Borderland (24 page)

Jinx
looked at the faces lining the counter and grinned. "Sounds excitin',
don't it?"

Some of
the men chuckled. Vic frowned and turned to them. "It's not exciting, it's
dangerous. This isn't a game, people, if you want my opinion, based on my years
of experience in vice, then I'd say turn the coke over to the sheriff and
forget it."

"So
noted," Jinx said. "I knew we shouldn't have told you. Guess we'll call
for a vote now. All those in favor of turnin' the dope over, raise your
hand."

Ed
Kisner alone raised his hand. Jinx eyed him before going on: "All those in
favor of me gettin' back our money with the dope, raise your hand."

One by
one, the hands lifted. Jinx nodded. "I motion we close the vote and go
with the majority."

"I
second the motion," said Kent Vogel.

Jinx
smiled. "Meeting adjourned."

"Wait,"
Vic said with a groan. The bunch of old fools were crazy. "I can't change
your mind? I'm serious. This isn't like television, you know. This is a
criminal act with severe penalties."

"Are
you gonna turn me in?" Jinx asked, suddenly worried.

To Vic
he appeared completely helpless. An aged turtle going out for a swim in
shark-infested waters. He had no idea how much that kilo was worth, no idea of
how to approach a potential buyer, and no idea how to get his money without
being cheated, beaten, or robbed. Vic couldn't knowingly let that happen. He
couldn't. Goddamn the crazy old bastards.

"No,"
he said finally. "I'm not going to turn you in, Jinx. If you're determined
to go, if you're not joking about this or pulling my leg, then I'll go with
you. My conscience would kill me if I didn't."

Jinx's
smile was grateful. His muddy eyes moistened. "Damned if you ain't just
like your daddy and got the biggest heart in the world." He wiped his eyes
and looked slightly embarrassed. "All right, now. That's enough of
business. Who wants a cold beer?"

Vic did.
He needed something to wash down one of Doc Stade's generic tranquilizers.

CHAPTER 20

Cal sat
on the ground outside the garage and attempted to repair his net made of old
window screens. It worked great for a while Monday night, but eventually the
ancient, rusted wire had given way and allowed his catch to escape through the
resulting holes. Nolan laughed and said it was a good idea while it lasted.
They caught enough fish by rod to fill the freezer, and everyone was tired of
eating fish anyway.

That was
the last time Nolan had spent any time with him. Nolan was there all day,
always within yelling distance, but he never wanted to do anything with Cal.
Cal spent the entire week playing kiddie games with Christa and Andy and he was
sick of it. He wished he knew what he'd said or done to make Nolan mad. He
didn't think he had done anything. And worse, Nolan didn't act mad at him. He
didn't act anything. He was just different. Right now he was sitting on the
porch swing, reading some book he found in the house. He didn’t even bother to
look up when Cal approached him earlier for a game of catch, he just said,
"Maybe some other time."

"Hi,
there."

Cal
lifted his head to see his mother smiling down at him. "Hi, Mom."

"Did
you find more screen in there?" She gestured toward the garage.

"No,
I took it off a window on the trailer." Cal put the project down.
"Mom, have you talked to Nolan about me?"

Her
smile died. "Why do you ask?"

"No
reason. I just thought since you didn't like him you might've told him to leave
me alone."

"I
wouldn't do that, Cal. I know you like him. If he hasn't been paying attention
to you it's not because of something I've said. He hasn't been paying attention
to anyone, really. I don't know why he's still here."

"Because
Vic asked him to stay," Cal said. "I heard him. He was crying. I
don't think Nolan knew what to do."

His
mother sighed. "Vic certainly seems to be going through some
changes."

"So
does Nolan," Cal muttered. "Where do you suppose he goes at
night?"

"I
didn't know he went anywhere."

"He
does." Cal stood and dusted his hands on the seat of his cutoffs.
"I've woken up three times this week and found his fan in my room. When I
go to look in his room he isn't there. But the fan is always gone in the
morning when I wake up. It's back in his room again."

"I
thought you shared it."

"We
do," Cal said. "But he brings it to my room on the nights that he's
supposed to have it. He must be sleeping somewhere else."

"Where?
It's too hot outside, even at night. I hear we've got a chance of more rain
tomorrow. The last one helped, but it wasn't nearly enough."

The
weather. His mother never talked to him about the weather. She was thinking of
something else and talking to him about nonsense to keep him from guessing her
thoughts. He knew her mental processes as well as he knew his own.

"You
think he's going out looking for those guys in the gray Buick?"

She took
a deep breath and gave him a wry smile. "The thought did cross my mind,
yes. It sounds like something he would do. The best defense is a good offense
and all that male jock-cop-commando bull."

Cal put
his hands on his hips. "He's concerned. It bothers him that they've given
up so easily."

"You
and I know they haven't," she said. "There's never been any set
timetable to their attempts. I think the presence of two men has made them very
careful, that's all. Your grandmother doesn't pay them by the hour, you
know."

"I
know," Cal said. He glanced toward the side of the house. "But I'd
feel terrible if something happened to him, Mom, if something happened while he
was trying to help us. What if they got him? We'd never know."

She put
a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. "Have you ever seen him use that
pistol? He's very good, Cal. And he loves himself far too much to deliberately
put his own precious hide in danger."

"You're
wrong," Cal said to her. He straightened as he watched her brows rise.
"He's not like that. He's not like Dad was. That's why you don't like him,
I know, but you're wrong. He's already proved that, but you don't want to see
it. Did you know he's been shot three times, burned twice and broken a leg and
an arm all in the line of duty? If that's not deliberately putting himself in
danger, I don't know what is. Dad would never have been in any situation where
he might be hurt. He was the one who loved himself too much. Nolan is
different."

