by: Kristy Duke
Emotions rage wildly within me as I silently watch my young niece struggling for her life on the old hospital bed while listening to her weak monitors that stand across her bed from me. My mind struggles through the past couple of months, the events that had landed me where I am today: alone in the small hospital room with my comatose niece with both my boys seeming forever lost. Anger resides deeply within me, anger so strong to me that it feels like a foreign substance within me; anger towards the criminals that have tore my family apart and at myself, for allowing all this to happen. If only I had believed Luke instead of doubting him with each set of evidence they directed towards Luke and believed Bo’s blind faith in Luke, perhaps. . .
Tears quietly wield their way through my tight stubborn shield to erupt down my cold aging face, soaking into my thick gray beard and mustache. Surrendering to the salty tears that sting my eyes, I am suddenly lost in deep thought, deep in prayer for my niece to awaken to be all right; deep in prayer for the return of my family. Finishing my long thoughtful prayer, my thoughts quickly entangle with the deep emotions that erupt within me. My heart aches in harsh sadness, worry, and fear as my mind quickly shifts from the past couple of months that had led to today’s events to Cooter’s horrid phone call I had received hours ago. Glancing up at the small circular wall clock that hangs across the room from Daisy’s bed, above the small TV, to force my heart to come to an abrupt halt in fear. It’d now have been over four hours since Cooter had first called in for an ambulance and for a fire truck and yet no word on any findings of either Bo or LB.
Fear-filled thoughts thickly corse my trembling body as I stare blankly at Daisy and her monitors while my mind remains fixated on Bo; on losing him to such a horrible death. My imagination plays vividly within me, picturing Bo and LB within the vehicle, trapped, while they slowly burnt to death within the withering flames. Once again tears explode down my cheeks as I slowly tuck my head down into the palm of my trembling hands while my mind remains stuck on Bo’s last few minutes of life captured in harsh pain, sitting waiting his slow death. And LB’s horrid death. My heart tightens in great sadness as my mind continues to picture Bo’s slow death while fear and regret rushes through me at the thought of what the future will hold, of having to go on with my own life without Bo, perhaps Daisy and Luke. All due to the same group of people, the same group of people that continues to walk free to do more harm while Luke remains imprisoned by the law, Daisy remains in her coma, and while Bo suffered to death due to them.
My thoughts are abruptly interrupted as the door slowly opens, the scrapping of the bottom of the door against the floor alerts my attention. Quickly, I wipe at my face, fighting to dry the tears that stain my face while I sit back to see to find Dr. Lynder slowly walking into the room, his attention remains on his clip board. Looking up he slowly takes me with watch ful eyes before looking over at Daisy, reading her monitors. “I don’t know if anyone has told you yet, but your niece seems to be stronger than what we all thought she was or gave her credit for. I don’t mean to arise any hopes here,” he pauses as he gives me a sympathetic look, “because she surely isn’t out of the woods of danger yet…but her heart and her breathing has strengthen by measurable accounts within the past twenty-four hours. As I said, she is still no where close to being out of the woods as of yet and I don’t want to raise your hopes, but she is looking better each time I walk in here today.”
“At least some good news,” I slowly answer, “I can use more of that.”
“Yeah I know,” he nods sullenly at me as he writes something upon his clipboard for a brief moment before looking back up at me, “I am sorry to hear all that is going on…you are in my prayers,” he pauses for a long moment as if deep in thought, “there are a few men out in the waiting room, asking to speak with you…as well as a couple of doctors. I told them it would be best if you went to them instead of you going to them…better for Daisy at least.”
I slowly nod as push myself forward with weak arms against my chair to stand wobbly upon my trembling legs. My mind rushes quickly through me as I watch Daisy for a moment longer as I pray for strength to go face the men and all that they have to say. The moment of truth.
Following Lynder down the long wide antiseptic hall way to the small waiting room of the second floor, my heart races quickly within me in intense fear of what I am about to hear or find out. As the opening of hall way to the waiting room approaches, I silently close my eyes momentarily while saying a short hopeful prayer as well as a prayer for strength. Opening my eyes to the bright lights that shine off of the shiny linoleum flooring a deep breath escapes from within me that I didn’t know I was holding. “Are you OK Mr. Duke?” Lynder asks in a concerned voice as he stops besides the nurses’ station, “Perhaps you should rest before going in and talking to them.”
“No . . .no,” I shake my head in disagreement as I glare into the waiting room where Sergeant Frank Mills and Sergeant Mueller stand near another hall way, talking to a few men I have never seen before. Perhaps more agents. “I’m fine,” I turn to Lynder who silently nods before motioning in Mills direction.
