Spencerville (28 page)

At Hagerstown, Keith told him to pick up I-70 westbound. It was a good road, almost devoid of traffic at that hour, but it wound through the Appalachian Mountains, and Stewart, who had been an aggressive urban driver, became very timid.

Keith asked him to pull over at a rest stop, where Stewart made a quick trip to the John and returned to find Keith behind the wheel. "Sir, you're not authorized to drive this car."

"Except in an emergency, which is you nodding off behind the wheel. Lie down in the back, Stewart, and get some rest, or I'll leave you here."

"Yes, sir." Stewart got into the rear and lay down on the wide seat.

Keith continued on. Within fifteen minutes, he heard snores coming from the rear. He played the radio at a low volume and listened to country music from a Wheeling, West Virginia, station. There was a funny song about a divorced guy who sang, "She got the gold mine, I got the shaft," that Keith found a welcome break from all the heartache-and-misery songs.

South of Pittsburgh, on I-70, Keith stopped for fuel. It was four-twenty A.M., and Columbus was about five more hours, he knew, then another two hours on secondary and country roads to Spencerville and about an hour to Chatham. He wasn't going to make his ten A.M. appointment in Chatham County, or the two-fifteen flight out of Toledo. But he should be close enough to go ahead with the plan in some modified form.

At seven A.M., still a few hours out of Columbus, Keith tried to dial Chatham County information to get Terry's number, but he had no luck getting the car phone to connect. He pulled over at a rest stop and went to a pay phone. Stewart woke up, got out, and stretched.

Keith got the area code operator and asked for the number of Terry or Lawrence Ingram in Chatham County. A recording gave him the number, and he used his credit card to make the call.

A female voice answered, "Hello?"

"Terry?"

"Yes?"

"This is Keith Landry."

"Oh, my God! Oh..."

"Is everything all right there?"

"Yes. Where are you? Are you coming? What time is it?"

"Terry, listen to me. I'm on the road, east of Columbus. I'm going to be late. I won't be there until... sometime early afternoon. Okay? I have to go to my place first. You got all that?"

"Yes... Annie will be here at ten. What should I tell her?"

Keith took a deep breath. Clearly, not everyone in the Prentis family was sharp. "Tell her what I just said."

"Oh. Okay. Keith, I'm so excited for both of you. You don't know how unhappy she's been. This is wonderful, like a dream, I can't believe this is happening."

Keith let her go on for a while, then interrupted. "Terry, do not call her. Listen, I think her phone may be tapped. Your call may wind up at police headquarters. Understand?"

"Yes... but she'll be coming here at ten..."

"Fine. Tell her in person. Have lunch. I'll be there as soon as I can. We'll catch a later flight. Okay?"

"Yes, I'll tell her. What time?.."

"About one. I won't call again. Just tell her to wait."

"I can't wait to see you again."

"Me, too. Thanks, Terry. Thanks for being the middleman all these years. Just this one last time. Okay?"

"Where are you now?"

"Near Columbus, Ohio. I'm driving in from Washington. There was bad weather, and I couldn't get a flight back. When Annie gets there, tell her I'm on the way and I apologize. Also, tell her not to call my house. My phone may also be tapped."

"Your phone?"

"Yes, my phone. By her husband."

"He's a bastard. I hate him."

"Right." Keith went through it one more time, then said, "See you later." He hung up and got back in the car. He said to Stewart, who was now sitting in the front passenger seat, "You want to call home? I'll give you my credit card."

"No, thanks. I'll call from Ohio."

"We're in Ohio."

"Oh... I'll call later. It's too early."

Keith started the car and got on the road, taking the circular highway north around Columbus, then headed north and west on Route 23.

It was a sunny day, cool, with scattered white clouds. There was some early Saturday traffic, mostly campers and recreational vehicles, heading up to the lakes, probably, or to Michigan.

Stewart seemed fascinated with the countryside. "It's all farms. What's that stuff? Corn?"

"Yes, corn."

"Who eats all that corn? I eat corn maybe once a month. You eat a lot of corn out here?"

