by Scott Blade
Hogan said, “I don’t like you, stranger. I advise that you see your sights and then be on your way. Today.”
Qatal stayed quiet, but he smiled. He watched Hogan turn and walk back to his police cruiser.
He watched him get in, take his coffee in with him, and start up the engine. Hogan let the car warm up, like he was just beginning his day of patrolling, and then he drove away.
Qatal smiled.
The local cops weren’t going to be an issue.
CHAPTER 42
WIDOW STOOD OUTSIDE a local bakery as Crispin was inside paying for a cake that she had apparently ordered. They were still layering it with icing.
Widow was watching a pickup truck that pulled up to the red light at a four-way intersection. The driver was a forgettable-looking guy in the sense that there wasn’t much about him that was remarkable. His height was undeterminable because he sat in the truck. But his face was hardened and he was clean-shaven. His hair was nothing but stubble. He wore a pair of aviator glasses.
The thing that struck Widow about the guy was he looked like a cop or a soldier.
The guy was facing the other direction, but Widow could see him staring back at Widow in the large side mirror on the driver side. The guy had one hand dangling out of the truck.
Then the light turned green for him to go forward. He didn’t move. The truck stayed where it was. The guy stared at him through the sunglasses. Widow couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew it.
Another car pulled up behind it. The light was still green and the truck didn’t move forward. The driver just kept on staring at Widow.
The car behind him honked his horn. The truck didn’t budge. The brake lights remained bright and incandescent.
Widow stayed with his eyes locked on where he thought the driver’s eyes were behind the sunglasses.
Right then, Crispin walked back out of the shop and up to Widow.
She said, “They aren’t done with the cake.”
Widow kept on staring at the truck in the intersection. Without looking back at her he asked, “What’s the cake for?”
“A birthday.”
He turned and looked at her and asked, “Whose birthday?”
“It’s Carson’s.”
“How old is he?”
“He is turning ten.”
“He’s a good kid.”
Crispin said, “They both are.”
Widow nodded, turned his attention back to the intersection, but the truck was gone and all he saw was the tail end of the car as it drove off.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said and turned back to her.
“Come on.”
“Where we going?”
“I know a great little coffee shop. Nearby. We can walk. The car will be fine parked there.”
He nodded and they walked down a street that was literally called Mayberry. Then they walked two more blocks and Crispin pointed down another street called Snaxe Avenue, which Widow thought was a weird name.
He asked, “How do you say the name of this street?”
“It’s said like ‘Snakes.’”
“Snakes?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s different. Why’s it called that?”
“I don’t know. Guess it’s someone’s last name.”
“Could be.”
He breathed in and then he asked, “How long have you been in America?”
“I’ve been here since Casey was born. My husband brought me over from Europe.”
“Is that where you met?”
“That’s right.”
Crispin didn’t say anything else about her husband and Widow didn’t ask.
They walked on and passed a street with two bars on it. They looked like seedy dives.
She said, “The coffee shop is actually closer that way, but let’s walk another block.”
“What for?”
“I don’t want to walk down this street.”
“Because of the bars?”
“It’s where all of the transient workers hang out.”
“How many do you have come through here?”
“We have a lot of them. There are still a dozen or so cattle ranches around here in operation. And then there are a few other places that require workers. They all learn to congregate on this street when they want to let loose.”
“How does Hogan feel about that?”
“He tolerates it. I guess this way at least he knows where they are.”
Widow said, “Hogan’s a real hard ass. Good cop though.”
“He’s a good man. He checks in on me from time to time.”
Widow said nothing.
Crispin said, “Come on. Let’s take the next road. It’s better anyway. There’s a nice park. We can see it from the road.”
Widow said, “You’re the boss.”
“I’m not your boss,” she said and she looked at him with a curious expression on her face.
He said, “No, it’s just an expression.”
“Oh. You have a lot of those in American English.”
“They have a lot of them in British English too.”
She nodded and asked, “How do you call them?”
“Idioms. I guess.”
They walked on past the street with the bar, but not before Widow glanced back and noticed a vehicle driving behind them. It wasn’t the truck from earlier. It was an old Isuzu Rodeo, one of the first versions of that SUV. It was hunter green and kept in pretty good shape. It looked clean and well maintained.
There were four passengers. They stared at Crispin and Widow, but Widow got the feeling that they were mostly staring at Crispin.
The Rodeo stopped and paused a beat before turning onto the street with the bar.
Crispin didn’t notice them.
They walked on and turned at another bakery that looked like it had been out of business for years, but the remains of a sign etched into the window was still there.
Crispin said, “This town is too small for two bakeries. But this used to be another one. It was open for a couple of seasons I think. It’s been years.”
