It was 3:00 PM Saturday afternoon before Spectrum’s serviceman arrived. He was thirty minutes late but had called Ted to let him know. “Sorry, last night’s storm has us scrambling.” The fireplug shaped woman surprised Ted as she exited her pickup. Terrie had sounded like a man over the phone.
The temperature was hovering at freezing, so Ted went inside the cabin. Terrie wanted to check the panel first. She walked to the side of the house and quickly noticed the incoming cable had been severed.
“That was easy to diagnose.” Terrie said, joining Ted in the great room.
“How so?”
“Someone clipped your line; cut it in half.” Terrie pulled her right hand across her throat to dramatize her words.
“Damn. Probably the same person who took my whiskey. And left the front door unlocked.” The service lady gave both affirmative and negative nods, one after the other.
“Well, I can’t help you there, but I can splice your incoming and have you going in fifteen minutes.” Terrie exited the cabin while Ted watched, confused. He wondered if the Spectrum rep was a trans: a male trying to become a female, or the opposite.
Ted shook his head and walked to the rear of the cabin. He opened the blinds and looked through the sliding glass door across the porch and to the over-sized and barren fire pit. He closed his eyes and recalled the many times he and his buddies had drank beer and delivered bullshit stories of their female conquests. But, what he’d truly love is to return to younger days, a simple life with Julie, even if they didn’t have an extra dime.
The suction from the front storm door and a triple ding from his iPhone startled Ted. He turned. “Done already?”
“Yep. You should be good to go, but let’s check.” Terrie walked in front of the giant screen TV and picked up the remote sitting atop the entertainment center. After a few seconds, Ted watched Alabama’s quarterback Mac Jones complete a thirty-yard pass against Auburn. “Just in time to watch the massacre.” Terrie flipped a few channels before activating Netflix. It wouldn’t connect. “Where’s your router?” Ted pointed to the master bedroom and waited for a quick minute. “That should do it.”
Ted walked Terrie outside and watched him, her, drive away, waving an Alabama hat outside the driver’s side window. Back inside, Ted removed his iPhone and sat on the couch, intent on watching at least the first half. What he heard changed everything.
The break in Wi-Fi service had delayed his cell notifications. When Julie had left him and before she moved into the cabin, Ted had hired a friend from Atlanta to install two devices. One was a video camera hidden inside a smoke alarm. The second was an audio recorder secluded inside a largemouth bass mounted next to an eight-point buck above the front door.
Ted would have to remove the memory card from the video device and insert it into a PC before reviewing its contents. However, the audio was already on his phone, sent via email after Terri restored his Internet service. Ted opened the clip and pressed PLAY. The voices were clear but unfamiliar. One was a female; one was a male. Ted replayed the recording three times:
Female: “I see you like playing in the mud.” Long pause.
Male: “Don’t we need to remove the recorders?” Minimal pause.
Female: “Done. Now, come on. I can’t wait to weigh our catch.”
“Oh shit,” was all Ted could say. He stood and pulled a dining room chair to the doorway leading to the master bedroom. He climbed up, reached for the smoke detector, and opened its outer door. Inside was another door. Ted removed the memory card and stepped off the chair, nearly falling as he questioned and doubted whether the female voice was Julie’s, and whether she had found a new playmate.
During the return drive to his house, he concluded it was unlikely his former lover knew about the recorders. So, what was the man’s voice referring to?
All Ted could say as he parked in front of his sprawling mansion was, “shit, shit, shit, if it’s not Julie, who the hell could it be?”
***
Ted was more confused after watching the video. The woman inside his cabin could be Julie. The two were the same or similar height. But something was off. The woman on the screen was too thick. Ted admitted the camouflaged outfit could be the difference, especially if it was double or triple layered. Of course, identification would have been easier if the woman hadn’t blackened her face. Woman? Ted questioned his gender analysis; maybe the figure was a man.
After an unsuccessful attempt to call Ray, Ted had driven to Julie’s house. Her car was missing. He thought about calling but decided against it. Instead, he checked Julie’s Facebook Page. Last night, contemporaneous with the date/time stamp on both the audio and video recordings, Julie was enjoying a meal at Cotton Row in Huntsville. Somewhat tentatively, Ted concluded his estranged wife wasn’t the intruder. Maybe Ray would know.
