Point Pleasant (49 page)

“Put your seatbelt on,” Nicholas said when he slammed his door shut. “Please.”

Ben said nothing, but he complied. Nicholas reversed out of the gravel driveway. His lips remained pursed into a tight line until they were almost back on Main Street.

“I went to Town Hall. Silas laughed in my face.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, but he kept quiet.

“He said, ‘good luck with that’ and wished us well. Told me to use whatever force I deem necessary and take whatever precautions possible but that we’d need to find someone else to be our seventh.”

The car smelled of leather seats and Nicholas’ woodsy cologne. Ben hated it. He took a moment to assess the bells and whistles of the dashboard; there was a complicated radio and handset, an array of extra buttons to control the cruiser’s lights and sirens, and a closed Panasonic Toughbook was mounted to the front dash. The distraction of the setup helped to settle Ben’s alcohol-induced haze and gave him focus.

Nicholas spared a glimpse at Ben and frowned. “Are you listening?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“It was
your
idea I ask him,” Nicholas snapped. “And it blew up in my face just like I knew it would.”

“And it was worth asking,” Ben said, shrugging. “Also, I see you still have your badge, so it didn’t go
exactly
the way you said.”

Nicholas gripped at the steering wheel as if incensed by the coolness of Ben’s tone. “For now. Astrid and Daniel agreed. I asked a few of my other officers, but they very politely declined. They’re brave, but they’ve grown up with the stories. They’re all too spooked.”

“Well, I don’t know who else to ask, Sheriff,” Ben said finally. “Everyone in town thinks this is my fault, so no one is going to help me if I ask. No one—”

A sudden thought struck Ben like a shot from Tucker’s Remington. Maybe there
was
someone to ask. Someone who was in town but not
from
town.

“What?” Nicholas asked, speeding down Main Street.

“Dawson.”

“
That
asshole?”

“That asshole owes me.”

“No. Absolutely not. We’ll find someone else. I don’t like the way he—” Nicholas started, but he tightened his lips once more and did not continue.

“Too bad,” Ben said. “I’m asking him. Drop me off at his café.”

“Ben, I swear,
this
is what I mean. You just completely ignore me and run headlong into whatever
you
think is best.”

“We need a seventh. Would you prefer we ask someone from town? How about Mae? Look, I’m pretty sure I can get him to agree. Just stop the car, please.”

Nicholas seemed to consider the idea as he turned the cruiser into the Sheriff’s Department’s parking lot. “Fine, but I’m coming too.”

“I don’t need backup.”

“He’s a crooked ex-lawyer who embezzled funds from his clients. I’m not leaving you alone with him so that he can charm you into some fucked up bargain in exchange for his help.”

“Why the fuck do you care what I bargain for?”

Nicholas got out of the car with Ben and slammed his door shut in response. Ben ignored the outburst and headed toward Dawson’s on the other side of the square. He swallowed a curse when he realized Nicholas was right behind him.

The café was deserted. The barista slumped over the register, clutching a smartphone in his right palm as if it was an extension of himself. Ben spotted the Network Connectivity Error message on the screen as the young man jabbed at it repeatedly.

“Where’s your boss?” Ben asked.

The young man gestured at a door behind the counter. Ben did not wait for a further reply. He entered the office without knocking, and Nicholas followed.

Dawson lounged behind his desk with his feet propped on its surface. He looked up from an old Penguin paperback of
The Man in the High Castle
and startled at Ben and Nicholas’ abrupt entrance.

“Fellas,” Dawson said, his tone casual but suspect. “Am I under arrest?”

“I need your help,” Ben said. “And the way I figure it, you owe me.”

Dawson winced comically and gave Ben a dazzling grin. “Is this about my big mouth?”

“You think?” Ben asked, shooting the man an incredulous glare.

“I concede I may have committed a slight error in judgment.”

“
Slight?
” Ben repeated, and his voice rose high with vexation.

“All right, all right. A girl’s gotta eat.” Dawson kicked his feet off the desk and stood.

Nicholas cleared his throat, and Ben rolled his eyes.

“Why, Mr. Wisehart,” Dawson chided. “Do I detect a hint of annoyance with our beloved sheriff?”

