“John, who do you think filled Lindstrom in on the whole Bernard murder? Who is the guy with all the facts, files, and rumor control in Cross?”
Pilate felt nauseated. “Oh God. What have I done?”
“You trusted the wrong person,” she said, looking away. She stood and retrieved her pistol. “And we also have no idea whether the sheriff will help us or not. His family is implicated in that letter. Do you have a gun?”
“Nope.” He held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Pacifist.” “I have a small pistol in the drawer of my nightstand,” she said.
“Leave it there,” he said. “I just think we need to gather everybody up and get out of town, head for Goss City and the local P.D. Surely they can help us.”
“Not a bad idea,” she said, “except for three things. One, the deputy is out front watching my house and car. Two, the roads are nearly impassable as it is. And three, I think it’s getting worse.” She opened the curtains on the back door, exposing massive snowflakes falling to the ground, piling up in three-foot drifts.
“So we call the state patrol?” Pilate said. “Now?”
“Yes, we should,” Kate said. She located her phone directory, found the number, and picked up the phone. She dialed, then held the phone from her ear a second; she pressed the on and off button a few times. “Dead,” she said.
“Um, I think I’d like to change my stance on gun control,” Pilate said.
“We need to get somewhere safe,” Pilate said. “Ya think?” she said.
“You’re just great at concealing your sarcasm,” Pilate said. He took her hand in his. “Listen, there has to be someone in this town we can trust, preferably within walking distance.”
“John, my house is at the end of the street. You had to cross through several alleys and a couple of fields to get here,” she said. “If Lenny weren’t such a shitty cop, you would’ve been caught. By now I’m sure they’re actively looking for you. It’s only a matter of time before they come knocking on my door.”
“That’s why we have to get out of here,” he said. “Look, we can sneak out the back. The snow is coming down so hard that there’s no way Lenny’ll see us. We could head to a friendly place.”
“I can’t think of too many people in this town who’d hide us. They’re all too scared of Ollie and the sheriff,” she said.
“Damn it.”
“I know somebody.” He stood up. “Get Kara into her snowsuit. You bundle up, too, and while you’re upstairs, get me that other gun.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kara sat in the kitchen, her pink Barbie snowsuit covering nearly every inch of her, while her mother gathered some things from upstairs. “Why are we going for a walk so late?” Kara asked Pilate.
“Pretty snow out there,” he said. “It’ll be fun.” “It’s cold…and dark,” she said.
“Your mommy and I will be with you,” Pilate said.
“I’m not going,” Kara said, folding her arms across her chest, mittens hanging from her sleeves.
“What if…” Pilate reached in his pocket. “What if I could make this quarter disappear? Then would you go?”
She looked at him quizzically, then nodded.
Pilate produced the quarter, showed it to her, and then did some razzmatazz hand gestures. He finished with both hands open and empty.
“Where did it go?” Kara said, her eyes wide. “Magic. So now will you go?”
“Bring it back.”
“If I do, then you’ll come with us, right?” “Okay.”
More razzmatazz. He reached toward Kara, but instead of pulling the quarter from her ear as he had done to his nieces hundreds of time before, he pulled away from her, this time with no quarter.
“It’s gone!“ she said with a gasp.
“Really? Are you sure? Why don’t you put on your mittens,” he said, smiling.
She slowly complied. Her face broke into a wide smile as she pulled the quarter from her mitten. “Do it again!“
“After we get done with our walk,” he said.
Kate came downstairs, pulling on her coat. “I’m ready, John.”
“Are the lights on a timer?” he asked.
“Yes, I set them to go on and off at intervals for the next few hours,” she said. “If they decide to keep watching the house, they’ll assume I’m here.”
“All right,” he said, checking the view from the curtains of the back window.
“Mommy, Mr. Pilate is magic,” Kara said, still delighted.
“Yes he is, Kara—in more ways than one.”
Pilate smiled, hoping not to betray to Kate his anxiety and fear.