I watch Lynder slowly moving behind the nurses station where he bends over to talk to a petite red haired young lady who nods in understanding. I slowly take a deep breath before I slowly begin to walk towards the group of men who continue to talk amongst themselves. “Mr. Duke,” Sergeant Mills stops in mid-sentence as he sees me approaching and I am quickly surrounded by five muscular men in street clothes and a lean older doctor. “Cooter,” Mills nods over my shoulder and I am surprised to see Cooter stand a foot behind me before stepping up besides me, for a short moment he eyes me with uncertainty before giving me a small wary smile.
Fear accelerates to an unimaginable rate within me as I slowly scan the men’s faces that surround us forcing my heart come to a heavy halt at their grim faces. Time seems to stand still as their hardened eyes glare through me for a long moment before Mills breaks his contact to glance over at the doctor who stands next to Cooter. “My men and I have been searching the scene of the accident with help from the paramedics, the fire department, and help from Cooter and Garrett now for,” Mills pauses to glance down at his expensive watch, “for over four hours now. We have searched throughout a mile range of the accident on the road and down the cliff to gather evidence of what may have happened.” He goes silent for a long moment as he searches for answers from the doctor before coming up empty and turns back to me, “Searched for the bodies of both LB Davenport and Bo Duke, but the closest we got was a puddle of blood upon a high cliff and a burnt up brown leather cowboy boot that Cooter claims was Bo’s.”
Sergeant Mills comes to an premature halt to allow silence to rush in between us as the air around me becomes heavy and hard to inhale, my body seems to go weak with all that he is telling me. “The car was pretty much eaten and swallowed by the fire the collision had created on impact at the bottom of the cliff,” Sergeant Mueller speaks up for his partner to direct our attention over to him, “after the fire was put out,” Mueller pauses as he fights for the correct wording, “the car reeked of burnt flesh. As Sergeant Mills had explained, over four hours of searching for something, the only trace of either Bo or LB was a puddle of blood and Bo’s burnt boot.”
“No…no,” I gasp in disbelief as their words claw deeply within me as a lone tear streaks down my right cheek. Slowly I glance up at the agents before asking, “what does all that mean?”
“By the extent of the damage done to the vehicle and of the surroundings around the vehicle as well as by the thickness of the fire,” a tall broad shoulder man with dark brown hair and dark eyes slowly speaks up, wearing a tight dark blue shirt that indicates he is a volunteer fire fighter, “we believe that both Bo and LB were burnt to death. As Mueller has pointed out, the vehicle’s smoke had the strong order of burnt flesh…death. In fires such as that one…we are not always able to save the body or find the body.”
For a long moment I glare at the fire fighter in great disbelief as it takes me a long moment to digest all that he has told me, of all that had happened to Bo. “I’m sorry Mr. Duke,” Sergeant Mills slowly speaks up for the crowd of men as his hardened eyes soften into sympathy. Abruptly my legs go numb below me and I slowly search for a chair before I take a couple of steps back to take a seat in one of the blue cushion bench chairs.
Glaring ahead into nothingness, Cooter says something incoherent to one of the men before they all slowly nod as they give a last look. Watching the several men slowly walk back down the wide hallway, Cooter slowly takes a seat next to me before he places a caring hand upon my shoulder. A long moment of silence slowly erupts between us as the mens’ words quickly echo’s within me as my mind once again imagines Bo stuck within the burning car, awaiting for his horrid death. More tears chase each other down my cheeks as I slowly rest my head into the clammy palms of my trembling hands as my mind thinks of the future, of life without Bo. My heart knocks loudly against my chest as I begin thinking of returning to the empty farm house for the first time in years, there has always been someone in the house at one time or another. Now I am forced to return to a lonely house filled with painful and happy memories of the past, of watching Bo, Luke, and Daisy growing up. Reminding me of what I no longer have; a family.
“Do you want me to take you home?” Cooter slowly breaks the silence as he glances up at the clock, “I can even stay at the farm if you want me to?”
I glance at him strangely for a short moment as I fight to decipher all that he had said before it slowly sinks in. I slowly follow his gaze back up to the clock and sigh in disbelief at realizing that visiting hours is now over. “Thank-you,” I slowly nod as I force myself to stand upon my wobbly weak legs.
***SHERIFF ROSCO COLTRANE***
My heart rushes to an abrupt stop as I dreadfully glance down at the thick stack of folded newspaper my deputy had slowly handed me only moments ago. I hesitantly open the thick folded paper as silence explodes within the open room as a large horrid picture of thick flames and dark black smoke swallowing hole the remains of a charred car along with several trees at the end of Kissing Cliff. Glaring numbly at the vivid picture my mind rushes quickly through me, thinking of all that the Dukes had been forced to go through, all that Jesse has went through. And now this. With my mind racing from thought to thought, I slowly read through the lengthy article of the little information that the newspaper was given.
“Sheriff,” an alerted thick male’s voice quickly yanks me back to reality from the horrid events that had happened yesterday afternoon. I slowly glance up with some agitation to find Sergeant Mills standing in front of my desk with Mueller while I glance over their shoulders at Enos who silently shrugs.
