Borderland (26 page)

Christa
let herself be steered out of the room. She walked ahead and then paused when
she felt Myra stop. Christa turned back to see her staring into Cal's room with
a funny expression. After a moment Myra shivered and hurried to catch up.
Christa took her hand as they descended the stairs. Myra was trembling.

"Daddy
says we're going back to town with Jinx later to play Bingo. Do you want to
come with us?"

"No
thanks honey."

"Are
you sure? It'll be fun if you're there. Andy always needs someone to help with
her cards. She never pays attention when the numbers are called."

"I'm
sure," Myra said. "I'm planning on going to bed early tonight. I
think I just need some rest."

Christa
frowned as she remembered her father's words in the car. It seemed like
grownups had an awful lot of trouble sleeping. And it wasn't Auntie Em's
twister. She would have to remember to tell him that.

"What
do you suppose Old Raisin Face would deign to eat?" Myra said as they
entered the kitchen.

Old
Raisin Face. Christa grinned and put her arms around Myra's waist to give her a
hug. It was the first time she had ever done so, the first time she had wanted
to hug any woman since her mother's funeral. She waited, breathless, until Myra
hugged her back; then with her face in the soft of Myra's stomach, she said,
"I'm sorry Drusie made your nose bleed. She probably didn't mean to."

"What?"
Myra pulled away. "What did you say?"

Christa
paused in consideration before finally shaking her head. "Nothing."
I'm going to the barn now."

It was
better not to talk about Drusie. Her daddy had gotten upset when Christa told
him about their strange friend. Christa didn't want to upset Myra. Not if they
were having pie for dessert.

CHAPTER 22

Nolan drove
down the drive with a scowl on his face. He hated the nosy old sonofabitch with
Vic. Jinx must've asked him three times when he was leaving. Finally Nolan said
he would drop by the diner on his way out of town so Jinx would have the
exclusive. Vic didn’t think it was funny, but Cal laughed like a fool. Nolan
glanced at the boy. His cheeks were flushed with excitement and anticipation.
His blue eyes sparkled with warmth when he met Nolan's gaze.

So much
for putting distance between himself and the kid. "Another mile and she's
all yours," he said. "Have you ever driven before?"

"Once,"
Cal said. "Dad took me into Denke and I hit this guy's truck."

Nolan
raised both brows. "He took you into town on your first try?"
Granted, there wasn't that much traffic in Denke, but it still seemed foolish.

"It
was Darwin's car. That was the bumper I told you about. Dad wouldn't have
risked his own car."

And you
think I'm just like him, Nolan thought. Even worse.

No, that
was just an angry kid talking. Cal knew better. He knew, for instance, how
Nolan felt about his convertible. Putting it into the hands of a green kid was
like offering up sacrifice to…

"Cal,
I want to say one thing. You put one dent in this car and you're carnage on the
road. Got that?"

Cal
grinned. "Got it."

Nolan
stopped the car and opened his door to get out and take a good look around. All
he needed was for Grandma's henchmen to show up while Cal was behind the wheel.
He squinted in both directions and saw nothing but dusty, deserted country
road. So far, so good.

"Slide
over, kid. And put on that belt."

Cal
finished fastening his seatbelt. "Ready."

"Okay.
Do you need to move the seat up?"

"I'm
fine. I'm almost as tall as you."

"In
your dreams, maybe. Seriously now, can you reach the pedals okay?"

Cal put
the car in gear and showed him. Nolan pushed himself away from the dash and
scrambled for his seatbelt.

"Whoa,
kid. Treat that accelerator like a backseat virgin with locked knees. Be nice
and she'll open up all on her own."

The car
swerved as Cal gave a nervous laugh. "My mom would kill me if she knew I
was doing this."

"She
knows," Nolan said. "I told her."

Cal
darted a look at him. "What did she say?"

"Nothing."
She'd been too concerned about the blood pouring from her nose. And she wouldn't
let Nolan get near her. If she slammed that bedroom door in his face one more
time he was going to take the fucking thing off the hinges and burn it.

"Keep
your eyes on the road, kid. You're doing great so far."

Cal's
knuckles were white. "I can't believe she didn't say anything."

"Well,
she didn't, so stop worrying and think about what you're doing. Just relax your
grip on the wheel and feel the play beneath your hands. She'll go anywhere you
want her to with just a touch."

Cal
eased his grip and began to experiment with the wheel. He picked up speed and
bit his lip in concentration as he guided the car down the dusty road.

Nolan
smiled. "You're doing fine, kid. We'll turn at the next road. Use your
signal within fifty yards. I don't care if you're the only car in sight signal
to let God know what you're doing. God likes that."

Cal
drove on, smiling and making only a few mistakes as Nolan talked him through
turns and stops and passing vehicles. By the time they crossed the border and
reached Al's place the boy was relaxed and comfortable behind the wheel. Nolan
was proud of him.

Al came
out of his office and smiled when he recognized them. Cal put the car in park,
turned off the engine, and slid out of the seatbelt with extreme care. Then he
whooped and jumped out of his seat to tell Al about his experience.

Al
lifted a rusty brow and listened with smiling attention as the boy went over
his lesson. Nolan watched and quickly realized that the smile didn't reach Al's
eyes. Something was wrong. When Cal went to relieve an excited bladder, Nolan
looked at the big man and said, "What is it, Al? Did you receive a visit
from our friends?"

"You
might say that," Al said. "I've got something to show you, just you,
not the boy. I don't know if he should see it."

Nolan
filled his lungs. "Okay. Is anything broken around here? Give him
something to train his brain on and he'll be happy."

Al
thought for a minute. "Yeah. I've been sortin' through the junk in my
trailer back there and—"

"You
live in that thing?" Nolan interrupted.

