“Just drive out of here?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why not? There’s no place to hide that vehicle.”
“What if they stop me?”
“They can’t know you’ve quit the SBI. Hard-ass ’em. It’s obviously a law enforcement vehicle.”
“Unless that deputy last night got a look at me before he went into the creek.”
“I doubt it. You had your brights on and, like you said, he was really busy trying not to die. Don’t go back roads-take the main road, right on into Carrigan County. Bold as brass. They won’t dare mess with you.”
She sighed. “I’m not as tough as you might think,” she said.
“Santa Claws?”
She laughed. “Damned Greenberg. What will you do?”
“Spend some quality time with Laurie May. Find out what I can about the local geography, the neighbors, try to figure out a way to set up a better surveillance hide on Grinny’s place. You think they have a clutch of children hidden somewhere?”
“Yes, I do. Probably right there at the Creigh compound.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then what we need is probable cause to go toss that place. That will be my job. Get a warrant. Make it and me official. You be my field director. Orchestrate support from the DEA and whoever else is willing to play.”
She gave me a challenging look. “Don’t want me along out here?”
“Hell, Carrie, I’m already in the shitter with the local law. You’ll be a lot more useful running free in Carrigan County than ducking behind a tree every time a cop car goes by. Besides, there’s only one bed.”
She tried to stay mad but then grinned. “But it’s such a big bed,” she said. “Okay, I’ll go to town. I’ll come back after dark.”
“Don’t forget the brothers Big,” I reminded her. “They should be making their creep out of Robbins County pretty soon.” Then I had a thought. I told her about Mose Walsh. Maybe he could lend some local knowledge or help them figure out a better surveillance plan.
She thought for a moment. “I think I remember someone like that-Indian face? He was older than me, but the kids called him Big Chief. Something like that.”
“That’d be him. Huge nose.”
She suppressed a quick grin. “If it’s the guy I’m thinking about, it wasn’t about his nose.”
“Wonderful,” I said with a sigh. “Now you have two reasons to check him out.”
I spent the day with Grandma Creigh and learned a good bit of useful information. A rocky spine separated her hollow from the other Creigh cabin, and there were two trails leading over that ridge, one high, one low. The people who lived in this hollow did not consort with the gang in the next one over to the north, with the possible exception of the one unfriendly couple we’d encountered down by the river road. They were considered officially no-count by the decent folks in the holler, in Laurie May’s opinion, and thus they were unknown quantities. Someone had alerted Mingo and his troops as to where we’d camped that night, and I thought they were good candidates.
Grinny Creigh had a fearsome reputation in this part of the county, with the rumored powers and abilities typically ascribed to mountain witches and demons. I told Laurie May I’d experienced that second-sight ability when Grinny had somehow known we were watching from the ridge. She didn’t think that was particularly unusual.
“Her mama had it, too. Grinny’s big and fat. Her mama was thin and had her this long white witchy hair even as a chile. Green eyes. Sharp little teeth. Teachers was scared of her.”
“And how about Nathan?”
There were apparently three constants about Nathan: He never spoke to anyone except Grinny, he was never without his bag of knives, and he obeyed Grinny Creigh with frightening dedication. As a boy, he had gone to the county elementary school for one whole day, during which the other kids had taunted him unmercifully about his freakish looks. One brat in particular, Billy Lee Ranson, had led the torment. At the end of the school day Nathan was seen walking down the dirt road in the direction of Book Mountain with a protesting Billy Lee in tow, literally. Neither of them had ever come back to school. Billy Lee’s older brother had gone up on Book Mountain to see about Billy, and he hadn’t come back, either. The sheriff at the time was not especially interested in bothering the clan up on Book Mountain, so the school authorities had decided to cut their losses and get on with the school year. The sheriff was known to be a sensible man, and the Ranson brothers were deemed to be no great loss.
At midday we saw a patrol car go past Laurie May’s and up the dirt road toward the neighbors at the top of the hollow. I put the shepherds into the little cabin. Laurie May gave me some bread and tea, and I went to the cabin to hole up. I was able to hear the cruiser come into her cabin yard about a half hour later, and then drive away.