Rather than explain about field corn and sweet corn, cattle feed and people food, Keith said, "We eat corn three times a day."

Stewart was wide awake now and enjoying the scenery. He pointed out barns, cattle, and pigs to Keith.

They made good time, but not great time, and it was almost eleven A.M. when they crossed into Spencer County.

Keith slowed down and took it easy the last fifteen miles. He saw no county or municipal police on the roads, and they wouldn't recognize this car anyway, but he didn't want a problem this close to the end.

Keith pulled up to his driveway and took a few pieces of mail out of his box, nipping through it as he pulled up to the house. It was mostly junk mail, but there was also a summons for him to appear in Spencerville traffic court for a variety of parking violations that he didn't recall getting tickets for. Petty harassment, but he realized he could be pulled over by the police anytime if he didn't answer the summons by the appearance date, which was Monday. He'd be long gone by then.

Stewart asked, "You live here?"

"I do." Keith stopped near the front porch and got out. Stewart got out, too, and was busy looking around, so Keith got his bag from the trunk and said, "Come on in and wash up."

They entered the house through the front door, and Keith led Stewart up the stairs. "Bathroom's there. Meet you downstairs. Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator."

Keith went into his room and threw his garment bag on the bed, then took the packed suitcase out of the wardrobe cabinet. His overnight bag was always packed with toiletries and underwear, a habit from two decades of unplanned travel. His briefcase was already packed with his important papers, and he slipped his passport in his suit jacket pocket.

The bathroom was empty now, and Keith cleaned up, then took his things downstairs.

Stewart was in the kitchen having a glass of orange juice, and Keith poured the last of the juice into a glass for himself. He said, "Sorry I have nothing to offer you for breakfast, Stewart."

"Oh, that's okay." He looked around. "This is a real old house."

"About a hundred years old. Can you find your way back to Washington?"

"I think so."

Keith took four hundred dollars out of his wallet and said, "This is for gas, food, and tolls. Stop at a farm stand and get some fresh produce. Mrs. Arkell will love it."

"Thank you, Colonel. I had a good time."

"I knew you would. We'll do it again sometime."

"Can I use your phone, sir?"

"No, it's tapped. No one knows I'm here. Call from the road."

Stewart had been around long enough not to be surprised or to ask questions. Keith steered Stewart toward the door, and Stewart carried the suitcase out to the porch. Keith gave Stewart directions to Route 23 and said, "The cops in this county are tough. Take it easy."

"Yes, sir. Hope I see you in Washington again."

"You never know." They shook hands, and Stewart left.

Keith ran through a mental checklist, then closed and locked the front door, and carried his luggage out back to the Blazer.

There was a note on the front seat, and Keith read the printed message: You was supposed to be gone by Friday, and I see your car still here. I'll be coming around Monday to see if you're gone.

The note was unsigned and not written in words that could be construed as threatening in a court of law. But Keith had no intention of going to the county prosecutor. He was either going to kill Baxter or let him live. The choice was actually Baxter's.

Keith wondered why Baxter was waiting until Monday, then realized that Baxter was away on his Saturday hunting or fishing trip. And tomorrow being the Sabbath, even Police Chief Baxter might want a day of peace and rest. It didn't matter. Keith would be gone before Monday. In fact, by tonight, when Cliff Baxter returned home and didn't see his wife there, he might figure it out and realize that indeed Keith Landry was gone, and so was Mrs. Baxter. Keith wondered if she would leave him a note.

Keith got in the Blazer and turned the ignition switch. Nothing happened. Completely dead. He popped the hood release, got out, and lifted the hood. The battery was gone, and in its place was a note that said, simply, "Fuck you."

Keith took a deep breath. The man was making it difficult for Keith to keep his promise to Annie. All in all, the last few days hadn't been good days, starting with Charlie Adair driving up to his house. The White House was no treat, either. Neither was Hurricane Jack. Now this. "Okay, Landry. A new transportation problem." He thought a moment, then walked to the barn. The garden tractor had a 12-volt battery, and it should have enough amps to kick over the Blazer.