“What may I do for you?” I slowly ask, slowly taking in the two FBI agents who glance at one another before glancing back at me.
“We are need of a TV and a VCR,” Sergeant Mills slowly speaks up as he lifts a clear large sandwich bag that is tightly sealed tight, marked in permanent marker reads yesterday’s date along with “EXPLOSION EVIDENCE” in sloppy hand writing, “one of our men had found this here tape lying a few feet from the car yesterday…surprisingly everything remains intact. Hopefully it works as good as it looks.”
“It took both of you to come ask for a TV?” I muse out loud before I point to across the room from my desk that rests upon the small podium, “It’s in our storage closet.”
Sergeant Mueller silently nods before turning back and slowly walks over to the large walk in closet that is served as a crowded storage closet. “Force of habit,” Mills answers dryly as he sends his partner a wary eye, “thanks for the use of your TV.”
I slowly nod as he takes a few steps back to open the door for his partner who silently wheels the metal TV and VCR stand out into the hall. For a long moment I listen to the clatter that the small rubber wheels make upon the linoleum flooring. A sharp throbbing pain slowly and steadily grows behind my right temple as my attention returns to the article, my mind fixates on the Dukes. The family I had grown to chase, to hate. I sigh in disgust as I hastily arise from my wooden chair to shove the chair back a few inches as I slowly make my way past my deputy who watches in concern. “You OK sheriff?” his voice squeaks in concern.
For a short moment I glance back at my young naive deputy who silently grabs the black hat from his head to run a hand through his thick brown hair. I sigh warily while thinking of my reply as I detect his own great fear and worry towards the Dukes, of whom he is friends with, holding an intense crush upon Daisy. “Nothin’ seems to be OK any more, not after yesterday,” I sigh as I hold back the tears that claw at my eyes as my thoughts turn to the past, the several occasions I had chased Bo, the few times I had arrested him; the greed that consumed me. If I hadn’t allowed pride to swallow my true feelings towards the younger Duke boy, if I had allowed him to understand how I really felt towards him, my concern for him, perhaps I wouldn’t feel as much as a failure as I do now. I sigh deeply as my mind rushes through the past that interlocks with the Dukes, mixing up deep emotions that run thickly through me. I silently look across the room at the commissioner’s closed door as I silently remind myself, attempting to convince myself; it was the way it was suppose to be, the way it had to be: the relationship I had with Bo, with the Dukes.
“Hazzard is crumbling before my eyes and yet I did nothing to prevent it from falling apart,” I turn back to Enos, displaying my regrets, my guilt, “I sat back with worry while I watched the FBI tear the Dukes apart, while they arrested an innocent man, and while a murderer lies free to stalk my streets. I sat back knowing Bo wasn’t about to sit and tell the FBI about the murder he witness, nailing Luke to his cross, without attempting to save Luke. I knew Enos.” I dart my eyes around the room for a brief silent moment before looking back at Enos, “Yet I did nothing to stop or help him or correct the FBI when they arrested Luke. Luke may have fought at war and may be over protective, but the one thing he isn’t, is a killer.” I pause once again as he looks at me with saddened eyes that beg to help, “The horrible thing is, is that I believed he did it, that Luke had killed their agent.”
Silence soon follows my guilt-filled confession as I slowly move to the small window that lies besides Hogg’s closed door that looks over the street and the small town of Hazzard. “Everyone believed he did it, Rosco,” Enos slowly speaks up as I silently lift the blinds to look take everything in, “that doesn’t make you a horrible sheriff…or them a horrible person. With Luke’s war back ground and all the evidence linking him to the murder, I was half way convinced that maybe he did it. People change…war changes people, everyone.” He pauses for a short moment from behind me, “So, what changed your mind?”
“I never truly believe…a Duke doing such a horrible crime is as foreign as an three legged duck, but I was convinced that perhaps he changed with war and all,” I sigh thoughtfully, “What changed my mind was Bo…he was truly convinced that it was Luke, that he wouldn’t do such a horrible thing. Sure I will give Mills’ theory that he is sticking up for his cousin due to how much he looks up to Luke, but given all that he saw and the evidence he pointed out to Mills and Mueller, even he had to have doubted Luke’s innocence.”
“You think he is holding something back for some reason?” Enos questions taking closer step behind me, “That he knew more than what he told them.”
“If so it was under threat…Bo has been honest up front with them, knowing how it would look towards Luke…he has cooperated all that he could,” I sigh as I fight for words to explain how I feel, “but the FBI pressed him pretty hard and long on several meetings…and you know Bo, if he even thought that it was Luke, he’d cave in and tell them. I think it was more than just standing up for Luke or disbelief that Luke could do such a thing,” I pause silently as I watch a couple of cars pass by, “call it intuition from Bo…or perhaps there was something that he couldn’t say for one reason or another.”
