I’m getting as bad as a teenager, he thought. Or one of those millennials. Checking my phone before I’ve even had coffee.
His gentle self-reproach faded as the screen lit up upon command and he saw a text from Leslie. In the past, messages from his daughter might have triggered a sense of annoyance or even dread as he braced for whatever silliness she was about to bombard him with. But now the texts consisted mostly of what this morning’s message contained: a new picture of his granddaughter. Shelby smiled and enlarged the photo. The baby was drinking a bottle. Milk dribbled out and ran down one cheek. Having been taken selfie-style, Leslie was in the picture too. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep and she looked like she’d been living in the wilderness for a month. This caused Shelby to smile a little wider. He remembered only too well the long days and endless nights of early parenthood. He and Helen had been convinced they would never sleep again.
It would do Leslie good to take care of someone else for a change, Shelby decided. She tended to be self-absorbed and take the good things for granted. Perhaps being a mother would toughen her up and realign her priorities.
He also noticed a text message from Carly, sent at 3:23 a.m.
SORRY I FELL ASLEEP LAST NIGHT. WILL STOP BY IN MORNING WITH DONUTS. MAYBE WE COULD PLAY RING TOSS.
She ended the message with a saucily winking emoji.
Shelby smiled and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and rolled out of bed. He stood and indulged in a full stretch, reaching toward the ceiling and reveling in the delicious burn in his muscles. A morning run might be just the thing. He caught his naked reflection in the full-length mirror and the sight of his belly solidified his decision. A run was definitely in order, especially after Carly’s doughnuts. He’d put on a little weight over the last couple of months and, while he was okay with a little concession to Father Time, he didn’t want the battle of the bulge to get beyond his control. He sucked in his stomach and flexed his biceps.
“You still got it,” he told his reflection, chuckling at his silly hubris, and headed for the shower.
The hot shower invigorated his body and cleared his mind. Shelby wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the kitchen to get the coffee started. He’d shave while he waited for it to brew, and Carly might enjoy a cup. As he prepared the coffee maker, his gaze fell on the single-serve coffee maker Leslie had purchased for him. He’d enjoyed a brief love affair with the machine but had grown tired of keeping stocked up with the tiny pods. Not to mention they became expensive after a while. He knew Leslie had given him the machine in the hope his stingy side would limit his intake. Instead, he’d simply stopped using it. He kept it around so he could draft it back into service when his daughter came to visit—assuming she ever did.
A knock sounded and Shelby grinned. He headed for the door, removing the towel and tossing it onto the couch as he went. He chuckled, thinking of the look on her face when he opened the door.
Shelby slid back the deadbolt, grabbed the knob, and flung the door wide.
“You’re welcome!” he announced in a booming voice.
A woman stood on the porch—but it wasn’t Carly. This woman was ten to fifteen years older. She was tall, almost equal to Shelby in height, but slender. Dark, shoulder-length hair framed a face equal parts tough and lovely.
Shelby felt his own face redden. “Oh—hello. You’re not—I was—”
“Expecting someone else?” The woman gave him a terse smile. Her gaze traveled down Shelby’s chest and traced the line of hair leading to his crotch. “She’s missing out, whoever she is. Although you could do with a little manscaping.”
Shelby had the sudden feeling of being an awkward teenager again, caught in the throes of puberty and having no idea what the hell was happening to him. He floundered for a cogent thought and grappled with the jumble of words in his head to frame a complete sentence. He wanted desperately to cover himself with his hands, but that seemed like surrender.
“Sorry—can I help you?”
“That depends.” The woman crossed her arms and tilted her head. “What are you offering?”
The mocking challenge calmed the storm inside Shelby’s head. He drew himself up and met the woman’s eyes.
“What I meant was, what the hell do you want?”
“Are you Shelby Alexander?”
“That I am.”
“Then you may be able to help me. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”
“Do you mind if I put on a few clothes?”
“If you must.”
Shelby turned, allowing the door to begin closing, but the woman stuck her foot in and stopped it.
“Mr. Alexander, I’m surprised at you. A gentleman should never leave a lady waiting on the porch.”
Shelby coughed. “I think we’ve ventured beyond that territory even at this early stage, don’t you? But, fine. Come on in. I’ll throw on some clothes and you can tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here.”
Shelby grabbed the towel from the couch, flung it nonchalantly around his waist, and walked to his bedroom with as much dignity as he could muster. As soon as the door closed behind him, Shelby pounded a closed fist against his forehead.
“Shit shit shit!” he muttered. “So stupid!”
He dressed and then gripped the doorknob, bracing himself. He knew he was the picture of chagrin as he opened the bedroom door and rejoined his guest, who had seated herself at the table.
“Make yourself at home,” Shelby said, with only a trace of sarcasm. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”
“That sounds delicious, thank you.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Black.”
