Peter studied the boy. "You're not still feeling guilty about getting her into this, are you? You shouldn't be. She's in it because she's a professionally curious woman, and she wanted to know who killed Bobby. She felt like she owed it to him."
The young man nodded. "Still, that guy wouldn't've gone after her if I'd kept my mouth shut. But it ain't that, really," he admitted. "She's... I don't know. I ain't never met anyone like her. She's alive, like, and she cares. Really cares, I mean, not like those people who say the right things but won't give you a... anything if you come 'round on their coffee break."
Peter watched him and remembered Danny had been an abused child and a troubled adolescent. Bitter yet real experience underlay those words.
"The first time I asked her for help," he continued, "she was pissed about it, but she did it; and I didn't help her much neither. But she still... She was… like, I was important enough to bother, you know? And the last few days... I don't know how to say it. She gave me something... I can't tell you what, I don't even know..." Danny sought for the words but finally gave up with a shrug. "If that guy hurts her..." He swallowed and his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. "I'll make him wish... I'll jerk him right outa his frame."
Peter nodded. He'd asked the question, and he'd gotten a lot more answer than he'd expected. The language wasn't pretty, but it was an eloquent speech for an inarticulate young man, and it did illuminate a few things.
"I see," was all he said aloud. He did, too; a few things he hadn't seen before. He'd thought Cathy's charm and magnetism were exerted entirely for his own benefit. How self-centered could he get? It hadn't occurred to him that there was no show involved. She'd offered the same deal to Bobby and Danny, even when she'd considered the latter a useless pain in the neck.
Danny was right and, possibly, he understood Cathy better than Peter himself did. The thought of her in Hammond's hands twisted his insides into hard knots. What might he do with her? Peter looked at Danny, saw a couple of half-healed scars on his arms and had to bite down on a wave of nausea.
"Mr. Lowell?" Danny interrupted his disturbed thoughts hesitantly. "We're almost into town and I don't know where we're going."
"Ike Hudson's junkyard on Hudson Street. I wonder if they named the street after him?"
"I know," Danny said, "but I don't know where the street's at."
"Oh, sorry." Peter directed him, taking the fastest route. They drove by the building and parked up the road, out of sight from the junkyard, and ran back cautiously. There were no cars in the parking area, and no sign that anyone else was there.
Instead of going in the front, they climbed over a back fence and went into Ike's small house by the side door. Peter yelled and Ike came out after a moment, stunned and alarmed by their unorthodox entry. He looked sharply at Peter, then at Danny.
"Mr. Lowell," he said, "this is a surprise. And you, young man, are Bobby's brother. Must be. You have the look of him all over, except you're taller. What's your name?"
Danny told him, then studied Ike with cautious curiosity. But Peter didn't give either of them time to indulge their interest. As briefly as he could, he explained the situation to Ike and recruited his assistance. The gnome-like face crinkled with worry and anger as he listened to Peter's story.
"That's all you want me to do?" he asked when Peter finished. "Just wait here and act normal?"
"I know it doesn't seem like much," Peter returned, "but it's vitally important. The man with Miss Bennett is very dangerous and he mustn't suspect that anything is out of order."
"All right," Ike agreed. "I'll do what I can."
Peter and Danny went back outside and crossed the yard to the tired old Airstream in the corner. Along the way, Peter picked up a two-foot length of iron pipe. The door of the mobile home swung open easily, and they climbed inside. The trailer was sitting at an angle and settled slightly when Peter put his foot inside, but, beyond that, it held steady. Although the afternoon was moving toward evening, it was still hotter than a blast furnace inside, and they had to open a window, one that faced the back of the yard, to let some air in.
From another window in the side of the trailer, they could see the road and the parking area. They discussed their plans in a general way, but both knew what they needed to do. Danny wanted to start looking for the book Bobby had hidden while they waited; Peter refused to risk any distraction. They sat in the hot trailer, with Danny keeping watch out the window, while large beads of sweat dripped off their bodies.