It was 5:30 PM when Ted parked outside the Lodge’s triple-car garage. Ray was unloading groceries. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Why didn’t you call?” Ray said, motioning for Ted to grab some Walmart bags from the back of the Suburban.
“I did. Both your cell and your land line.”
“I don’t enjoy talking when I’m in such a public place. Too many eavesdroppers around.”
After two more trips each, Ted sat at the breakfast bar while Ray put away the groceries. “You hit the nail on the head.”
“Uh?” Ray glanced at Ted before shoving a box of dishwasher detergent underneath the sink.
“Someone was inside the cabin last night, both before and after we arrived.”
“Holy shit. How do you know?”
Over the next hour, Ted and Ray reviewed and discussed the two recordings. According to Ray, there was little doubt the woman on the video was Lillian. The main giveaway was the knitted Deerhunter toboggan he had given her for Christmas two years ago. The second giveaway was the female voice from the audio recording. “I’d know that voice anywhere.”
“Then, who’s the man?” Ted asked, accepting a Budweiser from Ray.
“Now that I’ve spoken to Jane, I think I know. It’s Lee Harding.” Ray removed his iPhone from his shirt pocket, clicked a couple of buttons, and laid it on the counter next to the sink. “Listen to what she said.”
Jane had reported that Lee had called her this morning. He relayed that he had found several of Rachel’s diaries. Lee had asked two questions. One concerned Jane’s knowledge of what happened the night Kyle had gone missing, particularly whether Ray and Rachel had dropped Jane off at her house while Kyle was still in Ray’s truck. The second concerned Rachel’s pregnancy and abortion. Jane had been certain of both her responses. She had sworn that Ray had first dropped Kyle at the end of his driveway before driving to her house further down King Street. She had also sworn that Rachel had her abortion before she and her family returned to China in the middle of tenth grade.
“It’s good to hear Jane is still on your side but what I don’t understand is why Lee and Lillian would come to my cabin.” Ted said, shaking his head.
“We have to assume they heard every word uttered after we arrived, including my argument with Buddy.” Ray paused and took two long draws of his beer. “Thank God there was no mention of the Hunt House.”
Ted stood and pushed the bar stool back under the counter. “Ray, promise you’ll protect me. From the recordings, I’m just along for the ride. I had nothing to do with you and Buddy.”
“You dumb fuck. It was your place. You were there. You’re guilty by association.” Ray’s declaration spurred Ted to stand, walk toward the giant fireplace in the den, and return to the kitchen. Ted was clearly worried.
“I think we better protect each other. We both are at risk of going to prison. You for the fiasco with your Albertville cheerleader and the Hunt House fire, among a long list of other things, and me for financial corruption.”
“And you for arson.” Ray added.
“The hell you say. All I did was manipulate the police.” Ted had placed an anonymous call to the Boaz dispatcher who’d sent three patrol cars to a domestic violence inspired shooting outside Barry’s Barbecue south of town. This had provided safe passage for Buddy and Eric’s visit to Thomas Avenue and the Hunt House.
“That’s conspiracy to commit a crime you dumb ass.” Ray hated lawyers but had always been fascinated by the law.
“Come on, let’s go to The Shack and eat a steak. While we can.” Ray nodded, flipped off the kitchen lights, and followed Ted outside.
***
Lillian’s iPhone vibrated. For the past two hours, she had napped on her couch under a throw. She reached for the coffee table and read the text notification. Device A triggered an hour ago. She tossed her heavy Afghan aside and sat up.
She pressed PLAY. Lillian didn’t recognize the voice who said, “You hit the nail on the head.” The second voice was clearly Ray.
Lillian stood after the third statement. “Damn, that has to be Ted King.”
She rewound and replayed the words that scared her to death: “Someone was inside the cabin last night, both before and after we arrived.” Lillian listened and re-listened for thirty minutes, alternately rewinding and fast-forwarding at critical spots. Finally, she stood and walked through the kitchen, across the back porch, and toward the pond, dreading and postponing her call to Lee. “What a fucking mess I’ve made. I’ve just given Ray the motivation to kill Lee and me.
The Pencil-Driven Life 