Time To Hunt - An Action Thriller Novel (A Noah Wolf Novel, Thriller, Action, Mystery Book 8)

by David Archer

  Noah turned to Ralph. “Tomorrow, as early as I can arrange it, the sheriff is going to be handed a new suspect. He’s probably going to ask you a few questions, like how this guy got hold of your wallet. The only thing you say when he asks that question is that you ran into him yesterday, but that’s all you know. You didn’t know your wallet was missing until you heard they found it near the body. You got that?”

  Ralph nodded but didn’t say anything. Noah patted him on the shoulder and then turned to listen to Morgan as he spoke with the sheriff.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Noah stayed until the sheriff came and arrested Ralph, then headed back out to the farmhouse. He didn’t know how long it would take Forney to find this Wesley character, and he was definitely tired. Even an hour’s nap would help.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t get it. Forney called just before he got to his driveway, and Noah told him to bring the man out as soon as he could. He drove past the house and up to one of the outbuildings, then walked inside the house to explain what was going on.

  “Apparently,” he said, “Ralph Morgan beat another boy to death today. I understand there’s been rumors in the past that he might’ve done something like this, but this is the first time anyone has been sure. Marco, I need Aubrey to help me out tonight. We are about to convince somebody that he wants to confess to the killing.”

  Sarah looked at him, confused. “But, why? If you’re going to complete the mission in the next day or so, anyway, why would you go along with this?”

  “That’s precisely why,” Noah said. “In order to get Morgan to call everyone together, I have to keep his confidence. This will be the second time I’ve saved Ralph’s ass, so when I suggest it in the next day or two, Morgan is almost certain to agree.”

  “And what about this guy?” Neil asked. “Is he going to go down for a murder he didn’t commit?”

  “No. Once the mission is complete, I can arrange for Allison to send a message clearing him. The FBI will be in charge here, by then, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said reluctantly. “I guess it all makes sense.”

  “If it don’ make sense,” Marco said, his Cajun accent flaring, “den dis man, Rex, he don’ be doin’ it. He do everyt’ing what make sense, ’cause dat how he tinks!”

  “Oh, geez, Marco,” Sarah said, chuckling. “I will never get used to you talking that way.”

  “Good thing you didn’t know me when I was young, then,” Marco said, grinning. “That’s the accent and patois I grew up with. If anything, I speak it a little more clearly now than I did then.”

  Headlights flashed across the front window as Forney’s car turned in to the driveway. Noah kissed Sarah, and he and Marco headed out to the shed he’d chosen. He stood in the driveway so that Forney could see him, and waited until he pulled the car up close.

  Forney and another man got out, and then Forney opened the back door of the car. He reached inside and took the arm of Peter Wesley, who looked a lot like a frightened Southern hillbilly. The man wore bib overalls with a T-shirt and had a John Deere hat on his head. It had obviously been some time since he had either showered or shaved, and Noah simply pointed toward the door of the shed that Marco was holding open.

  Forney and his helper, a man named Lindell, dragged Wesley inside, and Noah and Marco followed. Noah found a small barrel and set it in the middle of the floor, then ordered Wesley to sit on top of it. Noah stepped in front of him while the other three took up positions around him.

  “Found him at that little trailer he lives in,” Forney said, “down by the chicken plant. Took us half an hour just to get him awake enough to come with us.”

  Noah looked at the man on the barrel. “You’re Peter Wesley?” Noah asked, and the frightened man nodded vigorously.

  “Yes, sir, yes,” Wesley said. “Can I ask what this is all about?”

  “Where were you at one o’clock this afternoon, Mr. Wesley?” Noah asked.

  “One o’clock? Me? I—I was at home. Why?” He looked around at each of the faces, obviously trying to figure out where this was going.

  “Was anyone with you? Did you talk to anyone this afternoon?”

  Wesley looked Noah up and down. “Are you the police?” he asked. “I ain’t done nothin’, I really ain’t.”

  “Just answer my question,” Noah said. “Was anyone with you at home this afternoon, or did you talk to anyone?”

