by Michael Kerr
“So far so good,” Logan said. “How about Horton’s dog, Bama?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I don’t kid very often,” Logan said. “Did the dog live?”
“I’ll make inquiries. For now, let’s start at the beginning.”
“I assume that Lyle Bumgarner contacted you after Kate made the call from The Lodge,” Logan said. “So you know most of it, right?”
“I need to hear your version of it, Logan.”
“So get the coffee, my mouth’s dry as sand.”
“Easy, Logan,” Eddie said. “I know your background, but it won’t buy you dirt if you’ve stepped over the line and broken the law.”
They drank coffee and talked it through several times for almost two hours, and with Logan’s consent it was all recorded.
“So you’re just the white knight in all this, eh?” Eddie said, getting up and walking around the room to stretch his legs.
“That’s a dramatic way of putting it,” Logan said. “I didn’t want to see an innocent teenage boy go down for a crime he didn’t commit, so I dug around and followed my nose.”
“How did you make the connection between Horton and Wade McCall?”
“Horton had McCall send two goons to the Creek to take care of me and Kate Donner. The survivor, Benjamin Dawson, was good enough to give me details before the police arrived.”
“And what about Mickey Morgan?”
“Who’s he?”
“The guy that got murdered and burned up in a car trunk.”
“I never had the pleasure of meeting him.”
Eddie saw a flash of what he thought was black humor in Logan’s gray eyes; an almost adversarial look. But there had been no forensics to tie Logan or anyone else to Morgan’s murder. And he would have been more than a little surprised if an ex-homicide cop with Logan’s experience of crime scenes would have left a single clue. Without an admission, the late hitman’s demise would remain unsolved. But Eddie would have bet his pension on Logan having made the connection to Wade McCall through besting and interrogating Morgan, and then going the extra yard and killing him.
“You’re a dangerous man, Logan,” Eddie said.
“Only if you’re someone offering me violence,” Logan came back. “Are we all finished here, because if you aren’t bringing any charges against me, I’ve got places to go and people to see?”
“I’ll arrange for you and Ms. Donner to be taken back to Carson Creek,” Eddie said. “I’m sure that Sheriff Bumgarner will want to talk to you both.”
“Fine,” Logan said. “What about Miriam Carmody?”
“She, as you and Ms. Donner, are material witnesses against Horton and the man that we have identified as Vicente Martinez.”
Logan nodded and headed for the door.
“You do realize that there is probably still a contract out on you,” Eddie said.
Logan turned and smiled at Eddie, but said nothing as he walked out of the room and down a corridor to the reception area of the police headquarters, to where Kate was sitting on a chair waiting for him.
“I need to go outside and have a smoke,” Kate said.
Logan followed her out on to the sidewalk. The snowstorm that had been promised had still not arrived, but the air was freezing.
“What happens now?” Kate asked as she fired up a Marlboro.
“We go back to the Creek via the motel, if you left anything behind.”
“I did. I borrowed a car off a guy staying there. He has my driver’s license.”
“We’ll swing by and pick it up, and let the guy know that his car has been impounded, due to it being at a crime scene.”
Behind them, Eddie opened the door. “Looks like the dog is going to make it, Logan,” he said. “But Horton won’t be in any position to look after it.”
“Thanks,” Logan said. “I’ll take care of it.”
The cop that drove them back out to the Travelers’ Rest Motel was happy to be given the extra hours. After Kate had retrieved her license from a disgruntled Howard Yardley, they called in at the vet’s on Main Street in Leadville.
“Your dog should be called Lucky,” James Kelly said to Logan. “The branch missed his heart and grazed a lung, but he should be good as new in a few days.”
“Look after him for me,” Logan said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a roll of bills, to remove the rubber band from it and peel off a thousand dollars in fifties that he had kept separate from his stash, that was in the rucksack he had left with Clifton Marshall to take care of while he was gone. “I’ll keep in touch and pick him up when you think he’s good to go.”
Two hours’ later, after stopping once for a coffee at a twenty-four hour 7-Eleven, they were dropped off at the Pinetop. They entered Logan’s room to find drawers and closets open and the bed stripped.
“I think Lyle must have been looking for clues as to my whereabouts,” Logan said. “He must have been really pissed until the Staties contacted him.”
They straightened the room, and then showered together. Making love came naturally, without any hesitation or much in the way of foreplay; both needing release, but dog-tired and also in need of a few hours’ sleep.
The knock at the door woke them at eight a.m. Logan pulled on a shirt and chinos and went to see who it was.
“Let’s walk and talk, Logan,” Lyle said.
“I’ve done my talking to your buddy, the lieutenant in Denver. And I know that you’ll have been told everything I said to him before driving out here this morning”
“So humor me,” Lyle said.
Logan sighed. “Give me a minute,” he said. “I don’t go hiking barefoot.” He closed the door, sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks and boots.
“That sounded like Lyle,” Kate said, still in bed, looking as though she was going to turn over and go back to sleep.
“It is. He wants to talk. I’ll spend a few minutes with him, while you get dressed and make fresh coffee.”
“Okay, boss,” Kate said, and then threw a pillow at him.
