No sense risking that. And besides, Vic would rather deal with Jinx himself. It wouldn't be the first time he had taken the law into his own hands. But he would need the unconscious Carrie's full cooperation, and how was he going to get that? He had no—
Wait. Wait. Back in the room with Jinx was the very thing he needed.
Okay, now. Okay. More was coming. More to the plan. Thank God for Bayer aspirin.
While he was thinking, Carrie moaned and slumped over into his lap. He stroked her red hair for a moment, apologized again, and then opened his door to slide out from beneath her. When she was in the trunk once more he closed the lid as quietly as possible and returned to the driver's seat. It was lying time again.
CHAPTER 31
Ed Kisner watched the blond man with a skeptical eye. He was one of those tanned, good-looking types who probably carried his cares with his condoms. Still, there was a definite amount of worry in the man's steely gaze as he glanced repeatedly out the window to Tom Hamm's gas station across the street. He had been polite enough in asking to use the phone, but when Ed balked at the mention of long distance, Mr. Nolan Wulf whipped a fifty out of his wallet and crammed it into Ed's breast pocket. Ed needed the money so he said what the hell.
The first call had been to someone named Al. Ed knew an Al, had known him for years, but he doubted it would be the same Al. Wulf asked the man to run out to the Kimmler place for him. Ed started to turn away then to go for a piss, but the blond man's next words had the effect of a clothespin. Wulf's voice lowered, but Ed "heard the news" as they say. The guy had Gil Schwarz in his car. Gil had gotten drunk and tried to rape Myra right there in Vic's house. Myra acted okay, but Wulf thought she was pretty shaken up. It was a lot to ask, he knew, but would Al please drive out to Vic's and keep an eye on her until Nolan got back?
Al evidently would, because Wulf said a grateful thank you and hung up. He glanced at Ed—who immediately made himself look busy with some scissor sharpening—and then took out his wallet again to sift through some scraps of paper. Soon he picked up the phone again.
Now he was on hold. Ed whistled a tune low under his breath and sneaked a few glances at the white Buick convertible parked at the closed gas station. He wondered what Wulf intended to do with Schwarz. Ed knew what he'd like to do to the stupid, mindless bastard. Wouldn't the rest of the boys have a hissy if they knew what was going on? Sure, they all hated Schwarz's gargantuan guts, but he was family, so to speak. They wouldn't take kindly to Wulf here having a homespun boy in the back of his Buick. But Ed wasn't going to tell them. Screw 'em. He wanted to see just what Wulf was up to, and if it affected his own plans in any way. Because if it did, well...
"Hi, Sally. This is Nolan Wulf. Yeah, I'm just great, thanks. I was calling to talk to Carrie. Is she at work today?"
Carrie, Ed thought. That name rang a bell, too.
"Vacation?" Wulf said. "Do you know where she…oh, uh-huh. Yeah, I remember, the one in Denver. Uh, when is she supposed to be back to work?"
Monday, probably, Ed silently answered.
"Monday, huh? Well, I guess ... what?" A pause. "No, I haven't. Are you sure?"
She's sure, Ed thought.
"Maybe she changed her mind," Wulf said. "It's a long way out of her way, really. Yeah. Look, I'll just try back Monday, okay? Thanks Sally."
Wulf turned and glared at Ed as he hung up. "Do you happen to know the number of the sheriff's department?"
Ed bit back a curse and turned away from the blue steel gaze. Damn it all to hell. Wulf was going to interfere. He was going to bring the sheriff here. How was Ed supposed to break into Jinx's place with the uproar that would cause? They would probably cancel the damned dance and want to hold an emergency council meeting.
Of course, with Gil Schwarz locked up, Ed would have a temporary reprieve from worrying about any accidents happening to his person. But he had already spilled the beans about Denke to his boy Len and now he had no choice but to go ahead with his plans. No choice at all. Len had hauled off and hit him hard, twice, and then he had cried. He claimed to have had his suspicions about such goings-on in Denke, but he never realized the extent of the bloodshed and he never believed Ed was so deeply enmeshed. Never. Not his own father.