  Wesley swallowed hard. “No, sir,” he said. “It was just me. But I ain’t done nothin’, I promise I ain’t.”

  Noah glanced up at Marco, who shrugged. He looked back at Wesley. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Wesley looked around at all of them once again, his eyes showing panic. “Remember what? What is it I don’t remember?”

  “You don’t remember killing David Pritchett this afternoon, behind the high school?”

  The little man’s eyes were as wide as they could be, as he frantically looked around at all of their faces again. Each of the men nodded at him, and he finally turned back to Noah. “I didn’t kill nobody,” he said, whining. “I didn’t kill nobody, I know I didn’t.”

  “Several people saw you,” Noah said. “They all said you got into an argument with him and started beating on him. When they saw you leave, they went to look and found him dead.”

  Wesley stared into his face, and a moment later tears began to pour down his cheeks. “But I wouldn’t do that,” he cried. “I wouldn’t, I never hurt nobody. I got my check yesterday, and I just went and got me a couple bottles, and all I been doing is sitting home and drinking. I ain’t gone nowhere where I could hurt nobody.”

  “But you did,” Noah said. “You left your place this afternoon, and you went down by the high school. You were talking to some girls there, they said you wanted them to come over and party at your place, because you said you stole Ralphie Morgan’s wallet and had a lot of money. Dave Pritchett, he tried to tell the girls not to listen to you, and that’s when you got mad. Everybody saw you and Dave get into an argument, and then a bunch of them saw you beat him to death.”

  Wesley was shaking his head, still crying. “No, no, no,” he said over and over.

  “Mr. Wesley, I’m trying to help you out,” Noah said. “Right now, the sheriff has an innocent boy in his jail, and they think he did it. When they find out the truth, they’re going to come after you. You don’t want them to come hunting you down, do you? You know how the sheriff is—he’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Wesley just sat there and cried, and Noah motioned for Lindell to step outside with him. He handed the man a hundred-dollar bill and told him to run down to the liquor store and get a couple of bottles of whiskey. When Lindell left, Noah stepped back inside.

  “Mr. Wesley, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to help you. Would you like a drink?”

  Wesley had been blubbering, but at the mention of a drink, he looked up at Noah with his eyes wide again. “A drink?”

  “I sent my friend to get you a bottle of whiskey,” Noah said. “As soon as he gets back, you can have it. My friends are going to stay here with you tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you explain it all to the sheriff. Okay?”

  The blubbering began again, but Wesley nodded his head. The three men stayed with him, and Noah kept telling him how he had stolen Ralph’s wallet, then went down to the high school looking for girls and killed young David Pritchett, until Lindell returned with the whiskey. Noah handed him a bottle, and Marco found some old blankets and made him a pallet on the floor.

  “I want you two guys to stay here with him tonight,” he said to Forney and Lindell. “Keep him drinking, and keep telling him how sorry you are that this happened to him. Tell him over and over again that you know he didn’t mean to kill the boy, and that we are all going to help him explain this to the sheriff.”

  Forney looked over at Wesley, then looked back at Noah. “You’ve got him believing he did it,” he said quietly. “How in the world did you mana
ge that?”

  Noah shrugged. “When you told me he drank a lot, I figured there was a good chance you might find him drunk. If he was, well, a lot of people don’t realize that alcohol induces a state of suggestibility. You can take someone who’s truly drunk and tell them something over and over, and they’ll believe it. It’ll probably wear off when they sober up, but by then it’ll be too late.”

  “And the cops will believe he’s confessing because he was too drunk to lie his way out of it, right?”

  “That’s how a policeman’s mind works, yeah,” Noah said. “There’s an old saying, ‘in vino, veritas.’ It’s Latin, and it means ‘in the wine is the truth.’ Comes from the old Romans, who firmly believed that somebody who drank enough wine was incapable of telling a lie. I think a lot of cops nowadays would have fit in real well, back then.”

  Forney laughed. “Ain’t that the truth? Okay, we got this. Why don’t you go on and get you some sleep?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Noah said. “And if he starts yelling, just try not to let him get too loud, okay? I’ve had a couple of rough days, and I need some shut-eye.”

