Blindside (9 page)

Savich said when that scream died away, “I played football.”

“Well, yeah, I can tell by looking at you. I’ll just bet you had girls hanging off your biceps, didn’t you, you brainless jock?”

That wasn’t very nice of him to say, Savich was thinking, but then Troy Ward had a microphone in front of his mouth and he was screaming, “Go, you macho jock jerks! Run!” He yelled in Savich’s face, “It’s a touchdown! You see that, a touchdown!”

Savich said, “You never met Mr. Gifford Fowler or Leslie Fowler, his wife?”

Now Savich wanted to lie down on this big soft sofa and just listen to the soft rain falling against the front windows of Troy Ward’s very nice house in an excellent area of Oxford, Maryland. “Nope, I already told the police I’d never heard of them. I don’t think my wife, Bernie, knew Leslie Fowler either, never mentioned her name or anything, not that Bernie and I ever talked about other women all that much. She wasn’t worried about me playing around on her, said I was a really bad liar and she’d know.” He paused, then tears oozed out of his eyes, falling into the deep creases on his double chin. “I want you to catch the maniac who killed Bernie!” Then he threw back his head and yelled to the ceiling, “I want to be a jock asshole!”

Troy Ward was suddenly standing over him, his hand extended. “Do you want a rice cake? I’m trying to lose some weight, gotta get back into shape, you know, because, who knows, the Ravens might make the playoffs and I’ll be all front and center with the players. I may be doing some locker room interviews with the guys.” But he wasn’t holding a rice cake out to Savich, it was a huge Krispy Kreme the size of an inner-tube swing. Savich backed away from the doughnut and Troy Ward, that officious little sod of an overweight sports announcer, blurred into the tall gaunt features of Gifford Fowler, the car dealer, who was talking right in his face. “You want to buy one of my Chevys? I’ve been selling Chevys right here for the last twenty-two years! I’m solid, they’re solid.
Like a Rock!
Hey? Just like the commercial. Whatcha think, Agent Savich?”

“Did you kill your wife, Mr. Fowler?”

“Nah, I sell cars, I don’t kill wives. You divorce wives, not kill them. I divorced two before Leslie got herself whacked. Cops are stupid, but the fact is it’s just not worth the risk. I just know that if I’d knocked off Leslie they’d get me and then I’d only have eighteen good years left before they toasted me in the gas chamber. Whatcha think, Agent Savich?”

“It’s a lethal injection now, Mr. Fowler. Sometimes it’s even longer than eighteen years. That’s only the average. Did you love your wife?”

“Nah, she wasn’t a Mercedes anymore, looked more like a real old Chevy Impala. She used to be hot pink, then got too many miles and turned a dirty gray, ready for the junk pile. Glad we didn’t have any kids with me and her as parents—they’d be stealing cars off my lot, the little bastards.”

“Do you and Troy Ward, that famous Ravens announcer, ever bowl together?”

“Oh yeah, I heard about his bowling—always leaves splits and someone, it was his wife I hear, always had to come in and clean them up.” He laughed and laughed, slapping his knees. “Boy, is he fat, or what? None of the players or any of the coaching staff like him. He’s gross, you know? Not like me. Want to see my abs?”

“That’s all right, Mr. Fowler, leave your shirt on, but those cuff links, now, they really don’t go with that shirt.”

“Old junk-heap Leslie gave them to me. I’m wearing them to honor her—one more time, I figure she was worth it. Then I’ll flush ’em down. Hey, Agent Savich, you sure you don’t want to test-drive a Silverado? Cops like Silverados because they got that fancy coolant loss protection. It would fit your image, all hard muscle, really hot for the girls. Hey, let me show you my hard muscles.” As he unzipped his dark gray wool slacks he softly sang “When You Wish Upon a Star.”

Voices, Savich heard voices, and this time they were close and he recognized them and could even make sense of them. It was Dr. Able.

“In deference to your wife, Agent Savich, I’m closing your skin real pretty so she’ll think your scar’s sexy.”

His brain wasn’t floating anymore, it was hovering, and things made sense now, more or less. He said, “Sherlock thinks everything about me is sexy,” and was pleased because it was true. “Another scar’ll just give her someplace new to kiss.” He’d lost all sense and his tongue had lost its brakes. He heard a laugh, from Katie. Then he saw Troy Ward again, stuffing that huge doughnut into his mouth, and there was Gifford Fowler, dangling Silverado keys in front of him, winking, and then he threw the keys, and they went higher and higher and even though Savich jumped a good three feet in the air, they kept flying away.