His
mother shook her head. "No, Cal. None of those things make Nolan
different. He's still the same type-T personality as your father, just in
another way. He's a thrill-seeker, not a hero. And he's just as incapable of
caring and committing as your father was. He has no responsibilities other than
to himself and that's just the way he likes it. I admit that at times he can be
one of the most incredibly charming and irresistible men on earth—he can even
sound like a mature, sensible adult when he wants to—but that doesn't change
the facts."

Cal's
chin jutted. "What do you know about facts? You can't even be honest with
yourself. I've seen the way you look at him."

"Physical
attraction is one thing, Cal. Someday you'll learn that it isn't everything.
Not by a long shot. If I learned anything from your father, I learned
that."

Cal
snorted. "I suppose you'd rather have someone like Vic, who has a nervous
breakdown the first time life shits on him."

"That's
enough," his mother said firmly. "I'm not going to talk about this
with you. You're hurt because Nolan is snubbing you and you think it's my
fault. It's not. If you want an explanation, ask him. And don't ever let me
hear you speak that way about Vic again. You're being completely unfair."

"You
don't know Nolan," Cal argued. "He cares about people and he likes to
help them. He cares about Vic and that's why he's still here. He just doesn't
know how to help."

"Is
that any big surprise?" his mother responded in a sharp voice. "Nolan
wouldn't know a crisis if it bit him in the ass. He's never been threatened
with the loss of anything dear to him. He's never known anything but cold beer,
stupid women, and cheap civil-service thrills."

"You're
wrong," Cal repeated.

"No
she's not," a familiar voice said. "But they weren't all stupid.”

Cal
watched his mother's face turn scarlet as Nolan sauntered around the side of
the house. He was still holding his book.

"No
reason to be embarrassed, Myra. From what little I heard you seemed to have hit
the nail right on the head. For a second there I thought my mom had dropped in
for a surprise visit. You sounded just like her. Cal, can I talk to you for a
minute? I want to show you something."

Cal went
to meet him. He heard the pantry door slam a moment later. His mother. He
started to explain to Nolan, but he was cut off.

"I'm
not interested, Cal. I know what she thinks of me and that's okay. She's
entitled."

It
wasn't okay with Cal. "She didn't mean it. She wants to like you but I
think she's afraid. She wouldn't get so upset if she wasn't. Maybe if you'd be
nice to her for a change and work on the physical angle she'd come
around."

Nolan
looked at him. "The what?"

"You
know." Cal felt his cheeks flush.

A
teasing light entered Nolan's eyes. "Cal, I'd be afraid to turn my back on
that woman, let alone crawl in bed with her. Now, I want you to look at this
thing." He held up the book. "I found it in a box in the top of my
bedroom closet a few days ago. Naturally, I put it aside when I saw the cover,
but I opened it again this morning and found some interesting information
inside."

Cal
looked at the cover. It was a family Bible.

"On
the Kimmler’s?" he asked.

"Nope.
The Denke bunch. Seems this is the site of the original Denke home place. Did
you know that?"

"I
didn't know there was a Denke home place. I thought it was just the name of the
town."

"Me
too. But there's a whole family tree in here, and in the back I found a
hand-drawn copy of someone's plans for building over the foundation of the old
place once it was torn down. Right now we're standing in front of what used to
be a stable."

Cal
reached for the book. "Neat. But why did they leave their Bible
here?"

"That's
the interesting part. From what I can tell, it looks like Vic's
great-great-grandfather was adopted by a Denke."

"But
he kept his own name," Cal said, confused.

"All
of them did," Nolan told him. "One happy couple in particular adopted
about nine kids, all of them with German-sounding names." He flipped to a
yellowed page at the beginning. "Look at the names and see if any of them
ring a bell."

Cal
looked. "Vogel, Bauer, Schwarz, Stade, Nenndorf, Hamm, Kisner, Lahr . . .
and Kimmler. They all ring a bell.

Those
are the people in town."

"That's
what I thought," Nolan said. "Thank God there's no Wulf in there. The
inbreeding must be terrible around here. Does Denke have a phone book?"

"Not
that I know of," Cal said. "You really think the people are
inbred?"

Nolan
laughed. "It was just a joke. But yeah, it's pretty strange that all these
descendants are still living here. And whoever recorded the marriages of the
adopted apparently felt the wives' maiden names weren't important. But they had
to come from somewhere. There weren't enough Denke daughters to go
around."

Cal
looked at the page and counted. "Only three. And one boy. I wonder what
happened to him?"

Nolan
reached over and turned the page. "I wondered the same thing—why there's
no Denke around today, I mean. There he is, under his parents' names in the
death record."

"Looks
like a kid added his name on," Cal observed. "The handwriting isn't
the same as the other entries."

"Might
not have been a kid," Nolan said. "My grandfather's handwriting
looked like a four-year-old's scrawl. But look how young the Denke kid died. He
was only fifteen or so. Pretty ironic that all the adopted kids survived and
the Denke line died."

Cal
grinned. "Maybe one of 'em knocked him off so they could have the
land."

"It
was probably the ancestor of that old fart at the diner," Nolan said with
a chuckle. "But no, I imagine it was more likely an accident, or sickness.
Life expectancy wasn't very long back then."

"Have
you showed this to Vic?" Cal asked.

"Not
yet. I asked him about the place a couple days ago, though. Just out of
curiosity. All he knew was that the land had been in his family for several
generations. He said he didn't know anything about his ancestry on his father's
side and didn't seem very interested either."