There was nothing Mick could say. His dad was right.
“They got my license, the car plate. If they’re any good they’ll backtrack us to McCall. They’ll search this place and the Conoco. They won’t find anything but I’ll still lose my job. Could get extradited. You could wind up on the spot for this floater. Numbered hell! Don’t you ever think?”
Mick thought plenty. He didn’t ask his dad to steal the generator off that highway construction in McCall. He didn’t ask him to sell it to some dickwad that turned him in. He didn’t ask his dad to pull bonehead stuff like that all over the western states for the last how many years, always a half step ahead of arrest. He didn’t ask him to spend his money on cars and drugs and beer. He didn’t ask him to live like a petty-crap outlaw and carry Mick around like a saddle blanket.
“Hey,” Mick said, his own anger rising, “I made a mistake! I didn’t—”
“You sure did, Bucky Boy, you sure did. Now maybe you can get up and help me and Gary figure out what to do next!” He stormed out, heading for the Stovalls’.
Mick pulled his jeans on and looked for a weapon. His father was about five ten, maybe a hundred and eighty, most of it muscle. Mick wasn’t going to let the man beat him again. Not for this. Not for anything anymore. His souvenir bat … no idea if he’d even brought it home from school for the summer. The putter? His dad wouldn’t feel it. Mick found a foot-long section of pipe, the cheater bar his dad used for leverage on stuck bolts. Mick put it on his bed within easy reach, covered it with a T-shirt.
Fitz rammed back in, still in a huff. Gary came behind, wearing sweatpants, his hair mashed to the side of his head. His father clattered a wooden chair for Gary beside Mick’s cot and pulled the cooler over for himself.
Gary was shaking his head. “Shit luck,” he said, to no one in particular.
Fitz started. “I can get my stuff out of the Conoco when it opens at seven. Hide it. Keep working like nothing’s happened. No way I can be connected to the girl. Mick, though, he’s got to get out of here and he can’t take the Bonnie.”
“Maybe the Chevy?” Gary offered.
“Fort Knox don’t have enough money to get that pile running.” Mick’s dad ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll buy a cheap ride. Get Mick and your kids on the road.”
“We didn’t do anything, we just tried—”
“Shut up!” Fitz barked. “You did enough.”
“Me and Mick already been working on this,” Gary said. “He’ll take JJ and Jon, go visit Tina’s family in Spokane or mine in Boise. Out of here for a few weeks and back in time for school.”
Fitz shook his head. “The way this thing moves … could be next week, could be never.”
It sounded to Mick like he was getting divorced. He’d become a liability and his dad was cutting him loose.
“Well, I’m not giving away my kids,” Gary said, sitting a little straighter.
“Join ’em in a few months,” Fitz said.
“Hell, I got a business here,” Gary getting louder.
Fitz snorted.
“You’re scared, you go,” Gary said.
Mick’s dad brought a small pistol out from under his shirt. “You’re not giving me orders, pothead.”
Mick had seen his father like this once before with a guy he said was trying to stiff him.
“Whoa, whoa!” Mick was standing now. “Cool down. We’ll figure this out. Gary’s right. We were already working on it earlier tonight.”
His father towered over Gary. “I’m getting you a clean car by tonight. You two figure out who’s going where.” He turned and was out the door.
It was so quiet all of a sudden, Mick could hear the river.
36
MICK WOKE TO KNOCKING. Morning sun hurt his eyes. Another knock shook the whole room. His first thought was Tim and his buddy. Going to finish what they started yesterday. He was up in his underwear looking for a weapon. Where had he put that cheater bar?
“Open up! Sheriff.”
Oh … his dad was going to kill him for sure.
He pulled on his jeans and opened the door to a stocky old man with a small dab of jelly in his mustache.
“Mickey Fitzhugh?” His voice sounded like a road grader.
“Yes, sir.”
“You make a phone call a couple of days ago? 911?”
What the hell?