“We need your help,” Ben said, ignoring the question. “Are you in or not?”

“What exactly do I have to help with?” Dawson asked, and he frowned at Nicholas with a wariness that Ben could not help but share. “I’m not a fan of his, you see.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” Nicholas replied.

“We’re taking care of the town’s
problem
tonight,” Ben said. “We need an extra pair of hands.”

Dawson adjusted his suit jacket as he faced Ben. “By ‘problem,’ I assume you mean the issue of the winged variety in the woods that everyone’s whispering about, hmm?”

Ben nodded in confirmation and tried to disregard the way Nicholas assessed them from the corner of the room.

“As tempting as that sounds, cupcake, I’m afraid I really must decline.”

“You don’t get to decline. You sold me out.
You owe me
. If it goes south tonight, this little chain of yours goes up in flames, and you along with it.”

“Are you threatening me?” Dawson asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m just telling you the score.”

“Are you legitimately insane?” Dawson asked. “I know most writers are, but this is a new flavor of crazy, my friend. There’s
nothing
in the woods! It’s all a fairy tale told by these
yokels!
”
he said, gesturing wildly at Nicholas. “Offense intended, by the way.”

“Watch your mouth,” Nicholas said, stepping forward.

“You don’t scare me, Flatfoot. You may intimidate everyone else ‘round these here parts,” Dawson said, affecting a mocking West Virginian twang, “but you don’t scare me.”

Nicholas moved closer, and Ben put himself between the two men.

“All right, stow your junk, boys,” he said.

“Tell you what,” Dawson said, seeming unfazed as he turned to his desk. He draped himself in his chair and kicked his feet up once again. “I’ll help. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming on,” Ben said.

“But I have my conditions,” Dawson said.

“What conditions?” Nicholas asked from behind Ben.

Dawson settled his smile on Nicholas. “We all have a price, Sheriff. What’s yours?”

Ben spared a glance over his shoulder to Nicholas, who clenched his jaw and drew his hands into fists as they hung at his sides.

“Drop your case,” Dawson continued. “Nobody here needs to know about Atlanta. It’d ruin my business, send me under, and take away the economic value I bring to your fair town.”

“Don’t act like you’re here on honest terms,” Nicholas shot back. “You’re hiding out, plain and simple. You think nobody will find you hiding in the middle of fuckshit West Virginia, but you can’t shake a criminal record.”

“Stop poking your nose in my affairs,” Dawson said through clenched teeth. “And don’t pretend to be all high and mighty when you’ve come to
me
for help. I assume whatever you two are up to isn’t exactly in line with the law. If that’s the case, I might just be your man. I also assume whatever you’re planning isn’t quite danger-free, or you’d be asking someone else. Someone you think would actually be missed.” He paused and cast a knowing look between the two of them. “I’m a crack shot with a rifle. My daddy and me used to shoot skeet every weekend. And I promise I won’t even accidentally slip and shoot you by mistake, Sheriff.”

“Is that what you told the officials in Fulton County?” Nicholas asked. “That you slipped?”

Dawson laced his hands behind his head and reclined in his chair. Ben was reminded of his previous notion that Dawson was not your typical shark but rather that he bore the toothy grin of a friendly orca—friendly, of course, until he bit you in half.

“You’ve read the reports, Sheriff,” Dawson said. “Don’t play dumb, though I must say it suits you.”

“We’re done here,” Nicholas said. “Ben, let’s go.”

“Fuck,” Ben uttered under his breath.

“Offer’s only on the table once,” Dawson replied as he eyed Nicholas. “All you have to do is give me your word right now. I’ll shake your hand as a gentleman’s agreement. If you need someone that badly, you’ve got him. And you won’t be throwing any of your precious townsfolk into harm’s way. I’ll even let Preston James over here tie a bow around me, but that’s just ‘cause he’s pretty.”

“I’ll be finalizing my case without your assistance tonight, Dawson. And when I ship your sorry ass back to Atlanta for the trial, I’ll be sure to send you one of your fucking muffin baskets,” Nicholas said, fixing a withering gaze on Dawson. “As always, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Dawson said, meeting Nicholas’ glare with a scowl of his own. “You think you’re so much better than me?”