The wait stretched to agonizing length. They discussed baseball and motorcycles, hunting and food. Peter was beginning to wonder if he'd guessed wrong, when Danny turned to him and said, "A car just pulled up." Peter joined him at the small window when he said, "It's them, Cathy and Hammond."
"Places," Peter ordered.
They waited longer. Peter's hand on the pipe was damp and sticky. He kept shifting his grip, worried it might slip at the crucial moment. Footsteps crunched across the yard to the steps. Peter breathed a silent prayer. The door swung open and Cathy climbed in. She looked around, saw Peter, and managed to keep her face from betraying that knowledge. At Peter's nod, Danny grabbed her arm and jerked her aside. The two of them crashed to the floor. Peter brought the pipe down on the arm holding the gun.
It connected, and the gun flew out of the hand. Hammond fell back, out of the trailer, and got up to run. Peter jumped out after him and caught him in a flying tackle before he'd gone more than a few steps. The two men rolled over pieces of rubble, around a refrigerator and a dishwasher. Peter landed two punches squarely on Hammond's jaw before he managed to wriggle free. Both struggled to their feet, then Hammond charged. The lawyer tried to duck, but Hammond's head caught him in the side and knocked him off his feet again.
As he fell, Peter hooked a hand around one of Hammond's ankles and pulled him down, too. Hammond crashed to the ground next to him. They both lay winded a moment, then Hammond yanked his leg out of Peter's grasp and scrambled to his feet. Peter got up also and ran after him, through stacks of wire and metal parts, trying not to trip over old car seats, tires, discarded toasters, and the wringer from an ancient washing machine. Hammond was trying to get around one of the bathtubs when Peter caught up with him.
Hammond groped in his pocket, then turned, extending a knife in his right hand. Peter backed away a step, searched quickly, and grabbed the nearest handy object. He wasn't sure what he'd picked up, but it looked like a frying pan with a long handle and a lid. When Hammond lunged with the knife, swiping the blade toward his face, Peter parried with the pan. The metal blade and the bottom of the pan crashed together. Hammond drew back and positioned for another thrust.
He feinted toward Peter's left, then tried to come in on the right. Peter was ready and met the movement with the pan. When Hammond tried to duck around and outside, the lawyer swung the pan in an even wider arc. Hammond thought he saw his opportunity. He backed, moved in and went for Peter's vulnerable left side. The pan was extended too far in the other direction. Peter tried to pull back to protect his left, but the knife approached faster.
Peter was as shocked as Hammond when the lid of the thing he held suddenly flew open. It was hinged at the back so that, when open, the appliance was suddenly a foot longer than it had previously been. The lid flew back and the end of it caught Hammond right under the chin.
The man dropped the knife and pulled both hands in to protect his face. Peter grabbed the opportunity and closed, bringing the appliance down across his arms and face. Hammond backed up, then fell backward over the edge of a bathtub. Peter grabbed one of the his feet and encouraged his backward slide into the tub, then he brought the pan down across his head with all the force he could muster. The appliance broke off at the handle, but Hammond went out as well.
Peter leaned over him, panting. Hammond's body slid into the tub and remained in a heap. Peter studied the handle and the part that had broken off. He still couldn't figure out what the thing was supposed t
o be. He tossed it aside.
Seeing the fight was over, Ike came scurrying out of the house.
"Rope," Peter said, struggling to catch his breath. "Then call the police." Ike brought him a length of rope, and Peter tied Hammond as thoroughly as he could. The man started to stir as Peter was securing the next-to-last knot, but the lawyer paid no attention.
Danny and Cathy sat on the floor near the door of the trailer so they could watch the fight, but neither was looking his way now. Cathy was partially on Danny's lap, and he had both arms wrapped tightly around her. Her head was buried in his shoulder. The way she shook suggested she might be crying. Danny lowered his head to say something to her.
