yuck.” The girls laughed. It made Tommy smile, despite his mood.

  Cheryl said, “Okay girls. Get your book bags and lunches and head out to your dad’s car. Just another week of school, then you get a break for summer.” She raised her arms in the air and yelled, “Yea!” Her girls joined her in the cheer.

  Cheryl turned back to Tommy and put her arms back around his waist. “Try to relax, dear. No matter what, we have the girls and we have each other.” She smiled at the man who had been her high school hunk, her college study partner, her best friend, and her lover. She loved him deeply to this day. “See you around six?”

  “Wouldn’t miss dinner with my favorite girls. Where would you like to go?”

  “Why don’t we stay in and order a pizza? I’ll pick up a movie. Any preference?”

  Tommy thought for a moment. “Not really. You and the girls pick. Lady’s choice tonight.”

  They kissed again. Tommy and the girls headed for the garage.

  * * *

  Tommy dropped the girls off at Trinity Episcopal School. As they exited his gold Lexus, he told them to study hard even though the year was nearly over. He added that their mother would pick them up at the end of the day. He hugged them and kissed them. The girls turned and headed to the building, meeting up with a couple friends at the door. He smiled as he turned and got back in his car to head for the office near the intersection of South Main Street and Fair Road.

  On the ten-minute drive from the school to the office, his mind wandered. He thought about the drought. He hated lying to his wife about anything and in reality, he had not lied. He really was worried about the drought, but not because of his company or its stock value or his clients. He was worried about shrinking lake levels…actually, just one lake level – Cypress Lake. He knew Cheryl was right, the drought would pass. The big question was When. The second question was Would it be soon enough. He believed the answers to his questions were No time soon and No, it won’t.

  * * *

  By 7:30 AM, Andy Pepperdine was already at Low Country Seed and Supply Company, his farm supply store and warehouse. He liked to be the first to arrive and greet his employees with a smile and breakfast; usually doughnuts or bagels, sometimes egg-bacon-and-cheese sandwiches, or roll-ups, and coffee. He didn’t have to do it, he just did it. What didn’t get devoured by his employees was immediately taken to a homeless shelter down the street. It was a tradition that his father started years before. When his father decided that, at age fifty-five, he and his wife should retire, move to Naples, Florida, and turn the business over to their son, Andy decided to continue the daily ritual.

  His employees weren’t too sure how the transition would go. They loved working for Marvin Pepperdine. They found that little changed when Andy took the reins of the company. In fact, things improved slightly, if that was possible. Andy started a profit sharing program and a voluntary service program, where employees could work up to four hours each week at a charitable organization of their choice and get paid by the company. They just had to show proof of participation for the charity. It was a win-win for the company and the community.

  Andy sat at his desk, reviewing the month-to-date totals, but found that he could not concentrate. He subconsciously rubbed the palm of his left hand where a scar had developed some sixteen years ago. A small cut, made with his pocket knife, had initially not healed well. He played with the cut with dirty hands, not allowing the wound to scab over and heal naturally. At the time, it didn’t look like much, but over the next two days, the wound got infected. Before he finally told his mother, it was open and oozing.

  The trip to the doctor was more painful than the treatment as his mother lectured him the entire time about taking care of himself. After a deep cleaning, treatment with some kind of antibacterial salve, and repeated admonishments to keep the wound clean and covered, the healing took about two weeks. The resulting scar was about an inch long by a quarter-inch wide. That wasn’t so bad, except that the skin was harder and less flexible than the rest of the skin on his palm, making it difficult to grip anything.

  As he continued to rub the scar, he thought about the extended drought. He drove past Cypress Lake the previous Friday. The level was down significantly, the drought-enhanced shoreline extending out, twenty to thirty feet beyond historical norms. He was so distracted that he almost clipped a car coming in the opposite direction.

  When he got home that evening, his wife noticed his glum expression. They spoke about the drought and what it was doing to local farmers – their customers. It would no doubt hurt business, but they would weather the storm. They would even provide whatever assistance they could to help others in their time of need. Their ten-million-dollar net worth would take a hit, but it would be nothing compared to some farmers who lived year to year, relying on a good harvest, and decent crop prices for their survival.

  As he had many times over the years, he thought about how expensive a good criminal lawyer might be. After all, they hadn’t reported a crime when they knew one had been committed. Tommy said that they needed to just forget about it, as if they had not been to the lake that night, they had not seen the dead man in the car, and they had not helped Carly Sue push it into the lake. They had not even taken the time to ask Carly Sue how a dead body came to be in the car. It all happened so fast...