Ed had tried to explain that he didn't go out and kill someone every month. It was only once every eight or nine months. Once each month a member of the council took a trip. (Sometimes more than one person had to be hunted and killed, particularly if the first one happened to be wearing cheap costume jewelry and carrying no cash. Mistakes happened.) Ed's turn was usually in between Kent Vogel and Doc Stade, but in times of crisis, like the summer drought, the schedule was stepped up and more frequent trips were made.
Len had to know that Ed had protected him from this kind of life and saved him from Jinx's special brainwashing and rich-bashing initiation into "the way." Didn't he appreciate that?
Evidently not because that was when Len hit Ed a third time, even harder than the first two times.
The whole episode hurt like hell—the hitting part, especially. Then Len calmed down some and asked Ed just what the hell he intended to do. He had to make it right somehow or Len would never be able to look him in the face again. Ed assured him that he was working on it. Just have his bags packed and be ready to go when Ed gave the word.
But Len had taken that a step better: he had left town that morning. Never said a word to anybody, just packed up his truck and went.
Ed was devastated. He had gone to his shop and taken his sharpest razor in his hand to slit his own throat. But then something took hold of him. A cold, numbing something had risen up to wipe his eyes and blow his nose and make him all the more eager to go through with his plans to break into Jinx's safe. The reasons were different now—they appeared to be changing all the time—but it was something he found himself bound and determined to do. And he'd be damned if Nolan Wulf was going to screw this up for him.
Finally, he said, "I'm the law in Vic Kimmler's absence. Suppose you tell me what the problem is, Mr. Wulf?"
Wulf didn't blink an eye. "You know what the problem is, you eavesdropping sonofabitch. You heard every fucking word. Now give me the goddamned number."
Ed's fingers tightened on the pair of scissors he held. He could… No, no way. Wulf was a healthy male specimen on full alert. He was ready for anything. Ed wouldn't have a chance to get near his jugular. So okay, what's that law of the jungle say? When you can't stick 'em, groin 'em? No, that wouldn't work either. Wulf probably prized his balls above his jugular. Ed would have to try and talk his way out of this situation. He started with a smile.
"This may sound unprofessional, but I know what I'd do with Gil Schwarz if I had him where I wanted him. See, you gotta know that Gil is related to the sheriff." It was a lie, of course, but Wulf wouldn't know that. "He's been brought up on rape charges twice before and never served a damn day. Sheriff won't hold him, Wulf. Remember, I was the law around here before Vic rode into town. I know about these things."
Wulf crossed his arms over his chest. "That's funny, Ed, because I seem to remember you didn't know a damn thing when Myra's phone wires were being cut by someone with a thing for slicing up goats and dogs."
Ed didn't know what to say. Wulf had brains along with those biceps. It wasn't natural. It wasn't fair.
"And if you know so much," Wulf continued, "why don't you tell me how the car that belongs to a woman I knew in Kansas City got into that garage over there? The yellow MG."
Damn, Ed thought. So that was where he knew the name Carrie. Old blabber-mouthing Coral Nenndorf had spewed on and on about Gil's grabbing this little gal off the highway. Coral wanted that MG so bad she could taste it. She didn't know where the hell this Carrie was now; she guessed Jinx had done something with her. And Jinx probably had. But Ed had serious reservations about imparting that particular piece of hearsay information to Nolan Wulf. Not if he had the gal's phone number in his wallet.
He sized Wulf up with a
critical stare. Smart and a caped crusader at heart, evidently. Maybe he should just sit down with Nolan Wulf and tell him a little story. A story like Ed's grandmother used to tell him, mostly truth, with just a little embellishment—the kind that would put Ed in the right sympathetic light. Wulf might even decide to help him break into Jinx's place. Of course Ed would have to kill him once they were inside and his back was turned, because he sure as hell wasn't going to share any of that money with Wulf. But it might be nice to have a little help. Someone to blame if things went wrong or if someone came along.
Ed smiled again. "Have you got some time, Mr. Wulf? Gil'll be all right in that back seat for a spell longer. I'd like to tell you a bit about the Denke way of doing things. It might explain a lot to you, like what that car is doing in Tom Hamm's garage over there."
