Savior-Corruptor

by Sam Sisavath

  “What does he need?” she had asked Sarah.

  “A lot,” Sarah had said. “Could you go back to the Audi? I managed to put a lot of his things in there, but I was in such a rush I forgot to grab them before moving him to your car.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Assuming the cops haven’t found your car yet—and that’s such a big if it’s not even worth thinking about—I don’t think it’s a good idea for either one of us to be seen around it in broad daylight.”

  Allie told Sarah to stay indoors before she left, and wanted to add, “And try to remember everything that happened last night. Especially how you left Tom.” But she didn’t. Maybe soon she’d have to force the woman to face what had happened, but that could wait.

  For now, anyway.

  She didn’t have to worry about Sarah doing something stupid like calling someone while she was gone, though. Besides the fact that Sarah had left her phone, along with her purse and William’s bag, inside the Audi, she agreed with Allie that right now their best course of action was to stay out of sight until Allie could find out what was happening out there. So that allowed Allie to leave the cabin (mostly) worry-free.

  Last night’s intruder stuck in Allie’s mind long after she’d lost sight of him. It wasn’t just that the man had come armed and ready to use his weapon, but what the hell was he doing here in the first place?

  That was the big mystery. One of many. One of too many for her to deal with simultaneously right now. As clichéd as it sounded even to herself, she had to take it one problem at a time.

  For now, she had two immediately solvable problems: Find some news, and get things for the baby.

  There was the possibility that Sarah’s Audi had remained undiscovered. It was a slight one, yes, but wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities. And if Tom was fine and dandy after last night, and hadn’t alerted the police to his wife and child’s absence yet, then Allie would have more time. This one was more likely given that Tom wouldn’t necessarily want to broadcast to the world about his marital problems. There was a big difference between town gossip and evidence. But could she really count on those two things, though?

  No, but as Hank said, hope springs eternal.

  She thought about calling Hank again to get some ideas about how to proceed but didn’t. There wasn’t a lot Hank could do for her all the way out here.

  No, she was pretty much on her own.

  So what else was new?

  There were only two cars parked in front of the Don’t Stop In when Allie turned into it about twenty minutes later. She would have reached the bar faster if she hadn’t been driving at the speed limit. Towns like Wells City were notorious speed traps, and Allie didn’t need the extra attention this morning.

  The presence of only two vehicles was good, because fewer cars meant fewer people to avoid. If she was really lucky, the ones in the parking lot would all belong to the employees. She knew from having driven past the place over the last week that the bar closed at two in the morning and reopened around ten, and she was two hours early. But the presence of vehicles meant there would be someone there to open the door for her. Probably the early shift getting ready for the lunch crowd.

  Allie parked next to a beat-up Jeep and climbed out. The second car was a red Subaru with mud-caked tires. Fresh mud, which meant it had come from out-of-county because the road she’d been driving on this morning was bone dry.

  She headed into the Don’t Stop In.

  The bar looked completely different in the morning, the ambiance literally night and day. Unlike last night, there was no Stan to bother her and no couples slow dancing to George Strait or another country and Western favorite. The only person in the place was the bartender—a short woman in her late thirties with a ponytail, wiping down some glasses with a much-too-raggedy rag.

  Allie glanced around, but there were no signs of another employee. So who did the Subaru outside belong to?

  “You’re early,” the woman said as Allie walked over to the bar. “Can’t officially serve you liquor until noon.”

  “Officially?” Allie said.

  “Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone…”

  “I’ve been driving all day and just needed a place to rest for a bit.”

  “We’re not officially open yet, either, but feel free to take a load off.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No big whoops.”

  She sat down on the same stool as last night. She hadn’t seen it the day before, but the upholstery on Stan’s stool next to her was faded, as if it had gotten a hell of a lot of use over the years.

  Allie turned to the female bartender. “You guys sell anything other than beer?”

  The smaller woman pointed across the bar. “Got coffee, but it’s not for sale.”

  “Unofficially?”

  “It’s not for sale, but I’ll pour you a cup anyway.”

  “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “One nasty cup of java coming up.”

  “Can’t be that nasty.”

  “Oh, you’ll see. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn ya.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The bartender walked over to the other side of the bar while Allie looked for and found the big LCD TV hanging off the wall to her right. It was turned on, but the sound was muted, and instead of the local morning news there was a woman in dungarees jumping up and down, very excited that she’d just won something on The Price is Right.

  Allie looked over at the bartender as she poured some black coffee into a mug. “You mind if I change channels to the local news? I’m hoping to catch the traffic report, in case there’s any road works up ahead that I might want to avoid.”

  “You’re too late,” the bartender said. “News ended a few minutes ago.”

  Allie looked down at her watch. 8:06 a.m. “No repeats?”

  “No repeats. But it starts all over again at ten, eleven, and noon.”

  “How many channels do you guys have?”

  “Three, but they all come on at the same time in the mornings. Ends at the same time, too.”

  Swell.

