Going Once (Forces of Nature) (7 page)

“What was that for?” he asked.

“I keep thinking what kind of trouble I’d be in right now if you and your team hadn’t showed up when you did.”

He frowned. “I don’t even want to go there. You’re damn lucky you’re still alive. Let’s get back inside. We’ll play this slow. It’ll be more believable if we don’t become too familiar too fast.”

“Like I said, I’ll follow your lead.”

“You go back in now. I’ll come in another door and we’ll take it from there.”

She nodded, and then slipped back around the building and went in the side door.

Tate circled the gym and went back in the front door as if he was just arriving.

* * *

Hershel entered the gym just as Peg came out of the office.

“Oh, good, a pair of strong arms. Do you have time to help me?” she asked.

“Sure. Lead the way,” he said, keeping an eye out for Benton, but he was nowhere in sight.

Peg pointed him toward the back door. “Help the other guys finish unloading. It’s all baby formula and diaper donations. The driver is on a tight schedule to get the rest of it downriver. They’re as hard hit as Queens Crossing is.”

This is how you need to be living—helping others. You have to quit this need for revenge. I don’t like it.

He ignored Louise’s yapping and jumped in to help. The next time he looked up, he saw Nola and Laura sitting in a corner talking and laughing, but still no sign of Benton.

A couple of minutes later, he spotted the man out in the gym drinking a bottle of pop and talking to some locals, and he reminded himself that the guy had grown up here. That was when it hit him that Benton wouldn’t actually stash a witness here, and it was a stupid assumption on his part.

As soon as he finished unloading, the truck driver signed off and drove away.

Leon walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Did you go to the press conference?”

Hershel nodded.

“What do you think about that Fed? Do you think he was lying? That Stormchaser has the sorry bastards jumping through hoops. He’s sharp as hell, that’s all I got to say.”

Hershel’s eyes widened in surprise.
I’ve heard about people who get hard-ons for serial killers. It seems I have myself a fan.

Shame on you, Hershel! You should not be proud of the fact. What you’re doing is a sin and you know it!

Hershel ignored Louise and glanced at his watch. It was almost noon. Laura had already asked him to be on site late tonight to unload another shipment. He had half a mind to grab a burger and go back to his travel trailer to get some sleep when he saw Nola get up and leave the kitchen.

He watched her just because he knew she was a link to Benton and toyed with the idea of killing her, too, just to show the hotshot what real grief was about. He was still watching her when he noticed Benton separate himself from the people he’d been talking to and walk across the gym to meet her. Hershel’s eyes widened as he watched them embrace. Their kiss was brief, but a kiss was a kiss. He was still mulling over what he’d seen as he walked out of the gym.

He drove through town to the local café. Calling the place Eats didn’t show much creativity, but he knew from experience that while the food was basic, it was good. He walked in, nodding to the people he passed, and went straight to the register to put in an order to go.

“Hey there. I see you came back,” the waitress said.

Hershel smiled. “Good food always brings a hungry man back.”

She laughed. “Do you know what you want, or do you need to see a menu?”

“Burger and fries, and a piece of that apple pie to go, please.”

“You got it,” she said. “Do you want something to drink while you wait?”

You like a Pepsi with your burgers, Hershel. Order yourself a Pepsi.

He frowned.
I can make my own decisions about what the hell I drink.

Don’t you curse me, Hershel Inman.

Go away, Louise. You’re dead. You don’t belong here anymore.

I won’t leave you, Hershel. I can’t. It’s your fault I’m still here, because you’re killing people in my name.

“I’ll have a Pepsi,” Hershel said, and then rolled his eyes when the waitress went to fill the order. Louise was dead and still running his life.

He took his Pepsi and sat down at a nearby table to wait for his food. As he did, he noticed that the people at the table next to him were from one of the news crews. He sat back, sipping his drink and honed in on their conversation.

“What do you think about the Feeb’s excuse?” one man said.

“You mean about the witness not seeing anything?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. I mean, the hospital verified that she came in unconscious, with a fever.”