“Booth at the river park east of town?”
Could somebody have seen me?
“Afternoon. About three?”
“No. Uh, no, sir. I might have been working. Hardware store.”
“You weren’t. Witness says a kid matching your description made a phone call from River Park. Right about the same time dispatch got a 911. From the same phone.”
“Huh. Well, there were some people just leaving the park when I pulled in.”
“Pulled in?”
Crap! Mick needed to wake up. “Earlier this week I was down there swimming. I don’t remember which day.”
“Who were you calling?” The man hitched his belt, but it still didn’t get up over his belly. He usually looked off to the side as if he were picturing what Mick was saying, but at the end of each question his eyes went up to Mick’s and held them.
“I don’t remember calling anybody.”
The sheriff sighed. “Son, based on the lies you’re telling me, I’m going to need fingerprints and a recording of your voice. May even need a tissue sample. Finish getting dressed and we’ll go to my office.”
“Sir, you can’t arrest me. I haven’t done anything. I have to go to work.”
“Look at me.” The man paused, letting it sink in. “You think I been doing this job long enough to know what I can and can’t do? I got something I’m working on a bit more important than your convenience.” He took his hat off and ran his hand over his hair like it was bothering him.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Really I was just … begging. I can’t afford to lose my job. I, uh, I’m raising money for my cleats and uniform. Play ball for the Trappers this year.” Mick could feel sweat rolling out of his hair and down the back of his neck, and he knew the man could see it beading on his lip.
“Uh-huh. Well, I don’t mean any disrespect either. You’re lying to a law officer investigating a murder. How serious you think that is?”
“Uh, I know that’s really serious … I’m just scared. To be involved.”
“You want to quit lying and tell me about that call?”
“I thought she deserved to be found.” A part of Mick stood back watching, knowing he was going down the tubes, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think what else to do. Wasn’t talking to this guy better than talking to Cassel?
“I was swimming. I—”
“Alone?”
“Alone. I saw this thing across the river. I thought it was a log or something at first and then I realized it was a body. I ran. When I got back to town I called 911 because I didn’t want the animals to get her. I didn’t want her parents to keep worrying.”
“You knew her parents.”
“No. I hadn’t ever seen her before. Didn’t know her from nobody.”
“How come you’re lying about making the call?”
“I’m not! I did at first because I thought you’d think I did it.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m young and you’d have me … and you wouldn’t have to keep looking.”
“You don’t have a very high opinion of law enforcement.” The man made another try at his belt.
Mick didn’t say anything to that. He knew his dad had never been caught.
“That your vehicle out front?”
“Yes. My dad’s.”
“A Pontiac with that license number was stopped at a roadblock on River Road last night. Right where the body was found. Kind of a coincidence, huh?”
Mick knew the man could see him react. Mick didn’t think he grimaced but he could feel his skin flushing, hear his breathing gettin
g louder. Worst of all, he couldn’t think what to say.
The sheriff waited Mick out.
“That might have been my dad. He took our neighbors for a drive last night. I don’t know where they went. Dad didn’t know where I saw the body. I never told him.”
“Never told him anything.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“When you were a kid did you tell your folks everything that happened when you borrowed their car and they didn’t know it?”
He considered that. “Give me your driver’s license,” he said.
“I don’t have one.”
The sheriff looked away and nodded. He hadn’t thought Mick did. He had Mick going and coming. Grace and Mick’s dad had both been right. Before this was over Mick could see that he might be charged with murder. Might wind up in prison if they found traces of him at the beach. Did he touch the body? He couldn’t remember.
37
MICK TOLD THE SHERIFF that he had to go to work, that his dad worked in town, that they weren’t going anywhere, and that he’d come in after work and do a voice recording if the man still needed one.
The sheriff looked at Mick for a long time. Assessing.
Mick rubbed his hair back, trying for a little grooming. His T-shirt smelled like sweat, his jeans were grubby, and he looked like a bum. Could the man trust him? Mick had to admit he himself wouldn’t. But maybe Mick reminded the old man of somebody. Because he left.