“So talk,” Logan said as he walked past the sheriff’s car and headed up the driveway towards the highway.
Lyle kept pace with him. “I know that you killed Mickey Morgan,” he said.
“You believe I did,” Logan replied. “And we both know that believing or even knowing something doesn’t count for shit. You need evidence.”
“I’d only need evidence if I was trying to pursue it,” Lyle said. “I just wanted you to know that I know how you found out about McCall. I also believe that you went up to Denver and somehow got McCall to give you Larry’s name.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
“Yeah. You use criminal methods to get things done. I’ve done some digging. People vanished or got hurt down in West Virginia recently, and it looks like you were playing hero again, saving two women from bad guys.”
“Somebody had to. If it had been left to the police they would have both been killed. And as for here in the Creek, Ray Marshall would have taken the fall for Horton if I hadn’t got involved.”
“That doesn’t make what you do right, Logan. You turned in your badge and gun, but still act like a cop.”
“I act like a guy who doesn’t turn a blind eye and let scumbags get away with serious crime that the law can’t deal with. And I absolutely never go out of my way to look for trouble.”
“Pax,” Lyle said. “Maybe I can appreciate to an extent where you’re coming from, Logan.”
“I’m coming from nowhere, and going nowhere important,” Logan said. “And I don’t need appreciation. I spent twenty years working the streets, surrounded by cops on the take at all levels, that were as bad if not worse than the perps they helped put behind bars. The world is full of rotten apples, and if necessary I’m happy to pick them up and dump them in a trash can.”
Lyle decided that Logan was in essence a better man than he would ever be. Being the sheriff in a small to
wn with a low crime rate didn’t test him, and he didn’t have to put his life or his freedom on the line. He played politics with the mayor and selectmen and did what was necessary to keep his job and salary. His family came first, and their continued security depended on his pay check every month.
“Okay,” Lyle said, turning to walk back down to the motel. “We’re done. But you’ll be required as a witness when this case eventually gets to court. How can you be contacted?”
“I’ll stay in touch with Kate. She can keep me up to speed.”
“Are you and Kate―”
“No, Lyle. We’re just good friends. I’ll be moving on in a few days.”
“Where to?”
“Somewhere warmer,” Logan said, looking up at the snow-filled, leaden skies. “I’ve decided that being this far north in winter doesn’t agree with my joints.”
“We all get older,” Lyle said.
Logan nodded. “Like Benjamin Franklin said, ‘Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes’.”
“More is the pity. Comfortable, healthy immortality would be a far better deal.”
“You’ve just got to move forward and endeavor to put to bed all the indecision, fear, indifference, intolerance, and any unfounded guilt that can stop you from functioning in a way that you need to.”
“You bring to mind characters that roamed the west when it was wild, Logan; a relic of a breed like Shane, riding into town, dealing with the bad guys and then moving on again.”
“You watched too many westerns as a kid, Lyle. And Shane was a fictional character. The folk in most places I pass through don’t even know that I was ever there. And the west and the rest of the country is wilder now than it has ever been. We live in a very hostile world.”
Lyle extended his hand to Logan as they stopped next to his Dodge Charger. Logan shook it and then went back into his room as the sheriff drove away.
“You okay?” Kate asked, holding out a cup of coffee to Logan.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Lyle was just getting stuff off his chest. He’s a good man.”
Kate sipped at her coffee, and then lightly bit her bottom lip.
“What?” Logan said.
“Just you and me,” Kate said. “I know that you’re going to up and leave town soon, and I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll keep in touch. And I’ll be back for Horton’s trial.”
“Do you have to go?”
“Yeah, Kate. I’m not the kind of guy that can be part of other people’s lives for too long. I need to be…separate, as free as a bird. And I know how selfish that sounds, but it’s how I am. Too long in one place and I go a little stir-crazy. I never learned how to find the middle ground needed to make something permanent work.”
Kate put her cup down, went to Logan and held him in a hard embrace. She knew that he cared for her, and that he was at a time in his life when he couldn’t be any more or less than he was.
“We’d better go to the house and tell Clifton what went down,” Logan said, gently pulling away from Kate. “And then we should go into town and eat at the Steamboat. I’m starving.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Logan and Kate spent over an hour in conversation with Clifton and Ray Marshall. The father and son both thanked Logan profusely for proving that Ray was innocent, and for seeking out Tanya’s killer and apprehending him.
“Kate made it possible,” Logan said. “Some guy was about to shoot me, when she appeared from nowhere and took him down.”
Back outside, Ray offered to run Logan and Kate into town. And as Kate finished up telling Clifton of what the legal procedure appertaining to Larry Horton’s upcoming trial would be, Ray took the opportunity to speak to Logan.
“I still find it almost impossible to get my head round Tanya being gone,” Ray said. “Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Mr. Logan?”
Logan nodded. “Call me Joe,” he said. “And, yeah, Ray, I’ve lost a lot of people that I cared for and loved. It’s part of the process. We live and we die, and loss is part of all our lives.”
“How do you deal with it, Mr…er, Joe?”
