“Right,” Buckthorn said. “So if something turns up, you call me or Agent Dushane. We stand a better chance of recognizing Donovan. Any more questions?” There were none. “Dismissed,” Buckthorn said. They filed out, some shaking their heads.
“They think it’s a wild goose chase,” Buckthorn said.
“I hope it is,” Dushane answered. “But they’ll do their jobs. Because you told them to.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry about Willis. He’s a good guy.”
She chuckled. “For a Neanderthal. But you seem to trust him, so I figured I didn’t need to bite his head off.” She grinned impishly. “Besides, he’s kind of cute.”
He kept his face impassive. “Want me to set you up?”
She laughed. “Nah. My calendar’s kind of full. I can only fit one caveman into my schedule at a time.”
“Anyone I know?”
She laughed again and gave him a playful shove. “You promised me lunch,” she said.
He looked at his watch. “That’s right, I did. Lulu’s?”
“Why not?”
As they walked out together into the lobby, Buckthorn heard a familiar voice. “Tim!”
He looked over. Loretta was standing at the security station, just outside the metal detector. An older deputy was going through her purse. She inclined her head at him, with a look that clearly said “do something about this.” He heard Dushane’s sigh beside him as he called out. “She’s with me, Norris.”
The deputy looked up, blinking myopically. Buckthorn walked over. “This is my sister, Loretta. Loretta, Norris Barlow.”
“Sorry, Tim,” Barlow said. “Don’t think we ever met.”
“Not a problem, Norris,” Buckthorn said.
“Hmmph,” Loretta said as she snatched up the purse. “Not for you, maybe.”
“Or for you, either, Loretta,” Buckthorn said firmly. “The man’s doing his job.” He stood there, looking at her pointedly, until she pasted a smile back on her face. “Sorry, hon,” she said, turning the charm back on. “I’m guess I’m just a grumpy old woman.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” Barlow said.
She turned to Buckthorn. “I thought I’d swing by and take you out to lunch.” She looked over at Dushane. “Well, hey, shug! You want to come along, too?”
“Loretta…” Buckthorn began, but Dushane cut him off. “That’d be great,” she said, her smile as brilliant and artificial as Loretta’s.
“Super!” Loretta was practically beaming. “I thought we’d go to the Pine Room.”
Buckthorn suppressed a groan. The Pine Room was the grill at the local country club. The food wasn’t bad, but the place was always full of old men in ugly pants coming off the golf course, waiting to get on, or just hanging around talking about the great rounds they’d played. It was the type of place where the movers and shakers of Gibson County met, but it made Buckthorn feel claustrophobic. “We were going to Lulu’s,” he said.
Loretta made a face. “Oh,” she said. “That place.”
“I asked Tim if we could go there,” Dushane said, her smile never wavering. “I like the biscuits.”
“Well, I guess a girl who gets as much exercise as you do,” Loretta said, “can afford a few extra calories. Me, if I don’t have a salad for lunch, I blow up like a balloon.”
“Oh, stop it,” Dushane said. “You’re as skinny as a rail. A French fry or two won’t hurt you.”
Loretta sighed theatrically. “Well, I suppose.” She dug into her bag and handed her keys to Buckthorn. “Here,” she said. “You drive. I need to use the facilities.” She looked over at Barlow, who’d been watching the whole exchange with a baffled expression. He pointed across the small lobby. “Through those doors, ma’am,” he said.
“Thanks, hon,” she said as she walked off.
Buckthorn looked at Dushane. “Mind telling me what that was about?”
“It’s a girl thing,” she said. “Specifically, a Southern girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Okay. It just seemed…I don’t know, like you were fighting.”
“Not at all,” she said. “She pushed a little. I pushed back. Now we understand each other a little better, so maybe we can get along.”
“I hope so,” Buckthorn said.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Now let’s go eat.”
__________
Donovan sat across the street and watched the people who’d shot at him and killed Lofton Monroe walk out of the front door of the Sheriff’s Department, arm in arm. They walked to a beige SUV in the parking lot and got in. A moment later, a dark haired, expensively dressed woman followed, hurrying to catch up. There was a brief, awkward discussion, then they got in the car, Buckthorn in the driver’s seat, the FBI agent in front with him. The dark-haired woman got in the back, looking a tad disgruntled. They pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the main street. Donovan started the car and followed. Now he knew what Buckthorn drove. All he needed was an opportunity.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Lulu’s was packed and noisy. A trio of waitresses moved easily and purposefully about the room, shuttling orders to and food from the steel-silled kitchen window, pouring tea and water from pitchers clutched tight in either hand, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as they wove between the tables. The youngest of the three waved at Buckthorn. “Grab a table anywhere, Tim,” she called out. He made his way to a recently vacated four-top at the far side of the room. Dushane trailed in his wake, Loretta bringing up the rear. Every few tables, Buckthorn would stop and greet someone, ask about their family or how their last fishing trip had gone, then move on. Whenever he’d stop, Dushane would bump up behind him. After the second time, she turned back to see how Loretta was taking it. She was smiling, looking at her brother fondly. When Dushane caught her eye, she shrugged with a comically exaggerated look of resignation. Dushane couldn’t help but laugh, and she couldn’t help but like Buckthorn’s sister. For all her brittle pretension, she clearly adored her brother.