  “Why do you need the news, anyway?” the bartender asked as she walked back over with the cup of coffee and some sugar sachets. “You don’t have GPS in your car?”

  “Not the rental I’m driving,” Allie lied.

  “Seriously? You saw that busted Jeep outside?”

  Allie picked up the coffee, ignored the sugar, and took a sip. It was as nasty and bad as the woman had warned her. “Uh huh.”

  “That’s mine. Even it has GPS that gives you the latest traffic updates.”

  “I only paid for the basic package on my car. It doesn’t come with GPS.”

  “That’s mighty brave of you to drive around without GPS these days.”

  “They did give me a free map.”

  “Sure, if you like reading, but who has time for that?”

  Allie smiled. “Thanks for the nasty coffee. You sure I can’t pay you for this?”

  The bartender was about to answer when she looked past Allie.

  Allie turned around.

  The front door had opened, and two Wells City deputies had entered.

  Easy. Easy…

  Then she saw the way they had their hands resting casually—or it was supposed to look casual, anyway—on the butts of their holstered sidearms.

  Oh, goddammit.

  But she didn’t panic and she didn’t run. She didn’t even take her hand off the coffee’s handle, even though she wanted desperately to.

  Instead, she sat very still while the older of the two deputies looked across the bar—first at Allie, before focusing on the bartender, and asked, “Hey, Mickey, where’s the owner of the Ford parked outside next to your Jeep?”

  It took all of Allie’s willpower not to reach for the SIG Sauer hidden behind her back. It was a good thing the compact pistol was easy to hide and didn’t cause a bulge back there, underneath her jacke
t.

  “Which car again?” the bartender, Mickey, asked.

  “The Ford,” the older of the two deputies said. He had at least twenty years on his partner, with grays along his temples and a slight paunch. Trent was stenciled across his name tag. “White, with California plates. It’s parked next to your Jeep.”

  Mickey glanced across the counter at Allie. She could feel the woman’s eyes out of the corner of her own, but Allie was too busy watching the deputies. The younger of the two (his nametag read Evans) had moved slightly away from his older partner as he scanned the bar for signs of other customers. But there was no one except her.

  And the whole time, neither men took their hands off the butts of their weapons. That was all the signs Allie needed that she was in trouble. The question was: How much?

  “I’m not sure,” Mickey was saying to the right and slightly behind Allie.

  The bartender’s quick look in Allie’s direction must have alerted Trent, because he trained those hard brown eyes of his on her from all the way across the room. “Didn’t you open up the place?” the deputy asked. He was staring at Allie while clearly talking to Mickey.

  “Yeah, I did,” Mickey said. “But I didn’t run outside to check the parking lot every time someone drove in. I don’t know who was driving the Ford.”

  Allie’s mind had been replaying an image of the parking lot outside as soon as Trent had mentioned Ford. She remembered the Jeep—Mickey’s, she knew now—and another vehicle out there…

  “The Subaru’s mine,” Allie said.

  “Subaru?” Trent said.

  “Red. Mud on the tires. The Ford was already here when I pulled in.”

  Trent’s eyes went back to Mickey for confirmation.

  The bartender shrugged. “Don’t look at me. But a guy did show up a few minutes before she did.” Mickey nodded toward the back. “Bathroom.”

  “A guy?” Trent asked.

  “Nature was calling. Loudly, from the sounds of it.” She glanced down at her watch. “Poor guy’s been in there a while, too.”

  “How long was a while?” the younger deputy, Evans, asked. He was already focusing on the back hallway that led to, Allie knew from last night, the bathrooms.

  “Five? Maybe ten minutes ago?”

  “He’s been in there for ten minutes?”

  “Told you. Nature was calling the poor guy something fierce.” Then, “What’s going on? What’s with all the questions?”

  Trent ignored her question and looked at Allie. “The Subaru outside’s yours?”

  “That’s right,” Allie said.

  “Where you coming from?”

  Allie didn’t answer right away. She was too busy sifting through her memory banks, trying to remember what kind of plates she’d spied on the Subaru as she walked past…

  “Seattle,” Allie said, a mental image of clear white skies over a snow-capped mountain passing through her mind’s eye as she answered.

  It was the right state, because Trent looked away from her and over to his partner. “Go make sure he’s still in there, but don’t approach him. Easy does it.”

  Evans nodded and walked toward the bathrooms. He didn’t take his hand off the butt of his holstered pistol. If anything, he looked even more nervous.

  Trent was much calmer now as he sidled over to the bar. He nodded at the cup of coffee Allie was holding. “Got some more of that, Mickey?”

  “It’s nasty,” Mickey said.

  “Nasty’s appropriate for this morning.”

  Mickey walked back to the coffee station. “What’s going on, Bill? You and Philly there look like you’re chasing Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “Maybe not too far from the truth.”

  Up close, the deputy looked even older than his partner and reminded Allie a bit of Hank. And just as grouchy, too.

  The man looked over at Allie. “What were you doing in Washington?”