  “Mornin’, Andy.”

  Andy jumped, having been jolted out of his thoughts by his General Foreman, Lucas Grieves, walking into his office with a bagel lathered in blueberry cream cheese in one hand, and a steaming, hot cup of coffee in the other.

  “Mornin’, Lucas.”

  “Drought gotcha in a fog this morning?”

  “That easy to tell?”

  “Oh yeah. I think everybody’s got the funk over it. Gonna put lots of folks in the poor house, that’s for sure. We need the government to step in and give us some guarantees that we’re not all gonna go broke.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath with that bunch up in Washington. They can’t even agree to disagree. I think we ought to toss ‘em all out and start over.”

  Lucas grinned. People screamed about it every election cycle. Throw out the bums and put in a new set of bums. But the old bums always seem to win.

  Lucas said, “Our best bet is to keep praying. That’s got as good a chance as any to end this drought and get our customers back in business. I guess that’s why the good Lord said to stock up when ya got plenty, and ration when you got little. Something like that.” Lucas took another big bite of his bagel, then washed it down with a swig of coffee.

  Andy gave a weak smile. “Would you mind looking over these month-to-date reports when you get a few minutes? I’m going to take a look around, greet everybody as they come in. I’ve got to get my mind in a right place, get outta this gloom and doom. Maybe a chat with the crew will help me think positive. What do you think?”

  “It can’t hurt. This drought, the heat, I know it’s on everybody’s mind. Anything we can do to keep us and the crew thinkin’ positive is good. We’ve got it pretty darn good here. Maybe if we think about how much better off we are than some folks out there, it might help.”

  “You got that right.” He smiled. “Did you leave any bagels for anyone else?”

  Lucas smiled back. “I think there’s a crumb or two.”

  Andy went out by the table that had the daily breakfast spread. He smiled as he greeted his employees and spoke with them about their families, their hobbies,
their children and grandchildren – anything but the weather. The men and women appeared to appreciate their boss being so interested in their lives. If they came in with a bit of the blues, they left the breakfast table uplifted, if even just a little, before they started their workday.

  Andy headed back to the office. Lucas was talking on the phone when he stepped in.

  He heard only one-half of the conversation, but Lucas’ face was tense. When he was done, Lucas said, “That was Curt Hardy with the City Water Department. They said they’re calling all their commercial customers to let us know first, before they announce it to the residents. Their gonna start rationing water. We have to reduce usage by forty percent.”

  Andy’s heart sank. Hearing Curtis Hardy’s name, he wondered if Curtis was feeling the pressure from the drought. Apparently, the city believed that the drought would continue, unabated. After talking with his employees, he felt pretty good. Now the room seemed to close in around him.

  He said a prayer to himself. Lord, please protect my family from the coming storm. They had no part in this. And Lord, I don’t know how deep that lake is, but we could sure use some rain…a lot of rain if you don’t mind.

  Chapter 2

  Twenty-eight-year-old Curtis Hardy called the staff meeting to order. Eighteen of the twenty-one staff members of the Statesboro Water Department were on hand. Two other staff members were on afternoon and evening shifts, and the other employee was on sick leave. Everyone knew the topic: the unrelenting drought, and what was expected of the staff in the coming days and weeks.

  Statesboro City Council, during its last session, very loudly and publicly demanded that city staff do everything within its power and budget to make sure that water supplies remained adequate and safe. Without a reason for concern, other than the drought had been going on for much longer than anyone expected, the council wanted positive and visible action. In other words, they wanted proof that city employees were carrying out their duties to the best of their abilities.

  Curtis had worked for the City of Statesboro since his graduation from Georgia Southern University with a degree in Chemistry and a minor in Business Management. With just six years’ experience, he was among the more junior employees in the department, but he was a quick study. He put in extra, unpaid hours learning the testing procedures, records requirements, and reporting requirements to local, state, and federal government agencies. He told his boss that he did it so that he could provide the best possible service to the citizens of Statesboro. The story was very convincing.

  The real reason for his constant efforts was that the extra work kept him busy, both in mind and body. It kept his mind from wandering back to that night at Cypress Lake. He turned fear and despair into positive energy. All his free time was devoted to learning his job and implementing changes to improve the staff’s day-to-day activities. It paid off for him in recognition and a promotion to management.