Wulf glanced over his shoulder to gaze out the window. After a moment he turned back and settled himself into the chair closest to the door.
"This better be good, Ed."
"Oh, it is," Ed assured him.
CHAPTER 32
Myra paced her room with jerky steps. She stopped once and said, "Damn you!" to the ceiling, then she went on with her pacing, muttering under her breath. "You could have helped me, Drusilla. You could've done something when that bastard put his filthy, disgusting hands on me. You could have woken me up before he ever got in here! I know you could have. You deserve to be stuck here, but not me. I'm getting the hell out of here, what I should have done a damn month ago.
"Why did I stay? That's a very good question. I wish I could answer it. I'm sure I had my reasons, but I'll be dog-damned if I can remember what they were. Money, Vic, Nolan—what difference does it make? I'm leaving just as soon as he gets back. I've lived through all the hell I'm going to, Drusie, my dear. I'll leave it to you from now on. You take real good care of the little ones, because you seem to like them a whore's hell of a lot more than you—"
Myra stopped again. She stared at herself in the mirror. Dog-damned? Whore's hell?
She had fought that Texas drawl for fourteen years and in the space of a few short hours she was back to talking and cussing like her dead drunk of a daddy.
Clarice Callahan would have loved to hear her. Sweet Myra, the little bumpkin nobody from nowhere reverting to her true self.
"Don't think about her," Myra said aloud. "Think about where you're going the minute you leave here. Which direction. Only nine days until that money comes through, but we can't go to Garden City because that's where we'll be expected to go. We'll have to—"
"Mom?" Cal appeared in the doorway. He was frowning. "I wish you'd stop talking to yourself. It's scary."
Scary? Myra thought. Cal, you don't know what scary is. You've never met the dead Drusilla and you've never been licked by Gil Schwarz.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Are the girls still in your room?"
"Yeah. You're scaring them, too."
"Okay. I'm sorry. I'll be quiet. I guess I'm still a little shaken up."
"I know you are," Cal said. "But I don't know how to help you."
Myra took a deep breath and forced herself to breathe out slowly. "You are helping me, honey. You're watching the girls and keeping them occupied. Have you got all your stuff packed?"
He nodded. "But the girls are a little freaked out. Christa is still crying. She doesn't want us to go."
A twinge of guilt made Myra turn away from him. "She and Andy will be just fine with Nolan."
"I know that," Cal said. "But I just want to make sure I understand something. Why exactly are we leaving today? Because of that Schwarz guy?"
"Isn't that reason enough?" Myra said to the wall.
"I guess," Cal said. "Did I tell you he was the same guy Dad got into it with when I backed the Lincoln into his truck?"
"No." Myra turned to face him. "That was Gil Schwarz?"
"Yeah. I never saw him that much around town. Not like the other old guys. They probably kept him locked up or something."
"If they didn't, they should have," Myra said. "The man is sick." She whirled and resumed pacing again. The thought of Gil Schwarz made her skin crawl. "Where the hell is Nolan? He's been gone for hours. It's almost dark outside."
"Maybe he had to wait for the sheriff," Cal offered. "He did shoot the guy."
"He should've killed him," Myra muttered.
Cal shook his head. "Nolan lost his badge for killing a guy. Vic said he weirded out and went a little nuts after some kid shot him in the back."
Myra's steps halted. "A kid?"
"A girl," Cal told her. "Ten years old, Vic said. She was on drugs. Nolan was trying to arrest her big brother. Anyway, after he got fired from the police department he went to a psychiatrist for a while. Vic said it was a long time before Nolan stopped being paranoid."
Myra opened her mouth to ask what else he knew about Nolan, but before she could speak, Christa entered the room and. said, "Nolan's friend Al is here. He just came up the drive."
"Al?" Myra left the room and headed down the hall toward the stairs. Had something happened to Nolan? Had Al been sent to tell her? No—how would Al know? He couldn't. But her heart still pounded as she crossed the living room and unlocked the door.
