Slash and Burn (12 page)

‘So it all comes down to greed?’

‘It’s not just about the money,’ Aitken said barely above a whisper. ‘I have a wife and son. My boy’s only twelve years old. Huffman makes a point of asking after their health.’

He stared at me pointedly, letting the silent innuendo sink in.

‘You’re supposed to be a cop. Couldn’t you have gone through the proper channels if you were being threatened?’

‘Gone to Will? He’d have laughed in my face. He was as corrupt as any of us.’

Small town politics, I thought wryly, how’d I end up bogged down in this?

‘So,’ I offered, ‘you couldn’t go to Sheriff Devaney. Huffman’s got Judge Wallace by the balls. You could’ve still gone outside, Aitken. The state cops would have backed you up.’

‘Not before my wife and kids were paid a visit by Huffman. I don’t want to go home and find my family with their heads cut off.’

Around us the blizzard was growing stronger. Wind pushed at the shingles, setting off a clatter.

I could sympathise with Aitken. But not much. In my estimation he was a coward, and I thought his fear of retribution on his family was really an excuse. If he was so concerned about them, he’d have taken them and run away. Or he would have put a bullet in Huffman’s skull. No, he was waiting on the money that Huffman had promised for his land. He struck me as the type who’d willingly offer up his wife and son if Huffman came calling.

‘Tell me about Imogen Ballard,’ I said. ‘Why’s Huffman after her? She witnessed what happened to Sheriff Devaney, right?’

‘Yeah, she was there. But that’s not it.’

I frowned at Aitken. He must have seen my confusion as a minor victory. A way out for him. He was actually smiling as he lifted his head and stared me in the eye.

‘You thought you had it all figured out, huh? Well, sorry, but you don’t know the half of it.’

Standing stock-still, meeting his gaze, I said, ‘Tell me.’

‘You obviously know the woman, right? How she was divorced?’

I didn’t bother answering.

‘She got herself a new man.’

Not Huffman, I thought, please don’t say Huffman.

Aitken rolled his head on his shoulders like a boxer between rounds. ‘Will Devaney,’ he announced. ‘She was helping Will blackmail Huffman and the rest of us.’

Stunned, I could only stare in disbelief.

‘She still is. To the tune of two million dollars.’

Chapter 17

Twenty minutes later I was back in the driving seat of the cop car. This time I had it all to myself. Aitken’s revelation had rocked me more than I liked to admit. So I drove into Little Fork with my brain buzzing.

Imogen wasn’t the innocent I’d been led to believe. There was me thinking she was lying low for fear of violence from dangerous men, when all along she was as much a criminal as the rest. What had started out as a small claim against the new owner of le Cœur de la Ville had led her to uncover the scam between Huffman and Wallace. Instead of following proper channels, she’d taken this knowledge to her new lover, Sheriff Devaney. Between them they’d hatched a plot to make themselves rich. Unaware of her involvement, Huffman had ordered Devaney silenced. Imogen had then made contact with demands of her own. The twenty thousand dollars Devaney had demanded was now two million. Pay up and she’d disappear. Refuse and she’d sink them all. Huffman was sitting on an empire worth billions; little wonder he wanted her stopped so badly.

I’d come here and made war on Imogen’s behalf. If I’d known the truth, I would have had nothing to do with it. Not that I’d have stood by and allowed the woman to come to harm, but I’d have handled things differently. The problem was I came because Kate had asked me to. And that was what was troubling me now. How much of the truth was Kate party to? Had she known what was really going on and was she involved in some way? It was a more believable reason for her doing this off the record than the one she’d given me. She’d known that she was going up against violent men and that’s why she’d brought me along: to even up the odds.

She’d used me.

I’d been paying too much attention to her pretty face to notice the gun pointing at my own head.

The facts were all there.

Except there were huge holes in my reasoning.

If Kate was involved in her sister’s get-rich-quick scheme, why had she come here searching for her? Her mobile phone had proved that Kate had been frantically calling Imogen for the last four days. Also, if she’d been party to the blackmail, she would have known who her sister’s enemies were: she’d never have called Aitken and allowed herself to be captured.

Kate knew more than she was telling, but I didn’t believe that she was aware of what Imogen was up to. Unwittingly she’d thrown herself at Huffman’s feet. He now had leverage against Imogen that could force her to show her face. Both sisters were in more danger than ever they’d been.

To me, that meant only one thing.

Get Kate back.

Aitken said he’d handed Kate over to Huffman at the restaurant. It was as good a place as any to start.

The storm that had brought unexpected levels of snow to this corner of the Appalachians was a boon. It covered my approach to town in the distinctive Sheriff’s Department car. Expecting to make it all the way through town in the police cruiser was a little too optimistic, though. I ditched the car as soon as I saw the first houses, pushing it down an embankment so that it was hidden from the road. Then I walked in. I needed another vehicle, and I knew where to get one.

The monster truck was where I’d left it.

Larry Bolan obviously had more important things on his mind than going in search of it.

The keys were still on the front tyre.

Starting the engine, I flicked on the wipers to clear the windscreen of the accumulated snow. Then I drove out the motel parking lot, swinging out of town again and retracing my route to the sheriff’s car. There were no fresh tracks in the snow. I reversed the truck so that it was backed close to the cruiser, then hopped out.

Opening the trunk, I said, ‘Think I was going to leave you here to die of hypothermia?’

Aitken blinked up at me from the shadows inside the trunk. His eyes were all that was visible above the gag I’d wrapped round his face. He said something but it was just a garble.

Grabbing him under one armpit, I hauled him out. He swayed, his cramped muscles rebelling. I led him to the cab of the truck and pushed him inside. Taking a key from my pocket, I unlatched one wrist, but only for as long as it took to feed the cuff under an arm-rest on the passenger seat and then snap it back on him.