“Well have you tol’ all this to Sergeant Mills? I am sure he would be interested in your opinion,” Enos speaks up as an expensive new red Chevrolet Avalanche pulls up besides the curb.
“They have their suspect in their eyes and they plan on using Bo’s testimony…or had planned on using it despite the fact that Bo wouldn’t finger Luke as the killer. The jury would agree with Mills’ theory without any explanation after knowing the evidence and Bo’s description,” I shrug hesitantly as I watch the bulky shadow that lies within the Avalanche, “One thing I am sure of at the moment…that if Luke didn’t kill Lurns, that means there is another murderer…killers that are free upon my streets, within my town.”
*****
Fear gnaws lively within me as I stare numbly at the tall brown brick building that stands proudly over the town square, lingering over the other small buildings that line the street. Gripping tightly onto the black leather steering wheel with my clammy hands, my mind explodes within me of the horrid events that had led me here. The past couple of months filled with pain and grief spread from my brothers and their newly acquainted friends, onto innocent people who just happened to get in their way. Greed is a horrible thing. “Damn it,” I silently mutter as I rest my head upon my hands as guilt spirals through me. If only I had done something sooner…
After a short moment of fighting for strength and courage through closed eyes, I slowly sit back up as I readjust my black Stetson hat. For a short moment, my eyes wonder around the cab of my truck before resting upon the open front page of the local day’s edition newspaper. Fear, sadness, and great anger washes through me as I stare into the dark picture that captivates the thick large flames and dark black smoke that swallow the remains of a car. More innocent people dead due to their harsh greed that fills their every waking minute. “It’s now or never,” I finally speak up, my voice cracks with nerves as I shove my driver’s door open with a weak trembling hand.
A cold gust of wind abruptly breathes down my back as I slowly step out of my moderately new truck, to send chills racing up and down my back. Tugging my faded gray denim coat tightly against my trim body, I numbly begin to follow the narrow sidewalk up to the cement stairs that leads to two glass doors. I silently begin to ascend up the steep cheaply cemented stairs as my mind shifts from my beaten past to the dreaded future that lies closely behind the closed glass door that stands only feet a head of me. Reaching the small landing to the clean glass doors, doubt and fear rushes thickly through me as my mind reveals the possibilities that may happen if I go through with my plan. Glancing back at my truck that stands proudly in it’s parking place I am quickly reminded of the newspaper article that lies open in the front seat, of the thick horrid fire slowly swallowing two innocent people. If only I had done something sooner…
Taking a long deep breath, I slowly open the left glass door and slowly step into the wide lengthy hall, the warmth of the building erases the deep chills that had crept up my body. For a long moment I stand silently still while I slowly take my black Stetson hat to run a trembling hand through my thick wavy brown hair before readjusting my hat upon my sweaty head. Replacing the well worn hat back upon my head I nervously glance down the wide hall, slowly taking in my surroundings. Both walls are lined with several door that is spread widely apart from one another while upon the middle of the left hall, the wall curves into another wide hallway, leaving a large gap in the middle of the left wall. Taking another deep breath I slowly begin to walk down along side the right white plastered wall as I slowly read the black bold letter writing upon the foggy windows that lies in the middle of each door, reading where the door will lead you to.
After a short moment that seems to last an eternity, I reach a closed door upon the right wall that reads: SHERIFF’S STATION. Reading the big bold letters, my heart comes to an abrupt stop with intense fear, as the reality of what I am doing quickly seeps into me. Staring blankly at the closed door my mind quickly begins to boil angrily within me, of the past few months that had led me to a strange and unheard of town, to the sheriff’s station with an attempt to put an end to what my brothers had been messed up with. Trouble. Glaring into the clouded glass my mind races from the past to the present, to what I am doing here, to the unavoidable future that lies ahead of me, forcing tons of what if questions trembling within me.
I fight back the tears that sting in my eyes as my guilt doubles within me as I quickly remind myself of the horrible events that my brothers had helped create, forcing pain and suffering upon others. If not by them, but the friends they had began to do business with a few months ago, despite my objections. And yet I had done nothing to stop them from dealing with their new friends, from helping their new friends with the un-thinkable violence they have been spreading where ever they went. I had allowed my fear to control me, my actions; allowing my brothers and their friends to use, abuse me as they wish. After all, I had seen with my own eyes of what they are capable of doing. If only I had been strong enough to throw my fear aside, to stand up against them, perhaps…
“Can I help you?” startled by the soft feminine voice, I quickly turn around to find a petite woman standing a few inches shorter than I with long thick strawberry blond hair with the sides tightly pulled back into a barrette. Her soft green-blue eyes slowly takes me in before she slowly forces a small smile despite the hint of sadness and grief that shine dimly in her eyes. “I am sorry,” she slowly speaks up after a moment of silence passes, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was thinkin’ about something and mustn’t have heard you approaching,” I shrug before I glance back at the closed door that rests a few inches before me; now’s the time, “I guess I am here to see the sheriff.”