"Nolan sent me," Al said in greeting. "He thought you might want some company. Sorry I'm so late gettin' over here, but my old horse out there threw a shoe." He smiled at Myra's confused expression. "I had a blowout. If I didn't know better, I'd swear someone shot out my tire. Can I come in?"
"I'm sorry," Myra said, stepping back. "Please do. You say Nolan sent you?"
"Called me a few hours ago. I didn't have a damn spare in the pickup. Can you believe that? I couldn't either, me being in the business I am." He entered the living mom and raised a hand to Cal. "How you doin', bright boy? Got everything under control around here?"
Cal's smile was crooked. "Truthfully…no."
Al laughed and plopped his big self down on the sofa. Myra watched, waiting to see if Vic's repair work on the legs would hold. When no collapse occurred, she sat down in a nearby chair and listened with half an ear to Al and her son's continuing banter. So the thoughtful Nolan had sent his friend out here. Why? Was he afraid Myra would have a breakdown of some kind and run off on the girls?
She jumped when the phone in the kitchen rang. Cal looked at her. "Nolan told me to try and fix it. It was so simple I felt stupid for not trying before. You want me to get it?"
"No." Myra quickly left her seat to answer. It was Nolan.
"I knew Cal could fix it," he said after her hello.
"Where are you?" Myra asked.
"In the fucking Twilight Zone. Is Al there with you?"
"Yes, he just got here. Nolan, where are you? Is everything all right?"
"No. Everything in Denke is wrong, Myra. You wouldn't believe how wrong it is. I've just heard the wildest story imaginable, but something in my gut tells me the whole thing is true. The man who tried to rape you today killed your husband. These guys killed Darwin, too—or at least they caused his stroke by trying to kill him in his car. They've been giving Vic dope and now he's off in New Mexico trying to sell a kilo of coke for them. These fucking old men are a bunch of modem murdering highwaymen who—"
"Who told you this?" Myra interrupted.
"Ed Kisner, the ex-lawman. I'm in his shop. He's in the bathroom right now. He says this has been going on since the middle of the nineteenth century, even before the time of that Bible we found. Ed's ready to stop it. He wants me to help him break into Jinx's diner and get some documents out of the back room that can prove everything. It should take about an hour to—"
"They killed Patrick? Myra said in slowly dawning horror. "And Darwin? Nolan, I'm going. I'm leaving. I'll take the girls with me and call you later."
"You stay right there, dammit," Nolan said harshly. "I'll be back in an hour. Don't you dare run out on me."
"I'm not running out on you. I'm getting out of here and going somewhere safe."
"You'll be safe
with Al until I get there," Nolan argued. "Just stay there and wait for me."
Myra's eyes filled with tears. "I can't. This is just too much. Ghosts and madmen and a town full of murderers listed in a Bible. I have to get us all out of here."
Nolan's voice lowered and became more intense. "Myra, please. I'll go out of my goddamned mind if I don't know where you are. Do you understand?"
"What about my mind?" she responded. "I can't take any more of this, Nolan. I can't. I've been talking to myself and scaring the children.”
"An hour," Nolan said. "That's all I'm asking. Don't make me beg you, dammit. Will you please just hold on and let me take care of things?"
Myra said nothing for a long moment. Her throat was hitching. Finally she whispered, "All right."
"You won't go? You'll wait for me?"
She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her heated forehead. "I'll wait for you. I'll see you in an hour, Nolan. Goodbye."
After hanging up the phone she went to the kitchen sink and washed her face with icy water. When a chill rippled down her spine and raised her flesh she swerved around and gritted her teeth. "Get away from me. I'm in on the secret now, Drusilla. I know all about it, so just leave me alone. We're going. Just what you wanted."
She turned and stalked out of the room. As she passed through the living room doorway she said, "Cal, go upstairs and start bringing your things down. We're leaving now and taking the girls with us."
Cal frowned. "Who was that?"
"Nolan. He's still in town. He's found out some horrible things about the people in Denke. Al, would you mind helping me with my things?"
"Not at all. Where you headed?"
"Away," Myra said.
"I've been there," Al said. "It's pretty nice this time of year. Mind if I use your phone first?"
Borderland Page 24