“A woman with great taste,” Katie said. She squeezed his hand. “You guys married long?”

“I don’t know about long,” Savich said. “I knew her before I ever saw her. She says I’m her fantasy.”

“I’d sure like to be a woman’s fantasy,” Dr. Able said.

“She likes to scrub me down when we get home from the gym.”

“There, you see, Clyde, she treats him just like a truck—keeps him nice and clean and revved up.”

Dr. Able stopped stitching a moment because he was laughing. Savich was grateful he’d stopped.

“We have a little boy, Sean. She says he looks just like me, not fair since she did all the work. All I did was just have fun, and not even think about it.”

Dr. Able said, “I had a little boy once. And you know what? The little bugger grew up. Can you beat that? After all I did for him, he had the nerve to grow up on me and leave. There, done, no more needles pulling through your skin.”

“Sherlock got knifed once. I watched the doctor put stitches in her skinny white arm. It shouldn’t have happened. I wanted to kill her for taking such a chance.”

“Did she succeed?” Katie asked.

“Oh yes,” Savich said. He sounded so proud and so pissed, with a layer of dopiness over it, that she had to smile.

“I doubt you’ll remember any of this when you wake up tomorrow, Agent Savich,” Dr. Able said. “But, can you understand me?”

Savich nodded.

“Your antibiotics are in and the wound looks fine. We’re going to keep you here tonight so that the drugs wear off, and make sure there aren’t any complications, not that I expect any. Your blood tests look okay. Now, I don’t want you worrying about anything, just rest. Again, you were very lucky. I know this wasn’t a piece of cake for you, but if that metal had sliced your back any deeper, it wouldn’t have been any fun at all. Now, I’m going to make sure you get a real good night’s sleep. I sure hope you like sleeping on your stomach.”

Savich never opened his eyes though he heard everything. He smelled everything, too, including a hint of lemony soap. Maybe he’d said some things that he normally wouldn’t have said. Who cared? Now, he thought, he could just let go.

Life was unexpected. You woke up in the morning, fed your little kid some Cheerios with a sliced banana on top, walked out into the sun, everything going along just fine, and then
whap!—
that night you’re laid out in an emergency room in Tennessee.

“You got anything to say to Agent Savich, Katie?”

She lightly touched her fingertips to his cheek. “Just that I can’t wait to meet Sherlock, and you need to rest,” she said as she pulled off the surgical mask. Savich wanted to say something, maybe to thank the doctor, but it just seemed too hard. He sighed, and slept.

Katie asked, “How long will he be out?”

“He could wake up at any time, but I hope not until morning, not all that long a time away. You know that sleep is the best thing for whatever ails you. Like I said, this man was lucky.”

“I’m grateful to you, Clyde, and to his luck,” she said. “I’ll be in the waiting room with Sam, his father, and Keely. Let me know when Agent Savich is settled in. I know Miles will want to see him, not to mention Sam.”

“You sure you don’t want me to check out Sam?”

“Nah, the kid’s fine. Real proud of himself and that’s good, it’ll help him keep the fear at bay.”

She gave him a small salute, thanked the ER personnel she’d known all her life, and went down to the women’s room to wrap her wet clothes in a towel she’d pulled out of the hamper.

She went out into the deserted hospital corridor wearing green scrubs to call in to the station. Wade was still there, just as she’d known he would be. He brought her up to date, then gave her over to Special Agent Hodges.

“We saw the aftermath of all the excitement, Sheriff. I’m really sorry we missed it.”

“We’re sorry you missed it, too.”

“Your house is a crime scene, but we didn’t put tape across your front door. Wade and some deputies boarded up the window Beau broke in. My people are finished up inside, so you can go back in. As for the van, it’s still smoldering and the fire chief roped it off. Is Savich all right?”

“He will be, but he won’t be doing push-ups for a while. Thank God his wound wasn’t deep, just really painful. He’ll be in the hospital overnight, just to make sure. Give him a week or so, says the doctor, and he’ll be able to sleep on his back again.”

She listened to Glen Hodges sing Savich’s praises, then he laughed. “We’ve got a three-way bet going here as to what time Sherlock will show up in the morning, if it takes her that long.”

