Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Madelyn
Water washes away a lot of things. Dirt, grime, blood... but it doesn't do so well with guts. Specifically, the ones that came out of Oliver.
Even though Jackson said he had a crew coming, I still want to scrub the tub before I get in it.
The bag Jackson brought covers all the extras needed, such as another pair of clothes, basic soap, bleach, towels, but the arsenal packed is still very basic.
I get he wants to appear put together for outward appearances.
I just can not bring myself to stand in the middle of Oliver's mess without getting rid of most of it.
I make my way to the bag to take another bottle of bleach and decide to look outside. The sun is setting behind the treeline as I wonder how much longer Jackson will be gone. Hopefully, he will make it back before dark.
I scan the area just to see if we are alone, to find that the fisherman is still in the middle of the lake. A dark thought creeps into my head as to why he is still around when it's been hours.
I shrug. If Jackson thinks he's a threat, he will take care of him. Since he hasn't, I guess I shouldn’t worry. Besides, many people fish all day, and he's been here before.
I locate the bleach hiding between our newly acquired wads of cash and head back to the tub to cut the water on.
Opening the cap, I pour the cleaner all around the sides, top, and bottom of the tub.
Since this is the second round of cleaning, the guts and body tissue are washing down the drain better.
It's enough to calm my nerves about getting in.
After turning on the shower head, I strip and get in to take the fastest shower of my life. One soap wash and rinse later, most of the evidence is now down the drain.
Jackson also ordered me to leave my bloody clothes behind, so I drop them in the garbage. I'm sure his will join mine when he gets back... whenever that will be. Dumping a body shouldn't take too long, especially for someone that's more expert than not.
A knock sounds at the door, and the noise causes the air in my lungs to deflate. Holy shit. What if he's set me up? Have I really been so stupid that I read him completely wrong?
Taking my clothes, I put them on as quickly as I can and shut the bathroom door. Most of the mess is just in that room. Thank God.
Another knock vibrates the room, this one harder than the last. I force myself to swallow any sort of reservation and peek out the window.
I breathe a little easier seeing the silhouette of the old fisherman. Still, the timing couldn't be any more inconvenient.
Before he can knock again, I open the door a crack, hoping this is nothing more than a quick introduction. "Hello. May I help you?" My voice gives a solid performance of feeling braver than I feel.
Hazel eyes surrounded by wrinkles stare through the slit. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. I'm having a little trouble with my boat. Would you mind getting your husband to check it out?”
Heat rises to my face. He either noticed us together the other day or an hour ago fucking on the car. I knew we should have gone inside. Either way, it's not a good idea to let him know I'm alone. Just in case. “He's in the shower. When he gets done, I'll send him your way.”
The man's gaze drops to the floor. “I see. My boat is caught on something at the edge of the lake. I can’t seem to get it free. Maybe you can help me?” He glances back toward the setting sun.
“I wouldn't mind waiting, but with night approaching, it would be like leaving my savings behind till morning. It would be hard to see with no light down there.”
He has to be at least eighty, judging by the age spots on his face.
I open the door a smidge more to get a better look at him.
Dressed in chest waders and rubber boots, the old man could pass for what I remember of my grandpa.
Grandpa Sam was more of a creek wanderer than a fisherman, but still he always had to make sure he had his waders to prevent getting soaked.
I hate to know that this guy’s boat is basically all he has.
Still... “I am not sure how I could help you?”
His lips curve into a smile. “A strong lady like you is really all I need. The strength of two is better than the strength of one, you see.”
I glance around the man's head, hoping to see Jackson in the distance. “I'm not sure,” I reply.
The man follows my gaze. “All it needs is a little pull. Should come up out of the water.” He steps back a little, seemingly to make room for me, and that's when I notice the fishing pole in his right hand.
“Besides, I think you and your husband owe me a favor, seeing you stole my lunch the other day.”
Yikes! He noticed. “I'm sorry about that,” I whisper suddenly feeling guilty again for taking it.
“All is forgiven. He winks at me. But I could still use the help...” his voice trails off as his eyes laser in on my face.
This guy just isn't going to let it go, and I can’t keep waiting for Jackson to appear. Even when he does, the probability that Jackson allows the old man to live is slim now that he's talking to me. I can't have his death on my conscience, too.
“Okay,” I smile while holding out my hand for a shake. “We can try it. What do we have to lose?”
The old man accepts the handshake, his grip surprisingly strong. “Plenty”, he mutters before releasing my hand.
My eyes narrow. “What did you say?”
“Oh.” He bats away my confusion. “I meant I have nothing to lose because I'm confident, we can release the boat. Not to mention, with your husband soon joining us, there's really no way this won't work out.”
I force a weak smile. “I see.” There are many reasons why this won't work out for him. The main one being the "husband" he speaks about. “Lead the way, Mr.? I didn't get your name.”
“You can call me Perkins, ma'am.” He sways a little before taking off in the grass, his boots barely lifting off the ground.
I catch up to him and offer my arm as a means of stability. “Okay Perkins. Well, don't worry, we will get you fixed up.”
Perkins’ fingers grip my forearm, causing indentations in my skin. “I appreciate this. It makes my life a lot easier."
I pick up my pace. Old or not, the quicker I can get away from him, the better.
Perkins has no trouble keeping up. In fact, he seems just as anxious. We walk together at a brisk pace until the edge of the lake is only a few feet in front of us. Cattails and tall blades of grass surround the boat resting at the edge of the lake.
“How do you want to do this, Perkins?”
He removes his hand and puts some space between us. With Perkins being farther away, I realize just how much my body is reacting to his presence. My hands feel clammy. A cold sweat washes over me.
“I figure I’ll get back in the water and push while you stand at the ledge and pull, seeing I got the waders,” Perkins interrupts my thoughts.
“That makes sense,” my mouth pushes out the words with difficulty.
“I'm ready then,” I agree, even though I really regret coming down here.
Still, I push through and turn to the boat.
It's not unusual for boats to get stuck, nor is it that an old man needs help, I remind myself while trying to get my emotions in check.
Perkins glances at me and goes into the water, never letting go of his fishing pole. I wait until he is in position before grabbing hold of the front of the boat.
“On the count of three, hum?”
I nod but wonder why he's not allowing both of his hands to be free. The fishing pole could easily go in the boat.
“One.”
“Two.”
Perkins finally leans closer and places one of his hands in the correct position to push. “Three...”
I pull right on cue, my arms stretching out as far as they will go. The boat moves with ease, as if it wasn't stuck at all. As soon as it hits the dirt, the strength with which I was pulling back fires, and I land on my ass.
The old man pushes the boat out of the way to stand over me. Water droplets land on my face and stomach as I stare into eyes that have turned cold and cunning. “Thank you for the help, Madelyn. You've made everything so easy.”