Mick pulled on fresher clothes. He’d go to the Stovalls’, talk with Grace. Find out if she was still planning to get out of here like she’d said last night. Tell Gary about the sheriff. As he left the studio he saw Dovey watching him from her front porch. Mick stopped and walked to her.
“Looks like you’re starting to do a lot of business with the law.” She put her hands on her porch railing and leaned into a stretch.
“I made the 911 call on the dead girl,” Mick told her. She’d know soon enough anyway, and you had to give something to get something. “Who was that?” he asked, cutting his eyes toward the dirt road the sheriff had left on.
“Cardwell. Cardwell Paint. He’s the county sheriff. Office near mine. Good man. Lot to him.” She straightened and looked out to the river. “In some trouble?”
“Yeah. I told some lies and they bit me.”
“You hurt that girl?” Her eyes returned to Mick’s.
“No. Just found her. Never seen her before.”
“Beat to death,” she said. “Found her car halfway to Plains. Think she was probably killed there. Dumped up on the Salish.”
The Clark Fork River ran through the town of Portage, northwest all the way to Bonners Ferry in Idaho, and southeast through Missoula and beyond. The Salish River, the place where they’d gone swimming, ran north-south and poured into the Clark Fork just south of the town limits.
“Yeah, I know. That’s where I found her. But I said I found her at the south bridge around River Park. I thought I wouldn’t get anybody else in trouble.”
“Anybody else?”
Mick didn’t answer that. He was realizing Dovey could be an ally. She had the unofficial ear of the law. And she’d always been nice enough to the kids in the compound. Didn’t seem too judgmental.
“Instead I messed things up. Now they might even think I did it.”
“They?”
“Yeah. What’s his name, Sheriff Paint, and the Highway Patrol guy, Scott Cassel, too. I had a run-in with his son and his son’s goon yesterday.”
“Stay out of their way.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Mick wanted her to put in a good word for him, but he didn’t want to seem too obvious. Wanted her to think it was her idea.
“I can’t afford to get in trouble,” he told her. “I got a job stocking for the hardware and the feedstore. Want to play school football this year.”
“Been here about five months?” she asked.
“Yeah. Yes.” Manners, idiot! “Moved here from McCall, Idaho.” Was that right? Mick couldn’t keep it straight. Maybe he shouldn’t tell her anything about where they’d been before. What if, in her job, she’d seen a warrant? “My dad works at the Conoco.”
She didn’t say anything. Gut level, Mick didn’t see she thought much of his dad by the look on her face.
“Cardwell thinks she was killed Monday,” she said, watching Mick’s eyes.
Does she think I’ve been lying to her?
“Monday night, out 200 on the highway to Plains. Whoever it was had to have had a car to put her up on the Salish.”
Where was he Monday night? Mick couldn’t remember.
“Well,” she said, turning to her door, “I have to get to work. Take care of yourself.” She paused at the door. “Tell JJ to come see me one of these days. And watch out. I mean it.”
Mick stood in front of her trailer for another minute wondering what it was like to be old. What was it like to lose a husband? What if it tore your insides out but you had to keep living?
Would he feel that way if his dad died? Mick probably loved him. At least he was grateful that his father kept him, raised him, such as it was. His dad didn’t have to, but he did the duty. Been easier to put Mick in foster care. More and more though, his father was blaming Mick for his own problems. Whenever his dad got in a jam, Mick was a handy goat. Mick knew he’d miss him sometimes, but when he thought of working, going to school, taking care of himself without having to keep covering things up? Mick would be a million pounds lighter. He was getting clear on that.
* * *
Grace came out on their porch when Mick walked up their steps.
“Things don’t seem to be getting any better,” she said, hands in her hip pockets.
“What?”
“Cop car?”
“Sheriff. I called 911 that day.”
