Days of Reckoning (21 page)

Jesse gave him an address, which Sam wrote down on an index card. “I never been inside though, not since he moved his stuff there.”

Sam nodded absently. This would explain why Damon didn’t have anything in the dorm room he supposedly used at the college. “Anything else you think I should know to help me find this guy?”

“No sir.”

“Alright. If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to get hold of me.” Sam put the index card in his shirt pocket and rose. “Your lawyer will be here in a few minutes to talk with you and the prosecutor. I can tell you right now we’ll have to charge you with carrying under disability. But that will probably be the extent of it. Fortunately, the bouncer at Night Owl is used to handling folks like you, and doesn’t hold any grudges. Still, you’re probably going to do time, and you won’t be able to buy or own a firearm ever again.”

“I think we have a lead on where Damon’s been staying. Rental house that Jesse let him use. Apparently Chief Wainwright fronted the cash for it.”

“By the way,” Arnie said, “we also got a match on those bullets we found in Hector’s car. They match the samples we fired from the gun found on Bill Bank’s body.”

“Good work. At least we can maybe close the book on that case.”

“Yup. And Miranda’s on her way out to look in on your aunt. You want me to send somebody over to back her up?”

“Yeah, have Hal Golding or Kevin stop by every few hours, just to look in on things. Maybe we can split up the night shift to relive her a bit, too. I’m going to gather a few things together, then let’s head on out.”

“Sure thing, boss. See you at your car.”

#

Miranda smiled at the receptionist as she walked in the Sparta Retirement Center. She gave her name. “I’m here to keep an eye on Fran Connor, per Detective Sam Connor’s wishes.”

“Oh, yes. He said you’d be coming. We’ve got one of our own security guards posted outside of her room. I’m sure he’ll be happy to be relieved.”

Miranda went down the hall to Aunt Fran’s room. A tall, skinny man rose from a chair to stop her.
He must be at least seventy
, Miranda thought. She was glad there wasn’t any real threat to guard against here; Aunt Fran wouldn’t have stood a chance with this kind of protection. “I’m sorry, miss,” the guard said in a crackling voice. “I’ll have to see some identification before I can let you go any further.”

Right
. Miranda pulled out her wallet and showed her identification card from the police station. “I’m here to keep an eye on Mrs. Connor.”

Miranda cut him off. “Look, there’s been a threat made against this woman’s life. I’m not taking any chances, because the people who’ve made it sure aren’t fucking around.” The guard winced at her profanity. “So you can eat your lunch here, and leave when another guard comes out or I dismiss you.” There wasn’t any reason for her to give the guy a hard time, but he had been given a job to do, and she hated it when people didn’t take their work seriously. “Now, where’s your sidearm?”

“We don’t carry weapons here, miss.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to be my shield, then, if anything goes down.” The old man paled. “If you’re not armed,” Miranda said, “I guess you aren’t going to be much use here. Just give me a list of the people scheduled to see Mrs. Connor. I’ll have to wing this one.”

The guard complied, frowning the whole time. When he was finished with the list, he said, “Look miss, we don’t allow weapons here. If you’re carrying one…”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell. Got it?”

He wisely decided not to argue the point and left, muttering under his breath. Miranda looked into Fran Connor’s room then. The old woman was napping, snoring softly. Miranda went inside and shut the door. The next nurse wasn’t scheduled to arrive for half-an-hour. Plenty of time for Miranda to look for fresh bandages and antibiotic ointment. If she was lucky, maybe later in the day she could look around the center for penicillin or other such medicines, in order to further stave off the risk of infection. Her arm was scabbing and seeping puss, and she was a bit worried about it.

Damon’s rental house was in a neighborhood of student off-campus housing. Real estate companies maintained most of the homes, but some of them – in varying degrees of repair – were still owned by individuals who lent them out to college kids at more reasonable rates. Jesse’s property wasn’t in the best of shape, but it looked livable enough. Sam noted that he wasn’t too many blocks away from Miranda’s place, and the thought of her reminded him of the kiss from the night before. So much had happened in the meantime that he hadn’t even had a chance to dwell on the significance of it. He would have to wait a little bit longer to do that.

After finding Damon’s rented house, Sam and Arnie parked their car a few doors down. They approached the dwelling on foot and split up as they neared it. Arnie headed for the back yard, while Sam strode up the front steps.

The house had a small front porch with a rotting wooden swing. Several crumpled beer cans littered the bushes. Most of them, however, were rusted and fading, which indicated that there hadn’t been much drinking on the porch recently. Sam supposed that could be due to the weather, but it was getting warmer each day, and most kids had been outside partying since the mercury went above forty-five.

Sam wore a small radio with an earpiece and a mike attached to the lapel of his blazer. He keyed the radio twice, signaling Arnie that he was ready at the front door. Arnie keyed back, indicating that he was in position at the back door. A block away, Officers Hal Golding and Kevin Jones waited in a cruiser, ready to provide additional support in case of trouble. Sam drew his pistol, held his badge up to the peephole and pounded on the front door with the bottom of his fist.