“Said they was lookin’ fer a dangerous escaped prisoner,” Laurie May reported. “Said he burned down the old jail and they’s a’feared he kilt two deputies. I sent’m on his way. Ain’t seen nothin’, ain’t heered nothin’.”
I told her what had really happened, and that the two deputies should be alive and well over in Sheriff Hayes’s office by now.
“I know them boys,” she said. “They growed up ‘round here, then went off to the army or somewheres. Came back, though. And I know that old jail. One’a my boys got locked up fer brawlin’ in the town. I had to bring him his vittles, on account of because they didn’t have no money to feed no prisoners.”
“As best we could tell, it was Mingo’s boys who set the fire, so he and I have a score to settle.”
She wagged a finger at me. “Don’t go talkin’ about scores to be settled,” she said. “That be serious business in these parts.”
“So’s burning a prisoner to death because he might know too much,” I said.
I took a long nap that afternoon. The four-poster smelled faintly of pine needles, but it was very comfortable. Both shepherds had eyes on getting up on the bed, but I told them they’d die trying. More terrified yawns. Frack went over to that other rag rug and lay down. Moments later he snorted, got back up, and went to a corner of the room. Blood on and in the floor, I thought.
At four I took the dogs out. Laurie May was feeding her goats, and reported that there’d been one more cop car come by the place looking for that dangerous escaped prisoner. I took the DEA cell phone and went up the hillside to see if I could hit that transponder and get in touch with Carrie. I slanted my way toward the rocky spine between the hollows so as to avoid any eyes uphill from Laurie May’s along the dirt road. I didn’t need anyone seeing a stranger in the woods and calling Mingo’s people.
As it turned out, I had to get right up on the ridgeline before I saw any bars in the cell phone signal indicator. I didn’t like being right out in the open, silhouetted on a ridge, so I stepped down into a circle of man-high boulders. It being a DEA phone, the directory was locked, so I just kept hitting the call button and finally raised Baby Greenberg.
Carrie had made it out to Carrigan County without serious incident. She’d driven right through Rocky Falls without anyone so much as looking at the Suburban. Just outside of town there’d been two sheriff’s office cruisers parked along the road. She’d pulled over and talked to the deputies, asking them who they were looking for. They told her, giving her the clear impression that they believed the cover story Mingo had put out about my escaping and taking out the Big brothers. They asked her if she was in the county on official SBI business, and she told them that she was going to a meeting with some IRS officials concerning irregularities in the Robbins County pay and benefits system. Then she left.
“That word was probably all over the deputy force within an hour,” Baby said with a laugh. “Anyway, the Big brothers made it in to Sheriff Hayes’s office, where they gave statements about the fire. Carrie wrote up a report to be sent to SBI in Raleigh, in SBI-ese, and Hayes said he’d send it out under his signature.”
“Well, hell,” I said. “That ought to do it, r
ight? Two of Mingo’s own people testifying that Mingo orchestrated this whole deal?”
“Um.”
“What do you mean, um?” The shepherds appeared to be watching something in the trees, so I moved down the ridge to make sure I couldn’t be seen from the fields below.
“Well, Carrie’s still entirely focused on this supposed child-trafficking business, but now that she’s resigned from the SBI, she’s been cut off on any current intel. And my bosses keep reminding me we’re supposed to be rolling up a meth smuggling and production operation. The fire in the jailhouse and a crooked sheriff don’t interest them very much.”
“It should-he’s the top cover for your meth crowd out here.”
“And your evidence for that would be…?”
“Hell’s bells, can’t you guys go to a grand jury with what you’ve got? I can testify, the Big brothers can testify, you can testify-how much more do we need to get something going here?”
“My bosses’ say-so, for one thing,” Greenberg said. “And, like I said, they’ve lost interest. In fact, we’re being pulled off to work a possible drug homicide over in Andrews. My line boss, Jack Harrie? He says this thing in Rocky Falls is a genu-wine hairball, Carrie Santangelo’s on a personal crusade, and we’re outta there.”
