Finding Floyd (23 page)

He peered at Sam, who stood in shadow, just
outside the circle of light shed by the lamp. Woodruff could look
sinister without even trying. "So, how come you're talking to me?
Everybody else has written me off. My boss up in New York is
sending me hate email and Rodriguez is ignoring my calls."

"You're up against a wall, all right," said
Sam. He crossed his arms and leaned against the work bench. "If you
want it, I've got one piece of advice. It's always easier to plow
around the stump." Sam cocked his head and asked, "Know what I'm
saying?"

"Not really."

"Well, let's see. Right now, Connie
Rodriguez, and maybe your boss, thinks you're being way too easy on
the boys and girls from New York. Maybe because you're sweet on
Miss Diane? The local sheriff and his deputies don't want to work
with you because you FBI folks snubbed them. You're out in the
cold, man."

Chris grinned, and shook his head. "You're
not telling me anything new."

"So, plow around them. If you capture
Toricello on your own, you'll redeem yourself with your boss and
your girlfriend. I don't know about Connie though. She's kind of
got a case of the ass about you. Know what I'm saying?"

"You think I could? You think I might be able
to take Toricello?"

"You've got as much chance of finding him as
any of them do. The local cops have more manpower, but they're also
busy with other things. Besides you're a highly trained, skilled
Federal Agent, right?" Sam winked at him.

Chris sipped his beer and wondered how Sam
knew so much.

Right now, you've got nothing else to do."
Sam grinned. "Because Diane has no time for you."

"Now that he knows we're on to him, hunting
him down on my own will take forever."

"Always glad to help the underdog and you
surely do fit that description," said Sam, chuckling. "I'm willing
to help you. Two heads are better than one and it'll give you twice
the man power."

"Got any suggestions?"

Sam nodded and dropped his empty into the
bucket. "Hey, don't you recycle?"

"Give me a break. I'm hardly ever here."

Sam popped open the fresh beer. Leaning
against the table again, he crossed one black boot over the other
and stared thoughtfully into space.

"What do you suggest?" Chris waited for Sam
to speak.

"I'd say we go out Franklin Pike to about
where young Kyle found your girlfriend. Start from there and work
out in every direction, looking up every little dirt road, checking
out every house, barn and so on. I've got a buddy who's a deputy.
I'll find out what the Sheriff's department is doing, so we don't
duplicate our efforts. Let him know you're working with them, even
though McAndrew won't deal with you just now."

"Sounds like a plan. You don't think they'll
mind us nosing around?"

"Well, I'll give you a hand with that. For
now, let me deal with the Sheriff's office. You don't want to piss
those boys off any more than you have already. When we find the
bastard, then you'll be the hero. You're a good man, but recently
it seems like you can't catch a break. I kind of feel sorry for
you, Owen."

"I appreciate your help, but I don't need
your sympathy. Let's just run down Toricello, okay?"

"We'll find him, unless he's decided to run
off somewhere else. It's only a matter of time. I know your
girlfriend has nothing to do with this situation, but you gotta see
it from your boss's point of view. He knows that this Blowtorch guy
was hiding out in your basement, and because of Diane, you let him
get away. After that, Connie spotted him with Diane, but wasn't
fast enough to catch him. Then he does this kidnapping, again it's
Diane."

Chris thought of the scathing text messages
and emails streaming out of the New York office, faulting him for
everything that had gone wrong, accusing him of shielding Diane and
not being objective. The boss was due to retire in three months and
had practically promised him the promotion into his position, but
now....

"Yeah, they know the whole story. Nobody's
happy with me up there." He sighed. And nobody's happy with me down
here either."

"None of this was your fault, but now,
chances are slim that you'll get the boss's job when he retires,"
said Sam.

Was there anything this guy didn't know?
Chris looked him in the eye for a long moment, squeezed his beer
can, and pitched it towards the bucket.

"I don't see how you know it, but you're
right about the job. I'm not even sure if I still want it, or if
I'll even stay with the Bureau. All I want to do now is to get
Toricello."

"Okay. Here's what I think we should do. You
talk to that Evans kid first thing in the morning and find out if
he remembers anything else important. I'll check with my sources
and get back with you."

