“You think!” snapped Annabelle.
“Do you have another idea?”
She glared over at him. “Why do I always have to come up with the ideas, Mr. Librarian of Congress?”
Caleb said imperturbably, “I only asked because I happen to have one, an idea I mean.”
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and looked at him expectantly.
“Do you want to hear it?” Caleb said tersely.
“Yes!” she shouted at him.
“I don’t appreciate being yelled at.”
She leaned into him. “Will you appreciate it more if I pull you out of this hunk of junk and kick the shit out of you instead?”
Caleb put one hand on the door lever and looked ready to sprint for it. “How about I just tell you my idea?”
Annabelle gripped the wheel so hard her forearms quivered. “That would please me very much,” she said between clenched teeth.
“You see, civility is really not that difficult.” She gave him such a ferocious look that he hurried on. “Okay, we go back to that town where they serve heart attacks instead of meals. You go to the bus station, do your usual bushelful of lies routine, maybe show some leg, buy a ticket and get the driver to drop you off at the exact same spot he did Oliver. He might have even overheard where they were headed. I’ll follow in the van, and when you get there I’ll pick you up and we go from there. At the very least it’ll put us in the general vicinity of where Oliver was. How does that sound?”
Actually it sounded pretty good, Annabelle had to admit. She put the van in gear and pulled onto the road, setting a course back to the town.
Caleb’s cell phone buzzed. It was Reuben. He spoke for a few minutes and then clicked off.
“Well?” said Annabelle.
“He’s about two hours away, he said. I filled him in on the plan and he’ll meet us there.”
“Good.”
“So you like my idea?”
“I’m doing it, so I must think it has some merit,” she snapped.
“Annabelle, can I make a personal comment?”
She took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”
“You really need to do something about your anger issues.”
She stared over at him with an incredulous look. “I’ve been in this van so long I can’t even remember when I haven’t been in this van. I’m tired, I’m filthy, I’m worried and I’m frustrated. Okay? I don’t have anger issues.”
Caleb smiled knowingly. “That was a good first step to getting your feelings out. Only then can you achieve real progress.”
“Can I share another feeling with you?” she said pleasantly.
“Of course.”
“Either go back to being the mildly amusing testosterone Caleb, or else your ass can walk back to D.C.”
Predictably, they drove on in silence.
CHAPTER 50
KNOX CRUISED INTO TAZBURG and passed the local police station. He parked the truck and watched uniformed officers come and go, some on foot, others climbing into old mud-splattered Ford LTDs and speeding off to somewhere. The downtown area consisted of brick and clapboard buildings, a few leaning into each other, with old telephone lines running to them, while cars were parked slantwise in front of them. He’d passed through a long tunnel cut straight through a section of mountain on his way here. It felt like a border crossing.
What country am I in?
He pulled out the photos of Carr and mentally absorbed them one more time. He put the truck in gear and slowly pulled off. He would grid the downtown area street by street. From the look of the place that would take all of five minutes. Then he would get something to eat at the local place. He wouldn’t pull his badge or show his photos. He would just watch. He had one big advantage. He knew relatively well what Carr looked like, while Carr had no idea who he was. He would press that to his full advantage. If that didn’t pay off, he would eventually go to the police and work through them. It was a plan at least.
Three hours later and after having sat his butt down in four hole-in-the-walls and downed more cups of coffee than his stomach or bladder cared for, he concluded that he had struck out.
He parked in front of the police station, went in, flashed his creds, explained his mission to the extent he could, meaning it was mostly refined by-the-spook-book gobbledygook, and got zip for his troubles from the lawmen who were understandably excited that a dangerous desperado might be in their midst, but not very helpful. No one had seen anyone remotely resembling the man in the photo. Although one young deputy did mention that a fellow that looked just like that had lived in Tazburg for sixty-three years and happened to be his daddy. Knox thanked them politely and nearly sprinted back to his truck.
Before he’d gotten the door of his truck closed, his cell phone rang.
It was Hayes. The spy chief was not happy. But then again, Knox had never known the man to be really happy about anything. Knox had been with him when the Berlin Wall had come down. While everyone else had been raising their champagne flutes and making victory toasts, Hayes had only sipped on club soda and grumbled, “About damn time.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Have you ever known me to give an idle command?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
Hayes bellowed, “When I ordered you to give me regular updates, I didn’t mean at such wide intervals that obviously seem to appeal to you.”
