The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [48]
He focused on the TV behind her. It was another one of the things about Debbie that DeWayne found disquieting. She always had to have something playing:, radio, CD player, TV. It was as if she was afraid of silence. Even when they were doing it, she had to have the TV on. He was sure she wasn’t watching it as they did it, though. Pretty sure.
Debbie reached the end of her lungs’ endurance and blew a long stream of smoke out her nostrils. She lowered her head and looked at DeWayne. Her eyes were bright and glassy. “Meeee-ow,” she leered at him. She started crawling up the bed towards him, her small breasts swinging beneath her.
“Aww, c’mon, honey,” DeWayne said, trying not to make it sound like a whine. ”I’m spent.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “You ought to try you one of these rocks,” she said. “It’d put lead in your pencil.” She began rubbing her cheek against his thigh, just above the knee. DeWayne closed his eyes. She was starting to get to him again. Suddenly, the TV caught his attention.
“Hey,” he said, “turn that up.”
“Huh?” she replied, but he was crawling past her. She squealed in protest as he almost knocked her off the bed. The room was so small that DeWayne could lean off the end of the bed and reach the volume control.
The 11:00 o’clock news was on. Over the shoulder of the pretty young anchorwoman, DeWayne could see a little box. In the box was the face of the guy who had stuffed him in the trunk.“...in connection with a shootout in Fayetteville that left two men dead, another critically wounded, and which may have been connected with the later shooting of a Fayetteville police officer.” The newscaster’s face dissolved to a videotape of the Crown Vic being pulled out of the ditch by a wrecker. Everything in the picture was lit up in the fluorescent green glow of a night-vision camera. “Police now say they have located a vehicle belonging to Jackson Keller, a bail bondsman operating out of Wilmington. Clothing found in the vehicle bore traces of blood that matched up to one of the victims, one Leonard Puryear.” The car vanished off the screen and was replaced by an old photograph of Leonard. Quick tears stung DeWayne’s eyes as he looked into his cousin’s face.
“Hey,” Debbie said, leaning into him from behind. “Ain’t that your name?”
“Shut up,” DeWayne said.
The newscaster went on. “Also killed in the gun battle was John Lee Oxendine of Robeson County.” Leonard’s face slid to one side of the screen. The other side was filled with a face that DeWayne didn’t know. “ Authorities state that Oxendine was unarmed at the time and was most likely an innocent bystander.”
“Bullshit,” DeWayne muttered.
Both faces vanished to be replaced by the pretty newscaster, her face a study in vapid concern. Keller’s face was back in the box looking over her shoulder. "Police also say Keller is wanted for questioning in the deaths of Puryear’s elderly parents a few days ago.”
DeWayne’s mouth dropped open. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What the...” he whispered.
“Keller had reportedly been searching for another member of Puryear’s family in connection with a bail violation. When asked if Keller was a suspect in the deaths, police had no comment, other than to say that anyone sighting Keller should immediately notify the Fayetteville Police Department.” The camera pulled back to reveal the