Coming of Winter

by Tom Threadgill

  She moved closer and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Honey, I understand that. I do. I’d feel the same way. I won’t try to tell you what to do. I just want to make sure it doesn’t, um, it doesn’t ...”

  He pulled her into a tight hug and scratched his hand along her back. “It doesn’t, and it won’t. We’re together. You, me, Rebecca. It’s what I want more than anything.”

  Maggie nuzzled under his chin. “And when you catch him?”

  “We all have a price to pay. An eye for an eye and all that stuff.”

  “Be careful, Jeremy. Don’t let the anger win.”

  Why not? Anger wasn’t always a bad thing, right? Not when good things came of it. He stared at the clouds meandering across a crystal blue sky. The problem was figuring out if the good outweighed the bad. Or maybe more accurately, deciding if killing the past was worth jeopardizing the future. His friend dead. His wife and unborn daughter brutally taken. No justice, at least not yet. Both killers free to live their lives, never having paid the price for their sins. That had to change. Had to.

  He told himself he should hate the thoughts that came. That justice comes from the legal system, not him. That the desperate rapture he’d felt when deciding he could kill the Afghani wasn’t real. That the guilt and remorse would be far worse than anything he felt now.

  He should hate the thoughts that came.

  He couldn’t.

  .......

  A few students trickled out of the school a minute or two early and then the floodgates opened. A mass of people dispersed in the parking lot accompanied by yelling, waving, and honking horns. Maggie stood near two of the target vehicles with Jeremy a couple of rows over. As the kids neared their cars, each FBI agent held up a photo of Troy and his Jeep and asked questions. Curious students gathered around, shook their heads, and moved off to their cars.

  Within six minutes, the parking lot was empty except for a few vehicles still in the teachers’ area. Jeremy motioned for Maggie, and they strolled over.

  “Any luck?” she asked.

  “None. You?”

  “No. Most of the boys said that if they’d seen it, they’d remember. Big Jeep, nice tires, winches on front and back. Perfect for, um, I believe ‘muddin’ was the word they used.”

  “I got the same response. One kid said to tell the dude to get in touch with him if he wanted to sell the Jeep.”

  Maggie shivered as a hard gust swept over the parking lot. “I don’t know, Jeremy. Doesn’t seem like we’re making any headway here. Somebody should’ve seen him or his vehicle if he spent any time here.”

  “Yeah, so maybe he didn’t. Quick drive through the parking lot and then on to wherever. Don’t think so, though. Why come here just to snap a photo? Doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Let’s check in the office. If this is like every other school I know of, visitors should sign in. If Troy did go inside, we should see his name on the log.”

  Less than five minutes later, the two sat in Jeremy’s car pondering their next move.

  “One photo,” Maggie said. “Never went inside the school, and no one saw him or the Jeep.”

  “And no broken glass in the area where the picture was taken. Can’t imagine this is the crime scene. Send his photos to the Bureau and have them take a look. See if there’s anything we missed.”

  She tapped her phone and forwarded the encrypted information to the Memphis FBI crime lab. “Got it. Where did he go from here?”

  Jeremy shook his head and started the car. “No idea, but I do know where he came from.”

  “Back to the farm?”

  “Yeah. Back to the farm.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  A lackluster sun and gray cloudless sky welcomed Jeremy and Maggie to the parking area in front of the Masons’ home. Several vehicles clustered around three school busses. A few families milled about, picking over the few melons that remained. Staked crookedly in the ground, a handwritten sign announced all pumpkins were now only a dollar.

  The revving of ATV engines attracted the agents, and they moved behind the house. Off to the left a bit, near what he assumed was the exit to the corn maze, Jeremy spotted Paula near a wooden concession stand. A couple of four-wheelers headed into the maze, probably the family’s kids getting everything ready.

  A cluster of nearly a dozen teenagers gathered around a table near the house, each of them busily applying zombie makeup. With the wind gusting and spooky sounds filtering through speakers in the yard, it’d be a perfect night for a haunted field. Already, the agents could hear shrieks and screams from kids wandering through the maze.

  Maggie nodded toward Paula. “That her?”

  “Yeah. She wasn’t much help. We need to talk to her husband. Find out what he knows. Maybe their stories will be different.”

  “Wishful thinking, I imagine. Even if one of them does know something, they’ve had plenty of time to get their stories straight.”

  The sound of crunching gravel came from behind, and the agents turned to see a pickup truck pulling into the driveway and stopping beside the house. A man stepped out, waved toward the families in the pumpkin patch, and walked inside.

  “Got to be the husband,” Maggie said. “How do you want to handle this? Both of us with him, or me chatting up Paula?”

  “You talk to her. Even if you don’t learn anything new, at least she’ll be distracted. I’d rather talk to her husband alone.”

  “You got it. Take your time. If that stand’s got any hot apple cider, I’ll be fine.”

  He glanced around before bending down and kissing her. “Be there quick as I can. Save some cider for me.”

  She brushed her hand casually against his. “No promises.”

  His chest and stomach filled with the same momentary weightlessness he got when speeding over a hill on a high-speed chase. “Uh-huh. I’ve got the car keys, remember? No cider, no ride back to the hotel.”

