The opening chords identified the song. It was familiar, and Sam knew where it was going. Waylon’s harsh voice with all the miles of three lifetimes, lived between thin and thin. He sat against a side wall watching the patrons of the bar. It was the perfect setting for the song, made it easy for him to settle in and get taken away by the lyric.
Everbody’s lookin’ for some way in,
I’m lookin’ for some way out.
I been wastin’ my time, standin’ in line,
if that’s what it’s all about.
All I got is a job that I don’t like,
and a woman that don’t understand,
So tonight at the bar, I get in my car,
and take off for the promised land.
Drinkin’ and dreamin’, knowin’ damn well I can’t go,
I’ll never see Texas, L.A. or Old Mexico.
But here at this table, I’m able to leave it behind,
Drink till I’m dreamin’ a thousand miles out of my mind.
“I hope that’s not prophetic,” the female voice behind him said.
“Not sure,” Sam answered. “It’s awful tempting.”
“This one of your all-time favorite hangouts?” Karen asked.
“One of them. I like it. You can lose yourself in here without going anywhere.”
“That’s what the song said.”
“Sometimes that’s a good thing,” he said.
“I’ve never been here before.”
“Then you’ve been missing out.”
The Hermit Crab was one of many small, backwoods, shotgun bars scattered throughout the lowcountry. Larkin spotted it one day, early in his time in the area, while he was exploring the creeks and sloughs within a forty mile radius of the home site he had chosen on Matthew’s Island. It was the kind of bar he liked: dark, quiet—except for the music, which he found to his taste—no questions, no pretensions, and far enough away from where he lived to avoid people he normally came into contact with. It was sixteen miles out of Covington and a million miles from anything familiar.
A bar ran the length of the small, square, cinder block building. There was a pool table set in an out-of-the-way corner, a small band stand with an equally small dance floor, an old, neon-lit jukebox and a few tables.
“Sam, are you going to ask me to sit down? You did, after all, call and invite me here, much to my surprise,” she said.
“I’m sorry. Have a seat,” he said with a smile.
“How gracious of you. Now, do you want to tell me what this is all about? I wondered what happened to you.”
“What would you like to drink?”
“What you’re having. Corona’s fine.”
“Shot?”
“You?” she asked.
“Why not?”
“Good.” Sam got up and went to the bar for the drinks.
Waylon was still living in the world of straight-eights and heavy bass and belting out life-lesson song-poems about it. Karen watched Sam walk across the floor, the perfect “don’t bother me; I won’t bother you” attitude showing in his body and his stride. Not cocky, threatening or hostile, just Sam Larkin at his damnable, independent best. He could have been created by Tennessee Williams or William Faulkner. She wished she knew how to achieve that. For all of her professionalism in the work she did, the instability and danger of it, she was still a woman, with a woman’s mentality and a woman’s needs. Sam didn’t appear to need anyone, which made her wonder why he called after three days of silence and asked her to meet him at an off-the-beaten-path bar, miles out of Covington.
He put the drinks on the table, lifted his shot glass, said “Cheers,” drank it down and followed it with a swallow of beer. Karen sipped from her shot glass and let the beer sit.
“It’s a good stop,” she said.
“I like it occasionally. Don’t come here often.”
“I wondered if I’d ever hear from you again,” she said.
“Would you have called if I hadn’t?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I did.”
“Would you like to tell me why? I’m sure it wasn’t to dazzle me with romantic intentions. When you gave me directions, I thought maybe you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“I’m not sure where to start. Something’s happened that I think you should know about, and yet it goes against all of my personal resolve to tell you about it.”
“You want to try to explain that?”
“I didn’t want to get involved in all of this, Karen, but I don’t seem to be able to avoid it,” he said. “I would have liked to have said ‘no’ to you when you explained why you were here and what you wanted. Spent a lot of time thinking about it. However, now something has come up that makes ‘no’ impossible.” Sam took a drink of his beer. “The problem is you’re going to have to let me have input on how you proceed with the information I have and promise to let me know what you’re doing.”
“I can’t do that, Sam; you know that. This is a covert operation.”
“Then I will have to handle this on my own,” he said. “Just wanted to give you the opportunity to cooperate.” She couldn’t tell whether he was serious or being glib. She smiled and shook her head. He didn’t say anything. He was dead serious, she decided.