Back in the driver’s seat I looked across at my captive.

‘Wondering what’s happening, Aitken?’

His eyes rolled my way.

‘I said I’d kill you when you were no longer useful. I just thought of a way you can help.’

I started the truck and then headed into town.

Le Cœur de la Ville was situated midway up what was once the main street of Little Fork. It was a three-storey building that stood taller than the stores flanking it. The ground floor was given over to the exquisite dining experience promised by the pamphlet Kate showed me earlier, while the upper two were apparently reserved for less public affairs. The restaurant was closed for business. Maybe it had something to do with the storm and the fact that there were very few people about, but I guessed that it had shut up shop for other reasons. The middle floor was in darkness but lights burned behind shutters at the top.

‘Where does Huffman have his office?’

Aitken nodded, tilting his chin at the upper floor.

The entrance doors were double-width, glass from floor to ceiling. The glass frontage extended the length of the building, tinted so that diners within could enjoy their meals without being gawked upon by the less wealthy types wandering by. There’s nothing like a street person drooling down a window to put you off your lobster thermidor. I surveyed the entrance, but thought I wouldn’t be going in that way.

Driving along the main street, I took the next left up a service alley and came to an intersection with the second street over. I parked the Dodge Ram and spied along the street to the rear of le Cœur. This secondary street was reserved for less ambitious businesses than the French restaurant, dominated by a strip of bars and individual family-owned stores. Light spilled from a 7-Eleven at the far end, but everything else appeared to have closed early because of the storm. I couldn’t see any pedestrians. Glancing at my wristwatch, I saw that the 7-Eleven was due to close shortly as well.

‘The staff in the restaurant, I guess they’re no part of Huffman’s network?’

Through his gag, Aitken muttered something unintelligible.

Pulling the gag from his mouth, I allowed him a deep breath. When he’d finished working his jaw, he said, ‘Locals. They’re just simple folk taking a wage. If they suspect what their employer is involved in, they know enough to keep their noses out of it.’

‘What’s the likelihood of any of them being inside?’

‘By now? Very slim. Even the lights in the kitchen are off.’ Aitken indicated narrow windows on the lower level. They were in darkness.

‘That’s good.’

‘You’re not thinking of going in there, are you?’

‘Who’s going to be with Huffman?’

‘Don’t know for sure. Trent and . . . uh . . . I mean Larry Bolan could be there. Maybe a couple of others.’

‘What about the hicks who attacked me and Kate on the mountain?’

‘They’ll be long gone. Probably drinking to their friends’ memory, by now.’

My mouth made a tight slash. Aitken lifted his shoulders, but it wasn’t an apology.

‘You mentioned
real men
that Huffman has working for him. They here yet?’

‘Could be.’ The way he licked his lips said otherwise. I reached across and dragged the gag back into place. Pointless talking to him when he was only going to lie.

‘Can I trust you to keep quiet a minute or two?’

Aitken nodded.

‘Don’t suppose I can.’

I struck him on his jaw, just a quick backhander that he didn’t see coming. His head rolled on his meaty chest, breath whistling through his nose.

Pulling out Kate’s mobile phone, I punched in numbers.

‘Kate?’

‘It’s me, Rink.’

‘What’re you doing on Kate’s phone?’

‘Long story,’ I said. I told him what had gone on and what I’d discovered since. Then I said, ‘I’m going to get Kate back.’

‘I’ll pack some things an’ I’ll be there in a couple hours.’

‘No, Rink. You concentrate on putting Rupert Heavey away first.’

‘Heavey can kiss my ass! I’m coming up there, Hunter.’

‘The case could be dropped.’

‘If it’s dropped, so be it. We can always put Heavey down another time.’ His words were laden; no doubt about it.

‘We can’t do that, Rink. He’s a creep, yeah, but he doesn’t deserve that.’

‘You know there’s more than one way to skin a cat, Hunter.’

‘I can’t wait a couple hours. I have to do this now. They’ve got Kate.’ Beside me, Aitken was stirring from slumber. I could see movement behind his eyelids. ‘Hold on a second, Rink.’

I gave Aitken another tap on the jaw and his eyeballs rolled up into his skull.

To Rink, I said, ‘Before you hightail it up here I need you to do something for me.’

‘Go on.’

‘A guy called Robert Huffman’s at the head of this. Apparently he has connections to organised crime over in Dallas, Texas. Can you see what you can dig up on him? Also, who he might have at his beck and call?’

‘I’ll do that. You still want who owned the Dodge Ram?’

‘Larry Bolan?’

‘You already figured that out, huh? Lawrence Grey Bolan. Bad dude, Hunter. One of twins. Trent Bolan’s the brother. Extra bad.’

‘Trent’s gone.’

‘Say what?’

I told Rink about the fight in the workshop.

‘Shit, Hunter. Haven’t I told you a dozen times—’

‘We don’t have a licence to kill any more? I know, Rink. Still want to come up here?’

‘Are you kidding me? I’ll be on the next flight.’

‘Give me a call when you get in.’

‘Just make sure you’re around to answer it, brother,’ Rink said.

When Rink calls me brother it holds extra significance. It means that he’s worried about me. I didn’t want him to be concerned; I just wanted him there with me. If there’s anyone I’d trust with my life it’s Rink. I have a real brother, John, but I’d be hard pushed to choose which one of them I love the most.

I hung up and put the phone back in my pocket. Along the street the lights in the 7-Eleven went out. An old guy, bent against the drifting snow, locked up and then wandered away into the storm. I watched him go. There was no one else around.

I started the Dodge.

Leaning over, I slapped Aitken out of his dreams.

‘Wake up. It’s time to get useful.’