“Well you’re in luck,” she flashes me a more genuine smile that melts part of my troubles with away, “he happens to be at the moment.” She places a gentle hand upon my lower right arm before stepping forward and opens the door that opens into an wide room. For a short moment I take everything in before cautiously following the attractive woman into the sheriff’s station to force my heart to erupt in rapid heart beats. Passing a few wooden chairs that lean against wooden railing on my left side while an unused desk sits in the left back corner before the wall diverges into a couple flight of stairs. After a short moment she stops near a small step in the opening of the wooden railing to look up to find an old scarred chestnut desk to lie in the middle of the small podium surrounded by two empty cells on the right and left of the desk while file cabinets line against the two railings. “Sheriff Coltrane,” the woman slowly speaks up, resting a leg up on the small stair and the man that rests behind the desk in a dark blue uniform pants and bright blue uniform shirt slowly looks up, “someone is here to see you.”
“Thank-you Kristy,” the sheriff lends the attractive woman a caring smile before the woman he had called Kristy nods and walks to the far wall where she exits into another office. After watching the woman slowly disappear behind a closed door, the sheriff slowly looks over at me with icy blue eyes. “I’m Sheriff Coltrane,” the sheriff slowly introduces himself as he walks over to me and I find him to be an older sheriff, but not too old, “how may I help you, sir?”
I slowly force an uptight smile as I nervously shove my clammy trembling hands deep into the pockets of my thin denim coat. “I am Ethaniel McKleen,” I slowly introduce myself, “I know you or anyone else in this town knows who I am…I am from over in Capital City, my dad owns a garage, well he did, until he handed the business down to me and my two older brothers,” I sigh warily as I absently hear myself rambling, “and I have information and evidence that will direct the blame of the murder of Agent Lurns onto the correct people and away from this local Duke boy I read about in the paper.”
Abruptly, the local sheriff’s deep icy blue eyes widen with alert and surprise before doubt begins to slowly settle down within them. “Enos,” he calls out, glancing over his shoulder where another uniformed man arises from another desk around a small corner in the railing, “I need you to go out and retrieve Sergeant Mills and Mueller…tell them it may be important to their case.”
“Yes sir,” the deputy obediently says before quickly disappearing out into the open hall.
“How I know you ain’t makin’ all this up?” Coltrane finally looks back at me with darty eyes.
“Because I hold soiled clothing in my truck outside from the real killer…covered thickly in Agent Lurns’ blood,” I swallow thickly, “and my brothers had worked with the true killers back home and here…not with the killing, but with their drugs and guns.”
Fear quickly registers within the sheriff’s aging face as the deputy quickly returns with two tall muscular men wearing khaki pants and nice sports coats. “Agent Mills and Agent Mueller,” the muscular man with thick sandy brown hair speaks up before pointing to his partner who stands besides him who holds the mean look well, “Deputy Strate here says you have some information or evidence towards our agent’s death.”
“Y-yes sir,” I stutter as the sandy brown hared man motions me to follow him to the unused desk where they both pull up a chair on the opposite side, leaving me with one chair on the other side to sit. Sitting down I watch as the man that introduced him as Mills takes out a legal pad while his partner grabs out a tape recorder where he talks dryly into it.
“State your name,” Mills slowly begins.
“Ethaniel McKleen,” I am asked to spell it out and I slowly do as I am told as my blood boils in nerves and fear within me.
“OK,” Mills slowly answers after writing something down, “tell us what you know…everything. Meaning don’t leave anything out.”
For a long moment I glare doubtfully at the two agents as my mind grasps onto reality, of what the near future will hold, wondering which agent will do the arresting when I finish with my story. “My dad use to own a garage in Capital City before handing it down to my older brothers and me…ever since they grabbed a hold of the garage, it began to fall down ward. Neither one of them has the honesty, modesty, or the right attitude as dad had…has and they began to lose business, the correct business. After a month of owning the garage, my brothers took over everything, leaving me out of any decisions,” I sigh silently glaring nervously around the room, “anyways, four months ago my brothers began to hang out with these group of men…men that created trouble where ever they went. It was obvious to anyone. Throughout my objections, these group of men had began to hang out at the garage during the day more and before long I had came to the garage during the night to get something for dad.”
I pause as I watch Mills taking notes for a while, “That is when I found where they were getting money they had been lacking from dad’s business. The men and my brothers were tearing apart some car while stashing drugs and guns…so forth. I was caught and forced to accompany them in fear that I’d go to the police…if not, they’d finish me in for sure. Force a little pain, torture before finishing me off. My brothers even helped the men give me an example of what was to come if I didn’t comply with their business of trade by beating me up pretty badly…spent a couple of days in the hospital with a concussion, broken ribs, dislocated right shoulder, as well as a fractured left wrist. ”
The two agents remain silent as I slowly go through the story of the past half year since dad had turned the business over to us, the pain and tortured that soon followed. Silence lurks throughout the station as the sheriff and his deputy stand back a ways listening to my story. . .
