As she drew closer, she saw the building was a wood-frame country store with a low-peaked roof that extended out to cover a raised porch. The porch light was off and the store’s front windows—mostly covered with product logos and advertisements—were dark. There was a pay phone, but she didn’t have the coins to operate it. The store appeared to be closed, but an old pickup truck and a large sedan filled a rickety-looking garage that was just behind and off to the side of the main building.
As she went around the building, Lucy slowed in the way of a wary animal.
Her ears picked up the sounds being generated by a television set. Lucy tried to imagine some viable alternative to approaching the rear of the store. If the people inside weren’t friends or relatives of the kidnappers, weren’t aware of who she was, maybe she could get to a phone and call her daddy.
Suddenly Lucy Dockery felt a new stab of panic. Dixie and Buck’s father and twin brothers were close by, and although she couldn’t imagine how they might discover she wasn’t dead inside the warehouse, they might have a way and come looking for her.
Somebody would certainly report the explosions, and firemen and policemen would come. But what if they were under the influence of that family? It was hard to believe, but who knew what people were like in this rural place? She could be in some redneck backwater where everybody was related and everybody was suspicious of outsiders. Maybe the store owner was one of them. She might be able to steal one of the vehicles, or sneak in and use a phone without their knowing it. Maybe she could play to their greed and offer them money to help her and Elijah.
The only windows on the side of the long structure were in the last twenty feet of the store building, and they were lit up brightly. Obviously the owner, or manager, lived there. The place couldn’t be properly insulated, because she could hear the television set as though it was in the yard.
She crept forward and peered into the first window. In a cozy living room cluttered with porcelain knickknacks and family pictures, an elderly couple sat in matching recliners, watching television. One of the pictures Lucy could see clearly was of a young marine, and there was a black ribbon on one corner of the frame. She studied the couple’s faces. The woman looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. Her cap of white hair framed a face that looked to be accustomed to smiling. She was short and plump. The man was short, too, but thin. His white hair and mustache were neatly trimmed, his face stern. He reminded Lucy of pictures she’d seen of William Faulkner. Elijah started crying and the startled couple looked away from the TV and straight at her.
Lucy froze and stepped back out of the light.
The porch light came on.
The back door opened.
The man and woman came outside onto the small porch and stared out at Lucy, standing in the shadows with Elijah clasped in her arms. The woman grabbed her husband’s arm, looking frightened.
“What do you want?” the man demanded, frowning.
“You gave us a start,” the woman said. “Who are you, dear? What in the world’s happened to you?”
“Please,” Lucy began. She held Elijah tightly, and to her astonishment she started crying. “Pl . . . pl . . . please?”
“You in a wreck?” the woman asked, not moving.
“We were abducted,” Lucy sobbed. “Escaped.”
“What in the world?” the woman said. “Kidnapped?”
Lucy nodded. “Please . . . help us?”
The elderly woman looked questioningly at her husband. Then she stepped off the porch and went to Lucy and Elijah.
68
“Who kidnapped you, child?” the woman asked, her brow creased with concern.
“I didn’t know them. Buck and Dixie. These two big twins. A large man who drives a black truck. Near here.”
“Those got-damned Smoots,” the man said bitterly.
“Ed, language. You poor things. Come in, dear,” the woman said, putting her arm around Lucy’s shoulders.
“Are they important people in these parts?” Lucy asked.
“They’re crooks and worse. Some like them. More’s just scared of them. That Buck is a monster,” the man said.
“You’ll be safe here,” the woman told Lucy.
The old man stepped off the porch and stood for several seconds, gazing out at the road.
Lucy went into the kitchen with the woman. The old man came in behind them, closed the door, and turned off the porch light. She saw a long gun leaning against the wall beside the door.
“Sit down here,” the woman told her. “Let’s get y’all cleaned up. Your little boy looks starved. Ed, go get some diapers from stock. I’ll make these poor people something to eat.”
“Tell me what happened,” Ed said, not moving to obey his wife. His eyes looked worried.
“Where are we?” Lucy asked.
“Tuttle’s Ford,” the woman said. “About nine miles from Skeene.”
“My father is Judge Hailey Fondren in Charlotte. Please call him. He’ll give you whatever you want to get us back.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ed said.
“Those horrible people!” the old woman said. “Those horrible, horrible people. Evil. Just pure-dee evil.”
“It’s not a good idea to call anybody about the Smoots,” Ed said. “They got kinfolks all around here and some are on our party line. I expect Smoot would pay a lot to keep you from telling anybody what he did. Money is hard to come by out here.”
“You still have party lines?” Lucy said.
“Might be the only one left on earth,” the woman said, smiling. “We want privacy, we write letters.”
“We’ll get you cleaned up and fed and I’ll take you out to a phone that’s safe, or drive you to Charlotte. I’m Ed Utz and my wife’s Edna. We had three children ourselves, but they’re grown and living all over.”
“Seven grandchildren,” Edna added proudly. “Three greats. We lost a grandson in Iraq this past July. Roadside bomb. There’s a lot of evil in the world, honey, and you don’t have to go all the way around the world to find it either.”
