While the Savage Sleeps (28 page)

But she had yet to figure out where this hospital was. From her research, it appeared to have something to do with the U.S. Army, but beyond that, she was unclear.

One thing she definitely
did
know. Seeing that bloody match between the two men—the way the staff just stood there and watched—it wasn’t only neglectful, it was downright immoral. They seemed so unaffected by it, bored, even.

What would make a human so indifferent to another’s suffering? Kyle had to wonder if it was some form of punishment, or maybe, she thought, something else, some kind of twisted, morbid game they were playing—except nobody seemed to be having much fun.

In addition, the biggest mystery of all was earning its reputation as such, while doing an even better job of getting under Kyle’s skin: she still couldn’t figure out what Bethany had to do with all this. There seemed to be no connection between her and the events Kyle saw.

In spite of all this, Kyle was still feeling much better as she moved closer toward the answers she needed. She just hoped her body would hold up long enough for her to get there. All that energy flowing through her had taken its toll, turning sleeping and eating more into luxuries than necessities. All that, and she also had her private practice to worry about; still, she couldn’t let go. Not now. Not when things were finally starting to come together.

Hardly a time to relax, Kyle thought. On the contrary—if anything, it was time to start getting busy.

Chapter
Fifty-Nine

Sheriff’s Station

Faith, New Mexico

As recommended, Cameron checked with Georgia Simpson at Peak’s Bakery to see if she had spotted any unusual vehicles moving through town. As it turned out, she’d seen plenty, but nothing of any use to Cameron.

On the other side of town, Della Schumacher, the one-woman neighborhood watch program, ended up being more help to Cameron than he ever could have imagined. Still dismayed over the loss of her beloved cat, and fearful of Faith becoming a new hotbed of homicidal activity, Della decided to make it her job to keep a vigilant watch over everything within a hundred-foot radius of her house. Even more so than usual.

Along with keeping her eye on things, Della also made a point of calling Cameron several times throughout the day and updating him with what she considered to be suspicious activity. To Cameron, it sounded like a whole lot of nothing—other than her neurosis working overtime.

Before he knew it, his phone was ringing late into the night, with more reports of odd occurrences
,
or at least what she considered as such.

Della’s self-appointed role as informant and confidante
extraordinaire
was an interesting departure from the uncooperative, cold attitude she’d displayed when Cameron had first encountered her. To him, both extremes were a nuisance. At best, Della’s calls seemed insignificant. At worst, they were just annoying.

Except, that is, for one.

Cameron was just about to eat lunch in his office and almost regretted picking up the phone after hearing Della’s grating voice on the other end.

“
Got a hot one for ya,” she said.

“
What’s up, Della?” Cameron replied, trying to curb his irritation.

She whispered into the phone as if relaying classified information. “This morning … strangers … driving … down the street …
very
suspicious …”

Cameron grabbed his pen, tightened his grip on the phone. “Say what, now?”

Her whispers became softer. “Yeah, and they ain’t from around here, either …I could tell. They was prowling around like they was lookin for something.”

“
Not a plain white van by any chance?”

She paused, surprised by Cameron’s knowledge. Loudly now, almost shouting: “
Ay-ffirmative
.”

“
Did you get a chance to see who they were?” he asked.

“
10-4.” She continued her television dialogue. “Two men. Sunglasses. Subjects were observed getting out of the vehicle.”

“
Happen to get a license plate number?”

“
Ay-firm
. Was able to secure a vantage point where I could ascertain that information.”

“
Go ahead,” he said, pushing the pen against a notepad, the phone resting between his shoulder and ear.

“
That would be:
Horrace, Steven, Jeffrey, FOWER, THUREE, SEVEN, NYE-YEN
. I repeat, that’s—”

“
No need to repeat it, Della. Got it. What time was it?”

“
That would be zero, eight fifteen.”

He tilted his wrist and checked the time. It was five minutes past noon. “See where they went?”

“
Subjects observed traveling southbound,” she replied, matter-of-factly, “onto Jefferson.”

He visualized the intersection. “They turn onto Melvin or keep going straight?”

“
Kept going straight. On towards the highway.”

“
You said they got out of the vehicle. What were they doing?”

“
Got out to prowl around,” she replied.

“
Where, Della?
Where
were they looking?”

“
The Foley place.”

There it was. A connection. “Gotta go, Della. Thanks.”

“
But …how ‘bout…”

Cameron didn’t wait to listen to the rest of what she had to say. He’d already heard everything he needed.

Chapter
Sixty

Fulton Street

Faith, New Mexico

Cameron sped down the road, talking to Frank on his cell phone. “We’ve got strangers in town.”

“
Strangers? What kind of strangers?”

Cameron couldn’t tell if his boss was confused, annoyed, or both. “Don’t know, but I’d sure like to find out. Lane Smith saw them first, around eight this morning, driving past his shop in a plain white van. Two males. Della Schumacher saw them, too.”

“
The whack-job that lives next to the Foley place? You sure she wasn’t having one of her psychotic breaks?”

“
She had the same information Lane told me, Frank.”

“
Well, Lane’s solid. So what were they doing here?”

