“Still dreaming that you can fly, little angel?”
“Every night I dream that I can fly.”
“Can you still recite the complete Psalms?” He looked at Bradley and smiled wickedly.
“One through one hundred fifty. That’s nothing, Mike. You know the hours I put in on them.”
“Yes, I do. Well, until next time, Beatrice Ann, my ancient and eternally dried-up virgin angel, you take care and try to behave yourself down there. If God had made you with the wings that human beings give you in art and literature, you could flutter out of there like a big bat.”
“I’m not so big anymore, Mike. Pretty much just skin and bones. There are so many things I wish I could do. Thanks for the gifts. Somewhere in the center of your hideous soul there is a flicker of goodness and light.”
“Don’t be saying things like that about me, Bea. They have a new word for that kind of thing now: dissing. Well, new to you, anyway. It means disrespecting.”
“My nature won’t allow me to respect you, Mike. But the apples and meat sticks really do go well together. And I’m happy that, in some strange way, you like pleasing me.”
“Until we meet again.”
“Pray to God, Bradley! Pray to Him!”
A moment of quiet fell upon them. Bradley watched three vultures wheeling in the sky high above and felt a net of crazy fear settling over him, as if dropped by the big black birds. Then the entombed Beatrice Ann let out a wail that made the hair on his neck rise, and his heart flutter. It was not a scream or a moan but a high-pitched keen, corporeal yet disembodied, both flesh and spirit. It cut the clear, dry air for many long seconds. Bradley heard the animal in it, the fear and mourning, the abandon and fury. Very gradually it faded, as if she had fallen deeper into the abyss but never stopped crying out.
The fresh silence was long and brittle. Mike sighed and stepped away from the mine shaft and looked at Bradley. “Stand up straight. Don’t ever again take a knee for anyone, especially not her ilk. Not even for me. You have between here and my truck to organize your thoughts and beliefs, and then tell me what you want to do.”
Bradley rose and stepped forward to the shaft and looked down into it. Then he turned to Mike and the small man did not appear ridiculous at all in spite of his bright clothing; he looked condensed and capable and he had an expression that Bradley had never seen on him, something dark and cruel and controlled. Bradley started down the mountain. His legs were uncertain and his feet were cold. The sun was bright and low in the west and with every step Bradley told himself he had not seen what he had seen, nor heard what he had heard. But for the first time in his life he could not believe himself, could not override his senses with his will. All truth seemed new now and all warranties expired. He veered off behind a bush to pee and check his cell phone. As the equal of God I renounce him, he thought. What a thing to believe and to say.
“Speak to me,” called Mike from behind. “Speak to me, my fine, wayward son of Murrieta.”
“As the equal of God, I renounce him,” he muttered without looking back, his words buried in the sharp tumble and clatter of the rocks as he sidestepped down the mountain. But he felt a sudden power of heart, coupled with a confidence that he hadn’t felt since the bloody shootout in Yucatán four months ago. It was like the sun breaking through dark clouds. His body and muscles and blood felt strong and young again. His eyes saw very clearly. He took a deep breath and felt his lungs expanding with the cool clean desert air. “I am the judge of right and wrong and of beauty.”
“Louder, Bradley! And with conviction. I can hardly hear you!”
Bradley shouted out the words and Mike caught up with him and they headed down the mountain.
12
The next afternoon Mary Kate Boyle waited at the bus stop across the street from the Buenavista ATF field office. It struck her as funny that the big bad ATF had a little cluster of offices inside the Imperial Bank building. It was a reflective glass building, two stories high, with an investment company and an accounting firm and law offices and who knew what else. Downstairs there was also a café that had good muffins and expensive coffee.
The day was sunny and cool, not sticky humid like back home. A very old Native American man sat unmoving at the other end of the bench, arms crossed and head lolled forward far enough for his chin to touch his chest. His eyes were closed and he had neither moved nor apparently breathed since she had come off the eastbound bus and sat down two minutes ago. Her phone rang again, and again it was Skull.
“I told you not to call, Skull. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was done with you. I am done with you. It’s over. You can’t treat a girl like that. You just can’t.” She clicked off and glanced at the old man as if for approval. “Right?” He didn’t move.
Near the end of her first week here in Southern California, Mary Kate was beginning to feel invisible but at least she wouldn’t go hungry. For a skinny girl, she loved to eat, especially spicy food, and the zesty fast-food options here whipped her stomach into forest fires of appetite. Just seeing the graphic posters and signs made her want to order: the Angry Whopper, the Flame-Thrower Encharito, the XXL Chalupa, Spicy Chicken Crispers. The establishments: Del Taco, Pollo Loco, BK, and more, everywhere she looked. They put the bland Russell County DQs and Hardee’s to shame.
Just two days ago she’d been down to her last two hundred bucks and change, and maybe one more week on Amy and Victor’s couch if she was lucky. So she’d borrowed Amy’s car and applied at temp agencies from L.A. down to San Diego, but she couldn’t type except to text, wasn’t handy with computers, and she had no high school diploma on account of chronic truancy while trying to keep up with Lyle and his bad-boy ways.
