Divine Justice (26 page)

“I can see that.” Stone pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “Danny, how you doing?”

“Thinking better than ever. See, couple knocks on the head straightened my brain out.”

Willie piped up, “Too bad it didn’t happen when we were playing football. Remember that godawful play you called in the state semis our junior year? I was wide open but you threw it right to the safety. Almost cost us the game.”

“Play was fine. Only problem was I was checking out the other team’s cheerleaders when I let go of the ball. One of ’em kept bending over. Trying to distract me, I expect.”

“Some things never change,” said Abby wearily. “Boys never grow up, they just get bigger with more hair and people start calling them men.”

Stone said to Danny, “Tyree told me he came by to see you.”

Danny’s look changed. He glanced toward the window but uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.

“Those men almost killed you, Danny. They almost killed me.”

“I’m sorry about that, Ben. Sure wasn’t your fight.”

“Who were they?”

“Can’t really remember. Docs say I got a concussion.” He looked back and his face brightened. “Had a few in high school. Didn’t I, Willie?”

“Hell, yeah. He always held on to the ball too long.”

“Had to so your sorry butt could get open. If you’d run a little faster my brain would be doing better.”

Willie grinned.

“Once we get out of here me and Willie are heading to California. Ain’t that right, Willie?”

Willie nodded. “We talked it over last night. Got it all worked out.”

“You sure it wasn’t the painkillers talking?” said Abby.

“I’m sure. Divine ain’t big enough for the two of us, is it, Willie?”

“No way.”

“He’s getting out of the mines and I’m gonna be a movie star. Willie’s going to be my agent.”

“What do you two know about any of that?” asked Abby with an incredulous look.

“Actors are just paid liars, far as I can see. They memorize a bunch of lines and then just say ’em. And, Ma, you’ve always said I could spout the biggest load of crap you’ve ever heard.”

“He’s got a point there, Mrs. Riker,” said Willie.

“California is a long way away,” she said slowly.

Danny looked over at her. “You want me to stay here?”

“No, I mean, I want you to be happy, honey. And safe. So if that means California, then so be it. Maybe I’ll come and visit.”

“Hell, when I hit it big I’ll buy you a place next to Brad Pitt. But you got to let me use it too so I can sneak peeks at Mrs. Pitt.”

“Okay, Danny, okay,” she said quietly, but looking anxious.

Danny seemed to notice this. He slid a hand out from under the covers and took one of hers.

“Ma, it’ll be okay. All right? I promise.”

“Sure. I know.”

“You can’t remember anything about last night?” said Stone persistently.

“No,” Danny said firmly. “But you’ll be the first to know when and if I do.”

Stone was about to say something else when a nurse walked in. “Willie, the doctor’s releasing you. We’re getting the paperwork done up. You have a way to get home?”

Stone said, “I drove here in your truck. I can take you back.”

“Okay, but I’ll call Gramps. He’ll want to be there when I get home.”

“Hey, Willie, don’t you forget now. California here we come.”

“I’m there, man.”

The two did a little knuckle smack to seal the deal.

Stone said to Abby, “How long are you staying here?”

“A few hours. Why don’t you come by for dinner tonight?”

Danny said, “Hey, you two got something going on?”

“Look, Mr. Movie Star, you’re not the only one with dreams,” said Abby, who blushed slightly as she said this.

On the drive back to town, Stone asked Willie something that had been puzzling him.

“You said Debby called you the night before she was found dead. Where from?”

“The bakery. She was doing some work there. They liked her to come after hours. Folks coming in to get muffins and cookies don’t want to smell paint. Ain’t good for business.”

Stone thought of the half-finished mural he’d seen on the wall there. “And the bakery is right across the street from Rory Peterson’s office.”

“That’s right. So?”

“So he was killed too.”

“But in town. And the night before. Debby was out at her folks’ house.”

“No. Debby’s body was
found
the next morning. But you said she’d been dead awhile. Maybe she was killed the night before. The same night Peterson was. His body was probably found that same morning too.”

“Okay, but her parents’ place is a good fifteen miles from town.”

“But at eleven o’clock she called you from the bakery in good spirits. Let’s say Peterson was killed around then or a bit later. The mural she was painting was in front of the store, with a good view of the street and the buildings opposite.”