  On occasion, he would think back to the reason he studied so hard in school and why he dedicated his time to learning the ins and outs of water treatment. The reason was more evident with each rainless day, with each news broadcast showing dry, dusty fields with wilted crops, and with every shot of lakes with drastically depleted levels. He studied to keep his mind off his past. He kept his nose to the grindstone, wishing that the car in Cypress Lake would just rust away and become part of the lake bottom. With each rainless day, he knew that there would soon be a day of reckoning.

  “Hey, Curtis, we gonna get this meeting going? We all got work to do.”

  A low chuckle worked its way around the room. The team needed something to pop the anxiety bubble that hung in the room like a cloud of smoke.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. I zoned out.” Curtis looked around the room and gave his department a weak smile. He knew that they had read the newspapers, and listened to the news, so they were well aware of the edict from City Council. He just had to make sure that they all heard it from him. He had the respect of most of the staff, but there were a few old-timers who felt the need to show their wealth of experience at his expense. It was true that they had years on him. It was also true that they were his employees. He wanted to make sure he used them appropriately, but it was a tenuous relationship.

  Curtis started out saying, “If I say something that y’all already know, humor me. I need to make sure this gets said so that y’all hear the same message through me. The City Council…”

  Curtis repeated everything that the council members had said in their meeting. There were just a handful of questions, some related to overtime, which would be required. It was a good-news, bad-news scenario. It was good that the city was paying overtime and that the staff would get a chance to fatten their wallets. It was also good for the guys who liked to come to work and take it easy, because there wouldn’t be much in the way of actual work. This was more or less a way to show the residents that the city was doing everything in its power to guarantee that they would turn on their taps and get plenty of good quality water despite the drought. It was bad news because all time-off, including scheduled vacations, was cancelled at a time when kids were getting out of school, and family vacations were high on many employees’ priority lists. For Curtis, the good news was that he wouldn’t get blamed for the cancelled vacations.

  But there was plenty of bad news waiting for him at the bottom of Cypress Lake.

  * * *

  Billy Ray Duke had cursed to himself when he found out his latest work assignment. He and eleven other inmates from the Bulloch County Correctional Institute were hauled across the county from the jail to clean up along the shore of a lake west of Statesboro. It was an area he knew all too well.

  Unlike his old, childhood friends, who all worked long hours to focus their attention, Billy Ray forgot all his problems by drinking too much. He had dabbled in pills and cocaine, but found them too costly, though he did sell marijuana from time to time for extra cash. He liked beer and whiskey a lot, the latter being his preference. But the hard liquor went to his head quicker, wiping out any moral compass that existed in that thick skull of his. Typically not a mean drunk, his lack of control put him in a number of precarious situations over the years.

  Before he turned twenty, he had married. It lasted all of four months. That was when the young woman realized that he was intoxicated more than he was sober. He spent more time at the county jail than with her at his broken-down trailer in Cypress Lake Mobile Home Park. When asked if she wanted the trailer as part of the divorce settlement, she replied, “That rusted piece of crap? No thanks.”

  Time had not been kind to Billy Ray. The three-quarter-inch scar on his forehead between his eyebrows had stayed a creamy white while the rest of his skin was tan and wrinkled from too much time outdoors, too much hard drinking, heavy smoking, and years of constant worry. He did odd jobs for neighbors at the mobile home park, and he was employed from time to time, but he never held a job for a stretch longer than a few months. Whenever he was given a task by an employer, his mind wandered. He couldn’t concentrate longer than a few minutes unless he was reading a good novel. It wasn’t that he was bored. It was that his anxiety level was off the charts. He considered suicide a number of times but always chickened out. Now, as he stepped out of the prison van onto the shores of Cypress Lake, he wished that he had followed through on any one of his attempts.

  The van pulled off Cypress Lake Road at the very path that Billy Ray and his friends used some sixteen years earlier. The gate had been repaired, but there was no lock in place. The sky was crystal clear, as it had been for well over a month now. A powerful high-pressure system hung over the southeast keeping any hint of moisture at bay. Even with scant humidity in the air, a temperature over ninety degrees guaranteed the chain gang would break a sweat today.

  The driver pulled alongside the stand of trees that had been on the edge of the water. The drought had moved the water’s edge some forty feet back. The exposed shoreline that had once been under water was parched and cracked. He couldn’t remember the direction the car had floated that night, but he was pretty sure that the trees were blocking his view of the lake where the car finally sank.