But yesterday a dapper young Latino had hired her on the spot at a KFC in downtown San Diego where she’d gone in for a snack, and after the three-hour lunch shift, she’d found a by-the-week hotel room not far away. By late afternoon she’d returned Amy’s car, then come all the way back to San Diego on the bus. Trailways again. Her room at the Winston Arms was a dive but most of the dives wouldn’t take women at all so she felt lucky. And she could pretty much eat all she wanted at KFC, which made her feel good about both her present and her future. Mary Kate had gone hungry as a little girl and it was a feeling she never wanted to have again. Ever. It made you feel weak and worthless and it took away your fight.
At KFC she was “front of shop,” which meant taking orders, bagging them up, and running a cash register. Just a few minutes ago, on her bus trip here to the ATF office in Buenavista, she’d seen a help-wanted sign at the In-N-Out Burger. They had better food than KFC except for the mashed potatoes and coleslaw, but the idea of her working in Buenavista and Skull being a few short miles away in El Centro didn’t feel right at all. If their paths crossed, she might be able to convince him that she had come here because she missed him, because Skull had large ideas about his charm and desirability. He also might suspect something and just flat-out beat the truth out of her. Or worse. Her phone vibrated again and she saw the number and didn’t answer.
A minute later she stood and looked down at the native. “’Til we meet again, chief.”
“Never answer a phone.”
“You ain’t kidding.”
• • •
The lobby was spacious and the floor was shiny black marble with glittery shavings of something in it. The security guard was a large, muscular man with a scarred but not unfriendly face and a very crisp blue uniform. He was armed. His nameplate said OSCAR. Mary Kate signed in and Oscar gave her a hard look as he dialed the phone.
Charlie Hood led her back to his cubicle and pulled out a chair for her, then sat behind a small desk. On the desk were a computer with a rolling-river screen saver and a cup of coffee on an electric warmer. Mary Kate had called Hood specifically because he was cute and had diamonds in his teeth and no ring on his finger, and because his boss, Dale, was a fool. “He’s been calling,” she said. “Skull. I thought you’d want t
o know.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Twice yesterday, twice today.”
“Does your phone have GPS?”
“It’s your basic flip, comes with the plan.” She held it out and Hood took it and checked it over, then handed it back.
“No GPS. Skull thinks you’re in Missouri?”
“I don’t ever know what he thinks. Last time he called I didn’t answer. His voice does kind of send a chill down my spine.”
Hood nodded. “You can help us. It’s up to you.”
“I wouldn’ta called you if I wasn’t ready to help. I get the feeling he’ll keep calling me ’til you put him away.”
“If you can just let him believe that you’re in Russell County, you’ll be safe and he might get loose with information.”
“His Achilles tendon is that he brags.”
Mary Kate watched Hood unlock one of the file cabinets that stood beside his desk, and rummage through a shallow cardboard box. His hair was dark and long and it fell over his forehead when he leaned down. He wore strangely alluring suits and shoes, but when he smiled it was uncomplicated and boylike despite the showy diamonds. He brought out a small digital recorder and opened the back and spilled out the batteries. He got a new package of triple A’s and took two. He did things patiently and seemed to concentrate.
“Do you ever put him on speaker when you talk?”
“If I’m busy.”
“If you can put him on speaker without making him suspicious, and use this, we’ll have his words, too.”
“For court?”
“We can’t use them in court. He’s got an expectation of privacy. We can use them to help us find and arrest him, though.”
“I got a job at KFC in downtown San Diego.”
“I’m glad to hear that. So you were serious about staying in Southern California.”
“I was serious about the movie star, model, or nurse. I kid a lot but not about the important stuff. I’m at the Winston Arms downtown and it’s a real pit.”
“Maybe you’ll make some friends, find a roommate or two.”
“In San Diego they got the Old Globe Theatre, and a theater in La Jolla that wins awards. Jersey Boys got started there, not in New Jersey like you’d think. And The Wizard of Oz got written on some island near San Diego. The book, not the movie.” Her phone rang and she checked the number. “Skull.”
Hood pushed a black button on his desk phone and a red button on the digital recorder. “Answer and put him on speaker.”
She sighed softly, answered, and went to speaker. “I got one hundred percent of nothing to say to you.”
“Don’t hang up. I miss you, Mary Kate. That’s all I have to say. I wish I was back there with you. California isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Doesn’t look like it does on TV.”
Hood had a half smile and he was nodding. He looked to her like Spider-Man and she wondered if she looked like Mary Jane next door. She let a beat go by and thought again how truly easy it was to act so long as you believed your part. “Russell County looks just fine without you in it. You never even said you were sorry.”
“I am so darned sorry, honey.”
“You know how much that hurt? You should see me now.”
“I’d do anything in the world to make you feel better.”
She winked at Hood. “Well, that’s easy to say from two thousand miles away.”
“Come on out. I’ll pay for the ticket and we’ll be together. We were meant for that, Mary Kate. You and I both know it.”
“And the worst hurt was I trusted you, Skull. I was so fooled and surprised when you started hitting me. I had your baby inside.”
There was a long silence. Mary Kate watched Hood, who was staring at the recorder intensely enough to hypnotize it.
