Good Day In Hell (24 page)

Curt launched himself at Keller, his fists raised. Keller waited until the boy was almost on him, then stepped slightly to one side. Curt’s momentum had carried him partway past Keller, and the wild punch he threw did the rest. Keller pivoted and grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt, using the leverage and inertia to propel him into the wall. At the last second, he yanked the collar of the shirt to jerk him upright so he hit the wall with his chest rather than his face.

“CURT!” his mother screamed. Keller drove his body into Curt’s, forcing the breath out of him. “I’ll say this for you,” he grated into the boy’s ear, “you’ve got more guts than your old man. He didn’t even try. Now, are you going to behave?”

Curt was sobbing. “You son of a bitch,” he blubbered. “You son of a bitch.”

“Hey,” Keller said, “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? At least I didn’t sell out my sister for a fucking Jeep.” He slammed Curt one more time against the wall, then let him drop. Curt slid to the floor, weeping.

Keller turned to Ellen Marks. She was standing, her hand over her mouth. Tears ran down her face from beneath the dark glasses. “Thanks for the directions, Ellen,” he said. He walked out, tucking the paper into his shirt pocket. He closed the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of Curt’s sobs. His footsteps echoed in the silence of the hall as if he were walking out of a tomb.

“Can you put this thing down in the parking lot?” Grace asked the pilot. The engine noise inside the news helicopter was deafening, so they had to speak over headset microphones.

The pilot glanced at her. “I could,” he said. “But I don’t know how much the cops are going to like it.”

They were circling over the sprawling hog processing plant. Once Grace had been given control of the story, she had moved quickly, summoning the chopper back to pick her up and carry her back to the scene of the killings. Below her, Grace could see the tiny figures of cops and investigators swarming over the scene. The dead had been taken away; at the range from which the killers had fired, there were no wounded. The road had been blocked off for a quarter-mile on either side of the entrance to the hog plant. The only vehicles on the road were police cars, a few nondescript vehicles that were probably FBI, and the vehicles of the victims. The plant had been evacuated, the line shut down. The parking lot was mostly empty.

“Do it,” Grace said, “I’ll handle the cops.”

The pilot looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded. The chopper began to descend. Grace turned back to look at her cameraman in the back of the chopper. He wasn’t wearing a headset, so she had to yell.

“Wayne, put the camera on me as soon as we get out!”

“We’re not live!” he yelled back.

“They won’t know that!”

Wayne grinned and gave a thumbs-up. Grace loved working with Wayne. He would go anywhere, do anything to get the right shot. In his off hours, he enjoyed bungee jumping and skydiving. While he may have lacked Grace’s ambition, the man apparently had no sense of self-preservation at all. Grace liked that in a cameraman.

Grace looked back outside the helicopter and immediately wished she hadn’t. The ground seemed to be rushing toward them at a sickeningly high rate of speed. She grabbed the sides of her seat and took a deep breath. Just as it seemed they would slam into the ground, the pilot pulled back on the stick and the nose of the big machine pulled up. They settled onto the asphalt of the parking lot with only a slight jar. Grace ripped her headset off and yanked the door open. The roar of the engine became deafening. She leaped out of the helicopter into the fierce downdraft of the rotor, head down. Wayne followed, slinging his camera onto his shoulder as he went. He handed Grace a handheld microphone.

Grace looked up. Two men in dark suits were running toward them across the parking lot, waving their arms and yelling. A small group of uniformed cops was jogging after them. As they drew closer, Grace recognized Clancy and his partner Gray. Before either of them could say anything, she thrust the mike out in front of her. The helicopter engine was winding down, but she still had to raise her voice over the sound.

“Grace Tranh, News Ten,” she said. “What can you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, lady,” Clancy began, “except get that goddamn thing out of this—” Gray stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Clancy looked back at his partner as if he was going to throw a punch. Gray just nodded at the camera, which was pointed directly at the two men. The uniformed cops had come up by this time and were looking uncertainly at Wayne and Grace.