  There was no reason she had to answer, but Allie didn’t want to antagonize the man. It was a simple enough question—and maybe even casual and friendly, in other circumstances—that should she try to avoid it, would have only alerted the veteran cop.

  “Business,” Allie said. “I don’t usually like to stay there longer than I have to.” Then, adding because she already knew what the next question would be in response, “I flew in and I’m driving out. Got a few days off, and it’s a good excuse to see the country.”

  “What business you in?”

  “Sales,” Allie said. It was a generic occupation, and most people rarely asked any follow-up questions besides one.

  “What do you sell?” Trent asked, which was exactly the follow-up question everyone always asked. Even if they weren’t interested, it was just the polite thing to do.

  “Medical equipment.”

  And just like that, the conversation about her job was over. Most people knew what medical equipment was in the general sense, but that was it. And they didn’t want to know more, either. What was so exciting about medical equipment sales, anyway? Absolutely nothing.

  “You been in town long?” Trent asked, shifting topics.

  “Not long,” Allie said. “Just driving through. Anything out there to see in this town of yours?”

  “Depends on what you want to see.”

  “Anything famous?”

  “Um, not really. Unless you count all the roadhouses we have along the highway. We got plenty of those.”

  “They’re famous?”

  “Mostly infamous.”

  “Avoid those places like the plague,” Mickey said from the other side of the counter. “You don’t want to go in there. Too many of those MC posers.”

  “MC?” Allie asked even though she already knew. She just assumed Trent and Mickey wouldn’t think a medical saleswoman would know about such things.

  “Motorcycle club,” Trent said. “They’re bad news. Avoid them at all costs, like Mickey says.”

  “Won’t be hard. You’ll hear them coming from a mile away with those bikes of theirs,” Mickey said. “You know what they say about guys with loud bikes.”

  “No, what’s that?” Allie said.

  Mickey grinned. “The louder the bikes, the smaller the dicks.”

  Trent rolled his eyes. “She’s had bad relationships with bikers, can you tell?”

  “Whatever,” Mickey said. She poured coffee into another cup. “She stopped in for local traffic news. Maybe you can help her out.”

  “Anything out there that I should know about?” Allie asked the deputy. “I’d hate to get stuck in traffic, if I can avoid it.”

  “I thought you wanted to see the country?”

  “Seeing the country is way different than sitting in your car, waiting to move an inch at a time.”

  “Good point. All I can say is, you might want to stay here for a while.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s going to be a lot of roadblocks between here and the county line.”

  “Roadblocks?”

  “Did you say roadblocks?” Mickey asked.

  Trent turned back to the bartender. “That’s what I said.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Yeah,” Trent said somberly. “It’s pretty fucking bad. This whole county’s about to blow up when this hits the air.”

  Not what I wanted to hear, Allie thought, wondering what exactly had happened out there while she was trying not to fall asleep last night.

  A lot, apparently.

  Eleven

  “What’s going on, Bill?”

  Yeah, Bill, what’s going on out there? Come on, you can tell her. And tell me, too, because I don’t have a clue, and it’s killing me.

  “I can’t say.”

  Yes, you can.

  “Oh come on, you can say.”

  Listen to her.

  “I can’t.”

  Goddammit, Bill, don’t be so stubborn.

  “Yes, you can.”

  Yeah, Bill. Say it!

  “You know
I can’t. I’m under strict orders.”

  Whose orders?

  “Whose orders?”

  Someone’s reading my mind.

  The deputy sighed. “Look, I can’t tell you what’s going on because it hasn’t hit the news yet, okay? Just take my word for it and stay off the roads for now. That goes for the both of you.”

  “It’s that serious?” Mickey asked.

  “It’s pretty damn serious, yeah.”

  “What is?”

  Trent smirked. “Really? I’m going to fall for that? Hey, Mickey, I was born at night, but not last night.”

  Mickey shrugged. “Girl can try, can’t she?”

  “She can, but she should know when it’s time to stop.”

  “That’s my problem. I never know when it’s time to stop. I heard that’s your problem, too. Or is it the other way around? You can’t start when it’s time to start?”

  “Whoa, whoa, girl, don’t go there.”

  Mickey grinned. “Sure thing, dude.”

  Trent grunted, and the two of them rolled their eyes at each other.

  Allie had the impression they were talking about something entirely different now. She didn’t interrupt them—anything that put Trent at ease and got his hand away from his pistol was fine with her—and instead took another sip from the bad coffee. It was like forcing thick, disgusting sludge down her throat, but it gave her the opportunity to process everything she’d heard and could extrapolate from the events so far.

  Whatever had caused Trent and his partner to come in here had also resulted in roadblocks being erected across the county roads. That signaled the police were taking this seriously. Really, really seriously. But the fact that they were only looking for a vehicle and not a specific type of driver—say, white female with brown hair—meant they didn’t have a suspect, but just the general description of a car.

  The latter was good. The former, not so much.

  But she could work with that.

  “Well?” Trent was asking.

  Allie was surprised to see him looking in her direction when he asked the question and was caught off guard. Before she could answer, though, she realized he was looking past her.