Lucy looked at the mirror on the kitchen wall and was stunned by the sight of the pitiful creature whose ruined, grime-streaked face stared back at her. Elijah, as filthy as his mother, sat in her lap silently, watching the elderly couple through wide-open eyes.
“You want to take off that rain slicker?” Edna asked.
“Sorry. I don’t have any clothes. I’m wearing an old T-shirt under this.”
“You’re closer to Ed’s size than mine,” Edna decided. “If you don’t mind wearing his pants, we’ll get you in something warm and dry.”
Five minutes later Lucy had put a diaper on Eli and washed both her own and her son’s faces and hands using a warm washcloth Edna furnished. Feeding her son a bowl of cereal and milk, Lucy told the couple the story. They listened quietly to her as they shook their heads in disbelief.
“We never liked the Smoots,” Edna Utz said when Lucy had finished. “They shop here from time to time, but we never cared at all for any of them. Wanted to sell us stock at a discount that they probably steal. Ed told them absolutely not.”
Ed said, “I can call your daddy from the pay phone out front. Peanut Smoot had it put there, but it might be safe enough. Never could imagine why the Smoots couldn’t get a phone put in at their place instead of having one out on my porch that nobody but them ever uses.”
“It’s handy for people you don’t want using your phone,” Edna said. “At least the Smoots don’t have to come inside to make calls.”
“Give me your daddy’s number,” Ed said. “I’ll go call him.”
Lucy scribbled the number on a church bulletin Edna handed her.
Taking the shotgun with him, Ed Utz went out through a door that led into the darkened store.
“So it was you started that big fire,” Edna said.
Lucy nodded.
“Very appropriate,” Edna said, nodding. “Didn’t the good Lord use the very same instrument to destr
oy Sodom and Gomorrah?”
69
Serge Sarnov lit a cigarette, more to pass the time than because he wanted one. He enjoyed pushing his smoking on people that didn’t appreciate it, because he was powerful enough to get away with it. He did it for the same reason a dog pissed on a tree that some other dog had already peed on.
Max Randall cracked the window behind Sarnov. Opening the one behind him channeled the smoke away from Randall without making the statement that he found the smoke annoying.
The two military-trained men in the back seat were napping like children without a care in the world. Combat-seasoned men like them learned quickly to catnap in the spaces between actions. When the time came, both would open their eyes and be good to go.
“How much further?” Sarnov asked.
“Twenty minutes,” Randall told him.
“The woman and child can’t get far in woods they aren’t familiar with, running from people who are. And if by some miracle she gets to a phone and calls her father, we’re covered, right?”
“Our people have the judge’s incoming calls blocked. Anybody dials his number, we’ll have their location inside five minutes.”
“You think this U.S. marshal is headed here?”
Randall shrugged. “If Click didn’t know, Massey doesn’t know either. If he does, it would save us the trouble of tracking him down.”
“He’s got some of your toys that he could use to make a big problem.”
Max frowned. “He’s competent.”
“Competent?” Serge laughed. “Yes, he seems to be somewhat competent. It’s too bad Peanut’s little family hasn’t been.”
“I should have handled it. But Laughlin was insistent on letting them do it.”
“We’ll deal with Peanut tonight.”
“The Major wants her sister the agent calling the shots on the Dockery deal. It has to be done a certain way.”
“And you agree?”
“Without the Major, we don’t have the connections into the Pentagon. She’s setting up the agent’s future, and I think having the agent’s credibility and insights is worth allowing her to clean up the kidnapping. That’s the sister’s expertise. She can make this into a kidnapping based on financial gain, not Bryce’s trial.”
“Needlessly complicated if you ask me,” Serge remarked, eyes on the wet road ahead of them. “Especially now with this Massey running amok. It seems a pointless bit of drama now.”
“Mine is not to question why,” Max said.
Sarnov was going to enjoy working with Max Randall.
Randall’s cell phone rang and he opened it. “Okay,” he said. “Directions?”
Serge watched as Max listened, his eyes on the windshield.
“We’re ten minutes out.”
Max snapped the phone closed.
“The Dockerys are in a store up the road from the Smoot place,” he said. “Time to wake up, boys.”
“They’re sure?”
“Smoot found her tracks.”
Max’s phone trilled again. “Yeah, Major. We’re on it.” He listened. “That’s confirmation on what Mr. P. told me ten seconds ago.” He closed the phone. “Somebody just placed a call to the judge’s phone from the store’s pay phone. The Dockerys are definitely at the store.”
Serge smiled. Behind him there were metallic clicks as the two men double-checked their weapons.
“It’s turned into a beautiful evening for a hunt,” Serge said.
70
Alexa Keen concentrated on the road ahead, the traffic. Antonia had been giving her driving instructions since they left the Westin thirty minutes earlier. There had been only silence between the sisters since they had gotten on the I-77 going south, only Antonia knew where.
“That ga-damned Massey,” Antonia said, sighing. “You swore to me that you could keep him in check. You’ve made me look like shit, Lex. You know what’s at stake here.”