“Is that thing on?” Clancy yelled. “Turn it off!”

Wayne’s only response was to reach out and adjust the lens slightly as if bringing Clancy into better focus.

“God damn it,” Clancy said, his face growing even redder, “I said—”

“In five,” Wayne said, “Four, three, two, one …” Clancy looked about ready to reach out and grab the camera, but Grace began talking as Wayne finished the countdown.

“This is Grace Tranh, live from the scene of the senseless shootings this morning at the Barnwell Foods hog plant in Bladen County. With us is Agent Clancy of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Agent Clancy, what can you tell us?”

Clancy’s belligerence evaporated, but his eyes looked daggers at Grace as he said in a dry, official voice, “We are still conducting a thorough field investigation and we have no comment at this time.”

“We understand that there was a survivor of the massacre. Someone who saw one of the killers well enough to give a description. Can you comment on that?”

“There was one person who, for some reason, the perpetrator or perpetrators chose not to fire on. That person is giving a statement now.”

“Can you tell us—”

“That’s all we have for the moment,” Gray broke in. “A complete statement will be issued later.” He and Clancy turned and walked off. The uniforms followed.

Grace turned to the camera as if she was talking to the audience. “Wayne,” she said softly, “whatever you do, keep acting like that camera’s live. Those assholes will have me in handcuffs the minute they think they’re not being watched. And they probably won’t even buy me dinner first.”

“You got it, babe,” Wayne said.

“Miss Train?” someone said. Grace turned. There was a tall deputy who looked to be in his late twenties standing there. Grace instinctively thmst the mike toward him. In her on-air voice, she began, “We’re speaking to Deputy—”

“Ma’am,” the deputy said politely, “I know we’re not on TV.” He nodded toward Wayne. “Your camera guy there has your microphone cord stuck in his pocket.”

Grace lowered the mike and looked at Wayne. “Hey,” he said. “I was in a hurry.”

I’ll kill him later, Grace thought. She turned back to the deputy. “Pretty good powers of observation there, Deputy…” she leaned closer to inspect the nameplate over his right shirt pocket, “Wheeler.”

He grinned. “Amazin’ what you can notice when you’re not busy pitchin’ a hissy fit like Mister FBI.”

“You’ll be chief before you know it,” she said flirtatiously.

“Yeah. Right,” he said.

Shit, he’s not buying it, Grace thought. She relaxed, however, when Wheeler said, “Pretty slick, though. Runnin’ that scam on those FBI guys.”

She took the opening. “Guess they’re not making a lot of friends around here.”

He snorted. “You got that right.” Then he turned serious. “You said something about a survivor,” he said. “The girl who saw the folks that done this.”

“You know who it is?”

He nodded. “She’s my cousin. Well, sorta. By marriage.”

Grace’s heart leaped. “Think she’d like to talk to me?”

He looked thoughtful. “Would she get to be on TV?”

“Absolutely,” Grace said.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “She’s with some guy right now tryin’ to do a sketch of the person she saw.”

“A police artist?”

“Yeah.”

Grace reached into a jacket pocket, pulled out a card. “Have her call me. Please.”

He took the card. “Okay,” he said. “One more thing?”

“Sure.”

He looked bashful. “Can I have your autograph?”

She laughed. “No problem. You got any paper?” He pulled out a notebook and a pen and handed it to her.

“Tell your cousin we’ll stick around as long as we can,” she said as she scribbled her name down. “If she wants we’ll even fly her to the studio.”

Wheeler grinned and took the notebook back. “Doubt it,” he said. “She don’t like to fly.”