By the time they’d reached the table, the three waitresses had descended on it and cleared away the dirty dishes and debris. As they took their seats, glasses of iced tea with lemon appeared as if by magic in front of Buckthorn and Loretta. “Whatcha drinkin’, shug?” the young blonde waitress asked Dushane. She had a plump, friendly face and a tiny flower tattoo peeking coyly out from the neckline of a Taylor Swift T-Shirt that hugged her curves just a little too tightly.
“Iced tea. Sweet,” Dushane said with a smile.
“Comin’ up.” She headed back into the noise and bustle.
The tea, when it arrived, was as strong as the coffee had been and so sweet Dushane was surprised it didn’t flow like maple syrup. She cut the sweetness with a slice of lemon and listened to Buckthorn and his sister talk—or, more accurately, Loretta gave her brother an exhaustive run-down of local events and gossip, with Buckthorn making the occasional interested noise or asking a quick question that more often than not sent Loretta off on another tangent. The one-sided conversation went on and on, pausing only when the waitress took their orders. It was the sort of thing that would have normally driven Dushane to distraction, but Buckthorn seemed to soak up every word. Once again, he seemed relaxed and happy just to be in the presence of his family. He belongs here, she thought. And I don’t. The thought startled and disturbed her. They’d been getting so close, getting along so well. Was she trying to sabotage things before they got started? Her mind raced ahead. Much as she enjoyed where she worked and who she worked with, she knew the FBI career she wanted would eventually take her out of North Carolina, where Buckthorn’s career path was digging him in deeper and deeper here. Should she put a stop to it before it got too serious? That horse may have left the barn, Leila, she thought ruefully. She shook her head and put the thought aside. She realized that Buckthorn was looking at her. “You okay?” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, and smiled. “Just thinking.”
“Oh
,” Loretta said, “where are my manners? I didn’t mean to leave you out, Leila. It’s just that I don’t see enough of this one here. When we do get together, I just talk my silly head off.”
“It’s okay, really,” Dushane said. At that point, the food arrived (chef salad for Loretta, burgers and fries for Dushane and Buckthorn)and they busied themselves for a moment with dressings and condiments.
“So,” Loretta said. “Tell us about your family.”
The question stumped Dushane for a moment. She didn’t know where to begin. But Loretta was looking at her with such guileless interest, she felt like she had to say something. “Ummm…my dad owns a hardware store in Lafayette. Mom taught music part time. I’ve got three brothers…” as she talked, she loosened up, encouraged by Loretta’s questions and comments. Damn, she thought in the back of her mind. If this woman put her mind to it, she could be a hell of an interrogator. All of that wide-eyed attention may be total bullshit, but she makes you want to spill your guts.
She glanced again at Buckthorn. He was smiling at her, listening. She felt a surge of warmth towards him and his sister. I think this might just work, she thought.
__________
Donovan cruised through the crowded parking lot, eyes moving from side to side as if he was patrolling a hostile neighborhood. Here and there, people walked purposefully to their vehicles, lunch over, headed back to whatever work they did. No one gave Donovan a second glance.
He spotted the SUV parked in a line of other cars, around one side of the building. A large shiny pickup truck was pulling out of the parking spot next to it.
Opportunity knocks, Donovan thought to himself. He pulled in next to the SUV. This put him in the cool shade of the building, with the target blocking the view on one side and another of the ubiquitous oversized pickups blocking the other. He paused for a moment to look in the rearview. No one seemed to be paying him any attention. He pulled the bag onto his lap and stuck his hands inside. He found the components of the bomb by feel and started to put them together without taking his hands from the bag. Back in the day, he could put one of the deadly little packages together in pitch darkness, going by feel alone. He hoped he still could.
When he was done, he pulled the device from the bag and looked it over. After a moment, he nodded, opened the door and eased himself out to stand by the SUV.
__________
The waitress was just asking if they wanted dessert when Buckthorn’s phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID.
“It’s Duane,” he said.
“Say hey for me,” Loretta said, “and remind him I still want to introduce him to that nice Higson girl from our church.”
“Not now, Loretta,” Buckthorn said, but without heat. “Yeah, Duane,” he said into the phone.
“Captain, you remember you told the fellas to keep an eye peeled for anything out of the way?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, McCall phoned from out at the Motor Lodge. He talked to the owners and they said there was some foreign-sounding guy staying there.”
Buckthorn sat up straighter. “Foreign how?”
“Couldn’t say. Maybe English. Or something like that.”
“Like Irish?”
“Could be.”
“Okay. Is the guy there?”
Buckthorn could hear a brief snatch of conversation, interspersed with the crackle of radio chatter.
“Something?” Dushane said.
“Could be. One of the officers got word of an unusual guest at the motel outside of town.”
“Could be a tourist,” she said, “come for the fishing.”
“Bass Festival was two months ago,” Loretta said. Buckthorn shushed them both as Duane came back on the line. “Naw,” he said. “He’s out. They don’t know where.”