“Precious, why do you talk like that?” Alexa blurted. “It’s . . . it’s unbecoming an officer.”
Antonia burst into laughter. “Christ on a cross, Lex. How in God’s name you can give me crap about what comes out of my mouth given the present circumstances is something only you could do.”
“I don’t like foul language. You know that.”
“We’re about to murder two people, no, make it five people in the next little while—six, if we’re lucky and find your old pal. And you’re offended by my language?”
“I am not murdering anybody,” Alexa insisted. “I’m just cleaning up a mess. And doing my best not to let it get any bigger. I can fix it unless your people get sloppier.”
“For which you’re being paid more money for cleaning up than any maid in history. That’s for sure.”
Alexa frowned. “This isn’t just about the money, Precious.”
“It isn’t?”
“The money’s nice. But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t being pushed aside at the Bureau.”
“Put out to pasture before your time. Now you’ll retire rich and you’ll stay that way, working for people who write very large checks for a consultant who knows how things really work.”
“I was leaving a real mark, a legacy. But those boy-club bastards are giving me the bum’s rush because they’re jealous of me. My abilities. I was the best. I am the best. JERKS!”
“Men,” Antonia said bitterly. “If they didn’t have erections, they’d be useless.”
Alexa laughed despite herself. “Like Max Randall.”
“Max,” the Major said, laughing. “That man fu . . . screws you and you have been very well nailed, believe me.”
“You cuss like a man,” Alexa said. “Worse than a man.”
“Massey never cared about you beyond getting in your pants.”
“He never got in my pants,” Alexa said.
“He got in your head. He stole your girlfriend and married her.”
“Eleanor was not my girlfriend. She was just my roommate.”
“Yeah, right. This is me, Alexa. I know how you felt about her. I know how bad her dying screwed you up.”
“You don’t know squat.”
Antonia reached over and wiped the tear from Alexa’s cheek.
“You don’t cry for plain roommates,” she said.
“You don’t cry for anybody,” Alexa shot back.
“We’re going to kill Massey for you, big sister. We’re going to even things out once and for all.”
“I don’t like talking about it,” Alexa said. “He’s not going to be in the way now.”
“He’s too unpredictable. He has friends and he can make big problems.”
Alexa nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. But he isn’t easy to kill.”
“But you agree he has to go?”
“What is necessary is inevitable. I agree he has to go.”
“Can you get him to come to you, so Max can make sure he goes down for good?”
“Yes, I can.”
“How?”
“He will come anywhere to save his wife.”
“Okay. Admit one thing. He isn’t as washed up as you said he was.”
“Second wind.”
“Second wind. You hear that, Clayton? Massey’s just caught a second wind.”
Alexa turned to her sister, her face reflecting both disbelief and indignation. “You have my car bugged?”
“No. Clayton does. Your cell phone and Massey’s had GPS and transmitters in them. This car, Massey’s truck.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Nothing personal, Lex. Trust is in very short supply when so much is on the line for so many people. We had to make sure you stayed on task.”
“You think I could betray you?”
“Of course not. If I did, you wouldn’t have been brought in.”
Alexa understood that Antonia had been talking about Alexa’s involvement not only in the kidnapping but in the killings coming up. She had Clayton recording their conversation for leverage, for an edge. An
tonia was always playing an angle, grabbing power any way she could, power over everybody; even taking out insurance against her own sister. Alexa had to smile. Antonia Keen was some nasty piece of work. And they shared blood.
“How long have you, Randall, and Clayton known where the Smoots are holding the Dockerys?”
“I know everything, Lex. Having the intelligence is how I stay in control. And we both know how important control is. Don’t we? Didn’t you teach me control is the most important thing there is?”
“Yes,” Alexa said sadly. “That’s true. I guess that’s all I taught you.” She sighed. “I’m not interested in opening any more of my life up to Mr. Able. So let’s just drive without talking. Able gives me the creeps.”
“Close your wax-encrusted, hairy-assed ears, Clayton!” Antonia yelled. “That’s an order, you sheep-diddling schmuck!”
Antonia’s rich baritone laughter filled the car. Alexa couldn’t help but join in.
71
Edna Utz watched as Lucy fed Elijah his cereal and talked to him. “That’s a good little man,” the old woman said.
“Guuud,” Elijah agreed, grinning.
“Thank you,” Lucy told her. “I don’t know what we’d do without your help.”
“Don’t be silly,” Edna replied. “We’re happy to help.” She waited until Lucy had put another spoonful of cereal in Elijah’s mouth before adding, “But it would be best if you didn’t tell anybody we helped you, dear.”
“Why?”
“Because we’d be burned out, dear. It isn’t much of a store, but it’s all ours, Ed’s and mine. We’re a bit too old to start over.”
Ed came back into the apartment from the store, closing the door behind him, then bolting it. “I called the number,” he told Lucy. “I got one of those ‘All circuits are busy please try your call again later’ messages.”
“That happens sometimes,” Edna said.
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