“Yeah, but they also said they heard her mumbling something about a shooter.”

“It could be that she’d heard about the murders and was just afraid it would happen to her, but since she was out of her head sick, that’s how it came out. We don’t work for a tabloid, and I’m not into spreading lies for the sake of a half-assed scoop.”

That made Hershel feel even better, and he kept drinking his pop with one eye on the kitchen, waiting for his order to come up. He wanted to go home and kick back, watch a little TV as he ate, but his neighbors at the next table were still arguing the point.

“Look, he and the woman they pulled out of that tree, the one who must be the witness, what’s her name...? Landry. Nola Landry. They used to be an item. What if he spun that story to protect her? What if he lied?”

“He’s a federal agent.”

The guy laughed. “I repeat...what if he lied?”

Hershel choked on his pop and it came out through his nose.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, as he grabbed a handful of napkins and cleaned himself off.

The waitress came back to the counter carrying a brown paper bag.

“Here you go, honey. Your order is ready.”

Hershel whipped out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Keep the change,” he said as he grabbed the bag and headed for the door.

Hershel! You didn’t wait for your change. Why did you tip her that much? What were you thinking?

He slid into his truck seat, slammed the door and started the engine.

“Louise, I need you to stop talking now. My head hurts. I’m tired, and I’m hungry. Go away.”

You’re going to be sorry one of these days that you didn’t listen to me. Mark my words. You’re going to be sorry.

“I already am!” he shouted. “Now shut the fuck up. I mean it.”

He drove the rest of the way home in blessed silence, ate his food without tasting it and showered before crawling into bed. He set the alarm to make sure he didn’t oversleep and miss his night shift, and was out within minutes.

* * *

Cameron and Wade showed up just before 5:00 p.m. with fresh bandages and antiseptic for Nola’s wrists, and a bag of burgers and fries from Eats. They spotted Tate and Nola sitting on a cot, talking.

“Honey, we’re home!” Wade said as he set the bags on the upturned cardboard box and began digging out the food.

The kitchen had just started serving the evening meal, and most of the people in the gym were either standing in line to get their food or sitting outside at the dining tables, already eating.

“Smells good,” Nola said.

“We got some medicine for your wrists, but wait until after you eat to use it. It stinks,” Cameron said.

Tate grinned. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Wade and Cameron suddenly stopped, looked at the couple and then at each other. Their eyebrows went up, but it was Wade who spoke.

“You two are sitting together. Nola said something positive, and Tate smiled. What the hell’s going on?”

Nola looked to Tate to explain.

“Sit,” Tate said, and then lowered his voice. “It was Nola’s idea. After the news broke about a witness, with us hovering around her...well, you know where I guessed that would lead. She suggested we let people assume we were renewing our relationship to explain that away.”

Cameron eyed her closely. “That’s actually a good idea, especially since the identity of the witness who wasn’t a witness has pretty much been revealed.”

Nola’s smile disappeared as she cast a nervous glance in Tate’s direction, but he shrugged.

“It was only a matter of time. However, this is the best we can do, and the less said the better.”

“Am I in a lot of danger?” Nola asked.

“Maybe. Hang with us,” Tate said, going through the burgers until he found the one with mayo and no onions. “Here, this one is yours.”

She took the burger and unwrapped it. “Is there any—”

Tate handed her a packet of salt.

Wade grinned. “Well, isn’t this something? Just like an old married couple. Knows what she likes to eat and knows she’s gonna ask for salt before the words come out of her mouth. What do you think, Cameron?”

Cameron pointed at the sack. “I think you need to hand me my burger. It’s the one with double cheese and ketchup. And don’t forget fries. I ordered fries.”

“I ordered fries for everyone,” Wade muttered.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you won’t eat them all, anyway,” Tate said.

When the three partners laughed, Nola laughed along with them, even though she didn’t really feel like it. She’d told Tate she would follow his lead, and if this was it, she was game. She took a bite of her burger and dipped a French fry in the ketchup Tate squirted on the paper. She’d never thought about what she might want her last meal to be, and she sincerely hoped this wouldn’t be it.