***UNCLE JESSE***
My heart remains tighten with tears as I silently watch my niece lying silently on her death bed, struggling for her own precious life while my thoughts remain on Bo. Of his untimely death, of the future that was robbed from him. Throughout the first fifteen years of his life, I was forced to watch him suffer through pain and fear that his disease had created within him, while his doctors kept giving him so many years left to live. And yet he was strong and fought for life with everything he had, struggling to prove his doctors wrong so many times, proving himself to everyone. Through each dreaded and feared hospital visit I had witnessed him slowly slipping away as if the hospital stole something from him with each visit. Despite how weak the disease had made him out to be, he was strong and so very brave, holding tightly onto the little life he had left to live, cherishing each moment he had at home, with family. And when he was forced to rely on the wheel chair for support, relying on the help of others to do the simplest every day thing; he stood strong and brave within, refusing to give in to the horrible thing he had been born with. His days were numbered from the day he was born. He even awoke from his deep coma that his disease had thrown him into while lying on his death bed, awaiting for the unavoidable death; proving his strength and will as he proved his doctors wrong yet again.
He proved his doctors wrong, again, a couple of months ago, when his unwanted disease returned to him.
Tears streak through my shield to slowly melt down my weathered cheeks and into my thick gray beard and mustache as my mind remains in the past. The nightmarish past where I had expected the unwanted death to approach him through his horrid disease he had been born with, sending him relief from the pain he had been force to live with. And yet after twenty-two, almost twenty three years, he loses his battle into death through the fiery flames that had eaten the car he was trapped within. My heart pounds heavily within me as my mind reveals his unwanted death vividly in the back of my mind, of the harsh pain and fear he must have been in as he struggled for an escape that wasn’t there. My heart comes to a stop within me as Bo’s dark blue eyes bright and alert in harsh pain and fear pierces within me. “Damn it,” I force out as fresh tears rush down my wet cheeks, my mind continues to shift from Bo’s painful past to the horrid accident, back and forth.
Slowly I force myself up onto wobbly numb legs to balance my way to the small window that lies upon the far wall, over looking the dirt road. A couple of cars slowly pass below upon the muddy dirt road, looking like small match box cars, that Bo had used to love to play with since the day he moved into the farm until he was old enough to drive a car. Watching the cars go by, I yearn to relive the horrid past, to be able to hold Bo once again, to tell him how much I love him. He had always made me feel important, like he needed me, wanted me; while Luke and Daisy gladly went on their way without looking back at me by the time they reached twelve or thirteen years of age. Due to his emotional disorder, Bo always looked to me for help, expressing his feelings freely to me, looking to me for support. I was needed.
I allow tears to flow freely from my eyes as I feel the large hole of emptiness continue to grow within me, the same emptiness I had felt when Julianne and Noah had died in the accident. My mind stuck on the accident, on Bo, I fight to remind myself that I still have Daisy, Luke, and now I have Kristy, her kids, and Garrett, as well as friends to turn to. To find some comfort, some company. Silently, I close my eyes to allow fresh tears to streak down my tear streaked face while my mind numbly rushes through thoughts of Bo, of his past, of what the empty future will hold now that he is gone. It has only been a day and a half since the accident and yet it seems like I’ve been alone in this world, been without him for years. “Damn it,” I repeat as the tears continue to build in my eyes, losing control of my emotions, as my mind wonders through tomorrow’s dreaded events of Bo’s and LB’s wake at the farm. How can anyone expect me to face people after losing him to such a horrid death? The pain and fear he must have felt continues to itch deeply within me, my mind picturing him vividly fighting to find a way of escape while being trapped within a burning car.
Abruptly, my thoughts are interrupted as the door behind me slowly scrapes open against the linoleum flooring and I slowly turn around to find Dr. Lynder slowly walking in. Out of habit, I protectively glance over at Daisy who lies silently still upon her hospital bed, her eyes half way open, watching me. “Daisy!” I say alert as I wipe forcibly at my eyes and cheeks, attempting to dry my tears as I approach her bed. Her eyes remain attached on me as she surrenders any thought of talking through the thick tube that is taped down her throat. The thick tube that had so often been stuck down Bo’s throat throughout all his hospital stays, on his death bed not so long ago.
“Mornin’ sleepy head,” Lynder slowly says to break the silence that had began to build as he continues to write something down on his clipboard, looking up at me he says, “she has shown dramatic turn around with both her breathing and heart rate since my last visit this afternoon. I think we can try taking out the tube and just rely on the air tubing in her nose.”
I give him a small smile as he slowly instructs Daisy how to help him blow out the tube on his count. “Uncle Jesse,” Daisy smiles up at me through a very weak voice as the tube is lodged out of her mouth and she is soon sent into a coughing attack.