“You’re a…” Grace took a deep breath and looked away. “Guess that was the right thing to do,” she said, turning back. “You tell him I was there?” Her eyes were bloodshot. Lack of sleep? She had on the same clothes as yesterday.
“No. I said just me,” Mick told her, glancing at the alley, nervous that Paint might change his mind and come back. “I, uh, told Dovey the same thing. She might help us.”
Grace muffled a smirk. “Right. County clerk. People like her don’t help. Not their job.”
Mick didn’t want to argue. Couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to talk with her in the first place. “I got to go to the hardware in an hour or so,” Mick said. “Why aren’t you at work?”
She looked away again. Decided to tell him. “I don’t go in till one, but I already called in sick.”
“Gary tell you Dad might make JJ and Jon and me leave?”
She cut her eyes at him. Pissed. “Right! JJ will be in la-la land in the backseat and Jon will chew your arm off while you drive. There’s a plan. You won’t get fifty miles.”
“Tina’s got relatives in Spokane.”
Rolled her eyes. “Sure. You think they want anything to do with her or hers?”
Good point. “Gary’s got family in Boise.”
“I was there when he said it.” She rubbed at the end of her nose like it was bothering her. “I could see you and JJ bunking with them for a week or two, but Jon? He’ll bring everybody down. Bound and determined. Right now Gary’s got him handcuffed to the bed. Gave him something to knock him out.”
“He can’t keep doing that.” Imagining the scene made Mick’s stomach churn. “Somebody’ll come over to get something fixed, see that, and report him. Or Dovey’ll find out and tell Paint. They jail people for stuff like that.”
“Tell me.” Grace crossed her arms as if she could wall off this reality. “This whole scene is nitro.”
“Let’s you and me go!” Mick’s new idea. Out of nowhere. “Right now! I got car keys and cash in my pillow.” He winced. That sounded dumb.
She looked at him like he was from outer space. “I can’t leave!”
Mick thought for s
ure she was going to take a swing at him. Handy again. Rent-a-punch. “Last night you said you have to leave!” Mick, talking faster than he could think. “You can’t save the Stovalls.”
Grace cut him off. “I remembered. I can’t run. If the cops catch on, they could send me back.”
Back? To what? Runaway in the first place like Mick thought. But he was puzzled. What had changed so much since last night?
She was twisting her hair, pulling hard enough to rip it. “I’m trapped. Can’t go, can’t stay.”
“I don’t get it.”
Grace gave him the look. Of course he didn’t get it, because he was an idiot. “One, Jon’s ballistic and the only thing Gary knows to do is drug him. Sooner or later Jon’ll get away and spill everything. Cassel or the sheriff or both’ll come after us. And how can we leave JJ with Cunneen or Tim out to hurt her? She can’t … she’s not…” Grace looked annoyed by her surge of tenderness and the responsibility it evoked.
Mick thought she had been going to say JJ wasn’t a street rat like him and Grace.
“Yeah,” he said, “but let’s go anyway.” He couldn’t seem to give up on the idea of driving off alone with Grace and where that might eventually lead. Bonnie and Clyde. Fugitives, then lovers.
Her look withered him. “Get away! I mean it!” She was yelling and crying at the same time, tears, snot, everything. “Get out of here!” Even louder. And then the bang of the trailer door slamming.
Mick backed off the porch. Did Dovey see this? Her car was still there. Did she hear Grace?
He was ready to jump in the Bonnie and drive it into the river.
38
MICK COULDN’T KNOCK on the Stovalls’ door and talk to Gary about the sheriff’s visit right now. Grace needed to cool off. He went to his place instead, washed his face, drank some water, left for Main Street and work. Turning the corner, he saw the Highway Patrol cruiser sitting in front of the hardware. He didn’t know what the man had in mind, but he didn’t think Cassel was buying fencing.
When he got back to the compound, JJ and Grace were standing on his porch, holding duffels.
Dead Girl Moon Page 9