Chris nodded. "I'll text him and have him
meet me at the Blue Ridge. Nothing like food to attract Kyle."

"It's late," said Sam, glancing at his watch.
Let's get some sleep and make an early start tomorrow. Maybe we can
get the jump on the Sheriff's boys."

"Kyle, here's your usual. A tall stack with
sausages, side of fried sliced potatoes, and a biscuit." The
waitress slid the first plate onto the table with a heavy thud. A
large pat of butter was softening atop the golden cakes surrounded
by tender sausage links. Another plate held a heap of crispy
potatoes. The Blue Ridge Restaurant was buzzing with conversation,
punctuated with the clatter of crockery. The dining area was filled
with the warm comforting aroma of fried food.

"Thanks, Nancy!"

"Preston, you got the Denver omelet and
country ham. We're all out of blueberry muffins, so you've got an
extra biscuit and jam." The fluffy mounds were piled high with
steam rising off them. The ham, nestled along an enormous omelet
and mountain of home fries, was browned and crispy along the edge
and smelled wonderful.

"That'll be fine, darlin'," Preston said
reaching for the butter.

She slammed down Chris's plate without
comment. He stared at limp bacon beside a small scoop of scrambled
eggs and some unremarkable toast. The bacon looked underdone, the
toast nearly black, and the eggs were cold.

"Umm. Could I have some of those fried
potatoes?" Chris asked hopefully.

Nancy was arranging ketchup, hot sauce, and
syrup in the center of the table. "Don't come with it. If you want
taters it'll be a buck more." Without waiting for a response, she
marched back to the kitchen.

Chris looked puzzled. "Did they change the
menu, or maybe I ordered the wrong thing?"

Preston leaned closer and confided in a
whisper, "Nancy is Boone McAndrew's sister."

Chris closed his eyes and groaned. "Just my
luck."

Preston smiled knowingly. "Look at it this
way. She's thinks the world of her brother. Word has got around how
the FBI snubbed the Sheriff's office. If you weren't with us, you'd
be goin' hungry altogether."

"Great." He poked at the rubbery mound on his
plate and decided to eat it anyway. He'd had worse in his high
school cafeteria.

A small dish with a few fried potatoes landed
next to his elbow and Nancy began refilling coffee cups.

Preston looked up. "Nancy? Would you mind
fixin' me up some ham biscuits and coffee to go?"

"Sure thing." She scribbled on her order pad,
tore off their bill, and laid it on the table. "Anything else y'all
want, just holler at me, okay?"

Kyle was already deep into his breakfast when
Chris started to speak, "I appreciate you both meeting me here. You
two are familiar with the area along Franklin Pike where Diane was
found last night. I need to know where she was when you first saw
her, so I'll know where to start my search. They looked at him
skeptically over the rims of their coffee cups.

"Preston sliced into his omelet, watched the
melted cheese ooze out and confided to Chris, "My Sarah is real
worried about this guy being so close to home. Can't say that I
blame her. Last night she made me double-check all the doors were
locked and insisted I keep a shotgun loaded and handy in the
bedroom."

"Sure, why not! That guy's dangerous!" Kyle
reached for the hot sauce and the ketchup, anointing his mountain
of potatoes. Scooping up a forkful, he paused and asked, "You're
not going to arrest Diane are you? Cause if you are, you won't get
any help from us, right Pres?"

"I believe that's about right," agreed
Preston.

"Listen, I made a mistake. Rodriguez showed
me that picture...." Chris rubbed his face and sighed. "All I'm
interested in is catching this guy. He's a dangerous murderer. The
more we know, the faster we can get him behind bars."

Kyle looked up from his pancakes, pointed his
fork at Chris, and said, "You'll leave Diane be?"

"Of course I will. She still couldn't tell
you where she'd been held?" Chris arranged the limp bacon neatly
over his dry toast, added the eggs, and bravely bit into the
breakfast sandwich.

"Yeah. Pretty much." Kyle shook his head.
"That poor girl couldn't remember where she'd been. She might have
turned down two or three different roads before I rescued her."

Chris swallowed and picked up the ketchup.
"Were you and Boone able to figure out roughly where you found
Diane?"