He slid open the door and sat on the tractor. He was going to start it, ride it over to the Blazer, let it charge awhile, then put the tractor battery in his car. He pushed the starter button. Dead. But he heard a clicking sound and looked at the dashboard. Someone had turned on the headlight switch, and the battery had run down. "Cliff, you're getting on my nerves."

He got off the tractor and looked out across the road at the Jenkins farmhouse. He could borrow a battery from them, but he noticed that both their vehicles, the car and the pickup truck, were gone. He could borrow their tractor battery, with or without their knowledge, but you didn't do that around here.

He went inside and tried the Jenkinses' number, but, as he thought, no one was home. The Muller farm was about a half-mile walk down the road. "Damn it."

He looked through the phone directory and called a service station out on the highway, and they said they'd be there in half an hour with a new battery. The man added, "Damn kids probably stole it. You ought to call the cops."

"I will." He gave them directions to his farm and hung up. "Maybe I should have called Baxter Motors because that's where my battery is."

He considered calling Terry. Annie was there now, waiting, and Cliff Baxter was presumably out of town. But what if his calls did actually go through police headquarters? No matter how guarded he tried to be with Terry, or whoever answered, the call would be like a four-alarm bell ringing at police headquarters. All his instincts, as well as his tradecraft, said, "Do not use the phone."

He used the time to shave, shower, and change into casual clothes, all the while trying to put these bad omens into a happier context. The course of true love never did run smooth. "Tonight, Washington, dinner with the Adairs, Sunday, maybe the National Cathedral, Monday, Charlie's tour of Washington, then submit a written turndown of the job offer, get the passport, and fly to Rome no later than Wednesday." Sounded good. "Where's the damned battery? For want of a nail, the king sat in Dumferling Town." Something like that.

About forty minutes after he'd called, a pickup truck came into the driveway, and within ten minutes, he had a new battery. He started the Blazer while the serviceman was still there, and everything seemed to be all right.

Keith pulled out of the driveway, and within a few minutes was heading south on a straight country road toward Chatham County. It was one thirty-five P.M., and he'd be there in less than an hour.

A blue and white Spencer County sheriff's car fell in behind him. At this point, Keith couldn't care less. There was only the driver in the car, and Keith decided that if the sheriff pulled him over, the sheriff would find himself hog-tied in the trunk of his own car.

At the southern end of Spencer County, Keith got onto an eastbound highway, giving the impression he was heading to Columbus and points east, in case the man was wondering why Keith Landry was taking the rural road to Chatham County.

The sheriff's car kept following, but as they approached the Dawson County line to the east, the sheriff's car turned off. Keith continued on, out of his way, for another ten minutes, then turned south, then west again toward Chatham. He suspected that the Spencer sheriff had radioed to his Dawson counterpart to track the Blazer, but Keith didn't pick up any tails. The rural sheriff's departments were small, and the counties were big. Compared to the drives he used to make from the West German border across East Germany to Berlin, this was easy. But when you were avoiding the police, whether they were rural sheriffs in the American heartland or the Stasi on the prowl in East Germany, luck played a big part in the game.

Within fifteen minutes, he crossed the county line into Chatham. He didn't know exactly where he was, but it was easy to navigate the grid squares of roads, which ran almost true to the cardinal points of the compass.

Eventually, he found himself on County Road 6 and continued west, reading the road markers of the intersecting township roads numbered in descending order until he got to T-3, the road where Terry lived, where Annie was waiting. He didn't know if he should turn left or right but flipped a coin in his mind and turned left. He drove slowly, looking for the red brick Victorian house, which he saw up ahead on the right. Truly, he thought, some sixth sense had gotten him here without a wrong turn, and he remembered with a smile what Charlie had said about following his reproductive organ, though Keith believed he was following his heart, which was beating rapidly now.

He slowed down and turned into the gravel drive. The first thing he noticed was that there was only one vehicle in the driveway, and it was a pickup truck. The next thing that disturbed him was that the side door of the house opened, and the woman who came out to meet him, though she looked like Annie, was not Annie.