I didn’t know what to say. Without backup like a DEA squad, there wouldn’t be much I could contribute.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Baby said. “I’m going to forget to retrieve the transponder, so you’ll have some comms until the battery dies. Carrie’s been shut out, like I said, so she has to figure out what she’s going to do. I told her that her first mission is to get your ass out of Robbins County.”
“They are watching,” I said. And so were the shepherds. They were still staring into the tree line above me on the transverse ridge. What had they seen? I changed position again.
“Gotta go,” Greenberg said. “I’ll try to get back into it after this homicide deal. We’ll put your stuff back in that sex pad.”
“Thanks for that, and tell the lodge I’m still ‘there.’ Tell Carrie she can use the cabin until I can extract, if she wants. She can leave my Suburban there, too. Do you have her cell number?”
“Carrie Santangelo in the bridal suite,” he said after giving me the number. “Now there’s an image.”
“With a gun,” I reminded him. “Maybe two. And claws.”
“There is that,” he said. “Look, again, I’m sorry about this. I feel like we’re abandoning you.”
“DEA doesn’t have a dog in this fight,” I said. “Go solve your homicide. If these people are taking kids, we’ll get ’em. And besides, I owe M. C. Mingo one fire.”
I shut off the phone. My side of the slope was darkening into evening shadow. The shepherds were still watching up the hill but didn’t seem as alerted as they had been. I sat down against one of the big rocks and took in the view. The stone was still warm. It seemed so peaceful up here. It was hard to imagine the gritty infrastructure of meth labs, midnight bootleggers, and especially the notion of impoverished women selling their children to the likes of Grinny Creigh. I leaned forward to stow the cell phone in my back pocket and probably saved my life.
The rock right behind my head exploded into a spray of razor-sharp granite shards, followed by the echo of a booming rifle up on the high ridge. The back of my neck felt like it was on fire as I rolled to one side and deeper into the rock pile. The shepherds came running, but I yelled them down as another round slashed down the hill, spanging off a rock and out into the hollow below. I made like a snake, wriggling between the bigger rocks, conscious of wetness on the back of my shirt. Another round came into the rock pile. This one ricocheted off about five rocks before passing over my head like a supersonic hornet. The shooter knew I was in there and was hoping for a lucky hit. I was looking for that fabled direct route to China through the center of the earth.
Finally it stopped. My neck still hurt like hell, but it was now dark enough on the hillside that the guy probably couldn’t see us anymore. The distant boom of the rifle was still echoing in my ears, and I remained down on the ground for another thirty minutes until it was almost fully dark. Then I crept toward the edge of the rock pile nearest Laurie May’s place. The dogs were whining above me, but I told them to stay down until I got clear of the rock pile. Five minutes later I was able to get into some trees and call them down. Crouching low, I trotted down the hill toward my not-so-secret-anymore cabin.
Somehow they’d found out where I was holed up. Laurie May must have said something or done something to alert one of the visiting cops. I didn’t believe she’d intentionally done anything, but, either way, I couldn’t hang out here anymore.
I waited at the edge of the woods that concealed her doomed daughter’s cabin and watched her house for several minutes to make sure there wasn’t a reception committee down there. I finally spotted the old lady through one of the windows in the lantern light and decided to go on down. Her front door was open and I called her name. She came to the door and asked if I had been doing all that shooting. Then she saw my collar and told me to come in right away.
That first round had embedded enough granite dust in the back of my neck to make a good piece of sandpaper, as I discovered when she patiently extracted every speck of it. I was gritting my teeth and wishing for my bottle of scotch by the time she was through. Then she smeared some foul-smelling ointment on the wounded skin that took a lot of the sting away. I was afraid to ask what was in it.
“How many was they?” she asked.
“I think just one, with a long rifle and a good scope. He had me pinned in a cluster of big rocks.” I turned around to look at her. “I can’t stay here anymore,” I told her. “They’ll figure it out if they haven’t already.”