The trio crept out the back door and into the snowy night. Kate and Pilate agreed that heading straight through the three-acre soybean field directly to a row of old houses on Jefferson Street was the most direct route.
Pilate carried Kara piggyback, with Kate running alongside as they trudged through the blinding snow and rutted ground.
“This is fun!“ Kara squealed.
“Glad you think so,” Pilate said over his shoulder with a grunt.
“Kara be quiet,” Kate said.
“We’re almost there,” John panted. In the midst of all that moisture, his throat was dry.
“John, what if he’s not home?” Kate said. “On a night like this?”
“Good point,” she said.
Within about twenty minutes of stumbling through the snowy fields, they reached their destination.
John looked around the neighborhood. It was quiet except for sound of the snow crunching under their feet. He put Kara down on the porch. She went to Kate and stood next to her. John knocked at the door.
In a moment, the door opened.
“Jesus, Pilate! You picked a helluva time to visit,” Trevathan said.
Sitting around Trevathan’s fireplace sipping hot chocolate, Pilate was wary of explaining everything to the Dean, but Trevathan was his last hope for refuge.
“We would have called first, but our phone was out,” Kate said.
“Humph,” Trevathan said, reaching for his own phone. He tapped the receiver a few times. “Mine’s out too. Ice must’ve knocked over a tree on the phone lines or something. Happens.”
The ever-familiar stomach lurch hit Pilate again.
Trevathan’s glass eye wandered a little as he faced Kara and Kate. “Do you want marshmallows in that, sweetie?”
Kara shook her head slowly; the glass eye was creeping her out, Pilate supposed.
“No thanks,” Kate said. “We appreciate you letting us in, Dr. Trevathan.”
“Yes,” Pilate said. “Sir, I wouldn’t mind marshmallows.
Could you show me where they are?”
Trevathan looked bemused, then said “Oh, of course.” The pair excused themselves and went into the kitchen.
“Jee-sus, Mr. Pilate, trouble follows you everywhere you go,” he said, leaning against the cabinet, folding his arms over his flannel shirt.
“I know,” Pilate said. “It’s a gift.”
“You know you’re fired? Lindstrom demanded I let your contract go at the end of semester. Seems he heard about your little accident on the road the other day.”
“Yeah.” Pilate nodded. “What’s the official reason going to be for my termination?”
Trevathan hocked something in his throat. “Shit if I know. Probably say we don’t need a speech teacher or your beard tickled when you kissed his ass.”
“Well, that’s the least of my problems.” Pilate rubbed his hands together to thaw them. “Look, I don’t want to implicate you in any of this, and I’m sure I already have by coming here, but I really think our lives are in danger.”
“Goddamn right your lives are in danger,” Trevathan said, peering out the window. “From what I can see, you’ve managed to get in between a pissing match of epic proportions. Ollie stands to make millions on this land deal, but that’s gonna be tough to do from behind bars. There’s no statute of limi
tations on murder. If he’s out of the picture, Jackass Lindstrom gets the land to expand the school. I just wanna know what you found out that’s so important that it’s got them after you like this.”
Pilate removed the ledger from his pocket and placed it on the kitchen table.
Trevathan picked it up and thumbed through it, hovering on a couple of pages before he handed it back to Pilate. “A ledger? Doesn’t look all that damning to me. Those initials could be anybody’s.”
“True, but I also found this.” Pilate carefully unfolded the letter.
As Trevathan read, his glass eye danced in its socket. Without looking away from the letter, he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “Jee-sus.”
Pilate sat opposite him, the gun in his pocket weighing heavily.
“Brady Bernard,” Trevathan rasped. “Brady fucking Bernard? He knew everything. This is the goddamned Rosetta stone, John. Where’d you find it?”
Pilate told him of finding the ledger and letter amidst the mortal remains of the most notorious professor in Cross College history.
“In his ashes? Aw, you gotta be shittin’ me.” He paused, snapped his fingers, and looked up.