“
Good question. Schumacher saw them snooping around the Foley place just after Lane spotted them at Judith’s shop.”

“
Now that
is
interesting. Anybody happen to get a license number?”

“
Lane tried but couldn’t see it well enough. All he could tell was New Mexico plates. Schumacher, though,
she
nailed it.”

“
Well what do ya know? The old nag proved herself useful. Run the numbers yet?”

“
Yeah. Last owner came back to
Rent-n-Ride,
in Albuquerque.”

“
Call ‘em?”

“
Yep. Said none of their vehicles have plates matching those numbers.”

“
Strange.”

“
Put a call in to the DMV—said it could be a dead registration, a vehicle they sold at an auction, and the new owner never completed the process.”

“
No coincidence, I’m sure. Where you at right now?”

“
Just passed Beacham Street,” Cameron said, “headed for the Foley place to see if I can figure out what they were doing there.”

Cameron heard commotion in the background. “Frank? You still there?”

“
Yeah. Hang on a sec. Somebody’s pounding on my door,” he replied, then shouted out, “I’m on the phone, for God’s—”

More commotion—and voices. Cameron couldn’t make them out.

“
Holy shit,” Frank finally said after returning to the call. “Something’s going on at Felice’s. We got shots fired.”

At the same time, Cameron heard the radio chatter. He spun his car around in the middle of the intersection and sped in the other direction, turning on his flashing lights.

“
Already got it, boss. Headed there now.”

“
Following right behind you,” Frank said.

Chapter
Sixty-One

Felice’s Diner

Faith, New Mexico

The restaurant’s front window was shattered, shards of glass everywhere, glistening in the hot midday sun. A few deputies stood outside, talking. They stopped to look at Cameron when he pulled up.

“
What do we got?” he asked.

“
A shooting,” Deputy Avello replied, his voice low and solemn. He paused. “It’s one of our own … Banks … he’s dead.”

Cameron looked at Avello, then inside, then back at him again. He’d heard what the deputy had said, but his mind seemed to reject it. The words
Banks
and
dead
—they didn’t seem to fit together.

“
Sir?” Avello finally said.

Cameron swung back into the minute. “Banks is … dead?”

“
Yessir.”

“
How?”

“
Another deputy did it, sir … he killed him.”

Cameron was still watching all the commotion inside, but when he heard what Avello had said, quickly turned his head back toward him. “
What?
Another …
who
?”

“
Ronnie Geller,” Avello said. “Ronnie Geller shot and killed Shawn Banks,”

“
I don’t get it ...what in the world …
Why
?”

“
He says Shawn attacked him.”

“
Where’s Ronnie now?”

“
Inside. They’re talking to him out back by the kitchen.”

Cameron didn’t say anything else. He ran inside.

A few moments later, an engine roared and tires screeched as Frank pulled up. He got out of his car and surveyed the looks on the deputies’ faces.

That was all he needed to see.

* * *

Beyond the time clock, beyond the signs purporting a safe working environment,

Geller sat on top of a large, plastic pickle bucket with Cameron kneeling beside him. Face flushed, eyes red-rimmed, the deputy had been sweating so much that his short-cropped hair appeared soaking wet. In addition to all that, his hands were still shaking—so were his legs—and he had a distant look in his eyes.

Cameron looked up and saw Frank headed straight toward them, his pace rapid and determined. In an attempt to divert the oncoming train wreck, he turned back to Geller, placed a hand on the deputy’s shoulder, then said, “Be back in just a minute.”

Geller nodded, slowly, absently.

Cameron stood up and walked toward his boss.

“
What the hell now?” Frank asked, eyes fixed hard on the deputy.

“
Geller killed Shawn Banks.” The conversation felt like an instant replay of the one Cameron had had earlier, except now
he
was the one giving the bad news.

“
Gellar did
what
…?” Frank shouted. “What in God’s name for?”

Cameron looked over toward Geller. “He claims Shawn attacked him.”

“
Oh … shit.” Frank said, realizing the implications. “Anybody call the state troopers yet? They gotta be here.”

“
On the way,” Cameron said.

“
I don’t get it. Now we have
deputies
offing each other? What the hell’s going on?”

“
It’s not quite that simple, Frank.”

“
You’re damned right it’s not—it’s bullshit,” he said, then began moving toward Geller.

Cameron grabbed his shoulder. “Just hold on a minute. Calm down. I
have
this.”

Frank turned back and stared at him.

Cameron took a deep breath. “Look. He was just about to spill when you came in. He’s a mess right now, Frank, a complete mess. Wasn’t even saying much ‘til I calmed him down. Now he’s ready to talk. I can do this.
I’ll
get what we need. But I need a moment …
alone
.”

Frank shot Cameron a long, level look, measuring the words, then reluctantly, and very slowly, he nodded.

Geller was sitting with his face in his hands when Cameron came back to talk to him. He placed a palm on the man’s shoulder, and the deputy looked up instantly, seeming not to recognize him.

“
Let’s go outside, Ronnie. You look like you could use the fresh air,” he said, then glanced back at Frank, who was still watching their every move, “and I’m kinda feeling like I could, too.”

Geller stood up and walked stiffly toward the back door. Cameron followed him.