Knox punched the gas and rapidly left the good hamlet of Tazburg behind. He didn’t want the megaton blast that he sensed was coming from Hayes to flatten the place.
“Well, General, you’re a busy man and if I’d had something of substance to report you’d be the first to know.” Before Hayes could send off another broadside he added, “But in fact I was just going to call you. I’ve narrowed the search area to four places. I just cleared one and I’m heading on to the second one now.”
“Give me the locations.”
Knox knew that one was coming. “With all due respect, sir, can I ask why?”
“Why I want to know where your investigative search is going on? Are you on drugs, Knox?”
“Stone cold sober, I can assure you. But if your plan is to flood the area with agents, that would definitely be a bad move in my opinion. We’re looked on with suspicion here, and for all I know Carr has already gotten cozy with some folks around here and they may provide him with cover.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Big bad government coming after a persecuted Vietnam vet. He could’ve made up any lie about his background. Believe me, sir, I’ve passed enough pickup trucks with shotguns and deer rifles in the window rack and bumper stickers that read, ‘Thanks for visiting, now get the hell out,’ to know an unfriendly atmosphere when I see it. There was even a ten-foot-tall graffiti sign on a train overpass that said, ‘The Feds Suck!’ I couldn’t fail but note by the faded paint that it had been there apparently a long time without a single attempt to wash it off.”
“Where are you, Knox? Now!”
Okay, here comes Plan B. Knox sped up, rolled down the window and stuck the phone out so it was blasted by the wind. He leaned out the window and spoke into the phone. “General . . . mile . . . border . . . hour . . . berg.”
“Knox!” Hayes roared. “You’re breaking up.”
Knox pretended not to hear. In for a dime, in for a dollar. Maybe his lawyer daughter could represent him in his criminal insubordination trial. Although Hayes probably wouldn’t bother with a trial. Knox would simply just disappear.
“Next . . . then . . . report. . . . investigation . . . west . . . lead.” This was so absurd he had to work hard to keep from laughing his guts out, he really did.
“Damn it, Knox!”
Knox turned the phone off, wound the window back up, patting his hair back into place. With any luck Hayes was so apoplectic they would find him facedown on his desk, the unfortunate victim of a Joe Knox–induced fatal cardiac blast.
He pointed his ride to the ne
xt town on the list.
CHAPTER 51
AS STONE WALKED down the hospital corridor he heard laughter. When he reached Willie’s room he understood why. Danny was in the bed next to his friend and Abby was sitting between them.
They all looked up when Stone walked in.
Danny’s head was bandaged and one eye was swollen and there were cuts on his face. When he sat up he moved slowly and stiffly. Still, when he saw Stone he grinned in his usual cocksure manner.
“Looky what the cat dragged in. Dudley Do-Right. Savior of mankind, or at least two sorry-ass mountain boys.”
Abby smiled. “The ‘boys’ seem to be doing a lot better ever since they were put in the same room.”
“I can see that.” Stone pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “Danny, how you doing?”
“Thinking better than ever. See, couple knocks on the head straightened my brain out.”
Willie piped up, “Too bad it didn’t happen when we were playing football. Remember that godawful play you called in the state semis our junior year? I was wide open but you threw it right to the safety. Almost cost us the game.”
“Play was fine. Only problem was I was checking out the other team’s cheerleaders when I let go of the ball. One of ’em kept bending over. Trying to distract me, I expect.”
“Some things never change,” said Abby wearily. “Boys never grow up, they just get bigger with more hair and people start calling them men.”
Stone said to Danny, “Tyree told me he came by to see you.”
Danny’s look changed. He glanced toward the window but uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.
“Those men almost killed you, Danny. They almost killed me.”
“I’m sorry about that, Ben. Sure wasn’t your fight.”
“Who were they?”
“Can’t really remember. Docs say I got a concussion.” He looked back and his face brightened. “Had a few in high school. Didn’t I, Willie?”
“Hell, yeah. He always held on to the ball too long.”
“Had to so your sorry butt could get open. If you’d run a little faster my brain would be doing better.”
Willie grinned.