“Shhhh it’s OK, I’m right here,” I slowly attempt to comfort her as I sit back down besides her, running a hand through her thick brown hair. Lynder informs me that he’d be on the floor if she needs anything. Turning back to Daisy, I say, “I’m right here…everything is going to be fine.”
She grins weakly at me as her blue – brown eyes detect some disbelief.
***LUKE***
Chills of anger rush across my body as the guard quickly slams the door shut behind me before I silently force a long breath out that I had been holding in. Taking a couple of blind steps backwards, I slowly turn around to find Cooter sitting at the old scarred metal desk besides the empty chair, while William sits on the other side. For a long moment both men watch me silently as I skeptically step up to the empty chair and tiredly take a seat. Once again chills creep down my back at seeing the haunted look that rests in Cooter’s normally crazed filled eyes. “How are they treating you, Luke?” William is the first to break the silence between the three of us.
“I’d rather be out of here,” I sit back in my chair, feeling the tenseness from Cooter and William, feeling that something is wrong, “and at home.”
“We’re working on that,” William slowly answers, sitting forward in his chair.
“Where’s Jesse? Bo?” I slowly ask, fighting to gain a sense of calmness that I no longer feel as panic quickly settles in.
“That is what we are here for,” William slowly speaks up before glancing over at Cooter who slowly nods.
“There was an accident, Luke,” Cooter slowly states to force my heart to tighten deeply in fear, “yesterday afternoon. The other day, Kristy had shown us a tape she had found in her accident and when she had given it to us, we watched it. It is enough to get you out of here …at least I would think so. It was a horribly vivid tape,” he pause for a long moment, “anyway, we decided not to give it to the cops until we had more evidence to clear your name so we sorted into pairs to go looking for something,” once more Cooter pauses as he glares down at the floor for a long moment, “well yesterday afternoon that something may have been what taken Bo’s and LB’s life. After not hearing from them for a few hours, we decided to track their route, and that is,” he fights through tears, “when we found the car I lent LB at the bottom of Kissin’ Cliff within thick fiery flames and dark black smoke. There was hardly anything left of the car by the time we found it.”
“No. . .no,” I shake my head in disbelief though the looks written across William’s and Cooter’s face verifies what he had just told me. My mind numbly races within me of my cousin, of the nightmarish ride he went on, to the fear and pain he must have been in as he sat trapped, awaiting for death to slowly swallow him whole.
“The FBI thinks someone may have driven him off the cliff, gave him a little nudge down,” William speaks up as he sets an open newspaper upon the desk, a large picture shows a thick wild fire eating away trees and what looks what may have been a car, “they spent over four hours looking for bodies, something…all they found was a puddle of blood and a burnt boot, that Cooter identified as Bo’s. They’re going to have the wake at the farm for both LB and Bo…the funeral the day after that.”
Silence once again gathers between us in the small musty room before Cooter leans back in his chair. “We got a call on the way up here,” Cooter slowly speaks up, “Daisy had awakened an hour ago…doctors said she made an incredible turn around. She’ll have a week or more stay in the hospital before even considering letting her out.”
“She’s awake?” for a short moment a wave of excitement wash through me at the thought of Daisy awakening, of walking out of the hospital the way she had been before that night she went out with Travis. Slowly the thought of Bo drowning in a car of flames fades my excitement as my thoughts shift from Daisy to Bo, before landing on Jesse, how he is dealing with everything. “How’s Jesse?”
“He’s takin’ it hard,” Cooter sighs deeply besides me, “I went home with him last night, to make sure he’d be fine. I spent the night but never saw him, locked himself in his room with the bottle of his old shine he keeps in case of emergency. He refused to let me in and had locked the door,” Cooter pauses to look down at his shaky hands before looking up at me, “With everything that has happened while you were gone or before you left, Bo’s emotional disorder, it brought them both closer to one another I think. Bo made Jesse feel as if he was wanted, needed around the farm. You and Daisy, well, you both pretty much went on your own way by the time you were thirteen, fourteen. Bo has his friends and they’ve, we all have went out…but Bo in a sense still felt like he needed Jesse there, for support. He opened up to Jesse. And now…”
“He feels alone and neglected,” I feel in the places for him and he silently nods for a long moment. Anger and frustration corses through my body at how helpless I am in helping him or any family member, for not being there for Bo. Turning over to Cooter, I ask, “How are you?”
“I’ll be fine,” he slowly shrugs, “life for me will go on.”
Silence resumes back into the small room as I silently nod before looking down at the article that lies ahead of me, sending a rush of harsh emotions boiling through me.