Terry stood at the door a moment, then walked over to Keith, who had gotten out of the Blazer.

Keith already knew by the look on Terry's face that Annie wasn't there, but he didn't know why.

Terry said, "Hi, Keith."

"How are you?"

"Okay... Annie's not here."

"I know that."

"She was here, but she left."

He nodded. "Okay."

"She... had to go."

Neither of them spoke for a while, then Terry said, "You want a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

He followed her into the kitchen, and she said, "Have a seat."

He sat at the round kitchen table.

As Terry poured two mugs of coffee, she informed him, "Annie left you a note."

"She's all right?"

"Yes." Terry put the mugs on the table, with cream and sugar, and said, "She was upset."

"Well, I don't blame her."

Terry sat and stirred her coffee absently. "She wasn't angry. But when she got here, she was all... sort of excited... then, when I told her you'd be late, she was disappointed. But then she was okay again, and we had a nice visit."

"Good." Keith looked at Terry. She was about three years older than Annie and had Annie's good looks, but not Annie's sparkle or bounce. Terry had graduated high school two years before Keith and Annie had started going together in their junior year. She'd gone to Kent State, so Keith hadn't seen much of her except for summers and holidays, but as Annie had reminded him, Terry sometimes covered for them when she was home. Terry was one of the romantics. He recalled that Terry had met her future husband, Larry, in college, and they'd married and left school before either of them graduated. Keith and Annie, freshmen at Bowling Green by that time, had gone to the wedding together. He recalled now that Terry had given birth about seven months after her wedding, and Annie had said to him, "We will graduate, marry, and have children, in that order."

Terry said, "We had lunch. I haven't seen her so happy in years." She added, "A guy from down the road pulled in to drop something off, and when she heard his truck in the driveway, she jumped out of her chair and went out the door." Terry looked at him and smiled. "I guess I shouldn't give away family secrets."

"I appreciate your honesty. You can tell Annie I looked like an unhappy, lovesick puppy."

She smiled again. "You look tired. Drive all night?"

He nodded.

"I know the look. Larry comes in from the road, looks like hell, not hungry for food, but hungry for love." Her face flushed, and she added, "You guys."

Keith smiled in return. Larry owned some sort of trucking business according to one of Annie's letters of some years back, and Terry kept the books. He imagined that they did well, the house was nice, the pickup truck was new. They had three children in or graduated from college, he remembered. Keith had seen Larry a few times when he and Annie were home from college, and Keith recalled that Larry was a big, quiet sort of guy. Larry was either working this morning or playing weekend sheriff, or was lying low somewhere, as men did when affairs of the heart were being discussed.

Terry said, "She waited until one, then all of a sudden she said, 'I'm leaving,' and she wrote you a note." Terry took an envelope out of her jeans pocket and put it on the table.

Keith looked at it and saw his name in Annie's familiar handwriting. He sipped his coffee, which he needed.

Terry said, "I tried to keep her here, but she said it was okay, she'd see you another time." Terry added, "She's always so bubbly, you know, and you can't tell when she's hurting. I don't mean this morning, but with that bastard she's married to. Oh, God, I want so much for her to be happy. Really happy again."

"Me, too." Keith said, "So how are you? You look good."

She smiled. "Thank you. You look terrific, Keith. I recognized you as soon as you got out of your car."

"It's been a lot of years, hasn't it?"

"Oh, yes. They were good times back then."

"They were, weren't they?"

She nodded, then said, "Larry had to go into work. He hung around awhile to see you. Said to say hello."

"I'll see him next time."

"Hope so. So you've done okay for yourself. I always knew you would."

"Thanks. This is a nice house."

"Oh, these old places are a pain, but Larry likes to fix things. You're back on the farm?"

"Yup. Lot of work. How are your parents?"

"They're fine. Getting on, but healthy, thank the Lord. Yours?"

"Enjoying Florida. They can't believe they have a son who's retired."

