“A planner,” I said. “And the son of a bitch wasn’t one of those nuts who wants to be caught. He moved down here, planning all the time what he was going to do. Hooked up with his young friend and found Arajanian was an apt pupil.”
“And the little girl? The TV men sure had a field day with that story.”
“As near as we can figure from what Washington tells us, Finn probably saw the little girl as a replacement for his sister…that’s my guess. Maybe he really did love Cecilia Burgess. She was going to have his kid. Maybe he just kept her around so he could keep Daisy. We may never know for sure.”
“One cold bastard.” Holman fell silent for a minute. “He had his pal kill all those kids in the truck.”
“That’s the way it looks. The one kid lived, and from what he’s told Pat Tate, that’s what happened. Since revenge worked in Washington State he probably figured it’d work here, too.”
Holman grunted. “So, how are you?”
“All right. Bruised and tired.”
“When are you heading back?”
I chuckled. “By the end of the week, I guess. Not before. I want to stick around to make sure Estelle’s on the mend and doesn’t need anything. And they haven’t brought my Blazer back yet either.”
“My house burned down, you know.”
“I know. Bob Torrez told me. Did you find the key to my place all right?”
“We’re staying at the Essex Motel.”
“For God’s sakes, Martin, what for? Get the goddamned key and use my house.”
Sheriff Pat Tate had stepped into the room. I grinned at him and looked heavenward. Holman said, “Well, I don’t know…and it was arson. To cover up a robbery.”
“No shit? Bob didn’t say anything about that.”
“Hell no. We didn’t know until yesterday. I was going to tell you, but they’d never put me through to you. How could I?”
“What was taken?”
“The usual stuff. My stereo, some guns, pottery, a couple rugs. Stuff like that.”
“Any leads?”
“None yet. I was kinda hoping you’d be back so I could go over some things with you.”
“End of the week for sure. Any other messages?”
“No. Well, wait a minute.” He shuffled papers. “Your daughter in Flint called. But she said it wasn’t important. You’re supposed to call her when you can. I think she saw something on television and got worried.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
Holman laughed, his usual good mood returning. “I feel like I’m being dismissed.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I said, although I had. “I got company, is all, and we got a meeting with about eight different law agencies from Washington…and the feds.”
“Better you than me,” Holman said. “End of the week, then. Give my best to Estelle and Francis. And tell Tate that you don’t work for him.”
“I’ll do that.” We hung up and I repeated Holman’s message to Tate.
“By the time we’re through with all the paperwork and all the meetings, you’ll think that you do, kid,” Tate said.
Chapter 34
It was good to walk out of that hospital room. We took the elevator down one floor, then wound through enough hallways to disorient the most die-hard Boy Scout. The door of 467 was ajar.
Estelle Reyes-Guzman’s bed was partially elevated. The bandages around her head, the white gown, and the white bedding made it look like her dark face was floating in a sea of cotton. Her hands were folded on her stomach and she looked peaceful.
Even as Pat and I started across toward the bed, she opened her eyes. It took her eyes a minute to adjust. She saw me and a slow grin spread across her face. Even in a hospital bed, stuck with tubes and wired to machines, she was lovely.
“Hey, sir,” she said, and her voice was soft but clear. I took her right hand in my left. She looked at the new wad of bandages and sling that trussed my right shoulder and arm. “You’re almost in one piece.”
“Piece of cake,” I said.
“You’re going back to Posadas now?”
I shrugged. “Maybe by the end of the week. No hurry.”
“You’re going to keep house for Francis until you leave?”
I nodded. “I’m too cheap to pay for a motel, you know that.” She grinned again. “I’ll stick around until you’re out of this hole.”
“This hole is costing the county about a grand a day,” Tate said, but he wasn’t complaining.
Estelle frowned and reached across with her left hand, patting the top of mine. “Have you seen Daisy?”
I took a deep breath. “No. But she’s doing all right.”
“She wasn’t hurt?” I was sure Pat had told her the entire story, but she needed the reassurance.
“Just bruises. Physically, she’s all right.”
Estelle heard that correctly and her dark eyes searched mine. I shrugged. “It’s going to be a long, maybe tough road for her, Estelle. We have no way of knowing what sort of crap Finn put in her head. Now she doesn’t have anybody except Nolan Parris. He’s decided to try for legal custody. And he wants to remain with the order.”
“That’ll never work,” she whispered. Her grip on my hand tightened.
“Give him a chance. It might. There aren’t too many other alternatives. Who knows? He might start a fashionable trend.” She smiled faintly, closed her eyes, and released my hand. “She’ll be fine, Estelle.”
“Will you do me a favor?” she said without opening her eyes.
“Sure. Name it.”
She turned her head slightly so that when she opened her eyes she was looking directly at me. “When you think she’s ready, would you bring her up to see me?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She visibly relaxed and looked at Pat Tate. “You take care of him, all right? Make sure he behaves himself.”
Tate threw an exaggerated shrug and thrust his hands in his pockets. “He’s too old to learn anything, Estelle. You get yourself better and maybe he’ll go home.” He shrugged again. “That’s our only chance.”
We stepped out into the hall and damn near collided with Francis Guzman. The young physician looked like maybe he’d gotten an hour’s sleep. “She’s doing great, isn’t she?”
“You bet,” Tate said.
Francis turned to me. “You’ve got a key to the house?”
“Sure do.”
He nodded. “See you for dinner then. Around six.” He grinned and pushed open the door to Estelle’s room.
“Around six,” I said in mock disgust as we walked down the hall toward the elevator. “That’s what they promised before all this started. And I’m still waiting.”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-7b9fe8-5dd0-2e4f-8d9c-7106-3783-0cf8a0
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 10.07.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.37, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Steven F. Havill
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