Willie sat up straighter. “Are you saying she maybe saw who killed Peterson?”

“At the very least she might have seen someone go in his office. Then she might have gone to investigate or the killers saw her and grabbed her because she was a potential witness. They take her back to her parents’ house, kill her, make it look like suicide and no one thinks to connect the two together.”

“Damn,” Willie said slowly. “That makes a lot of sense. We gotta tell Tyree about this.”

“I plan to.”

When they pulled into the front yard of Willie’s home they saw Bob Coombs’ truck parked there. Willie got out as the front door opened and Bob was standing there smiling and waving. Willie hurried up the steps to embrace his grandfather while Stone, who’d been following Willie, turned and walked back to the truck to grab Willie’s bag.

He had just closed the truck door when the force of the explosion knocked him off his feet and slammed him facedown into the mud. As debris rained down around him, a dazed Stone lifted up his head. Where the trailer had been there was now nothing. He could see straight through the gap to the trees behind. Something large landed next to his head, smoke rising off its sizzled surface. He didn’t recognize it. And one could hardly blame him.

They were the earthly remains of Willie Coombs, what little there was of him left.

Stone’s head dropped back into the mud and he lay still.

CHAPTER 52

A
NNABELLE AND CALEB
had returned to the bus station and discovered that, somewhat ahead of the regular schedule, the same driver was just about to head out with a load of people on the route Stone had taken. Annabelle snagged a seat right behind the driver and peppered him with questions while Caleb followed in the van. A half hour into the ride Annabelle saw the 1924 Indian motorcycle with the rare left-hand sidecar pass the bus, drop back and then fall in behind the van.

She sighed with relief. Big Reuben Rhodes had arrived. They might very well need the man’s muscle. She’d told Reuben to bring quite a few things with him that she’d thought they might need. She noted with satisfaction that the sidecar was filled with items.

A few hours later Annabelle climbed off the bus in the middle of a curvy road bracketed by a mountain on one side and a typical sheer drop on the other. This was where Stone and his friend had gotten off, the driver told her.

Before she left the man had added, “Lot of interest in those two. What’s going on?”

“Can’t talk about it. National security.”

“National security, huh? They looked like a couple of bums.”

“If you were on the run from the feds, what would you dress like?”

“I guess I see your point.”

“And you’re sure you don’t remember anything they said about where they were actually going?”

“Kid just got up and told me to drop him off here. The older guy got off with him.” He paused. “The kid was wearing a varsity jacket. You know, for sports.”

“Did you get the name of the school? College? High school?”

“Didn’t pay that close of attention.”

Annabelle held up a sheet of paper where’d she taken notes during her conversation with the driver. “And these are the towns nearby? All of them? You’re sure?”

“Lady, there ain’t that many of them. That’s it. Happy searching.”

He closed the door and the bus pulled away.

Annabelle met up with Caleb and Reuben and filled them in on what she’d learned. “Knox is doing exactly what we are, only he has a head start,” she said.

“Yeah, but there are three of us,” Reuben said. “We can split up. I’ll take two of the four places and you guys hit the others.”

“Good idea,” said Caleb.

“And you brought everything I told you to?” asked Annabelle.

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m running a damn Hollywood prop department.”

“You just never know when something might come in handy. We can load it in the van.” After they were done she looked at the sheet. “Caleb and I will do Mize and Tazburg. Reuben, you can hit South Ridge and Divine.” She pulled maps from her bag and handed them to Reuben. “I got these from the bus station. The towns look to be anywhere from two to three hours apart. They’re not far as the crows fly, but all the roads are back roads and switch backs with chunks of mountain in between.”

“Winding roads. Perfect cruising turf for the Indian,” Reuben said, affectionately patting the motorcycle’s gas tank.

“They just make me queasy,” said Caleb. “Not that I’m complaining,” he quickly added as Annabelle shot him a look.

“We’ll keep in touch via cell phone. Whoever finds something positive, we can hook up within a few hours.” She handed a photo to Reuben. “This is a picture of Knox, just in case you run into him.”

“Thanks,” said Reuben as he climbed on his bike and put his helmet and old-fashioned goggles back on.

“What if we find Oliver at the same time that Knox does?” asked Caleb.

