Matt Hilton - Dead Men's Harvest

We’d found her telephone number en route and a quick call was all it took to arrange the pick-up. Rene Moulder hadn’t even questioned why we were in her neighbourhood or why Rink required immediate attention. She came across as being a no-nonsense type, a professional who just got down to business. Rink was right about something else: she was a pretty little thing. She stood only a fraction of an inch over five feet — albeit in flat work shoes — but was curvy without looking frumpy in her tie-dye skirt and gaudy alpaca-wool cardigan and knitted hat pulled low to her ears. She’d big brown eyes and apple cheeks, ruddy without the application of make-up. It was dark and cool out, and someone rousted from their bed would be feeling the chill, so her attire made sense.

Because I’d explained over the phone that Rink was in a state of undress, she’d brought with her a couple of heavy duvets that she’d wrapped round him. She was brusque, but cajoling as she’d made him comfortable.

‘I barely know her yet,’ I said, ‘but already I like her.’

‘Yeah,’ Rink murmured into the folds of the duvets. ‘Would’ve liked to have gotten to know her better myself. Shit happens, though.’

I didn’t know how Rink and Rene had met; there seemed to be many women in Rink’s past, and it never failed to amaze me how they all were happy to see him when he turned up again.

‘She’s an old girlfriend?’

‘Old commanding officer,’ he corrected.

I knew that Rene Moulder had been no part of Arrowsake while we were there, and before that Rink had been an Army Ranger, so it was unlikely he knew her from those days either. He must have read my confusion because he expounded, ‘She was a medic attached to our troop. She was a major… out of bounds to a lowly grunt like me.’

‘So she went from humans to animals after she got out?’

‘Animals complain less,’ Rink pointed out. ‘And their gratitude is unconditional.’

‘So you won’t be expecting a belly rub afterwards?’

He chuckled. But the act seemed to send a flare of pain through him and he shut up.

‘They were kind of rough on you, I suppose.’

‘Fuckin’ Baron,’ Rink growled. ‘I’m looking forward to a little me time with him.’

Rink told me how Baron had got the drop on him with a Taser. Having been taken to the mansion, Baron had reintroduced the Taser to him to force him into recording the message that was subsequently played back to me in the warehouse at Little Rock. Baron, it seemed, enjoyed causing pain.

‘You know something, brother? I was pleased when that little punk left to go over to Arkansas. I’ve never known a man who could hurt you so bad without killing you. But at the same time, I knew it meant the bastards had got you.’

‘Well, you know different now. We planned for them to take me. It was the only way I could think of to find you before it was too late. Harvey wasn’t sure it’d work, but, well, here we are.’

‘Some plan. Left a hell of a lot to chance, brother.’

‘Worked though, didn’t it?’

He laughed again and this time fought through the pain. ‘Fuckin’ Baron, I think he broke my ribs.’

It was obvious from the multiple bruises on his torso that Rink had been subjected to more than just a stun gun. There were burns, a number of them, but they were outnumbered tenfold by the grazes and haematomas.

‘I’ll save a piece of his arse for you.’

‘No need for saving anything,’ Rink said. ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘Rink, you’re not in any state for it, man.’

‘Frog-giggin’ motherfuckers won’t be enough to stop me.’

‘Rink,’ I said, trying to make him see reason. ‘You need to rest. You need to get well again. If me and Harvey get ourselves killed, we’re going to need someone who can finish the bastards for us. That isn’t going to happen if you get injured again.’

‘I’m good, Hunter.’

‘Sure you are,’ I agreed, ‘but you need to be better.’

Rink scowled at me, but then he adjusted the duvet round his chin. He touched that white scar. ‘Yeah,’ he rumbled.

We pulled into the front yard outside Rene Moulder’s house. It was quaint, and despite her professional brusqueness, I could see that she’d lavished much care on her home. There was nothing brusque about the paint job that had decorated the house. It reminded me of the house in that Calamity Jane movie, when she tried to get in touch with her feminine side. It should have looked twee with the flowers painted over the door lintels, but it didn’t. It looked, well, homely. In contrast the annexe was a utilitarian building: white, with a shingled roof, large blacked-out window in front and a door on which the venetian blind had been lowered. Rene led us to the latter building while Harvey and I supported Rink between us. Sweat was pouring off him before we could get him laid on top of an examination table.

‘Smells like dogs in here,’ Rink muttered.

‘Then you should feel right at home,’ Rene said. She ushered Harvey and me through a connecting door and into her house. ‘I’ve enough to be getting on with. You know how to boil a kettle, gentlemen?’

‘You want us to bring clean towels?’ Harvey asked.

‘He isn’t pregnant.’ She waved us towards a kitchen. ‘Go make yourselves coffee and something to eat. I’ve enough with one patient, I don’t want you two fainting out of hunger, as well.’

There was no hint of a Mr Moulder in residence. The interior of the house was as girly as the outside. Maybe Rene enjoyed the contrast after working in the stark confines of an examination room all day. Harvey and I moved about the kitchen, taking things easy, feeling like a couple of lunks as we fixed a sandwich and a pot of coffee. Sorted with food and drink, we finally sat on chairs padded with gingham-covered cushions, and tried not to make a mess on the pale lemon tablecloth decorated at the edges with blue forget-me-nots. Talk about a clash: I’d never felt so out of place.

When we’d done eating, we cleaned up and put the dishes away, but I refilled my coffee mug. I stuck my head through the connecting door and checked on Rene’s progress. She had Rink’s jeans and boots off, but there was nothing intimate about the way she ran her hands over his body. It was brisk and professional, checking him for breakages and internal damage. Rink’s eyes were open, but he was staring into middle space and wasn’t even aware I’d popped in. Rene had already dressed the ragged cut on his shoulder and cleaned up many of his other grazes. Empty syringes lay in a kidney dish on a counter; antibiotics, I presumed, that had already been administered.

‘Does that hurt?’ I heard her ask him.

‘It does when you jab me with your knuckles, goddamnit!’

‘Aw, quit complaining. Some soldier you are, whining like a little girl.’

I grinned, crept back out of the room and closed the door silently. Harvey was watching me.

‘Sounds like Rink’s going to be fine.’

‘I’m sure he is. You made the right call, though, Harve. He needed looking after and Rene’s the right person for the job.’

‘She’s a tough one, I’ll give you that. She’ll need to be to keep Rink flat on his back for a day or two.’

‘Rink will thank us once we get back.’

Harvey rumbled out a laugh. ‘You good to go?’

‘I think it’s best that we leave while Rink’s otherwise engaged, huh?’

We slipped out of the front door, and rather than take Rene’s pick-up, we jogged back to where we’d left the Jetranger.

Dawn was breaking.

We took off with the first rays of daylight refracted on the windshield, turned north for Virginia and headed for our date with Kurt Hendrickson.