When Peter walked over to the trailer, Danny looked out and met his eyes. Peter nearly recoiled from his expression. Then Danny looked beyond him, to the tub where he'd left Hammond secured, and Peter realized the raw hatred and fury in the young man's face was directed that way. The knot in Peter's stomach, which had begun to unwind as he'd tied Hammond, twisted again.
"Is she hurt?" he asked, and heard the edge of panic in his voice.
Cathy seemed not to hear; she continued to cling to Danny, arms wound around his neck. The boy looked back at him and hesitated, looked down at Cathy, and a muscle twitched in the side of his face. Finally, Danny met his gaze again. "He beat her pretty bad."
Peter's body went rigid with the sudden fury coursing through him. He had to fight the temptation to go back and pull Hammond out of the tub. Instead, he looked at Cathy, still shaking in Danny's arms. He leapt into the trailer and knelt on the floor beside them. He said her name, softly, and she looked up. Her eyes were wet and her face smudged. Bruises were darkening and swelling. Danny surrendered his hold and Peter pulled her against him.
She put her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into his chest. Peter held her, rocking slightly, murmuring meaningless, reassuring words in her ear. She felt terribly fragile, like a child, in his arms. He was vaguely aware Danny had left them alone. Gradually, the spasms calmed, but she still clung to him.
Then she suddenly sat up and said, "No!" Peter hadn't any idea what she was talking about. He half-feared she was hallucinating, but helped her to her feet when she collected herself to stand. As she climbed from the trailer, he followed and saw what bothered her.
Danny had gone in search of the gun Peter had knocked from Hammond and found it. He stood over the tub and held it in his outstretched hands, pointed down at Hammond. His face was calm, expressionless, and he held the gun steady.
Peter watched with dismay and wondered what the hell he'd do when the boy pulled the trigger. A siren wailed in the distance.
-36-
Thursday
Cathy watched Danny as she walked toward him, saw when he became aware of her presence. She continued to approach, careful not to move suddenly, afraid she'd startle him into hasty action.
"Stay away," he warned when she was six feet away.
"Why?"
"You gotta ask?"
"Let the law take care of it, Danny. You'll only get in trouble yourself."
"The law? The law'll let him out on bail and he'll skip the country. Or they'll send him to jail for six months and let him go to hurt other people."
"No," Peter interrupted. "He won't get bail and, at best, he'll spend a long time in prison."
Danny glanced at him coldly. "It's too good for him. He deserves some of what he's been handing out."
Behind her, Cathy heard Peter start to say something else, but she held up a hand to silence him. "Who's this for, Danny?" she asked. "Bobby? Me? Yourself?"
"All of us."
"No. It has to be for yourself. Bobby and I don't want it."
He turned to look her full in the face. "After what he did to you?"
"I want revenge. I swore I'd have it, too. But not like this. I'm not going to let what he did ruin my life, that's part of my revenge. The rest is I'll do my best to see he gets convicted of everything we can get him for." She held up her hands. "I've got the evidence here to convict him of assault. That alone should put him away for a long time."
"Will they nail him for Bobby's murder?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "The evidence is mostly circumstantial. But, with your testimony, maybe. Even if they can't pin murder on him, the kidnapping and assault will stand. You and I'll see to that, and that should be enough to put him away for the rest of his life."
He still wasn't convinced.
"Danny." She was pleading now and there was some response to the agony in her voice. "Danny, you know what Hammond did to me. You may be the only person who can understand how awful it was, how bad it hurt. But, Danny," she didn't try to keep the anguish out of her tone, "if you do this, it's going to hurt me worse than anything he did."
He looked at Hammond, and Cathy willed him to meet her own eyes again. After a moment, he did, but she didn't know if he could see the absolute truth of her words in her face. His hands holding the gun shook slightly. She continued to hold his gaze with her own. "Danny, I'm not kidding. I don't think I can stand it." She didn't have to fake the sob that broke her voice. "Please don't do this to me."
His mouth twisted just before he lowered his head and the gun at the same time. She released a deep breath and went to him. She took the gun out of his hands and gave it to Peter, then turned back to Danny and put her arms around him.