Shelby nodded and removed two mugs from a cabinet, dosing each with a generous helping of steaming brew. He handed the first mug to the woman, then took his own and sat across the table.
Shelby sipped at his coffee, observing his visitor. She was an attractive woman and had a strong quality about her. Not so much a hard edge as the general sense she was not to be trifled with and could handle herself in any situation. She took a sip of her coffee, savored it, and nodded.
“It’s a hair weak, but it’ll do.”
Shelby forced a smile he hoped communicated a confidence he didn’t feel. “I’m glad to hear it meets with your semi-approval. Now perhaps you can tell me what brings you to my doorstep.”
The woman put down her coffee. “I understand you grew up in this area and have lived here for the last decade.”
Shelby held up one hand. “This might go a little easier if I knew your name.”
The woman reached into her blazer pocket. She pulled out a leather bifold and flipped it open, revealing a laminated ID card.
Shelby leaned over the table to take the bifold. He inspected the ID card and then glanced up.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation?”
“That’s what the card says.”
“What do you want with me—” Shelby paused to read the name on the card. “Agent Ward. I have no connection with any federal cases that I know of.”
“You might be surprised, Mr. Alexander. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Shelby smiled and returned the bifold. “I think it’s been made clear I have no secrets from you, Agent Ward.”
Ward laughed. Then she composed herself and got back down to business.
“May I call you Shelby?”
“If you wish.”
“Shelby, then.”
“You seem to know some things about me already, such as how long I’ve lived here and something about my childhood.”
“Easy information to find.”
“But why find it?”
“We understand you are an individual with broad knowledge of both the town and its people.”
“I’ve found it can be useful to build a wide variety of relationships.”
“Would one of those relationships involve this person?” Ward reached into her pocket again and removed
the headshot of a man. She slid the picture across the table.
Shelby took it and almost swallowed his tongue. He looked up to find Ward watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.
“You seem to recognize him.”
Shelby took another look at the picture and shook his head. “No. I thought I did, but it was only a resemblance. I don’t know this man.”
“Who does he look like?”
“Oh, I can’t remember. A passing acquaintance. You know how it is; you see someone and you feel as if you’ve seen them somewhere before. Some people have familiar faces.”
Agent Ward squinted her eyes at him. “I feel as if you’re lying to me, Shelby. I dislike being lied to.”
Shelby stood up. “I think this interview is over.”
“If you know this man, you need to tell me. His life may depend on it.”
“You could have led with that.”
“So you do know him.”
“I didn’t say that. But your method has turned rather heavy handed. I don’t work well under those circumstances.”
Ward nodded. “I heard you were something of a maverick, the kind of man who took shit from no one.”
“I’m not trying to make a point, Agent Ward. You showed me a picture and asked if I knew the man. I said no. What else is there to discuss?”
“You’re making a big mistake.”
Shelby stood up and walked to the door. He opened it and held it open. Ward pushed away from the table, stood, and went out onto the porch. She looked at Shelby, her face inscrutable.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Mr. Alexander.”
“It’s Shelby, remember? And I never know what I’m doing. But I also take responsibility.”
“One of these days, that may not be good enough.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Ward turned and walked to her car without another word.
Shelby watched her back out of the drive and pull away without so much as a final glance. As soon as her car disappeared, Shelby when back inside and scooped his phone from the nightstand. He entered a phone number and waited while it rang.
A gruff voice interrupted the ringing. “Who the hell’s this?”
“Fritz, aren’t you ever going to get something with Caller ID?”
“Maybe I like surprises.”
“You hate surprises.”
Fritz growled. “What the hell do you want anyway? My day was going so well and then you had to come along and ruin it.”
“Sorry to wake you.” Shelby’s tone suggested he was not at all sorry.
“You didn’t. I was already up and making the world a better place.”
“Well, holy hell. What are you doing up so early? You always sleep late.”
“Only when I’m hung over.”
“Like I said, you always sleep late.”
“Did you call to engage in, what you say, witty banter, or do you have some other, even more obnoxious reason for ruining my day?”
Shelby’s voice sobered instantly. “I do, actually, and it’s serious.”
“Tell me you don’t have ball cancer.”
“It’s not about me, it’s about you.”
“I have ball cancer?”
“Fritz!”
“Sorry. I’m listening.”
“Somebody just left my place. She’s looking for you.”
“A woman’s looking for me? That’s not only serious, that’s downright ridiculous! But I’ll take it.”
“I don’t think you want this one.”
“Not much of a looker, I take it.”
“Her looks are irrelevant. I don’t think she’s planning a social call.”
“Has an ax to grind, huh? That’s the kind of female attention I’m used to.”
“I’m not entirely sure what her intentions are, but I’m pretty sure it’s not something you’d be interested in. She flashed an FBI card at me.”
Silence.
“Fritz?”