  Noah turned and headed toward the house, and Marco followed him. When they were out of earshot, Marco said softly, “Man, that was pretty slick. You really got that fellow thinking he did it.”

  “Yeah, it’s not hard when somebody’s that deep in a bottle. Do me a favor tonight and just kinda keep an eye on them. I doubt they’ll come near the house, but you might peek out the window now and then, anyway.”

  They got inside the house, and Noah passed on dinner. Sarah followed him back to the bedroom and lay down beside him as he quickly drifted off to sleep.

  When morning came, Noah got quietly out of bed and showered quickly, then dressed and walked out to the kitchen in search of coffee. Marco was sitting at the table drinking a cup. “I just made that half an hour ago,” he said. Noah picked up a cup and poured some for himself, then joined Marco at the table.

  “You been up all night?”

  “Well, you told me to keep an eye on them, so I did. Forney and the other guy took turns napping, just sitting up against the wall, but Wesley is sleeping the sleep of the thoroughly wasted.”

  “You know that kind of sleep when you see it, do you?”

  “I should,” Marco said with a chuckle, “I slept that way many times.”

  Noah raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for much of a drinker,” he said. “Back home, I hardly ever see you drink more than one beer.”

  “That’s because I know exactly how stupid I can get when I’ve drunk too much. This, my friend, comes from experience. When one has learned this lesson from experience, one does not allow himself to get thoroughly drunk.”

  “I think I’ve only ever actually been drunk once,” Noah said, “when you guys threw the bachelor party. I have no intention of trying it again in the near future.”

  “Which makes you the smartest of us all,” Sarah said, coming up behind him. “I’ve been drunk a few times, and trust me, it’s not worth it.”

  Noah aimed his face upward and she bent down for a kiss, then poured her own coffee and took a chair at the table. “I’ve got to get started on this pretty shortly,” Noah said. “I’ve got to go through all the motions as if it were real, so we might as well get started now.” He took out his phone and dialed Morgan’s number.

  “Hello,” Morgan said, and Noah could hear the pent-up anger still in his voice.

  “It’s Rex,” he said. “I thought you’d like to know I found the guy who really killed David Pritchett.”

  Morgan hesitated for a split second, then caught on and played along. “You did? Well, that’s excellent. Are you gonna take him on down to the sheriff?”

  “Yeah, Aubrey and I will handle it. The poor fellow really wants to confess.”

  Morgan almost choked. “Confess? Seriously?”

  “Yep. He and I had a long talk last night, and he realizes what he’s done and that he has to own up to it. He doesn’t want your poor innocent son in trouble for something he did. Isn’t that good?”

  Morgan burst out laughing. “As soon as you get done, you get your butt out here. I’m starting to wonder how I ever got by without you, Rex. You come see me as soon as you’re finished, okay?”

  “Sure will,” Noah said, “and with any luck, I’ll have Ralph with me. I’m not certain about that, yet, but I’m going to try.”

  He ended the call and put the phone in his pocket, then looked at Marco. “You about ready?”

  “Oh, mon ami,” Marco said, “I be born ready! We go now, yes?”

  “We go now.” Noah stood and kissed Sarah once more, then walked out the back door with Marco following. When they got to the shed, Forney was standing against the wall, yawning and obviously looking forward to the opportunity to get some sleep of his own. When Noah entered, he snapped to attention and kicked Lindell, who was curled up asleep on the floor beside him.

  “How did it go overnight?” Noah asked.

  “He passed out around midnight,” Forney said. “He woke up again around three or so, opened another bottle and drained it in about half an hour, then passed out again. He kept going on about how he never killed anybody before, so I just kept telling him it was all going to be okay once the sheriff understood what happened.”

  Noah grinned at him. “Perfect,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get him at least partly awake.”

  He and Marco each took one of Wesley’s arms and dragged him up off the pallet. Marco had to slap him a few times to get a response, but finally his eyes opened and turned blearily toward Noah.

  “I didn’t mean to kill him,” he said. “I didn’t never killed nobody before.”

