Buck Smoot showed his brothers, twins Burt and Curt, where he wanted them to dig, watched them get started on it, and then rode his four-wheeler off to the far end of the property, where he let himself out through a seldom-used gate. The trees beside the gate bristled with yellow No Trespassing signs, a formality that was wholly unnecessary. Buck didn’t snap the padlock back in place, but closed the gate and looped the heavy chain around the aging posts so it would be easy to get back in after he took care of his business three miles down the road.
He stopped a quarter mile short of the house so the sound of his four-wheeler wouldn’t announce him. He took the three-foot-long section of lead pipe out of the rear utility cage. Tapping the piece of pipe against his leg as he went, Buck strode through the woods toward the Grissoms’ isolated wood-frame house, smiling to himself as he saw the man of the house leaning over the lawn mower with his narrow back to the trees.
What kind of fool doesn’t get himself some kind of a dog to warn him if trouble’s coming? Buck wondered. He had killed the man’s dogs last time he dropped by, but a man living in the country is a fool not to get replacements right away.
The man working on his mower straightened abruptly when he heard footsteps behind him, but the sudden movement threw Buck’s aim off only a little. The pipe came crashing down on the man’s shoulder instead of the back of his head, sending him to the ground in a fetal heap, howling in pain.
Buck waited until Grissom looked up from the ground to speak. “Had to go to the sheriff, did you? What good did you think that’d do you, Grissom? You imagine my buddy was going to do something to me about your lie?”
“Buck, I . . .”
Buck tapped his big open palm with the end of the pipe, delighted that this bastard was trembling from fear and pain.
“Shut up and listen,” Buck said. “Soon’s I finish with you, I’m going to go in your house and see how Miss Molly Grissom is doing. I intend to find out why she lied on me. I bet it was your idea.”
“You . . . you . . .”
“I what?” Buck snarled, raising the pipe over his head and shaking it menacingly.
“Why’d you want to go and rape my Molly? She never harmed you. You hurt her bad, Buck. Wasn’t no call to do that to her.”
“Rape? Is that what she said? How can you rape one that’s been sprawled out under every man in the whole damn county?” Buck said, bringing the pipe down on the man’s left knee with a sickening crack of bone and tissue.
“She said she wanted me to pour it to her. We all know that’s on account you can’t keep her itches scratched. I didn’t hurt her. She likes it rough-and-tumble. She squealed with pleasure the whole time I was putting it to her.”
“Please . . .” Grissom held up both of his hands to prevent a blow to his head. “I won’t say anything. I was mad is all. I’ll forget all about it. Ever bit of it was my fault.”
“I’ll give you something to be mad at, Grissom.” Buck duplicated his blow to the first knee on the other one. Aiming his next few blows, he shattered both of Grissom’s outstretched hands, then broke both of his arms below the shoulders for good measure. “Who you gone run tell now?” he said. “Go call the sheriff now if you think you can dial a telephone.”
Buck thought about crushing the man’s skull, but he held back. He didn’t want to kill him quickly.
“Please, Buck . . . don’t hit me no more. I won’t tell nobody.”
“I ain’t gonna hit you no more, Grissom. I’m gone help you feel better.”
Buck set down the pipe and jerked the man up, tossed him over his massive shoulders, and carried him over to the old well, where he tore the old boards off the circular stone structure.
“Please, Buck . . .”
“I do what I want around here, Grissom,” Buck said as he dropped the skinny man into the hole.
There was a muted splash twenty feet below
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