“Are you telling me you’re going from not being involved to being a ‘loose canon’ out there on your own?”
“Something like that. I don’t have a choice, Karen. A friend of mine has been threatened by the people you’re looking for.”
“You’re sure it’s the same thing I’m working on?”
“Yes, and I have a way in, but I’ve got to protect some people and I need some guarantees. Believe me, I know what can happen when the government decides its got enough information to proceed without restraint and anyone who gets in the way be damned. I paid four years to get that knowledge. I can handle this with you or without you, but with you would make a lot more sense and both of our jobs easier.”
“It’s a job now?” She smiled.
“Looks like it,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. She realized she had never seen such resolve and genuine concern in Sam Larkin before and wondered if it were the first time she was really seeing him at all.
“Sam, I’m missing something here. I don’t know what’s going on, so it’s pretty hard for me to agree to anything. If you tell me something that has a bearing on what I’m working on, I can’t ignore it under any conditions. You know that. On the other hand, you can trust me not to share any information you give me with any federal cowboys. I don’t like them either, and beyond that, I don’t trust them any more than you do. You’re going to have to believe in me, Sam; it’s the best I can offer.”
Sam looked at her. It was hard for him to have faith in any organization that did what government agents and a federal judge had done to him. He felt himself sweating; he always did when there were no options.
“In for a dime, in for a dollar, I guess.”
“I’m not going to let you or anyone you’re involved with get hurt, not if they’re innocent.”
“Do you want to tell me what you’re working on, or do you want me to tell you?”
“You first,” she said.
“Have it your way. I could have guessed—living here—that it’s a drug bust. It’s a primary industry in the lowcountry. People here barely look askance at smuggling. From what I’ve heard, it’s always been a subculture that’s accepted as long as you don’t get caught, but I didn’t know how big.” He saw a surprised reaction in her face. “You don’t know either?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. I really don’t know much of anything. You’re right about the target. As I told you, I’m on a prospecting mission, but I wouldn’t be here for someone selling nickel-bags of grass; I’m sure you know that. What’s happened?”
“Skeeter’s been threatened.”
“Skeeter?”
He told her the story of Cedrick Hamilton’s offer, Skeeter Crewes’ reluctance to get involved, and his coming to Sam for help.
“Hamilton. Wow,” she said. “You said the operation was big. How do you know that?”
“He offered Skeeter twenty-five thousand dollars and expenses to take his family on a three-day vacation. Has to be tons to make that worthwhile,” he said.
“Not if coke is involved.”
“I don’t believe that’s hit here yet, and I don’t think the locals would get involved in it, especially people at Hamilton’s level. Coke people are dangerous. I’m guessing these people are playing at it, as much as one can ‘play’ at it. At this point in time, I think the coke trade is still heading north and getting most of the DEA’s attention, which until now has given the local grass importers an open field.”
“No coke? I don’t know.”
“I believe I do,” he said.
“Think Cedrick’s the head of the operation?”
“No, but I would imagine whoever is, like Cedrick, is a man or men of influence and respect. Otherwise, Cedrick wouldn’t be involved. I know the man, somewhat, and I don’t believe he’s got the balls to do it on his own. Whoever they are, they’re not amateurs—the volume attests to that—but they’re not pros either.”
“You said Skeeter was threatened. Verbally or what?”
“A little more than that. Hamilton flashed a gun,” Sam said.
“That’s surprising, considering what you think about who might be involved and the fact that they’re not pros.”
“It was just a threat, probably something Cedrick did on the spur of the moment to make his point.”
“Could I have another one of these?” She lifted her shot glass.
“Driving?”
“I can handle two,” she said. Sam came back with one drink.
“Not having one?”
“One of us needs to be capable,” he said.
“You’re too perfect, Sam. Ever made a mistake?”
“Obviously one.”
“That wasn’t your mistake,” she said.
“For a long time after, I thought it was, that it was a mistake to ever try to be straight. Prison taught me straight was better.”
“I’d like to hear about that someday.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Where do we go from here?” she asked.
“Your call for the moment.”
