The Boaz Scorekeeper–Chapter 13

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

All Saturday afternoon I alternated between trips to the bathroom gaging and vomiting and trying to call Wendi.  I just couldn’t get her off my mind, nor could I get rid of the evil sickness that had settled in my gut.  I knew without any doubt that Wendi was the girl I wanted to marry someday.  I realized that many, maybe most, intelligent people would say that it was rather naive of me to think or say such a thing.  To these I would say, I have seen how she looked at me, talked with me, felt the sweet vibrations from the tone of her voice, sensed the honest touches from her fingers, and tasted the sincerity from her lips, even if the kiss was two seconds long as she was leaving.  That’s how I knew.  But that’s just half the story.  I needed to know if she still liked me enough to go on that date we talked about.  I needed to tell her how sorry I was about last night and how I tried to help her.  I so wanted to tell her that if she gave me a chance I would never fail her again.  At 10:30 p.m. I made my final call to Wendi.  Again, all I got was her answering machine.

My stomach felt settled enough Sunday morning to eat some oatmeal and toast.  But I didn’t feel well enough to go to church—at least this is what I told my mother.  On the way back to my bedroom I went by the den to try Wendi even though it was only 7:00 a.m.  A woman answered my call with a gruff hello.  I asked if I could speak with Wendi and she said, “Who is this?  Where is Wendi?  Do you have my daughter?”  I was shocked, almost speechless, and more afraid than I had ever been.  I finally said I didn’t know where Wendi was.  She asked me again who I was and how I knew Wendi.  I told her my name and that I had met her at Boaz Dairy Queen a few weeks ago.  Before she could say another thing, I realized how easy it was to lie.  The woman asked me for my phone number and told me that Wendi and her sister Cindi were missing, that they had gone to Boaz Friday night to hang out but had never made it home.  We talked a while longer with her getting more angry and sad every second.  After we hung up, I walked to my bedroom and fell into bed.  This was the first and only time I have ever experienced what I believe was a panic attack.

After an hour of cold sweats and hot flashes, twisting and turning in bed, and sitting on the floor against my desk breathing deeply, I got dressed and told Mom I had decided to go to church. 

I waited in the church parking lot for over an hour.  Fred and John arrived in separate cars about the same time and parked fifty feet or so away from me.  I got out of my car, slammed the door, and shouted towards them: “what did the five of you do with Wendi and Cindi?” 

They walked over to me and John said, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“I spoke with Wendi’s Mother this morning and she said that neither Wendi or Cindi ever came home Friday night.  What happened to them?  What have ya’ll done?”

“Hold on Tanner. You’re way out of line here.  Randall, James, and John dropped them off at the Dairy Queen early yesterday morning.  You already know that.” Fred said.

“I don’t know that.  All I know is the three of them left with Wendi and Cindi around 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning after all five of you took turns raping them.  I do know that.  And, I know that you all had a powerful motive to get rid of them.”

“Tanner, settle down.  Go home and keep your mouth shut.  You better start thinking a little more clearly.  If your mouth starts spewing anything about this you are cooking your own goose.  Don’t forget you were at Club Eden with the rest of us, and you had sex with Wendi before any of the rest of us.  If you don’t want prison, or punishment for breaking your oath you best keep your mouth shut.  Now, get the hell out of my face.”  John said.

I drove back home knowing what John said was untrue.  Wendi and I did not have sex.  Even though I knew exactly what happened at Club Eden I knew I was poorly equipped to defend myself against lies that would spring forth from the Flaming Five and their powerful families.  My family was an outsider, not connected socially or economically with the entrenched families of my so-called friends.

I hardly left my bedroom until Tuesday morning.  At breakfast, my Mother asked me why I was so depressed.  I told her that since High School was over I felt like I was out on the ocean on a piece of driftwood, being tossed about, without any direction or hope of ever reaching shore.  She said that was not true.  She reminded me that I was headed to Snead State Junior College in the Fall.  She encouraged me to get out and find a summer job.  After I finished breakfast I helped her clear off the table.  She said, “read the paper and you will realize how fortunate you are.”  I picked up the Sand Mountain Reporter and read the front-page headline: “Car of Missing Girls Found.” 

I read the article and learned that a county deputy had found a blue Plymouth Valiant registered to a Bill Murray of Douglas.  He had identified the car as his and the one his two daughters were driving Friday night when they left home and headed to Boaz to hang out with some friends.  The car was found abandoned in the woods off Little Cove Road south of Boaz.  There was no sign of the missing girls.

I had just brought the newspaper back to my room when Mother came in looking like she had seen a ghost.  “The sheriff is here asking to speak with you.”  I had no time to think or breathe for that matter.  I walked out the side porch to see two of the biggest cops I had ever seen.

“You Micaden Tanner?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know Wendi and Cindi Murray of Douglas?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know them?”

“I met them a few weeks ago at the Dairy Queen in Boaz?”

“When is the last time you saw them?”

“That Saturday night, at the Dairy Queen.”

“And you’re sure you haven’t seen them since?”

“I’m sure.”

“Nellie Murray told us you called for Wendi last Sunday morning.”

“I did.  I wanted to ask her out on a date.  She gave me her phone number at the Dairy Queen.”

“Do you know that Wendi and Cindi are missing?”

“I just read about it in the Sand Mountain Reporter just before you got here.”

“Mr. Tanner, you better not be lying to us.  We will find out if you are.”

After they left I almost collapsed into the swing.  I hated myself.  For some surprising and strange reason, I thought about the Apostle Peter and how he had lied about knowing Jesus after he was arrested.  I leaned back and looked at the porch ceiling knowing that my brand of Christianity was virtually worthless when my own skin was over the fire.

For the rest of the summer, between daily trips to Boaz and Albertville looking for a summer job, and reading the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday editions of the Sand Mountain Reporter, I stayed in my bedroom trying to figure out what would happen to me when the cops found Wendi and Cindi.  Deep in my heart I knew that they were dead and that was all because of what the Flaming Five had done.  Every day I contemplated running away but something kept me home and believing that surely truth and justice were still alive.