  She laughed and moved toward the concession stand, flicking her hand in a backward wave.

  Jeremy climbed the steps to the deck, knocked on the screen door, and stepped back to wait for an answer. Training had taught him that standing too close to a door that opened his direction could be a very bad decision. One quick shove from inside the house and he’d be flat on his back. A shadow moved behind the curtains, and Jeremy tapped the butt of his holstered Glock with his palm. The interior door opened, and a man dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt greeted him.

  “Can I help you?”

  Jeremy showed his identification. “Yes, sir. Jeremy Winter with the FBI. You Mister Miller?”

  The man chuckled and gestured toward the concession stand. “Well, if I wasn’t, I reckon that woman over there’d sure enough run me off right quick.”

  “Yes, sir. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Mason swung the screen door open. “Want to come inside? I was just about to jump in the shower, but I can hold off for a few minutes. Been out looking for Lanny all afternoon.”

  “I understand. This won’t take long. Any news on the Palmer boy?”

  Mason arched his eyebrows. “Well, I figured you’d know before I would.”

  “I’m actually not working on that case.”

  Mason gestured into the house. “In or out. Can’t stand here with the door open. It may be October, but we haven’t had a hard freeze yet, and dry as it’s been, still plenty of flies and the like around.”

  Jeremy entered the home and stood in the kitchen. Blue-checkered curtains framed a window over the sink that looked into the backyard. On the gas stove, a cast iron skillet sat ready for its next use. The refrigerator had a few photos and a calendar from the local pharmacy. Off to the left, a table and four chairs nestled beside a bay window.

  “Something to drink?” Mason asked.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself then. Now, if you’re not looking for Lanny, what are you doing?”

  Jeremy moved away from the door and stood
with his back to the refrigerator. “Actually, I’m looking for a friend of mine. Troy Obion.”

  Mason’s eyes widened. “That police officer? He didn’t turn up yet? Paula told me y’all came looking for him.”

  “No, sir. He hasn’t checked in anywhere. Not answering his phone either.”

  “Hope he’s okay. Pretty big guy, though. I imagine he can take care of himself.”

  “Uh-huh. So you spoke to him when he was here, correct?”

  “I did. He was asking about the Palmer kid, of course. Lanny worked here when the maze first opened this year. Like I told that officer, I had to let the boy go. Got too close to some of the kids. We’ve got a strict hands- off policy for everyone’s protection.”

  “Anything else?”

  Mason slowly shook his head. “Not that I recall. I mean, all he wanted to know about was Lanny. I told him the same thing I told you. He hung around for a few minutes then headed off.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  Mason scratched his forehead. “None. Last I saw of him, he got in that big red Jeep of his and took off.”

  “You said he hung around for a few minutes. Doing what?”

  Mason glanced out the screen door. “He, uh, wanted to see where Lanny worked. In the corn maze.”

  “And you showed him?”

  “Yeah. It’s not far in there. Took him in and left. Had to get back to work. Busy time of year as you can imagine.”

  “I can. How long would you say he was in there?”

  Mason shrugged. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? Something like that. I kind of kept an eye out for him. Easy to get lost in there, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

  “Mind if I take a look in the maze?”

  “Suit yourself. Got to warn you though—there’s a passel of kids from the elementary school out there. Reckon you probably heard them. Might be a little chaotic, and it’s going to get a whole lot more crowded here before long. But I can have one of the boys take you if you’d like. Honestly though, you’d have the place to yourself in the morning if you’d rather. Be able to see better too. Either way.”

  “You get that many people out here on a Thursday night?”

  “This close to Halloween we do. Take a look around the county. See much going on? Folks get a chance to do something different, ’specially kids, doesn’t really matter what night of the week it is. And with all this mess with Lanny, well, people need something to take their minds off the situation. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

  Jeremy extended his hand. “Thank you for your time, Mister Miller. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take you up on your offer and stop by in the morning.”

  Mason shook hands and locked eyes. “Looking forward to it. Before you leave, be sure and stop by Paula’s stand out there. Get you something warm to drink. On the house.”

  “I’ll do that. Until tomorrow then.”

  Jeremy left the house and strolled toward Maggie and Paula. Mason Miller had seemed genuine. A good neighbor who wanted to help. A family man. An asset to the community.

  All of which meant exactly nothing. A shudder shot across Jeremy’s shoulders. He resisted the urge to look back at the house. No need. He knew what he’d see.

  Mason Miller, standing at the screen door, staring.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  Maggie smiled at Jeremy as she filled her glass with apple juice. The hotel’s breakfast buffet wasn’t going to win any gastronomical awards. “Sleep well?”

  He gestured toward his coffee cup. “On my third dose. Not helping.”

  She sat across from him and poked at her plate of fruit. “Think this is fresh?”

  “Sure it is. Saw them open the can myself.”

  “Good enough for me. Talked to Rebecca this morning. She said to tell you hi and she wants you to come over soon.”