Karen Chaney was quiet. She needed to discuss it with Dougherty. Her dilemma was how to tell Sam. It was a calculated risk.
“I need to consult with someone.” She held up her hand. “Don’t say anything. I’m not going to give away any vital information. It’s something I have to do, not because of rules and regulations, but because of me. He’s an old friend who I would trust with my life.” Sam didn’t say anything. “Let me ask you something. What do you know about Charles Clay?”
“The lawyer?” There was disappointment in his face, and she wondered if she had lost him with her ultimatum. “Not much. I’ve never met him, but I’ve never heard anything bad about him. Old Covington family. If you’re in trouble and can afford it, he’s the one to get, or so I’ve been told, not because of his skill, but because of his connections. He on your list?”
“I don’t have a list. I’ve been here two months, and Cedrick Hamilton is the first real lead I’ve gotten. And that came from you. Could make a girl feel inadequate. Actually, Clay’s name did come up in another investigation. Only a phone call. It could be nothing, but it’s the same kind of case, and, with Hamilton involved, he might be a better prospect than I thought.”
“That would be interesting. I guess we also ought to check out the mayor, the police chief, various ministers, doctors and other lawyers.” He said with a smile.
“Don’t be too sure. You may not be far off the track. Are you hungry? I’m getting a little tired of working. I need time to let all of this simmer.”
“I could eat,” he said.
“Such enthusiasm. I’m tired of thinking. I need some fun. I believe tonight’s the first time I’ve seen Sam Larkin start to come down off his pedestal of isolation and join the rest of us mere mortals.” Sam smiled.
“I think that’s a compliment, but I’m not sure. Okay, we’ll quit thinking. And working. Why don’t I take you to dinner, and—”
“Go to my place,” she said with a grin. “I want to see if you’re any different now that you’re human. Could be interesting.”
“I wasn’t human before?”
“Human, maybe. Not involved.”
While they were eating, there was no conversation regarding the case or any other subject that bordered on serious. The weather had changed during dinner. When they left the restaurant, Karen followed Sam’s red tail lights through the rain, which was not heavy, but stimulated a chilling memory of her disastrous trip to Sam’s house the week before. Sam kept her headlights in his rearview mirror, as he led the way.
Not a lot of personal revelations had come to the surface at The Hermit, yet there was a heightened sense of ease in each other’s presence that was different. It was a welcome break in the emotional armor Sam had put on the day he entered prison.
At her townhouse Karen made coffee while Sam poured each of them a brandy in snifters he found in her sparsely-furnished china cabinet. They sat on the couch, looking out at the rain on the river, touching each other and enjoying their new freedom. It was as if a veil of caution had been lifted. There would be time for Cedrick Hamilton, Charley Clay, Skeeter Crewes and Neil Dougherty.
After more than an hour, which passed without notice, Karen curled into him even deeper.
“You’re a different man tonight, Sam.”
“Not really. A little more confused maybe, kind of like a buoy that’s broken away from its anchor. The tide’s taking me somewhere. I just wish I was more comfortable with the ride.”
“Will you ever tell me about you?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“We’ll find a place.”
She took his hand and led him upstairs. In the shower, she soaped his back and enjoyed the sensuous, slick feel of her soapy hands sliding across his skin. He turned and pulled her to him. The hot water, the soap, her breasts pressing into his chest, as he bathed her with his body, caused him to rise against her. She lifted up on tip-toe to position him between her legs. He didn’t enter her, just allowed her to hold him there as their tongues explored each other’s mouth. Without words, they rinsed the soap off their bodies and went to her bed.
Sam kissed her eyelids, her neck and the softness of her lips. He was aware of every reaction her body gave him. Karen wrapped her legs around him and undulated slowly beneath him. She could feel the wave coming and tried to grip it and let it unfurl against her efforts. The anguish of release rose from the very center of her body, in her stomach, beneath her lungs, and freed itself through every part of her. She watched Sam’s mouth open in a soundless gasp and felt him flood her with himself.
Afterwards, after breath returned and nerve-endings were silenced, Sam lay with his head between her breasts, his arms circling under her. It was an exquisite time, a peace derived from the shattering of cares, of pain and of thought. They were left blank, the world gone like a shadow, dissolved, leaving nothing behind. And then they slept.