Mountain Top(284)
“That river, it belong to God who made it.”
“Yes, I understand and agree, but that’s not our best argument. An innocent mistake on your part will be easier to explain, and we’ll also be sure to produce evidence that you didn’t damage anyone’s property or scare the landowners. Ignorance of the law isn’t usually a legal excuse, but the jury can find you not guilty if they think you had an honest misunderstanding. Does that make sense?”
Moses shook his head. “No, missy. You be talking and talking.”
“That’s okay for now. We’ll go over everything and break it down so you can follow.”
I laid the folder with the newspaper clippings on the table. When I did, I felt my heart beat a little faster. I cleared my throat. Moses ran his tongue across the most prominent tooth in the front of his mouth.
“Moses, I have something else to show you.” I opened the folder and took out the initial article about Lisa Prescott’s disappearance. It contained the largest version of the photograph that ran in all the subsequent articles. I slid the sheet across the table and turned it so Moses could see it.
“Do you recognize this girl?” I asked.
He lowered his head closer to the table and tilted it to the side. “She be dead,” he said in a soft voice after a few moments. “Where you get this?”
“It’s a copy of an old newspaper article. Is this the girl whose face you see in the water?”
Still staring down, he nodded. I leaned forward. “Why do you see her face in the water?” I asked.
Moses let out a long sigh that slightly whistled as it passed through his teeth. “’Cause that’s where she be,” he said softly.
“How did she get there?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“There weren’t nothing else I could do.”
I sat back in my chair. Moses looked at me and blinked his eyes. The old man was about to cry. I’d seen many confessions with tears at the altar of the church in Powell Station, but none that involved a murder.
“Do you want to tell me?”
He put his weathered hands on the table and closed his eyes. “I go fishing. Not in that boat chained to the pole out back, but in an old wooden thing that leaked termite-bad. I be minding my own self when I heared the sound on the bank. I thought it must be a hurt critter and rowed over to see for myself. It be getting dark, but I seen a piece of yellow scrap that caught my eye. I touched the bank and hopped onto the ground. I heard another sound. The bushes were thick, and I got cut bad getting to her.”
He opened his eyes and pointed to a two-inch scar on his forehead. “I be bleeding bad my own self by the time I got to her. She was a-hurtin’ and bleeding here and here.”
The old man pointed to his mouth and ears. “Her eyes be open, but not seeing nothing.”
He stopped and bowed his head. I could tell he was slipping completely into silent memory and pulled him back.
“Was she alive?” I asked.
He looked up. “She be breathing. I run up the bank to an old dirty road, but no one there ’cause it way out in the country. I yell and holler. No help be coming. I go back and pick up that girl. She not much heavier than an old blanket. I put her in my boat. We both bleeding together. I row down the river as fast as I could go. It be getting darker and darker. I get to the big water so I can get her to the bridge for the hardscape road to town. Cars be there for sure. I put down my ear to listen.” He shook his head. “And she be gone.”
“She fell into the water?”
“No, missy. She be dead.”
“Did you take the body to town?”
Moses shook his head. “I be black; she be white. We both be bleeding. What happen to me if ’n I carry her to town? That night I be hanging by my neck from a tree with nobody asking no more questions.”
It made perfect sense.
“What did you do with the body?”
“I take her to the place on the river where I be staying. I don’t know what to do. I stay up all night a-crying and walking round in circles. Before the sun comes arising, I tie a rope about her little feet and then onto a big rock. I push off into a deep spot, say a prayer, and that’s it. She be there today.”
“Did you ever tell anyone what happened?”
“My brother, he knew. And my auntie that helped raise me.”
“Are they alive?”
“They be long dead.”
“What about Mr. Floyd Carpenter? Did he know you found Lisa Prescott?”
“People talk, maybe my brother, and Mr. Tommy Lee bring me into his office and make me see Mr. Floyd.”
“Who is Mr. Tommy Lee?”
“My boss man when I run bolita. Mr. Floyd, he be the big boss man.”