“Okay,” Buckthorn said. “Tell McCall to sit tight. Come by and get me.”
“And me,” Dushane said.
“I’m pullin’ into Lulu’s right now,” Duane said.
Buckthorn looked out the window. A Gibson County Sheriff’s cruiser was pulling up to the door. Buckthorn fumbled a twenty out of his wallet and put it on the table. “Hate to eat and run, sis,” he said.
“Tim?” Loretta said, clearly alarmed. “What’s going on?”
“May be nothing, ma’am,” Dushane said.
“If it was nothing,” Loretta said, “you wouldn’t be calling me ‘ma’am’ in that cop voice.”
“Okay. You’re right. But we need to go.”
“And you best go home, sis,” Buckthorn said.
“Oh, go do your job, then,” Loretta said with fond exasperation. She handed the twenty back to Buckthorn. “I’ll get lunch.”
Buckthorn just nodded as he and Dushane headed for the door. A chorus of “Bye, Tim” followed in their wake, replaced by a low buzz of puzzled conversation as they bolted out without responding.
“What are they in such a hurry about?” the waitress asked. “They took off out of here like their shoes was on fire and their asses was catchin’.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, shug,” Loretta said. “But I guess I got the check.”
__________
Donovan was backing up as he saw the police car pull into the lot. He paused, half in and half out of the parking space, until he saw it go past. Then he pulled the rest of the way out and drove slowly around the corner. He saw the police car pulling away at high speed. It looked like there were several people inside, but he couldn’t make out who. They were heading in the same direction he needed to take to get back to the motel. He followed, barely under the speed limit so as not to attract attention and soon he lost sight of the police car in front of him. He looked back at the restaurant disappearing in his rear-view. “Hope you enjoyed the meal.”
__________
“What have we got on this mystery guest?” Buckthorn said as they headed towards the town limits and the Pine Lake Motor Court.
“The subject registered with a Florida license. Name of Ian McClain. NCIC’s got nothing on him.”
“Checked Florida DMV?” Dushane said.
“Running it right now.”
“Probably just a tourist,” Buckthorn said. “Like you figured.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
__________
Loretta walked to her vehicle, a white Styrofoam box containing the leftovers from her salad in one hand. She’d have it with dinner. No matter how well-off she was now, inside was still the girl who grew up poor, who saved every scrap because there was no guarantee of food in the house tomorrow or the next day. She put the box on top of the car as she got out her keys. A wave of pent-up heated air rolled out from the interior of the carand she stepped back. She glanced at her watch. It was an hour and a half before the boys would be home from school, so she had time to drop by the library. She’d had the new Lee Child book on reserve for ages, and maybe it had come in. She adored her life and her family, but she did love getting carried away to somewhere else by a good thriller. It was all the excitement she needed.
__________
Donovan’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the police car still ahead of him. Could they be going to the same place he was? A tiny but insistent alarm began sounding in the back of his head. He didn’t have any reason to feel threatened, but that feeling was still there, and he hadn’t survived as long as he had, with as many people after him as he’d had, by ignoring it. He took the next right turn, not knowing where it went. He’d wander aimlessly for a few minutes. Give the cops time to get on with whatever they were about, then head for the motel. He’d left the room locked and tidied up, with nothing incriminating in plain view. But a nosy maid or manager who interfered with his luggage was going to get a hell of a surprise.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“705, County,” the radio crackled to life.
“705,” Willis acknowledged with his car’s number.
“Be advised, Florida DMV reports no, repeat no such license number and no Ian McClain
associated with it.”
“Son of a bitch,” Dushane said.
“A fake,” Buckthorn said.
Willis keyed his mike. “709, 705,” he said.
The reply came back immediately. “709, go ahead.”
“Chris, you still at the motel?”
“10-4.”
“You got eyes on the subject yet?”
“Negative. Lights are off. No one’s home.”
“Okay, listen up. Anyone comes back to that room before we get there, do not approach. Repeat, do not approach. Wait for us, you hear?”
“10-4.” McCall sounded nervous but excited. “Think this might be our guy?”
“I don’t know,” Willis said. “But he ain’t right. Sit tight. We’ll be there in one.”
“10-4.”
__________
Loretta turned the car on, sighing with pleasure as the hot air from the A/C vents turned quickly to a frigid blast. She put on her seatbelt, loosening it a bit so as not to wrinkle her dress. She fiddled with the radio, frowning with annoyance when all she could find were commercials. Finally, she found a country station actually playing music, a Toby Keith song she liked. Whistling along with the tune, she put the car in gear and began backing up.
__________
It sounded like the first crack of a peal of thunder, but without the long rolling rumble that would normally follow.
“What was that?” Dushane said.
Buckthorn looked over at Willis. The younger man’s face had gone chalk white, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched. “Duane,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“I hope that wasn’t what it sounded like,” was the only answer.
“What?” Dushane asked. “What did it sound like?”
Willis was looking in the mirror. “Fuck,” he breathed.
Tony Wolf/Tim Buckthorn - 02 - Broken Shield Page 20