“Really,” Katie said, “there’s no way for her to get here that fast, even driving.”

“You’ll see, Sheriff. We’ll come over and visit Savich tomorrow. We’re doing paperwork here, and then Deputy Osborne will take us to the local B&B—what is it called? Mother’s Best?”

“Mother’s Very Best,” Katie said. “Mrs. Beecham’s grandmother named it that back in the forties. It’s a nice place—on the frilly side—and the food is to die for. If you’ve never had grits before, you’re in for a real treat.”

“Excellent. Oh, Sheriff,” Agent Hodges paused a moment, then said, “I’m, er, really sorry, but there’s something else that you need to know, something you might not be expecting. You know I told you the truck was roped off? Well, that was after it was checked over real good. We decided not to bother you with it right away, what with your heading off to the hospital with Agent Savich, and Wade agreed with us.”

Didn’t need to bother me with something?

Keeping her voice mild and easy, she asked, “What didn’t you think was important enough to notify me about, Agent Hodges?”

“Well, it’s not exactly that it’s
not
important . . . it’s like this, Sheriff: There was no body inside the van.”

“What?”

“It looks like Clancy—big gut and all—got out before the van blew,” Agent Hodges said. “Of course, he had lots of motivation. Wade called all the county sheriff’s offices and all area police departments, and the state police. He gave them all the particulars and a description of Clancy. We figure he’s got to be in bad shape, I mean, he did crash the van hard into that tree, and Wade told me you’d shot him in the arm or shoulder, so he’s got to be in pretty bad shape.

“As I said, we’ve already got a manhunt going. Any stolen cars will be reported directly to us. We’ll find Clancy.

“I’m really sorry we’ve got to add this to the mix, Sheriff. As for Beau, the coroner has his body. There’ll be paperwork for you to do, but I guess you know that. And I’m sure you’ll be getting a call first thing in the morning from the TBI.”

The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation—oh yeah, she’d get lots more than a call. But that was tomorrow. At this moment, she was so mad at Agent Hodges that if she’d been within arm’s reach she would have clouted him in the head, really hard. She told herself keeping calm was her forte and she used that now, her voice still smooth and mild. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.
You
decided not to bother me with this small detail, Agent Hodges? It didn’t occur to you that since I’m the sheriff I should be called immediately?”

“Well, ma’am, we’ve got a lot going on here—”

“You just made a big mistake you will not repeat, Agent Hodges. I’m the sheriff of Jessborough, I run things here, you don’t, regardless of anything my deputy might have said.”

“Now wait a minute, Sheriff. I’m sorry about the delay, but it is our case.”

“I don’t need to speak to you any longer, Agent Hodges. Put Wade back on the phone.”

“Yo, Katie. Come on now, don’t be pissed.”

She pictured driving her truck over him, maybe letting the back tires with their cast-aluminum wheels sit on him, really settle in and get comfortable. Savich was right. She should boot his butt to the Tennessee line and hand him over to North Carolina or Virginia or Georgia—she had lots of choices. Hey, Kentucky sounded good. She said, “You should have called me immediately, Wade, not agreed with the Feds.”

“Look, Katie, you were on your way to the hospital with Agent Savich. I didn’t want you to have to worry about something else. Everything’s being done that should be done.”

“Worrying is my job, Wade. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I want you to bring our people in. Have them go home and sleep, but keep a patrol going near my house, no, that’s not enough. I want a couple of deputies sitting out in front of my house. If Clancy is alive, chances are he’s hiding in the forest. If he’s not badly hurt, he might double back.

“Oh yeah, tell Dicker to bring his dogs over to my house first thing in the morning if Clancy hasn’t been found by then. The state police can keep looking tonight, those guys don’t deserve much sleep. One other thing, check in with every family within a five-mile radius of my house. Warn them. You got that?”

“I already had Mary Lynn call all the neighbors. I do know what to do, Katie.”

“He’ll try to steal a car if he’s able to.”

“Yeah, we know that.”

“He’s a dangerous man, Wade. Keep reminding everyone just how dangerous.”

“Yes, I have, of course. Even though I’m sending out deputies to guard your house, Katie, you be careful, too. No telling what that moron will do.”

“There’s something else, Wade—something very important—but I think I’ll let it wait until tomorrow morning when Agent Savich is back in the land of the living. You don’t need to worry about it now, Wade.”