“I ain’t afraid of them no-counts,” she said bravely, as she put away her tweezers and the cotton roll.
“You tell them when they come that I made you put me up. Tell them I had a great big gun and threatened to shoot your livestock. And we need to burn that bloody cotton-I don’t want them to know they hit me.”
She threw some sticks in the woodstove, shook the ash grate, pitched in the cotton waste, and then stirred the soup pot. “Where’s ‘at pretty woman?” she asked.
“Over in Marionburg,” I said. “She managed to get out of Robbins County, but I don’t think she can come back here while Mingo’s people are all stirred up. I’m going to hike out.” I explained some of what I’d learned in the phone call.
“I’ll heat ye some soup,” she said. She clanked the firebox door shut. “You know they gonna be out there in them woods. Prob’ly have ’em dogs with ’em, too.”
“I can’t let them take me again,” I said. “Especially now that my allies have been backed out.”
“Which way you gonna go?” she asked.
“I think the best route will be over the ridges toward Crown Lake. I think the roads will be too dangerous.”
She stirred the soup some more. I realized I was really hungry. The back of my neck had settled down to a warm burn, which I hoped was not an infection getting under way.
“If’n it was me,” Laurie May said slowly, “I believe I’d go t’other way. They gonna be lookin’ for ye to run for Marionburg town. If’n it was me, I’d go up and over that ridge yonder and hide right in Grinny Creigh’s backyard. Ain’t none’a them gonna expect you to do that.”
Including me, I thought, but she had a point. If that shooter had alerted the rest of Nathan’s crew and the sheriff, the woods would soon be alive with the sound of guns being cocked and slavering dogs sniffing out trails. They would in fact never even think to look at Grinny’s place. She saw me considering it and gave me a toothy grin.
“I’ll show ye a shortcut through that backbone ridge yonder,” she said. “Put you into Grinny’s place sideways, other side’a them dogs. They’s a little cave on the bottom side of her front field. Maybe you can hole up in there, watch and see where she’s hidin’ them poo
r young’uns.”
And that was the objective, wasn’t it, I reminded myself. Carrie had defanged herself when she resigned from the SBI. She had no legal authority to pursue Grinny Creigh. Neither did I, for that matter, but I was here and she wasn’t. If I could watch the Creigh place undiscovered for a few days, maybe I could actually put some flesh on the bones of Carrie’s theory about Grinny selling children. The transponder was still in place, for now, anyway, so, in theory, I could call out.
Evidence. We desperately needed evidence.
“Okay, I’ll do just that,” I said. “The cave big enough for me and the shepherds?”
She nodded and then told me to sit down and eat. I briefly wondered how she knew about a cave over on the other side of the ridge. On the other hand, she was old enough to know damn near everything about these hills.
An hour later we turned down the lanterns in her cabin, put them in the front windows, and then slipped quietly out the back door. I had my field belt, the spotting scope, a bedroll, water, and the SIG. 45. Laurie May had fixed up a bag of bread and a couple of hard-boiled eggs. The shepherds seemed to sense our need for stealth; they were sticking close and moving in silence. There was a weak moon rising above the mountains, so between her knowledge of the path and a borrowed walking stick, I managed to stay upright as we climbed through the rock rubble toward what she had called the backbone ridge. We seemed to be heading right into the side of it as the ground rose, and I wondered if we were going to have to go straight up and over. But then we walked into a dense stand of gnarled pines whose branches were low enough to require constant swatting. Laurie May was moving surprisingly fast for a woman of her age, which hopefully meant she knew right where she was going. After about seventy-five feet of pine needles and bugs going down my shirt, we broke out in front of a crack in the ridge.
“This here broke clean through the ‘bone long ways back,” she whispered, pointing into a narrow defile, which was in total darkness. “They’s water runnin’ through it, comin’ down off ‘n them sides. Foller it through to t’other side, go down to yer right hand, mebbe twenty rod, to the cave hole.”
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