She smiled. "You look too young to retire."

"That seems to be the consensus."

"So you were in Washington?"

"I had to finish up some business. Thought I'd be back in time."

They talked awhile, the letter lying on the table between them. Keith thought it was important to reestablish a relationship with Annie's sister, and in fact he liked Terry, and he wanted her to like him, as a person, not as her sister's lover or white knight. She turned out to be a lot more lucid than she'd sounded at seven that morning, and he had the sense she had a lot she wanted to tell him, but he kept the conversation general for a while, but then said to her, "I only want the best for your sister. You know we've never stopped loving each other."

Terry nodded, and a tear ran down her cheek.

Keith took the letter and said, "Mind if I read it here?"

"No, go ahead..." She stood and said, "I have to go throw some stuff in the dryer." She went down into the basement.

Keith opened the envelope and read: "Dear Keith, No, I'm not angry, yes, I'm disappointed. I know that whatever took you back to Washington couldn't be helped, but it gave me a few hours this morning to think. Oh, no, Prentis! You're not thinking again!"

Keith smiled, remembering that he used to say that to her in college whenever she preceded a sentence with, "I've been thinking..."

He knew this wasn't going to be an amusing letter, however, and he read on. "What I was thinking is that this is a big step for you. For me, it means getting out of a situation that I can't stand any longer. But for you, it means taking on a big responsibility — being responsible for me. Maybe you don't need that burden. I know my husband has made life difficult for you, and I know that you can deal with it fine. But I'm starting to feel guilty about all of this. I mean, Keith, I don't think you'd be here, or be in this situation, if it weren't for me, and I appreciate that. But without me, you could do what you want, which, by now, after all that's happened, is probably to go back to Washington, or to Europe, or wherever without trying to fit me into your plans. No, I'm not being sulky, I'm finally thinking about what's best for you."

Keith was pretty sure he knew the gist of the next paragraph, but read it anyway. "Maybe we both need some time to think and to let things cool off. We waited this long, so maybe we can wait a few more weeks. It would probably be a good idea if you left — not that I want you to leave, but, with the situation with Cliff, it might be best. As we've done for twenty years, you can contact me through Terry, and we'll work out a time and place to meet and talk it over — but not for a while. I know, you're probably angry that I didn't wait, but I couldn't handle it — sorry. And yes, I'm a lousy letter writer, and I can't write what I feel, but you know how I feel, Mr. Landry, and I'll tell you again when we meet. Love, Annie."

Keith folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

Terry came upstairs into the kitchen and glanced at him as she got the coffeepot off the counter. "Another cup?"

"No, thanks." He stood. "Well, thank you again. When you see Annie, tell her I'll be leaving Monday."

"You're leaving? Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll contact her through you, if I may."

"Okay... hey, let me call her. She's got a car phone, and maybe she's on the road, and I'll tell her you're here."

"That's okay. It's getting late." Keith moved to the door.

"You want to leave her a note?"

"No, I'll write and send it here."

Terry walked out with him. She said, "I don't know what she wrote, but I know what she feels. Maybe you shouldn't pay a lot of attention to that letter."

"The letter was okay."

"I don't think so. Hey, what's wrong with you two?"

Keith smiled. "Bad luck, lousy timing." He got into the Blazer and rolled down the window. "We'll work it out."

"You came real close to doing that this time." She put her hand on the car door and said, "Keith, I know my sister, and I wouldn't tell this to another soul except you... she's frightened. She had a bad week with him."

"Do you think she's in any danger?"

"She didn't think so, but... I think it got to be too much for her this morning. She started getting worried about you... so she called up at their lodge in Michigan, and he answered the phone, and she hung up. She felt better knowing he was there and not around here. Just the same, about an hour later, she said she was going home. That was about two hours before you got here. I'm surprised you didn't pass each other."

"I took another route."

"She probably went past your place."

"Maybe."

"Try to speak to her before you leave. She needs to hear from you."

"That's not easy."