* * *

Cameron Winger was kicked back on his cot with his laptop open, but he was watching the Red Cross crew back in the kitchen while the facial recognition program continued to run.

There were a half-dozen or so people back in the kitchen area, talking and playing cards as they waited for the last delivery truck to show up so they could unload it and go home.

Judd Allen was shuffling the deck, while Bill Carter and Laura appeared to be arguing, something about dealing from the bottom of the deck. Two men Cameron knew only as Brad and John were watching a small television set up in the corner of the room, waiting for their new cards to be dealt. Leon Mooney was sitting by himself eating a bag of chips and drinking a Coke, while a woman named Patty was refilling everyone’s coffee cups.

Cameron had one eye on his computer screen and the other on Nola, who was at the far end of the gym talking to friends. Tate was at their field office, which they’d set up in the police station, finishing up some reports, and Wade was somewhere outside.

All of a sudden the program signaled a match, and Cameron jumped. It was Judd Allen’s face, but the name under the photo was Grady Bell. Tate had been right. Bell had done time, and there were two outstanding arrest warrants on him, one for armed robbery, the other for assault, both from the state of Washington. He frowned. The man only matched a couple of markers on the profile of their killer, and Cameron couldn’t see anything in his rap sheet that would lead anyone to think he would start committing random murders. He was, however, a wanted man. Cameron closed the laptop, and then got up and walked to a more secure place to call Tate, who answered on the first ring.

“Hello.”

“It’s me,” Cameron said. “We got a hit on Judd Allen, just like you thought, only his name is Grady Bell. He has two outstanding arrest warrants from Washington State, one robbery, one assault, but I don’t think he’s our killer. You need to let the chief know. Maybe they can get him out of here without alerting anyone to what’s going on. I’d hate to do anything to scare these people. They’ve been through enough.”

“I knew he was jumpy about something,” Tate said. “I’ll tell Beaudry. Is Nola okay?”

“Yes. She’s at the far end of the gym visiting with some friends.”

“Okay. I’m just about done here. I’ll be back before long.”

“See you soon,” Cameron said, and hung up.

When he walked back into the gym area he checked on Nola, then glanced toward the kitchen. The truck they’d been waiting on must have arrived. The card game had been abandoned, and the back door was open. As he watched, the crew began wheeling in dollies loaded with freight. He walked back that way and caught Laura coming in with an armload of paper products.

“Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure,” she said. “Let me put this stuff down and I’ll be right with you.”

Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled, then nodded at Brad and John as they came in carrying boxes.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Long day,” Brad said.

“Not bad,” John added. “I had a nap earlier.”

Patty was unloading a dolly just inside the storeroom.

“Who slept?” she asked, as she poked her head out the door.

“John did,” Brad said, and laughed.

Patty shook her head. “That beauty sleep didn’t do you much good. Come help me put this stuff up on the shelf. I’m too short to reach.”

“Why sure, shrimp. I’ll just take my ugly self right in there and help you out.”

They all laughed, which was good, because when Allen came in, he looked startled to see an FBI agent in the kitchen.

Cameron didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to spook him. And as soon as Laura came out, they walked away.

“So, is there a problem?” she asked.

“Yes. Your Judd Allen has two outstanding arrest warrants from the state of Washington, only his real name is Grady Bell. Beaudry should be on his way over here to take him into custody. I’d like to do it with as little fuss as possible.”

She groaned. “Oh, no. I can’t believe he slipped under our radar. We’ve just been so overwhelmed that we gladly take any semi-local help we can get.”

“I don’t think he’s a local,” he said.

She frowned. “Oh. Well, I know he’s been staying at the local trailer park, because he’s one of the volunteers who came in early. He was already here when we arrived. Said he was down from Natchez. Said he’d heard some of the Red Cross there talking about setting up down here, as well, so I just figured that’s where he was from.”