“Once we get out of here me and Willie are heading to California. Ain’t that right, Willie?”
Willie nodded. “We talked it over last night. Got it all worked out.”
“You sure it wasn’t the painkillers talking?” said Abby.
“I’m sure. Divine ain’t big enough for the two of us, is it, Willie?”
“No way.”
“He’s getting out of the mines and I’m gonna be a movie star. Willie’s going to be my agent.”
“What do you two know about any of that?” asked Abby with an incredulous look.
“Actors are just paid liars, far as I can see. They memorize a bunch of lines and then just say ’em. And, Ma, you’ve always said I could spout the biggest load of crap you’ve ever heard.”
“He’s got a point there, Mrs. Riker,” said Willie.
“California is a long way away,” she said slowly.
Danny looked over at her. “You want me to stay here?”
“No, I mean, I want you to be happy, honey. And safe. So if that means California, then so be it. Maybe I’ll come and visit.”
“Hell, when I hit it big I’ll buy you a place next to Brad Pitt. But you got to let me use it too so I can sneak peeks at Mrs. Pitt.”
“Okay, Danny, okay,” she said quietly, but looking anxious.
Danny seemed to notice this. He slid a hand out from under the covers and took one of hers.
“Ma, it’ll be okay. All right? I promise.”
“Sure. I know.”
“You can’t remember anything about last night?” said Stone persistently.
“No,” Danny said firmly. “But you’ll be the first to know when and if I do.”
Stone was about to say something else when a nurse walked in. “Willie, the doctor’s releasing you. We’re getting the paperwork done up. You have a way to get home?”
Stone said, “I drove here in your truck. I can take you back.”
“Okay, but I’ll call Gramps. He’ll want to be there when I get home.”
“Hey, Willie, don’t you forget now. California here we come.”
“I’m there, man.”
The two did a little knuckle smack to seal the deal.
Stone said to Abby, “How long are you staying here?”
“A few hours. Why don’t you come by for dinner tonight?”
Danny said, “Hey, you two got something going on?”
“Look, Mr. Movie Star, you’re not the only one with dreams,” said Abby, who blushed slightly as she said this.
On the drive back to town, Stone asked Willie something that had been puzzling him.
“You said Debby called you the night before she was found dead. Where from?”
“The bakery. She was doing some work there. They liked her to come after hours. Folks coming in to get muffins and cookies don’t want to smell paint. Ain’t good for business.”
Stone thought of the half-finished mural he’d seen on the wall there. “And the bakery is right across the street from Rory Peterson’s office.”
“That’s right. So?”
“So he was killed too.”
“But in town. And the night before. Debby was out at her folks’ house.”
“No. Debby’s body was found the next morning. But you said she’d been dead awhile. Maybe she was killed the night before. The same night Peterson was. His body was probably found that same morning too.”
“Okay, but her parents’ place is a good fifteen miles from town.”
“But at eleven o’clock she called you from the bakery in good spirits. Let’s say Peterson was killed around then or a bit later. The mural she was painting was in front of the store, with a good view of the street and the buildings opposite.”
Willie sat up straighter. “Are you saying she maybe saw who killed Peterson?”
“At the very least she might have seen someone go in his office. Then she might have gone to investigate or the killers saw her and grabbed her because she was a potential witness. They take her back to her parents’ house, kill her, make it look like suicide and no one thinks to connect the two together.”
“Damn,” Willie said slowly. “That makes a lot of sense. We gotta tell Tyree about this.”
“I plan to.”
When they pulled into the front yard of Willie’s home they saw Bob Coombs’ truck parked there. Willie got out as the front door opened and Bob was standing there smiling and waving. Willie hurried up the steps to embrace his grandfather while Stone, who’d been following Willie, turned and walked back to the truck to grab Willie’s bag.
He had just closed the truck door when the force of the explosion knocked him off his feet and slammed him facedown into the mud. As debris rained down around him, a dazed Stone lifted up his head. Where the trailer had been there was now nothing. He could see straight through the gap to the trees behind. Something large landed next to his head, smoke rising off its sizzled surface. He didn’t recognize it. And one could hardly blame him.
They were the earthly remains of Willie Coombs, what little there was of him left.
Stone’s head dropped back into the mud and he lay still.
CHAPTER 52
Divine Justice Page 23