“Then we persuade him to let Oliver go with us,” Reuben said.

“He’s not going to do that, Reuben.”

“He will if we’re
really
persuasive.”

“We can’t take out a fed,” Caleb said. “Even new testosterone Caleb draws the line at that.”

“Caleb,” Annabelle said, “let’s worry about that only if we have to. Right now, all I want is to find Oliver. And the longer we stand around here the better the chances are that Knox will find him first.”

Reuben kick-started the Indian and the engine roared to life. He gave them a little salute, glanced at one of the maps and took off heading east.

Annabelle started to climb in the driver’s seat of the van but Caleb stopped her. “I’ll drive,” he said, hopping in and putting the keys in the ignition.

“Why?”

“You don’t know how to handle curves. Too herky-jerky. That’s why I was feeling sick.”

“Really? What if the time comes where we need to drive really fast, Caleb?”

“Get in!”

“What?”

Caleb fired up the van and Annabelle had to hustle around and jump in before he roared off. He accelerated so fast she tumbled into the backseat.

“What the hell are you doing?” she cried out as she struggled back up.

“When the time comes, I’m your wheelman.”

She managed to clamber into the front seat and quickly buckled up as he took one curve and then the next at almost sixty miles an hour. When she glanced over she noted how professionally he was maneuvering the steering wheel and then realized how smoothly the bulky van, which was clearly not designed for this sort of terrain, was handling the road.

“Caleb, how are you doing that?”

“I can drive, okay? You should have seen me at a guy named Tyler Reinke’s house. I took the Nova airborne.”

“I can see that you can drive. But how?”

He sighed. “Why do you think I kept that crappy Nova all these years?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you were either cheap or had no taste. Or both.”

“Well, I am cheap, but I actually do have taste. No, it was about my father.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad was a stock car driver.”

“No way!”

“After he retired from racing he worked on a NASCAR pit crew for Richard Petty.”

“King Richard?”

Caleb nodded. “I was his protégé.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You were Richard Petty’s protégé? Get out of here.”

“Annabelle, I started racing Go-Karts when I was six. Then I moved up to dirt track racing, and then on to ARCA where I was the top rookie. After that I finished number one in the Late Model Sportsman Series, which is like the junior circuit for NASCAR. I was just about ready to launch my career in the big leagues with Petty’s help. I was going to be the number two driver on Billy Nelson’s Chevy team out of Charlotte. They’d won the Winston Cup three years in a row and Bobby Mallard, their number one driver and a four-time Daytona 500 winner, was going to be my mentor. It was all set up, and then it all went to hell.”

“What happened?”

“I was doing a qualifying lap at Darlington. Some call it the ‘paper clip’ because it’s shaped like one. Others refer to it as the ‘Lady in Black.’ That’s what it was for me.”

“Why, what happened?”

Caleb’s features turned somber. “The Lady in Black is very unforgiving. I came out of turn number four at 185 miles an hour, let my wheel drift and the car bumped the wall. I left half my paint on the wall, the ‘Darlington Stripe’ they call it. Then my right front tire blew and I was completely out of control. This was before the roof flaps era so my car flipped over and then went airborne. There are two interior walls at Darlington, the inside and pit walls. I cleared them both and slid right into a pit crew.”

“Oh my God.”

“
My
pit crew,” Caleb said solemnly. “My
personal
pit crew.”

Annabelle gasped. “It wasn’t your father, was it?”

Caleb turned to look at her, his eyes watery. “I walked away from the crash with a few bumps and bruises, but he was in the hospital for months before finally pulling through. But after that, I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t shift a gear, couldn’t mash an accelerator, couldn’t even slide in the car. So I just walked away from it all. Turned my life around. Went from speed to being a librarian. As far away as I could get from that world. But I kept the Nova. It was one of the first cars I ever raced in. I painted it that shitty gray to cover up the numbers and stripes. The number twenty-two car, Double Deuces, they called me. It didn’t look like much but under the hood it had muscle, that car. Dual carbs, overhead cam, four hundred–plus horses and a gas pedal that never let me down. Whenever I needed to bring it, it was there. Years ago, late at night, I used to run it on straightaways when Centreville was still cow country. Got it up to 150 more than once. Those were the days.”