Kyle pointed at Chris with a fork on which
he'd speared a piece of sausage. "It must have been when you come
round that bend, after a little patch of woods, just before you get
to that old barn on the right. Maybe a mile in from route 221."

Chris was tempted to snatch the sausage from
him. Instead, he lifted the lid on his sandwich, gave it a generous
dollop of ketchup, and asked, "Did she remember anything else?"

"Well, she was pretty rattled. Right smart
how she managed to get herself free and all. Yup, that Diane, she's
one smart lady. She remembered a lot about the place where the guy
took her. I'll give her that much."

Preston nodded his agreement. He reached for
the plastic packets of jam and picked out two strawberries. Opening
one, he carefully spread the red jam on a biscuit half. "Kyle and I
have been talking with her. She told us the guy tied her to a chair
in an upstairs room."

Chris watched as Preston bit into the jam
soaked biscuit.

"Maybe it was in a small house or even over a
garage, or barn." Kyle continued, "Said the place was awful dirty,
like nobody's lived there for a long while."

"Does that sound like some place either of
you are familiar with?" asked Chris.

Kyle thought for a moment while he neatly
sliced another sausage in two. Half disappeared into his mouth and
he chewed. Then he looked up. "Oh yeah, she could recollect about
the furniture and like that."

"Furniture?"

"Uh huh," mumbled Kyle, waiting until his
mouth wasn't quite so full before continuing. "She said it was one
room. There was a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. In one
corner, there was sort of a little kitchen, with a sink and
cupboards." This apparently reminded him that he had a full mug at
his elbow. Bringing it to his lips, he slurped noisily. "Diane said
all the stuff was pretty beat up looking, but she tried real hard
to notice everything so she could tell you about it later." He
grinned at Chris. "You really screwed up last night. Diane's sure
pissed off. I never saw a woman so angry. Can't say I blame
her."

He ignored the comment about Diane being mad
at him. "I wasn't there when she was telling Boone all these
details. Can you remember anything else?"

"She might never speak to you again." The
thought seemed to please Kyle.

"Can we get back to why you're here?" Chris
was losing patience.

"Hmm," murmured Kyle, chewing thoughtfully.
"Yeah, she said this guy took a mason jar from a cupboard, it must
have been some 'shine, and drank nearly all what was inside. Sounds
like he got pretty drunk, pretty quick, and then passed out. That
was how she was able to get away. She remembered a lot of little
stuff, like he was drinking out of an old Flintstones jelly jar.
Remember them?"

"Yeah. My mama has a few of those in the
kitchen cupboard still," said Preston.

"Did she say anything else?" Chris asked,
trying to keep them focused.

"Let's see," said Kyle. "Yup, after he came
back from taking her car somewhere, he left for a few minutes and
came back with food. What was it she said?"

"I don't know Kyle. I wasn't there for this
part of it, remember?"

Kyle picked up a biscuit, dripping with jam,
but before he took a bite he looked up and smiled, pleased with
himself. "That was it. She told how he sat there with a big 'ol
plate of ham and biscuits, wolfing it all down before he started
talking with her. Then later, he kept drinking the 'shine and
telling her just how he was gonna shoot her. That's about it. Can't
remember anything else. Hey Pres, you left a biscuit. You gonna eat
that?"

"Nope, go ahead. It's all yours," said
Preston. He turned to Chris. "Sarah made a ham last week and we're
still eating on it. It's not easy for two people to work through a
whole ham. We took some ham biscuits out to her grandma. There's
nothing like a ham biscuit, with some nice smoky country ham,
sliced real thin."

"You know you got that right Pres. Your wife
makes a mean glazed baked ham and that's a fact," offered Kyle.

Chris swallowed as the biscuit passed from
Preston to Kyle in front of him. Sighing, he sipped his coffee and
managed another bit of sandwich. As he chewed, he considered
everything Kyle had mentioned. There was something, some nagging
suspicion in the back of his mind. He couldn't quite put the puzzle
pieces together into a coherent thought. Maybe...

"You're sure you can't think of any place
that fits her description? I'm talking about the room where she was
tied up."