“Ben,
now
,” Nicholas said, his tone sharp as he held open the door.

Ben headed out of the office without looking back at Dawson. Nicholas slammed the door, leaving Dawson to curse on the other side.

Outside the café, the
I-told-you-so
look on Nicholas’ face was so infuriating that Ben had to turn away.

“Any other bright ideas, Wiseass?” Nicholas asked with a haughty tone to match his expression.

“You could have fucking mentioned he’s a suspect for
murder
,” Ben said, and he stared off across the desolate square.

“What, him being disbarred for corruption was okay on your morality chart?” Nicholas asked, scoffing.

Once again, Ben felt like taking a swing at the sheriff. Instead, he strode toward the fountain.

“Where are you going
now
?” Nicholas yelled.

Ben did not reply, but he heard the sound of Nicholas footsteps when he apparently realized that Ben was headed toward Town Hall. Ben broke out into a sprint and leapt up the front steps that led to the main entrance and yanked the weighty glass door open. He pulled the door shut behind him and smiled as he clicked its bulky lock into place, marveling over the fact that a government building would even have accessible locks, especially in light of the town’s modernization. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the diversion it offered in that moment. And for the fact that reception seemed to be vacant at the weekends.

Nicholas seized the door handles and heaved to no avail. Ben gave a little wave when the door did not budge. An antique sofa sat several feet away in the small waiting area of the entry hall. Its brass feet screeched against the marble floor when Ben dragged it in front of the door as a temporary barricade. He turned his back on Nicholas, who was fumbling at his belt for his ring of keys, and took to the stairs.

The mayor’s office was at the end of a long corridor on the third floor. Silas Stewart sat behind his desk, hunched over paperwork, with his door open. Ben walked straight into the office and snapped the door shut behind him.

Stewart jerked upright in alarm. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m here to talk some sense into you,” Ben said, taking a seat in one of the chairs that stood before the desk. “It’s nice to see you hard at work on a Sunday. Do you always put in such long hours, or is it just easier to hide your tail between your legs when you’re wearing such a fancy suit?”

Stewart’s eyes grew wide when Ben kicked his feet onto the desktop just as Dawson had done in the rear room of the café.

“Mr. Wisehart,” Stewart said as he rose from the chair. “You will leave my office immediately.”

“No, Silas, I don’t think I will,” Ben replied with a conversational lilt to his voice. “Because we have a situation, and we need your help.”

“I’ve already spoken to Sheriff Nolan about this. If you don’t get your muddy feet off my desk and your damn fool ass out of my office right this instant, I will have him drag you off to a holding cell.”

“Oh, he’s downstairs. I locked him out, so we have a few minutes to talk before he comes charging in like a hero.”

“You’re insane,” Stewart replied.

“No,
you
are.”

Anger darkened Stewart’s features, and he reached for his phone.

“The phone lines are dead, and I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to hear out,” Stewart replied.

“Oh, but there is,” Ben snapped. “As I was saying, we have a situation, and we need you. This is your town, sir.
Yours
. You’re the goddamn mayor, and Point Pleasant needs you.”

Stewart dropped the receiver into its cradle. The weary expression of a man who had toiled under some heavy weight for far too long settled across his otherwise stolid features. “I’m an old man, Wisehart. There’s not much I’m going to be able to help with.”

“Bill Tucker’s older than you!”

“That old fool,” Stewart said with a snort.

“That old fool’s done more to look out for Point Pleasant in the last couple of days than you have, sir.”

“You have no right to come into my office, in
my
town, and talk to me like this, boy. I don’t care how famous you think you are.”

“Someone has to,” Ben replied, opting to ignore the insult. “This town is about to go to hell. Literally.
Your
town, sir. And you can do something to save it! But you’re sitting here filing paper work? The fuck? You were friends with my dad. You used to go hunting together. Remember when you shot that buck? That massive thing. You kept the antlers, didn’t you?”

Stewart remained quiet, but he gave a faint nod.

“You know,” Ben started, slumping in his chair, “since I came back to Point Pleasant, all I’ve found out is that the men I used to respect and admire when I was growing up here are just glorified
cowards
. And that the old recluse who lives on the edge of town has more valor in his toenails than any of you idiots have combined.”