"I'll drive out to see her tomorrow. I know I can't call her on the phone. But I'll stop by after church and get her alone somehow. I'll work out a meeting for you two."

"Terry, I really appreciate what you're doing, but she and I both need time to think."

"You had over twenty years for that."

"And another few weeks won't make a difference."

"They could."

"No, they can't. Let's let it slide for now. I'll contact you in a few weeks. By then, everyone will be thinking clearly, and we can take it from there."

Terry stepped back from the Blazer. "Okay. I don't want to interfere."

"You've been very helpful." He started the car.

"You're angry."

"No, I'm not." He smiled. "If I tell you you're as good-looking and sexy as your sister, will you be a real midwestern lady and slap me?"

She smiled. "No, you get a kiss." She leaned through the window and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Take care of yourself. See you soon."

"Hope so." He backed out of the drive and headed back to Spencer County.

Being an intelligence officer for twenty years had its advantages. For one thing, you learned how to think differently than most people, you played life like a chess game and thought six moves ahead, and you never gave away your game plan and never gave out more information than the other person needed to have. He could trust Terry, of course, but he didn't trust her judgment. It was best for her to think he was angry or whatever she was thinking. He wasn't trying to manipulate her, and through her, Annie. But Cliff Baxter had to be reckoned with, and the less Terry knew, the better.

Annie's letter. He didn't have to read between the lines — it was all there in her own words. She was disappointed, perhaps hurt. She was concerned about his safety. She didn't want to be a burden to him. He took all this at face value. What she wanted from him was a reassurance that it was still okay — the trip to Washington was nothing to be concerned about, Cliff Baxter didn't worry him, she wasn't a burden, she lifted his spirits.

Still, she asked him to wait, and no doubt she meant it. Even if he wanted to wait, which he didn't, Cliff Baxter's actions were unpredictable. She had a bad week with him.

He recalled what Gail had told him about a firearm incident at the Baxter house, and it occurred to him, not for the first time, that Annie was going to kill her husband. He couldn't let that happen. It didn't have to happen. But if it was going to happen, she'd wait until Keith Landry was gone, so Keith had some time to make sure it didn't happen. If Keith had played his cards right with Terry, she'd tell Annie that Keith Landry was going to leave, and, by the looks of him, he might not be back. That may have been a little manipulative, he admitted, but it was necessary. "All's fair in love and war." Maybe not all, but a lot.

He crossed the line into Spencer County, and, within twenty minutes, he was in Spencerville. He drove past Annie's house on Williams Street, but there was no car in the driveway. He went downtown and stopped at the bank, hitting the cash machine for the maximum, which was four hundred dollars in these parts. He drove around town for a while, but didn't see her white Lincoln.

Keith headed out of town, got on Highway 22, and stopped at Aries's self-service gas station.

Keith got out and pumped.

Bob Aries ambled out of the office and waved to him. "How you doin?"

Keith replied, "Fine. How about you?"

"Okay." Bob Aries walked over to Keith. "Got yourself a new Blazer."

"Sure did."

"Like it?"

"I do."

"You got rid of that other thing?"

"Made a chicken coop out of it."

Aries laughed, then asked him, "Hey, did Chief Baxter ever look you up?"

Keith glanced at Aries and said, "He stopped by last week."

"Yeah, he said he might. I told him you was in here one day."

"Thanks." Keith finished pumping and put the nozzle back. He and Aries went into the office, and Keith paid for the gas. Keith inquired, "Does he come in here much?"

Bob Aries's expression changed. "Well... he did. We get a lot of the city and county business here. But... uh... we had some problems."

"I think I might have heard about that."

"Yeah... a lot of people heard about that."

Keith went through the door into the convenience store, and Bob Aries followed him. There was no one behind the counter, and Keith asked, "Where is Mrs. Aries?"

"She's away for a while." He added, "I guess you know why, if you know about that church meeting out by Overton."

"But why did Mrs. Aries leave?"

"Uh... well... I guess she felt kinda... maybe a little nervous after she went and shot her mouth off."

"Was she telling the truth?"