He returned her hug. "You meant it, didn't you?"
"You're damn right I meant it," she assured him.
Through the fence, she saw the police cars arrive. Ike led the officers back to the junkyard. She left the explanations to Peter; dealing with the law was his job. They asked her and Danny a few questions, which they answered as best they could. Among those who'd shown up was the man she'd talked with the night of Bobby's murder, Lieutenant Norfolk. He didn't seem thrilled to see her.
Mostly they were left alone, though, and Cathy was content to sit on an abandoned sofa, careful of a spring sticking up out of the seat, and rest her throbbing head on Danny's shoulder. He had one arm wrapped around her, and she wasn't sure which of them felt better for it.
Able to relax at last, she became aware of all the various aches and pains, drowned out heretofore by the greater pounding up top and the concentrating effect of terror and determination. This was an interlude, she knew; soon she'd have to go to the hospital again and tell her story to the police in excruciating detail.
For now, though, she could sit and revel in the pleasure of watching Peter deal with the mess at hand. He seemed to take it all in stride, at ease with the police and the technicalities of what they were doing. And as efficient as he'd been a little while ago when dealing with Hammond. Cathy didn't realize her heart was showing in her eyes, but Danny saw it.
"You're in love with him, ain't you?" he asked.
"Yes."
He thought about it for a moment. "Will you marry him?"
"It's not that simple," she answered.
"Why not?"
"He's been married before and it was a bad experience. He doesn't want to that risk again."
Danny shook his head. "He's a jerk if he lets that stop him. If I was ten years older..."
She smiled. "If you were ten years older, I'd have a difficult decision to make. As it is... I think I'm going to have to adopt you."
"What?"
"It seems to me you could use a sister to keep you in line. Someone to keep you out of trouble."
"I ain't never had a sister," he said, slowly. His voice and eyes were haunted by shadows.
Peter and two policemen climbed into the Airstream, and Cathy realized with a start that she'd completely forgotten about the evidence that had brought them here. She didn't feel like getting up, though. She'd find out soon enough. Beside her, Danny stirred and pulled himself out of his sorrow.
"I guess maybe I could use a sister at that," he admitted. "You could use a brother to keep an eye on you, too."
"You're probably rig
ht," she said, turning and giving him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. He blushed and, for the second time, she saw a brief smile transform his face. She promised herself she'd see it more often.
"Cathy! Danny!" Peter called from inside the trailer. They rose and climbed into the Airstream.
Peter thumbed through what looked like an ordinary spiral-bound school notebook. She saw writing and columns of numbers on some of the pagers. He examined the writing, turned more sheets and scanned those as well before he looked up.
"You've found it?" she asked. "Is it what Bobby thought?"
"God, yes." Peter's smile faded as he glanced at Lieutenant Norfolk. "Bobby had a tiger by the tail and he knew it." The lawyer was silent and grim for a moment, then his face lightened again. "But he's going to get what he wanted. And more. A lot more."
"What is it?"
"The complete records and accounting of a big-time insurance scam. Joe Townsend organized the fires so the owners of useless buildings could collect insurance money on them. We've got names, addresses, phone numbers, dates, and records of payments for the people Townsend hired. Better yet, he also recorded the payments coming to him. They all seem to have come through three companies: Branch Holding Company, Middlewood Development and Rolling Hill Trusts. I suppose, if we dig, we'll find a connection between them. I can't believe Townsend was the brains behind this."
"Hammond?" Danny asked.
Peter looked at the book again. "Maybe, but I don't think so. Hammond was more of a hired gun."
"You'll find a connection between those companies, all right," Cathy informed him. Her best friend on the newspaper staff was the business editor.
"You know?" the lieutenant asked.
"All three are wholly-owned subsidiaries of Carter Enterprises."
"Good grief. Horace Carter? He's a mighty big fish. Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't issue an arrest warrant without checking first, and he might not be personally responsible, but I'm sure about those three companies."
A Question of Fire Page 27