“That was why they broke into the crypts. They got an idea that there was some evidence floating around.” He was quiet a moment, then grinned. “Wait a minute! So this is all just a big coincidence? Bernard murdered the president back then for totally different reasons, but he became a part of this when Martin Nathaniel dumped the evidence in his ashes for safekeeping? Fantastic story.”
“I think Martin meant to retrieve the book from the ashes before they could be claimed, but they ran him off the road and killed him, and nobody had any idea where the book and letter were,” Pilate said. “Ollie Sr. probably assumed they’d been lost or destroyed. Grif probably shoved the ashes in the closet when he took over the company after Martin was killed.”
“Grif got his ass beat for this, yet he knows nothing?” Trevathan said, holding the letter up to the light.
“I think so. I mean, I think Grif was aware of what was happening with the car theft ring, and maybe the murder of that kid scared him. After Martin died, he probably figured it was in his best interests to keep his mouth shut and forget about the whole thing.”
“Imagine if Brady Bernard had anybody in his life who loved him,” Trevathan said softly. “Somebody would have claimed the ashes and blown this whole thing wide open years ago.”
“But they didn’t, yet somehow I did,” Pilate said. Trevathan took a minute to digest what he’d just learned.
“Krall thinks Lindstrom made up the whole thing to panic Ollie,” Pilate said. “What the sick fuck didn’t count on was that it might actually be true.”
“Wait…Derek Krall knows about this? You told him?” Trevathan said.
“I know, I know. Dumb move.” Pilate looked down in shame. “I-I thought I could trust him.”
“He’s on Lindstrom’s payroll, John.” Trevathan looked disgusted.
“Well, so are we, in a manner of speaking,” Pilate said.
“No, John. What I mean is, Krall’s the one who’s researched all this town history shit for Lindstrom. Can’t you see? He fed it to you so you’d dig into it. You’ve been set up, my naïve friend.”
Pilate limped over to the sink, feeling like he was going to throw up yet again. He turned on the water and heaved, but nothing came. He reached for the tap to run some cold water to splash his face and caught the image of Simon reflected in the small kitchen window above the sink. “Christ!“
“John? You okay?” Trevathan said, rising to his feet. Pilate breathed heavily. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you more carefully. I only figured out Krall’s role in all this just now, but all the pieces fit. Did Krall give you information about the Bernard murder thing, or did Kate?”
“Krall.”
“Of course. He probably had his suspicions. He knew you and Kate have been getting friendly. Never trust a librarian,” Trevathan said. “He really played you.”
“True,” Pilate said, “but this isn’t over yet. I need to get out of here.” He looked into Trevathan’s good eye. “Is it unmanly to say I’m scared to death?”
“Nope. You’d be an idiot not to be,” Trevathan said. “I’d tell you to take my truck and get to the city right now, but there is no way in hell you’re gonna be able to get out of town. But, John, you can’t stay here.”
Pilate felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.
“Don’t take it personally, my friend, but you have to get away from Kate and that little angel of hers. If they show up here looking for you, I think I can protect them. They have roots in this town, and Ollie’s bunch knows damn well I’m armed to the teeth. But if you’re here…well, I don’t know what would happen.”
“What do I do?” “You armed?”
Pilate pulled Kate’s pistol out of his pocket.
“What is that, a twenty-five Mauser? That’s a pea shooter.” He snorted and waved the weapon away as if it was nothing more than a squirt gun. “Be right back.”
Pilate felt a passing twinge of suspicion that he shouldn’t let the geezer out of his sight, but he was just too tired and too resigned to distrust him. Besides that, he knew he really had no choice.
Trevathan turned on the TV for Kara. He paused a moment and straightened a framed photo on the mantle of someone Kate presumed was his deceased wife, then climbed the stairs.
Kate came in the kitchen and stood beside the table. “We can trust him,” Pilate said.
“You saying that for my benefit or your own?” she said.
“Ha. Listen, Kate, I think you two should stay here, but I should find somewhere else to hide out,” he said.