Keller was headed inland, rolling through the flat coastal plain toward Fayetteville. He considered calling Marie and telling her about his lead. He knew she’d insist on telling law enforcement right away, and they’d be all over the place before he could get there. And Laurel Marks was his takedown. Still, he didn’t like keeping things from her. He stopped and thought that over for a minute. He picked the phone up. If you call her, a voice in his head reminded him, you’ll lose the
takedown on the Marks girl. He shook his head and put the phone down. He considered the odds against him on the takedown. Two against one, both of them known to be armed, and both of them most likely cold-blooded killers. No way, he thought. Can’t be done. Stupid to try. But the hunter’s rush that always drew him on when he was after a runner wouldn’t go away. Jesus, he thought. Maybe I really am crazy. He turned the situation over in his head. He decided to wait until he got closer to Fayetteville, then call. He’d let her know, let her call in the backup, but only after he was assured of getting his quarry. She’d get the credit for the collar on Randle, he’d get the Marks girl. Everybody wins, he thought. But he’d have to time it just right.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“My babysitter didn’t show up,” the girl said. “An’ I knew if I missed work they’d fire me.”

“And that’s why you had your baby in the car with you,” Grace said.

The girl nodded. “I work in the front office, not on the floor. I figgered I could give him his bottle, keep him quiet, an’ maybe I could get by with it. I done it before.”

“One minute, Grace,” Wayne said. Grace nodded.

They were set up in the parking lot, the massive blankness of the hog plant forming a backdrop for the live shot. Wheeler had been right. His cousin wasn’t going anywhere near the chopper.

The girl’s name was Mindy Chadwick. She was twenty-two years old, a single mother. The child’s father hadn’t been heard from since right after she had found out she was pregnant. She had already expressed her hope to Grace that the plant would be reopening soon. “I mean, it’s sad about those people and all,” she had said, “but I need that paycheck.”

“Thirty seconds,” Wayne said.

“Wayne, does the station have the police artist’s sketch yet?” Wayne stopped focusing long enough to give a thumbs-up. “They just got it,” he said. “Ready to put on screen when you give the word.”

“Okay,” Grace said. She turned to Mindy. “Nervous?” she said.

“A little,” the girl admitted. Grace leaned over and told the girl in a just-between-us whisper, “So am I.”

Mindy giggled. “Really?”

No, not really, Grace thought, but that bullshit always loosens people up. She smiled.

“Innnnn … five … four … three … two … one …”

Grace raised the mike to her lips. “Tom, I’m here with Mindy Chadwick, a survivor of the massacre at Bamwell Foods that claimed the lives of eight of her coworkers. Mindy, I understand that you actually got a close look at one of the killers.”

“Uh-huh,” Mindy said. She seemed suddenly paralyzed by the camera eye on her.

Uh-oh, Grace thought. She’s freezing up. Damn it. “And you’ve been working with a police artist this afternoon to provide us with our first look at one of the people responsible for this heinous act, and possibly for the church and diner shootings of a few nights ago.”

“What?” Mindy said.

Shit shit shit. “Bob,” she said, “let’s put that up onscreen, shall we?” She paused a second, then said, “Mindy, tell us, why do you think the killer spared your life?”

“I dunno,” Mindy said. She was actually looking down at the ground. Grace fought down the temptation to scream at her. “You had your young son in the car with you, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe that caused the gunman to show some mercy.”

“Uh-huh,” Mindy said, then she giggled nervously.

Fuck this, Grace thought. She turned back to the camera, stepping slightly to one side. Wayne smoothly adjusted focus to put her into a one-shot.

“A surprising act of mercy in a day of carnage,” she said. “In Bladen County, I’m Grace Tranh.”

“We’re out,” Wayne said.

Grace looked over at Mindy. She had her hands folded across her chest. She looked miserable. “I din’t do too well, did I?”

Grace patted her on the shoulder. “You did fine, hon,” she said. Stupid bitch, she thought.

Shelby was standing on the porch, waiting as Marie pulled up.

“Hey,” he said as she got out.

“Hey,” she said back. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem,” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t talk earlier, but I was at the station.” He opened the door and gestured her inside.