“A lot of this town’s businesses seem to be closing up.”
“That’s your American small town. You see this in my country too.”
“What is your country?”
“I’m from Poland. Small town like this one. But more of what you would call a village.”
Widow nodded.
They walked beyond a long department store and a small grocery store, both of which seemed to do great business. But both were chain stores that Widow had heard of before.
After that they came to an open park, just like she had told him about. It was a big park for such a small town. It was a big park for such a small town and it was very welcoming.
Not bad, Widow thought.
Crispin stopped and stared at it.
There were lush greens and plants and a neat little section of different kinds of trees. There were cobblestone pathways that were only wide enough for two people to walk on side by side. A long, but thin stream snaked its way around the park.
Widow saw some people walking around in different directions. There were several young couples that looked to be no older than Casey.
There were a couple of cyclists, riding up and down the walkways. They wore helmets and rode on expensive-looking bikes.
Widow said, “This is a nice park. Doesn’t even look like it belongs here.”
“It belongs here. Eureka is really a nice place.”
“I didn’t mean it like it shouldn’t be here. I meant when compared to the last street.”
She nodded and said, “The park is kept up by donations made to the local churches.”
“Which church?”
“There are four of them. I think.”
“Catholic?”
“One of them is. But one of them isn’t even a Christian church. It’s a small Jewish church. What are they called?”
“Synagogue?
Or a temple?”
“That’s it, a synagogue.”
“That’s interesting.”
Crispin said, “That’s one of my favorite things about America. Everyone works together. And worships freely.”
“First amendment to the Constitution. Pillar of our democracy.”
She nodded and said, “It’s a great thing.”
“Poland is a democracy.”
“We have a parliament. But it’s not perfect.”
“None of them are.”
She said, “Let’s not talk politics. I don’t like the subject. It’s depressing.”
Widow nodded and said, “I agree.”
“Come on. I have an idea. There’s the coffee shop. Let’s get our coffee and walk around the park.”
CHAPTER 43
ESCOBAR DROVE INTO EUREKA in the late afternoon.
She drove through the town, taking in everything that she saw. It wasn’t much.
She saw the post office and the street with the park. She passed the police station, which also wasn’t much.
Escobar followed her GPS to the destination where the watchers had told her to meet them.
She saw a street sign for an avenue called Snaxe.
Weird name, she thought.
The street was different from the other streets in town. It was less presentable, to put it mildly. The only things on it were empty, rundown houses and a couple of bars.
She pulled into the parking lot of one just as a couple of cold beer signs lit up bright neon colors, telling the world that beer was being served.
She had been to worse places.
This was where the watchers had asked to meet them. They couldn’t meet out near the ranch. She would never be able to sneak in, the way that they had.
She parked the Crown Vic in an empty spot under a tree and waited.
One of the watchers would pick her up. They were going to want payment; that she was sure of. And she had brought the right amount, all neat and rubber-banded in a brown paper bag, the kind that she had seen guys drink their beers from on the street.
After payment, she knew that they would give her their notes. Which she would take and spend a couple of hours studying. All she was really looking for were any signs of strangers.
Qatal had told her that the wife was keeping secrets. That she knew who killed her sister.
She thought it was a good idea to get some intel. Maybe the culprit had visited the family. Maybe he was staying with them. She didn’t care, but it was safer to have all the intel she could get.
She waited.
CHAPTER 44
CRISPIN AND WIDOW walked into the coffee shop and went to the counter.
Crispin ordered a strawberry smoothie thing that Widow had never heard of and wasn’t even sure had any coffee in it. He ordered a black coffee. They asked for to-go containers so they could take them and walk around the park.
She paid after insisting on it and Widow didn’t complain because he still had no money in his account.
They crossed the street and entered the park.
They stayed side by side. The park wasn’t crowded, but plenty of locals saw them together. Widow could feel the eyes on them. First, people looked at Crispin, for reasons that even a blind man could see. And then they looked at him.
No one made any comments or snide remarks. Everyone nodded or waved or smiled at them.
He said, “You’re a celebrity around here.”
“I know. I told you. It’s like they all want to talk about the foreign girl. Whose husband is in a coma.”
“I hear that.”
“You heard that?”
Widow said, “No, I mean I hear that. I hear ya. It’s a phrase. Just means I understand what you are saying.”
Crispin nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s an old thing now.”
“I didn’t want to ask about it. None of my business.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.”
They rounded a bend and had to move aside for a young couple on mountain bikes. She smiled at them and walked over closer to Widow.
She said, “I love that. Miss that.”
“Riding bikes?”
“No young couple stuff. Like love.”
Widow asked, “How long has your husband been in a coma?”