When Fritz finally spoke, all humor had disappeared, leaving behind a steely tone Shelby had never before heard in his friend’s voice. “Tell me everything.”
“She handed me a headshot. Wanted to know if I knew the man.”
“And it was my picture?”
“At first, I didn’t think so. You were younger and didn’t have a goofy moustache. Your hair was well-kempt and you appeared to have showered within the last thirty days.”
“But it was me.”
“Definitely.”
“What did you say?”
“What any self-respecting person would say. I denied knowing you.”
“Did she believe it?”
“I don’t think so. But I showed her the door before she had a chance to grill me. And there’s something else.”
“Oh, there’s more?”
“She’s not a real FBI agent.”
“How do you know?”
“No badge. She showed me an ID card, but there was no accompanying gold badge. Besides, official FBI cards have holograms.”
“And this one didn’t.”
“There had been some attempt to create one, but it didn’t measure up. The card was a good imitation and would fool ninety-nine percent of people. But I’ve seen the real thing.”
More silence.
“Fritz—what’s going on? What kind of trouble are you in?”
“How soon can you get out to the campground?”
“Soon.”
“See you then.”
The connection went dead.
5
“I don’t know why we had to eat in the room,” Frank complained. “I was looking forward to trying out some of the local diners. Some of these backwoods towns have the best.”
The man in the sheriff’s uniform leaned against the wall and sipped his coffee. “Two reasons. First, I can’t afford to be seen with you characters any more than I must. Second, you all don’t need to make your faces familiar around town. Although how you’re going to accomplish that with this ape along, I don’t know.”
Trainwreck loomed in the corner and glowered at Wilkes. He held a burger in one hand and there were several wrappers gathered around his feet.
“Relax, Wilkes,” Simon said around a mouthful of burger. “He’s insurance.”
“Against what? Discretion?”
“Trainwreck knows how to stay out of the way until he’s needed.”
Wilkes laughed. “And was he needed by the office gal? I get the feeling they’re pretty thick.”
“Yeah, that took off fast,” Frank said. He looked over at the big man. “My hat’s off to you, Trainwreck. I never knew you were such a wolf.”
“All it takes is the right woman,” Simon said. “Hell, Frank. One day you might even find one with low enough standards.”
“Piss off. And hand me another burger.”
“Before or after I piss off?”
The sheriff sighed. “As much as I appreciate the comedy routine, I’d like to spend more time working on our plan and less being frivolous.”
“You’re a barrel of fun, Wilkes.”
“I get the job done.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Wilkes’ face darkened. “And what do you mean by that?”
Simon gave the tiny, insouciant shrug of the innocent. “Things get around.”
“What kind of things?” Wilkes pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against. His gun hand twitched.
“Take it easy, Wilkes,” Simon said, smiling. “There’s no need to get an itchy trigger finger. Although there must be some truth to what I’ve heard if it gets you this riled up.”
“You’re speaking of Shelby Alexander, aren’t you?”
“Now did I say that?” Simon finished his burger and washed it down with beer.
“You didn’t have to. And it’s true Alexander and I have had our differences in the past. He has a knack for showing up where he doesn’t belong.”
“As long a
s he doesn’t show up anywhere near us. We don’t need that kind of trouble.”
“Afraid?”
“Not afraid; cautious. We can handle this guy if he tries anything, but why complicate things? Best to steer clear in this situation. I hear he’s decent with a gun and better with his fists. From all the stories, he could take on Trainwreck.”
From the corner came a deep grunt.
Simon laughed. “Trainwreck deeply resents the suggestion of anyone being able to match him in the fighting department. He never fights with a gun, only his fists, so any suggestion of him being bested is a personal insult.”
“Speaking of the situation,” Frank cut in, “when are we going to get started?”
Simon sighed. “Now don’t get anxious.” He looked at Wilkes and shook his head. Then he jerked a thumb at Frank. “This guy over here gets antsy if there’s any sitting around. I took him on a weeklong stakeout once. I almost killed him instead of the mark.”
“The longer we wait, the more chance something will go wrong. Strike while the iron is hot, or whatever the hell they say.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Simon said. “The only thing holding us up is the good sheriff here. He seems to think it should be done in some way that can be passed off as legal. Why, I don’t know.”
Wilkes came dangerously close to rolling his eyes. “Surely it’s obvious. The mark is a well-liked character around here. It would be nearly impossible to sweep his death under the rug if there weren’t some sort of explanation.”
“And you have it all worked out, do you?”
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
“I thought it was because blood is thicker than water.”
Wilkes fixed Simon with a cold and deadly stare. “Watch what you say. I could come up with a way to make you go away too.”
Simon met the stare without flinching. “Are we going to have problems with each other, Sheriff?”
The two men kept their eyes locked, neither wanting to be the first to look away.
Frank cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to business, huh?”
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