There was no answer. Sam knocked again, announcing his presence verbally this time. Still nothing. The windows of the house were dark, with shades drawn down: no way to see if anyone was waiting inside. Sam radioed to Arnie, “Stand by, I’m going to try the door.”

“Roger that.”

Sam tested the handle. It was locked, but the door felt very loose in the frame. Sam gave a swift kick with his heel, near the knob, and the flimsy handle lock broke. The door swung inwards. A crash at the back of the house indicated that Arnie had made good his entrance. Sam checked in with his partner over the radio, the called out a “Clear!” indicating that no one was in the front room. Arnie replied in similar fashion. “I’m coming in through the dining room!” he called out. The two officers met without firing at each other.

“Nothing up here,” Sam said. “Let’s try down this hall.”

There were three small rooms and a bathroom, all attached by a narrow hallway. The officers didn’t find occupants in any of them. Sam radioed back to Golding and Jones. “This place looks pretty empty. Arnie and I are going to do a preliminary search, then call in the sheriff for forensics.”

“Roger that. Just give us a shout if you need anything; we’ll be patrolling the neighborhood for the next hour or so.”

#

The house hadn’t been used in several days. In the refrigerator, Sam found a carton of milk well past its expiration date and a plate of moldy leftovers. A thin coat of dust cover most surfaces in the home. Arnie found several handguns and a hunting rifle in a bedroom closet. Another room stored boxes of ammunition. Sam flipped through the contents on the desk in one of the rooms. He found no bills or anything, and was about to give up on it until he noticed a piece of paper sticking out from one of the textbooks lying on the desk. He pulled it out with a gloved hand. The paper was an envelope, addressed to Damon’s rented mailbox. A return address listed “Mr. And Mrs. Ted Hanson,” in a town in West Virginia. Sam put the envelope in an evidence bag.

“Arnie, let’s get this back to the station ASAP and run it for prints. Forensics can look for anything else that might be here, but I have a feeling that this envelope and whatever’s inside might give us a break.”

#

Fran Connor woke only briefly when a nurse came in. She did not seem to recognize either the nurse or Miranda, who sat in a chair near the door. After the nurse left and Fran was asleep, Miranda went into the bathroom, where she changed the dressing on her arm and swallowed an anti-biotic, which she found in a box of sample doses in an examination room down the hall.

In two days “The Reverend” would be in town, and she could accomplish her self-imposed mission. She knew she would eventually be caught; she just wanted to put it off for two more days. Killing Jesse would be impossible, at least while he was still in jail. Rather, killing him and getting away clean would be impossible. She wanted him dead because he was part of the group that had led her brother to first become a criminal, and then to be killed. Eldon Marshall and Tim Butcher would also have to be dealt with as a matter of course, but Jesse… maybe if she succeeded in her other plans she would have time to get him later. Maybe.

Her cell phone rang from her purse. Aunt Fran stirred in the bed, and Miranda scrambled to quiet the device, not wanting to waken her charge. “Hello?” she said, picking it up after the third ring.

“It’s been quiet here,” she replied. “Probably a good thing you had me come over. I don’t think Deputy Fife would have lasted long against anyone.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, well, I appreciate you keeping an eye on her. Arnie or Kevin will be over in a bit to let you off the hook. I’m sure you’ve got a shitload of school work to do, since you’ve been spending most of your time running around with us.”

“Yeah, actually. Found an envelope from someone in West Virginia. Not sure who they are. I tried to contact them but there wasn’t any answer.”

Sam agreed. “I’m traveling over that way now, actually, see if I can find these folks. Maybe they’ll lead somewhere, maybe not. Anyway, the house he was renting here hasn’t been used for at least a week. We found a few of his personal things, but no stolen military guns.”

Miranda put her phone away. Sam was getting close. He wasn’t there yet, but he was getting close enough that one small slip on her part and he would figure it all out. It was getting too hot to maintain the status quo. She also had work to do and wasn’t getting it done by sitting here, though when she looked at her watch she realized that she must have dozed off for almost an hour. The brief rest felt good.

She sat back and closed her eyes again, this time weighing her options. She needed to go to ground, lay low until the day after tomorrow. Or at least be somewhere where she could work and avoid being found. But where? Where was the last place that Sam would look for her, once he realized what the hell was truly happening?

The answer jolted her up out of her chair. Her pulse rose, pounding in her ears. Of course! It was so simple. Terrible, yet simple. She smiled softly and leaned back in her chair, waiting for her relief to show up.

It was after dusk when Sam finally rolled into the town of Sheridan, West Virginia. The address he sought was in a quiet, residential section, which wound up the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. The streets were paved, but very narrow, especially with cars parked on either side of them. Space was at a premium, even in this upper-middle class part of town.