They continued following the cobblestone trail.
She said, “Liam’s been in a coma for ten years now.”
“That’s tough. You must love him.”
She said, “You know what?”
“What?”
“I don’t.”
Widow said nothing.
Crispin took a sip from her straw. She shook, maybe from the cold strawberry mix or maybe from saying what she’d said out loud. Widow wasn’t sure.
She said, “I can’t believe I said that to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. What do I care? I’m a total stranger.”
“That’s true,” she said and she chuckled. Then she said, “You’re like a priest.”
He said nothing.
“My husband was a good guy. We met. He was in the Navy.”
“I know.”
“How did you know that?”
“I saw his stuff in the panic room.”
“Casey took you in there?”
Widow nodded.
Crispin shrugged and said, “It doesn’t even work. Not really. There’s no way to lock it from the inside. It has a hidden button to open it on the outside.”
“You don’t really need it anyway.”
“We didn’t build it. It was there with the house. Liam liked it. He kept his memories in there.”
Widow assumed that she meant memorabilia.
Crispin pointed over to a bench that was near the stream at its widest point.
She said, “Let’s sit there.”
They sat.
“I like the ducks.”
Widow looked around and saw nothing. He asked, “What ducks?”
“They aren’t here anymore. I used to like them.”
“Liam brought you here?”
She nodded.
“How did you meet?”
“I was interning at his company. We met in Europe.”
“What does his company do?”
“It’s medical technology.”
Widow said, “They make hospital machines and operating systems, that sort of thing?”
“Yeah. It’s for the military.”
“How did he run a company while he was in the Navy?”
She said, “He didn’t run it. His partner ran it. They split the shares when it got big. That’s how we afford to keep the ranch running. He had a lot of money in savings for us. And Mr. King has been great at getting things moving.”
“He’s not very convivial.”
She looked at him and asked, “Con... vial?”
“Convivial. Sociable.”
“Is this a common word?”
“No. Not really.”
Crispin was silent for a moment. She drank the rest of the strawberry thing.
Widow asked, “What happened to your husband?”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“Says who?”
“It was a long time ago. He never told me. Not exactly. I remember the night before it happened. He was up all night and upset.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know. He said that it was best if I didn’t know. I was pregnant at the time with Carson. I was very pregnant. The doctors said that Carson was going to be born with undeveloped eardrums. We knew he’d be deaf.
“I think that got to Liam. He kept saying how he was going to do the right thing and wanted me to stand by him even thought I didn’t know the details.”
“Sounds like he was about to make a move to do something big.”
She said, “He said he was going to the FBI. About what, I didn’t know. The last time I saw him was on Skype.”
“Skype? Where was he?”
/> “He was in Bahrain.”
“The Naval base,” Widow said. “I know it.”
“Have you been there?”
“I have. I was stationed there. And I had run ops through there many times.”
“Do you know my husband?”
“The Navy is a big place. I never heard of him.”
“Anyway. It’s almost over now, I think.”
“Why’s that?”
She paused a long beat and then she said, “Montana has this law. It says that a married person has to keep his or her spouse on those breathing machines in the case of a coma.”
“They have a law that says you have to?”
She nodded.
“How long?”
“Ten years.”
Widow understood. He asked, “It’s been ten years?”
She nodded and said, “Since yesterday. When you showed up.”
“What’re you going to do?”
Crispin looked at the stream. The wind blew and swept her ponytail with it. Some of her hair came loose. She looked back at Widow and said, “I’m going to let him go. My Liam has been gone a long time.”
Widow stayed quiet.
“You don’t agree?”
“I don’t agree with the law. I would’ve unplugged him ten years ago. Being comatose is no way to live.”
“I’m glad you say that. And I don’t feel bad for saying it.”
Widow said, “You shouldn’t feel bad. He would have wanted that. Believe me.”
“Thank you.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s in the house.”
“Back at your house?”
“That’s right.”
“How? Shouldn’t he be in a hospital?”
“Miranda takes care of him.”
Widow looked at her.
“She’s a nurse. She comes to us with the insurance that Liam had. Why do you look surprised?”
“I thought she was your housekeeper?”
“She does that too. She’s been with us for the whole ten years. She does both. Liam doesn’t require a lot of time. She spends a couple of hours with him. Cleaning him, shaving him, changing his bedpan. That sort of thing. Once a month, a doctor comes by from the hospital in Missoula. He comes and talks with her and checks the machines. That kind of thing.”
Widow nodded and then he asked, “Who’s going to unplug him?”
“I will. I guess. I already talked to the doctor on the phone about it. Miranda knows. We don’t actually unplug him. We just turn off the machines.”