"Where
did you think I lived?" Al demanded.

"Hell
if I knew," Nolan said. "I guess I thought you had a house around
here somewhere."

The
oblong silver trailer sitting behind the office was a crappy, dilapidated
thing. It was so ancient no one would recognize it for what it was: one of the
first attempts at a mobile living unit.

Al was
smiling at him. "It's fit for farts and flies, I know. But don't worry I'm
leaving it here when I go." His smile widened as Cal rejoined them.
"Hey there, bright boy. You know anything about car stereos?"

"A
little," Cal said with his usual modesty. Nolan saw right through him. And
he still hadn't forgiven him for the car repair bit.

"Well,
I found me one in this Dodge," Al went on. "I'd like to put it in my
old Chevy pickup for the drive back home, see. Trouble is, I can't get these
big old hands where they need to be. Think you could help me out?"

"Sure.
Where is it?"

"On
the seat in the pickup. Tools are right there beside it. Ain't much to
it."

"Okay,"
Cal said, already moving toward Al's red pickup. Al winked at Nolan. "I
decided against the toaster oven in the trailer. He'd work through that in no
time."

"He'll
be done with the truck in five minutes," Nolan said. "You'd better
show me what you have now."

"No
he won't," Al said. "That car stereo doesn't work. I've already had
it in and out once today. He'll put it in, try to get it working then yank it
out again to see what the problem is."

"You
sly dog," Nolan said, smiling. "What's wrong with it?"

"Damned
if I know. I ain't the genius. Come on back this way." Al started walking.

"Wait,"
Nolan said. "I didn't see anyone following us, but I didn't see anyone
last time either. I'd like to stay where I can keep an eye on Cal."

Al gave
him a meaningful look. "This way, Wulf."

Nolan
hesitated only a second before trotting to catch up with Al's long stride. A
hundred yards into the salvage area he stopped. A crow perched on the sunken
roof of the gray metal heap. The Buick had been through one hell of a demolition
derby. Both bumpers were missing, all the glass was gone, the doors were caved
in and the hood was buckled up in a V-shape that suggested Newton's laws of
motion had been proved once again with the aid and probable destruction of a
tree or utility pole.

"Came
in early this morning," Al said. "Big fella. Damn near big as me.
Didn't want any money or any talk, he just handed me the paper and left. Took
me an old man's minute to recognize the damned thing. When I did, it was too
late to ask questions. But look here. . ."

He went
to the car and stuck his hand in the open driver's window. Nolan followed and
looked in the direction his finger was pointing. "What?"

"It's
been hosed out. The interior was still wet when he brought it in. Still didn't
get it all, though."

Nolan
squinted. Then he saw what Al was pointing at: a fist-sized reddish-brown stain
on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat. He stood back. What the hell
was going on here?

"I
got to eye-ballin’ the paper and made me a long-distance phone call to
Texas," Al said. "Someone by the name of William Callahan ain't real
happy about this. The car was registered under some operation owned by
him."

"You
spoke to him?" Nolan asked.

"Long
enough for him to tell me to mind my own damned business. That's Cal's
granddaddy, right?"

Nolan
nodded. "Cal said the men in the car probably worked for his grandfather.
But the big guy who brought it in this morning—can you describe him?"

"Big,"
Al said. "Had on a cap and a greasy pair of overalls."

“Burr
haircut?" Nolan said. "Big white teeth?"

"Never
saw his teeth. And I didn't pay much attention to his haircut. Like I said, it
was early."

Nolan
had an ominous feeling about this. "Al, have you ever been to Denke?"

"Can't
say as I have." Al spat in the dirt. "Only been in that direction
once that I can recall, and that was to have dinner with you folks last
Sunday."

"So
they don't know you," Nolan said thoughtfully. Why bring the car to this
yard in particular? Why take it across the border?

Al was
watching him. "You know the fella who brought it in?"

"I
think I do," Nolan said. "But I can't figure out why. The man's name
is Gil Schwarz. He lives in Denke. Last Sunday, before you arrived, he brought
a horse out to the place for boarding. He found Myra in the barn and assaulted
her."

"You're
shittin' me," Al said in sudden anger. "And you didn't kill the
sonofabitch?"

Nolan's
smile was rueful. "Maybe I should have." He threw his head back then.
"Goddamn, I hate this. Is there a connection here that I'm missing? What
the fuck was Gil Schwarz doing with this car? And what happened to the guys
inside?"

"Calm
down, ace," Al said. "We'd best get back to the boy because I just
thought of a sick possibility. This could be a plot cooked up by the kid's
grandma. Her little errand boys tell her what happened at my place and she
decides to cash in on my participation. They trash the car, spill a little
blood, and hire that big horny sonofabitch to tow the wreck here to me. She
figures on me knowin' the car and callin' you up to say the coast is clear and
the bad guys are either laid up or dead. You throw open the hatch in relief and
they swoop in and snatch the kid."

Nolan
stared at him. "Damn, Al. That's good. You sure you were never a
cop?"

Al
started walking. "Don't take a cop or a genius to know how a deviant
thinks. Just watch your TV regular."

They
made their way back to the office in time to hear a blast of music come from
the red pickup parked on the north side. Cal turned off the sound when he saw
them approaching. He beamed with satisfaction as he climbed out of the cab.
"All ready to go, Al. It sounds great."

Al and
Nolan traded a glance.

"You
want a beer?" Al asked.

Nolan
eyed the smiling boy. "No, thanks. I'd better hang on to the few brain
cells I have."

As the
three adjourned to Al's tiny office, an angry Houstonian named William Callahan
finally reached his wife by phone. He barked at her in a gin-soaked rage until
she threatened to hang up on him.