“And where the hell will you go? It’s freezing out there, John. The snow is at least three feet deep already and shows no sign of stopping.” Kate pulled Trevathan’s chair up to Pilate and sat beside him, looking him in the eyes. “You’re not exactly James Bond, you know. You won’t make it out there.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, trying to be light. “I’ll be okay.”
Trevathan walked in carrying two handguns. He handed one to Pilate. “This black one’s a Glock nine. It has a kick, but it holds seventeen shots.” Holding up a nickel-plated revolver, he said, “This is a Smith and Wesson. It’s a wheel gun, only holds six shots, but you don’t risk a jam. Your choice.”
Kate blanched. “Oh God. You really think this could end badly, don’t you?”
Trevathan could only offer a pained smile. “Miss Nathaniel, I like to plan for the worst and feel silly later rather than end up dead of embarrassment. Better tried by twelve than carried by six.”
“You sure this Mauser won’t be sufficient?”
Trevathan turned it over in his hands, examining the action and the cartridges. “This thing hasn’t been cleaned in years…and it’s old.” He pointed at his glass eye. “Dirty old guns are as bad as dirty old men. How do you think I lost my eye?”
Pilate removed the clip from the Glock, reinserted it, and set the safety, just as his grandfather had taught him so many summers ago with a World War II-issue forty-five. “This will do. That other one’s a little too Dirty Harry for me,” Pilate said. “This one is more James Bond.” He winked at Kate.
“Suit yourself,” Trevathan said. “I expect you to give that back to me personally.”
“Where’s he going to go? We can’t just send him out there into that mess alone,” Kate said, her eyes brimming with angry tears.
Trevathan pulled a heavy ring of keys from a fish-shaped key minder hanging on his wall. “I know a place.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The snow continued to fall for another hour while Trevathan drew a map of the safest route for Pilate to get to his destination. It led back to the Cross College campus, through a back door of the library, and into the clock tower. “Here’s the security code for the door. Once you unlock it, you have a
bout ten seconds to punch in this code, or the alarm will go off. Of course, if phone lines are down, the security system may not even work.
Just assume it does to be safe.”
“Okay,” Pilate said. “I would be shocked if anyone suspects me of holing up there.” He put his arm around Kate. “I can do this, Kate.”
“I know,” she said, her arm slipping around his waist.
“Okay. Enough of that,” Trevathan said. “Get to the tower. Here’s the key to the room that houses the bells and carillon system. It’s warm in there, and you’ll have a view of most of the campus. Get in there and stay put until morning, then I’ll get word to the state patrol about what’s going on.”
“I can’t just sit up there, can I?” Pilate said. “Well, what else do you suggest?”
“At daybreak, I can head for the highway,” he said.
“Pretty dangerous. Scovill’s truck can maneuver pretty well, even in this muck,” Trevathan said, rubbing his cheek. “What are you hoping for? That a trooper will happen along and pick you up?”
“No. I was thinking I could hike back to Nathaniel’s and use his police radio.”
“John, just let me handle this,” he said.
“Grif does have a police radio. They use it for civil defense since his place is also a backup morgue,” Kate offered, regretting the mention of the morgue.
“There’s no way the roads here in town are going to be dug out by tomorrow. I can’t wait, and they could hurt you guys trying to find me. I’ll get out of here, wait in the bell tower until the snow lets up or just before daybreak, whatever comes first. Just let me do this.”
Trevathan looked at Kate, then Pilate. “I can’t fault your logic. That’s the best plan. Let me get you some more seasonable clothes. I have hunting socks, cold-weather pants, thermal underwear, and a heavier winter coat for you.”
Pilate changed into the dean’s hunting clothes, which were tight on him and would probably hinder him if he tried to run; albeit the snow and his bruised knee and ankle had already effectively crippled that method of escape—at least for the night anyway. He accepted two extra clips of ammunition, some chemical hand warmer packets, and a couple of energy bars. Trevathan also filled a small canteen with water for him. Then, Pilate made the mistake of slipping the smaller pistol in his belt and placing the Glock in his right coat pocket.
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