  “I know,” Noah said, feigning sympathy. “Let’s go see the sheriff, and we’ll get this all straightened out, okay?”

  Wesley nodded, almost managing not to let his head fall to one side or the other. “Yeah, let’s go see the sheriff. ’Splain everything…” His head fell forward until his chin hit his chest.

  Marco waved a hand under his nose as a response to the smell of urine— Wesley had pissed himself at least once during the night—then looked at Noah. “Mebbe we bes’ jus’ carry dis ol’ boy, eh, Rex?”

  “I guess we might as well,” Noah said. “I don’t think he’s in any shape to do any kind of walking.”

  Wesley tried. His feet and legs moved in a poor approximation of walking, trying to keep the bottom half of his body somewhat close to the top half as it was carried along toward the Charger. When they got to the car, Noah opened the passenger door and flipped the seat forward, and then he and Marco managed to pick Wesley up and stuff him into the back seat.

  “I didn’ mean to kill him,” Wesley mumbled. “I didn’ never kill nobody before…”

  “What you t’ink he weigh, maybe half as much as me?” Marco asked. “He be one heavy drunk fellow.”

  “Dead weight,” Noah said. “Come on, let’s go.” He walked around and got behind the wheel as Marco climbed into the passenger side, then started up the car and turned it around to head out. Behind him, Forney and Lindell were climbing into Forney’s car, and they followed him out the driveway.

  Forney honked and turned off in another direction as they got into town, but Noah drove on until he hit the highway that ran through its center. He took a left at the light and followed the road east until he came to the sheriff’s office, then turned in and parked near the front door.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Wait here with our friend,” he said to Marco. He got out and walked up to the door. It was unlocked, so he stepped inside and walked up to the reception counter. A female deputy sat there and looked up at him questioningly.

  “Can I help you?”

  “My name is Rex Madison,” Noah said. “I need to see the sheriff.”

  “Can I say what this is in regard to?”

  “Yes,” Noah said. “You can tell him I brou
ght him David Pritchett’s real killer.”

  The woman stared at him, appearing to be confused, but she picked up a phone on her desk and pushed a button. “Sheriff? This is Debbie, out front. I’ve got a Rex Madison out here, and he says he’s got Davey Pritchett’s real killer with him.”

  Her eyes went wide, and then she put the phone down and looked up at Noah. “He says he’ll be right out,” she said. “If you’d like to have a…”

  That was as far as she got, because a door to Noah’s left opened and Sheriff Dan Redford came through it. He looked at Noah and gave him a suspicious grin. “Hey, Rex,” he said. “Debbie said something about Dave Pritchett’s real killer?”

  Noah nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “He’s been insisting on coming to see you this morning to confess. He’s in the back seat of my car, out front.”

  Redford glanced through the glass on the door and started walking that direction, with Noah falling into step beside him. “How did you happen to find him?” Redford asked.

  “I just sent some of the boys to ask around and see if anyone knew who did it,” Noah said. “They found a few people who were unwilling to come forward but were happy to tell our boys what they saw. Apparently, this guy Peter Wesley got into some kind of argument with the Pritchett boy behind the school and just went nuts on him.”

  Redford’s eyes were wide, but he continued walking out the door. When they got to the Charger, he leaned down and looked through the windows. “That’s Pete, all right. Is he drunk?”

  “Wasted,” Noah said. “He said he got his check a couple days ago, and he’s been drinking ever since. Kept telling us that he’s never killed anybody before, and how sorry he is.”

  Redford shook his head. “Well, let’s see if we can get him out of there.”

  Noah signaled Marco to get out, and the two of them managed to drag Wesley back out of the car. He was a bit more awake by the time they got him on his feet, and when his eyes focused on Redford he burst into tears. “I didn’t mean to,” he whined. “I didn’t never do this before, I don’t know what happened. I just wanted to party, that’s all. I stole ol’ Ralphie’s wallet to get some money to party with—I just wanted to party, that’s all. Davey didn’t want the girls to come, tha’s what happened. We just got in a fight and—that’s all I know. That’s all I know, I swear.”