“I can make it right again.”
“It wasn’t right to start with.”
“Mary Kate, sometimes a man does things he regrets. I regret everything I did wrong to you. With all my heart. I’ll be home soon. I’ll make us right again.”
“Sounds like my invite to California just got canceled.”
“Where are you? What are you doing? What are you wearing? Did your lips heal up yet?”
Now Mary Kate let the silence grow again. She glanced at Hood and smiled slightly, though her lips still hurt. She winked at him again because she was about to deliver some very crafty words. “Lyle? I’m tired of talking to you. How ’bout you talk to me? Tell me something that won’t hurt. Where are you? You making any money out there? Have you sold anything or not?”
“It’s going okay. You know that big-ass thing we took out to the woods? The watermelons? I got us some good money for it. There’s other sales pending. And we’re about to get some new . . . items. Friends of mine out here, from the service. They got military stuff from the Naval Weapons Station. Big stuff, big money.”
“You mean like bombs?”
“I could say MANPADS but that might not mean much to you.”
“Nope. But I’m happy for you.” Mary Kate reached across Hood’s desk and took a pen out of a coffee cup and wrote on his legal pad: “See? Has to brag.”
Hood smiled. The diamonds glittered. But Mary Kate could tell something had just hit him, and hard.
“You always had good luck, Skull.”
“Luck enough to get you.”
“Those days are most insuredly gone.”
“I don’t want them gone.”
“Then when you coming back?”
“When the job is done, honey.”
“I do not qualify as your honey anymore. We were on brand-new footing as of the second you hit me.”
She heard Lyle sigh. As a bully he had no endurance. He had very finite levels of patience and forgiveness. When they were gone was when he started hitting people or whatever else was handy.
“I gotta go now, Mary Kate. I love you sure as the sunrise. I’ll be home soon.”
“Maybe I’ll be here and maybe I won’t.”
“I’ll bring you something.”
“What?”
“Something nice. You like a necklace or choker or something? They got the Walk of Fame up in Hollywood, maybe I could find something there.”
“Get me a Spider-Man doll,” she said, looking at Hood, who of course didn’t get the reference.
“Since when do you like Spider-Man?”
“What I’d really like is for this shiner to go away and my lips to stop bleeding every time I try to smile.”
Mary Kate punched off her phone and watched Hood as he turned off the recorder. “It feels good to get a little even with that sonofabitch. Play his own kinda game right back on him.”
“You’re good.”
“I can act, alright. Since I was born, Mom said.” She saw that darkness cross Hood’s eyes again.
“A MANPADS is a Man-Portable Air-Defense System,” Hood said. “It’s a guided shoulder-fired missile. They’re not hard to use and you can take out a commercial airliner from five miles away.”
“Who’d want to do that? Oh, damn, stop—that was utterly idiotic. I’m getting hungry-dumb.”
“Transcribe the conversations with Lyle if you can. At least keep notes after you talk. Call me after every one. Don’t press him and don’t call him unless you feel him losing interest. Make him call you.”
Mary Kate studied Hood’s earnest face, his clear steady eyes, and thought she saw something of the boy he’d been and of the man he would become. She sensed secrets and resident obsessions. “Charlie, I’ve been dreaming Double-Doubles. Can we go to the In-N-Out down the street? I’ll pay.”
Hood pushed the recorder toward her. “Rain check? I’ve got paper to push.”
“That sounds exciting.”
They stood and Hood looked down at the computer screen and moved and clicked the mouse. From this angle Mary Kate could see the change in the color of the monitor light but not what was on the screen.
“What was the name of the fourt
h man? The one who disappeared?”
“Officer Pat Parsons.”
Hood nodded and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “This morning the Russell County Sheriff reported his body found out by Birch Springs.”
“Miles of hollers out there.”
“Gunshot. Foul play suspected. Coroner can usually tell a suicide from a homicide.”
Mary Kate’s heart stuttered a beat and she felt darkness falling over her thoughts. “I don’t think Lyle and them are capable of that.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Just what my gut says.” She watched Hood’s calm eyes rove her face and she saw full well that he was looking at her shiner and her split lips. “Anybody that gets their heart involved can make a mistake. Whether you work for KFC or FAT.”
“That’s the truth. It’s good you’re helping, Mary Kate. You’re doing the right thing. And just so you know, it’s ATF not FAT.”
“I’m funnin’. Last call for In-N-Out.”
“Sorry.”
“See you around, secret agent man.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
She left him in the lobby standing behind Oscar’s desk, both men looking at her with such gravity that she wanted to laugh but did not.
13
After dark Hood got a large coffee and drove out to Castro Ford in El Centro. Again he parked off the street behind the parts-and-service yard. He sipped the coffee and turned the news down low and looked through his camera at the new-car prep bay, which was open and well lighted. Two men he didn’t recognize were peeling the protective film off a shiny new Taurus. Beside it was a stunning Explorer painted a metallic cobalt blue, still partially wrapped in white. Across the expanse of flat sand desert that separated Hood from the dealership he could hear the sound of the Mexican music playing from the radio while the men worked.
The Famous and the Dead Page 10