  For the briefest of heartbeats, Jeremy’s frustration faded, and he grinned in spite of himself. “Can’t wait.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  Good question. “Already made a few calls. Nothing shook loose last night on Palmer or Troy. I’m going back to the Miller place. Get a closer look at the maze.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  “Might be better if we split up. Cover more territory that way. You check out his Jeep. See if the lab’s found anything helpful. Make sure you keep in touch, and don’t wander off alone anywhere. I’ll talk to Miller and have him retrace Troy’s path through the maze.”

  “Got a hunch?”

  Jeremy sighed and stared into his cold coffee. “Got nothing. No time. No clue. And not much hope. Yesterday I was so sure we’d find something at the school or farm.”

  Maggie scooted her chair closer. “You’ve got me. Don’t forget that.”

  He placed his hand on hers. “Never.”

  “You sure Miller wasn’t hiding anything? Putting you off until today?”

  He pushed his coffee away and worked at spreading frozen butter on an untoasted bagel. “Am I sure? No. But if he’s hiding something, he’s good at it. Didn’t seem evasive. I’m pretty sure he stared a hole in my back as I was leaving, but that seems to be the norm around these small towns. Don’t get me wrong. They’re friendly enough, but you’re either born here or you’re not. And if you’re not, well, Godspeed and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “Hang in there. We give it our best and move on. Either that or sink into the pit. Start wondering that if maybe we’d done something different

  “I’ve been there and don’t want to go back. Be nice if just this once we got the happy ending. The one where I find Troy still alive. The one where Lanny Palmer walks back in his front door and hugs his parents. Not gonna happen.”

  She sighed and brushed the back of her hand across his cheek. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we can’t push forward. What you do is important. The problem is, you only get to see the victims, not the people you saved. The ones who are still alive because you stopped a killer.”

  “Where does this end? Do the best I can and be happy? Not sure I can do that this time. Too personal, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve gone through. Afghanistan, your family, Troy. But don’t let it take away who you are. Who we love.”

  He stretched, letting his left arm drag down her back. “Enough of the gloom and doom. I say we—”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Jeremy’s knife clattered to the table. “Colonel Cronfeld.”

  The man dragged a chair over, the scent of cigarettes enveloping him. “And a hearty good morning to both of you as well. Miss Keeley, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  Maggie kept her expression neutral. “What can we do for you, Colonel?”

  “You can talk some sense into your boyfriend here.”

  “He’s more than capable of making his own decisions, and not that it matters, but I fully support him in this.”

  Cronfeld shook his head. “You two just don’t get it, do you? I’m offering you a chance to punch your own ticket. All I want in return is assurance that you’ll keep doing what you’ve done all along.”

  Maggie pushed her plate away. “A deal with the Devil, huh?”

  The colonel tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Look, I know you don’t care for me. I won’t insult you by pretending I have only your interests in mind. This is obviously important to me, and if I can help you two out in the process, why not?”

  Jeremy stood and extended his hand to Maggie. “Let’s get to work. And Colonel, please give my best to your wife.”

  Cronfeld slid Maggie’s fruit in front of him and used her fork to take a bite. “Agent Winter, I’m afraid that, once again, you’ve misread the situation rather badly. There are no secrets between my wife and myself. I know all about your clumsy attempt to turn her against me. Really now. Threatening to go public unless I back off? You’ve watched too many movies.”

  Jeremy leaned close to Cr
onfeld. “Interesting. Is that what she told you our meeting was about? Now, I’m going out to find the person who killed my friend. Somewhere in all the research you did on me, I’m sure someone mentioned I might have a problem with anger management. Let me assure you, Colonel, that I don’t consider it a problem. In fact, anger’s one of my better qualities. We’re done. Understood?”

  Cronfeld removed his glasses and cleaned them with a napkin. “Perhaps now’s not the best time, but we will resolve this issue to my satisfaction. If not today, then next week or next month or next year. But rest assured, we will settle this.”

  “It’s already settled. You just don’t know it yet.”

  The colonel took another bite of fruit from Maggie’s plate. “And I could say the same. Tell you what. You wrap up your investigation here, then we’ll talk again.”

  “We have nothing else to discuss.”

  Cronfeld smiled at Maggie. “Please, dear, give that sweet daughter of yours a hug from me when you see her. Rebecca, is it? I can see where she got her good looks.”

  Jeremy slammed his fist on the table, sending pieces of fruit flying into Cronfeld’s lap. “They’re not part of this.”

  The colonel stood and brushed a peach tidbit from his slacks. “Really, Agent Winter. You should see someone about that temper of yours. Now, we all have a busy schedule so I’ll be on my way. We’ll talk later, though. Give it a week or two. Let the emotion of your friend’s disappearance fade. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  Cronfeld used another napkin to wipe fruit juice off his shoe. “Oh, it’s no bother. Miss Keeley. A pleasure. I do hope we can meet again under more pleasant circumstances.”

  Maggie’s lips formed a thin line. “The Bureau doesn’t know about my anger issues, Colonel. But my ex-husband does. Look him up. Ask to see the x-rays. And stay away from my family.”

  The man winked at Jeremy. “Quite the feisty one, isn’t she? I guess what they say about redheads is true. Mother and daughter.”