“Same as you will, Ray. I absorb it and move on, but hold on to the people in my memory and remember the good times had. Basically, you have to let go emotionally. Remember that once someone has gone, then it’s yourself that you’re feeling sorry for, not them. They’re at rest and beyond hurt.”
Tears formed in Ray’s eyes, and Logan put his arm around the boy’s shoulder and squeezed firmly for a few seconds. “You need to let the grieving take its natural course, Ray,” he said. “You have the character to come through it stronger for the experience. The hardest part is overcoming unwarranted guilt. Shit happens, and when it does, you have to make it clear to yourself that you had no way to see a single second into the future and stop it.”
“But―”
“That’s a bad choice of word, Ray. You’ll be saying ‘if only,’ next. I knew a pilot in Iraq. He made a split second decision and bombed a convoy of vehicles that he believed to be the enemy. But they were British troops. Sixteen died, and double that number were injured.”
Ray swallowed hard. “How did he get past having done that, Joe?”
“You don’t get past something like that,” Logan said. “He incorporated it into his life experience. Last I heard, one of the survivors– who lost both legs – is now his best friend. You have to make the best that you can out of the worst life throws at you.”
Ray looked up into Logan’s steel-gray eyes and nodded his head. The man was his idea of what a real life hero should be. And his words made sense to Ray. Some obstruction in his mind that had been stopping him contemplating the future shifted, then seemed to dissolve. He decided that if Joe Logan and people like the pilot he’d spoken of could overcome all misfortune and carry on, then so could he.
“Thank you, Joe,” Ray said. “What you’ve said helps.”
“I hope so, Ray,” Logan said. “Your dad needs you. And you have a future to make the most of.”
Ray drove them into town and stopped outside the Steamboat Diner. Logan and Kate climbed out and waved to Ray as he drove off, and then went inside to consume a hearty late breakfast.
For the following five days and nights Logan and Kate spent a lot of time together. It was on Saturday morning that they got the news. Bama was fit to be discharged from the veterinary surgeons in Leadville.
Kate drove Logan to Leadville in her Kia. Logan had the front passenger seat back as far as it would go, but his knees were still almost up against the dash. They stopped three times on the way, so that he could stretch, and Kate could smoke.
Bama looked a little thinner, but still enormous. He was lying in a large cage out back, head on paws, when James Kelly took Logan and Kate through to be reunited with him.
“Remember me, boy?” Logan said, hunkering down as the vet unlocked the gate. “I’m the guy that you had a tussle with a few days back.”
Bama made a grunting sound, got to his feet and advanced towards Logan, who put his hand out, hoping that he wouldn’t lose a couple of fingers by doing so.
Bama stared into Logan’s eyes, and then licked his hand.
“How’s he been behaving, Mr. Kelly?” Logan asked the vet.
“Fine,” James said. “I was under the impression that he was an attack dog, but he hasn’t shown any aggression while he’s been here.”
Bama padded over to Kate, sat down next to her and put the side of his head against her thigh and made a chuffing sound. She tentatively put her hand out and patted his back. There was some kind of almost instant bonding. It was as if Bama had been Kate’s dog since being a pup. He followed her out to the car and got in the rear seat when she opened the door.
Logan settled the bill with the vet and came out with a new leash and Bama’s collar. He grinned at Kate as he got in the car.
&
nbsp; “What’s so funny?” Kate said as she started the engine and drove off.
“That I think Bama just found himself a new owner,” Logan said.
“Me? You must be kidding,” Kate said. “I don’t need a dog the size of a pony.”
“I think you do,” Logan said. “He’s cottoned to you. I think it was love at first sight. The mutt needs a good home.”
By the time they got back to Kate’s house in the Creek, Bama had won her over.
Sunday morning at seven a.m. Kate drove Logan to the motel to say his goodbyes to Clifton and Ray. Clifton returned his rucksack to him, and refused to take any payment for the room.
“Take care, my friend, and thank you for all you’ve done for us,” Clifton said.
“Glad I could help out,” Logan said, shaking hands with the father and son, before quickly getting back into the Kia.
As they reached the top of the driveway, a dark-gray Toyota pulled up, blocking their way.
Logan got out, to be met by a couple that exited their car and approached him.
“I’m Wayne Foster, Mr. Logan” the man said, “And this is my wife, Shirley. We just want to thank you for what you’ve done. Lyle told us that you were responsible for finding out that it was Larry Horton that…that murdered Tanya, and capturing him. It gives us a certain amount of closure.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Logan said, feeling uncomfortable, because there were no words that could properly alleviate the suffering that bereaved folk were feeling. He shook Wayne’s hand, and returned the hug that Shirley gave him, and once more climbed in the Kia. Kate waited until the Fosters’ drove away before setting off to drive Logan out to the interstate, to drop him at the side of the highway near the southbound ramp.
All of a sudden there didn’t seem appropriate words that either of them could find to say. They hugged, kissed, and then Logan got out of the car and walked away.
“Don’t forget to phone,” Kate shouted after him.
He raised his hand, but did not turn round.
A couple of minutes passed. Logan watched the Kia go back along the two-way until it vanished from view. He then turned back and made his way across to the northbound ramp and stuck his thumb out. He fully intended to head south, but had one last errand to take care of, up in Denver.