***SERGEANT FRANK MILLS***
A dark black storm cloud of confusion lingers heavily within me as I stare silently at the notes I had messily and quickly written upon the yellow legal pad of paper. A few feet to my left upon the left corner of my borrowed scarred wooden desk lies the grocery sack full of evidence that the kid had brought with his story. His story of truth. Beads of worry slowly begin to perspire down the sides of my face despite the chill air that blows through the small office room that my men and I have been donated to. I sigh warily as I stare numbly at the bag of evidence and at the notes I had taken to force my mind to rush within me, thoughts of the past few months to the small town that such violence had erupted within over night. Anger roughly edges it’s way through me as I think of the family it has touched, thinking of the younger Duke boy that had lost his life yesterday to a horrid death, of his testimony. Guilt quickly follows my anger for pressing so hard on him, refusing to let up on him when he refused to point the blame upon his cousin, of which he described perfectly. And once again, my mind narrows upon the rough arrest we had made of the older Duke boy at his own home, within minutes of him waking up; of all that the arrest had forced him to go through.
“How’s it going Frank?” Trey speaks up as he slowly approaches me and I abruptly glare up at him, my heart races quickly within me with the surprise Trey had brought to me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No…no it’s not you,” I sigh as I give my notes a last look while skimming through the evidence and back at my younger partner, “this whole thing,” I motion across my desk, “I can’t believe I allowed all this to happen…to such an innocent, loving family. If only I had listened to Bo, taken his word, then perhaps he wouldn’t be dead and Luke wouldn’t be beaten in jail. I wouldn’t be surprised if they turn around to sue us for -”
“Wait right there Frank…no one is talking about suing anyone as of yet, nor do I see that happening. If it does, it does. But this here isn’t your fault,” he gives me an astonishing look, “and if you were to think of all the evidence that pointed to the dark haired Duke, you wouldn’t feel the way you do. I can’t believe I am hearing this from you…over ten years of working together and this is the first hint of guilt leaving your own lips or any sign of weakness. What is all this -”
“I don’t know,” I sigh as I rub my hand across my eyes, “I just see that fire at the bottom of that cliff, of looking for the bodies, finding nothing. Never before had I stopped to think of the victims or the witnesses, but it was something about Bo that made me think, feel for him more than I have ever done in the past. He possessed such innocence and yet he is demolished while attempting to clear his cousin’s name. His uncle keeps coming into mind, of all that he must be going through at the moment.”
“We followed the book on it Frank,” he fights to comfort me while shock is written across his hardened face by hearing my regrets, my feelings. Up to now, I had always been able to control my feelings, hardened by years of police work, of finding dead bodies, arresting horrible men and women, has hardened me not to feel one way or another about the victims or the witnesses. And yet Bo Duke had broken through all that, “we followed the trail of evidence that led us to Luke.”
“With knowledge that other men had killed off Randy Nells,” Travis’ partner, “and had followed the young Davenport into Hazzard…perhaps even followed Travis by the sound of the young Duke girl’s testimony,” I pause as I motion over to the bag of evidence, “and with the evidence we have we know why the evidence led us to Luke, because it was planted.”
He sighs warily before slowly nodding in agreement as his attention drifts back to the sack of evidence, which is blood soiled clothes that looks like the sort of clothes Luke would wear, a pair of black leather cowboy boots soiled with blood and mud, along with a dark brown haired wig. The men had given them to Ethan to burn who in turn kept it as evidence towards the true killers when he grew the nerve to turn them in. “What are we going to do now?” Trey finally speaks up, looking back at me.
“That is what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to go up with one of the men to release Luke, by now we have enough evidence that says it was our men we are after that killed Travis off and perhaps killed his cousin,” I sigh, “I want you to express our apology, do anything he wants you to do. Make sure he is taken well care for on his way back to Hazzard.”
“But he was caught with a car load of shine,” Trey argues before I cut him off.
“I have been given authority to let him out due to the false arrest with probation,” I sigh, “he will have a court meeting about that of course, but they pretty much have it okayed as far as it goes.”
“What about Ethan?”Trey slowly asks, covering the bases.
“Not much…ask more questions,” I shrug as his eyes direct me in the right direction of his question, “as for arresting him for his part of the crimes committed, we don’t have much footing on that ground. We have witnesses expressing how bad his brothers treated him, his hospital verification from his beating and under those circumstances, you’d agree to go along as well; unless you had a death wish. After all, he is the one that is directing us into the right direction, helping us out.”
“True,” Trey takes a deep breath as a wave of exhaustion washes over him, “what about his brothers that has moved out? He don’t seem willing to give them up.”
“And he won’t either…which is why he waited until now to come to us. I had a brother that went crooked and I still think I’d have troubles giving him in if that were to happen to us. Besides,” I pause, “we know they didn’t have anything to do with the killings of either of the agents…we have bigger fish to fry at the moment. So, why don’t you go get Luke before he spends another moment of unnecessary time in jail.”
“Yes sir,” he says slowly before stiffly standing up and I silently watch as he slowly leaves the room, on his way to find another agent to accompany him on his way to Atlanta.