Stuff Dreams Are Made Of (20 page)

“This isn’t good.”

“So I’m asking again. Do you think James is okay?”

I rolled my eyes. “When it comes to James, I quit thinking a long time ago.”

Em sat down on the one of the folding chairs, watching the smoke from the burning tobacco rise in a perfect spiral. “Daron says that these guys think you’re working for the FBI?”

“He claimed that was in the notes on the computer.”

“And the FBI was following me?”

“Again, that’s what Daron said. I think it goes without saying that Daron can’t be trusted one hundred percent of the time.”

“But if he’s right, if the FBI was following me today, and if you worked for them —”

“What? You’re making no sense.”

“Oh, my God. Skip. Maybe you’re working for them.”

I stepped back. Emily had lost her mind.

“Are you crazy?”

“No. I’m not. Who set this up? Who decided to take this job? Come on, Skip, who talked you into this?”

“You know who.”

“Skip. Who convinced you to stay, even when someone shot the tires out of your truck? Even when you got a note threatening your life? Who?”

“You know who. But, Em it’s —”

“No, no. Hear me out. Maybe he
is
working for the FBI. Maybe they offered him some good money to take this job, infiltrate the full-timers and see what he could find out. Wasn’t that exactly what he was going to do tonight? He was going to ask questions and find out what was going on. Well? Wasn’t that the plan?”

“Yeah, but —”

“No buts, Skip. Didn’t he figure out that you needed Daron? Daron, who knew the inner workings of this organization?”

“Yeah, but —”

“Wouldn’t it make sense that somebody like the FBI was behind giving him the information on Daron’s history? The fact that Daron Styles had worked for Cashdollar?”

“I don’t think —”

“That’s just it. You said when it comes to James, you gave up thinking. Isn’t that what you said? You said when it came to James, you gave up thinking a long time ago.”

“I may have said that, but —”

“Damn it, Skip.
They
think you’re working for the FBI. The full-timers think you are. How do you know that —”

“We’re not. It’s as simple as that. Anyway, think about it.
James isn’t bright enough to pull that off without me knowing about it. He hates anything to do with law enforcement.”

“And then, then the FBI starts following my car as soon as I hook up with you. What’s that all about? Maybe they were outside the door when we —”

“You are crazy. In the last three months, you must have lost your mind.”

Em stood up and took my hand. “I hope I’m crazy. Because this whole thing is very strange, and it sure has the feel of James pulling the strings.”

James was my best friend. He’d stood up for me when I had problems, and I’d stood up for him. I had learned that I would put myself in jeopardy to save James. And I was damned sure that I’d put my life on the line for Em. But Styles? I don’t think so. Although, as we walked back toward the truck, I realized he’d put himself on the line for us. Even though a lot of his motivation was to see if
he
was mentioned in the diary. There was some selfishness in his reasoning.

“What will they do to him?”

“Who? Styles? Or James?”

“You don’t really think they have James?”

I didn’t. I was sure by now he was back at the truck.

“If he asked all those questions, if they think he’s part of the FBI —”

“Oh, God. He doesn’t know that. James has no idea what Styles found on that computer.” He needed to know. Desperately needed to know.

“It’s not like we’ve seen him to tell him. Settle down. I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

She’d regained her composure and seemed to hold my hand even tighter.

There was a dim light on in the truck. We had a lamp that was powered by our generator and I could see it as we got closer. The giant tent stood black against the horizon, like a huge thundercloud in the nighttime sky. We walked a little faster.

“It looks like somebody’s home.”

A shadowy figure stepped out into the path and Em and I froze.

“A little late for a stroll, isn’t it?”

Bruce Crayer.

“Where are you two headed?”

I could see his arm hanging at his side, and I was certain he was holding a pistol.

Em spoke up. “To Skip’s truck. We were just going to get some things together and leave.”

Crayer didn’t move. Neither did we.

“You gonna take the truck? Are you pulling out for the rest of the show?”

I hadn’t thought about it. If we took the truck, we could get out of Dodge and never return. If Em took me home, either to my place, or her place, James and I would have to come back and get the truck. And James had visions of selling more lunches and dinners tomorrow. Sunday. The busiest day of the revival meeting. And where the heck was James?

“No.” I didn’t want him to think I was considering cut-and-run. And I didn’t want to introduce him to Em. We were in enough trouble already. I didn’t want to give him any ammunition.

“So, did you hear what happened tonight?” Still standing there with his arms by his side. I was tempted to brush right past him. Keep on walking.

“What happened?”

“You don’t know?”

Oh, I knew. “I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”

He glared at me. “Somebody broke into the rev’s office.”

“Broke in? Like picked a lock? Broke the door?”

He hesitated. I couldn’t see his face that well in the dark, but he seemed to be staring intently at me. Finally he muttered, “Something like that.”

“Well, look. We’ve got to get our stuff and leave. The night’s not getting any younger.” I started to move.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I did. I’m sorry.”

Crayer was swinging that arm now and I was positive it was a gun. “Where were you half an hour ago?”

Where were we? Oh yeah. Playing lookout for Styles while he rifled through Thomas LeRoy’s computer. “We just took a walk. That’s all.” I took another step.

“Hold it. I want to know where you were walking.”

“I, we, um …”

“Who is the girl?” It was as if he’d noticed her for the first time. Again, I didn’t want to give him any more ammunition.

“This is … my sister. She’s just in town, visiting and —”

Em took two steps forward, letting go of my hand. Then she took a third step, now in Crayer’s face.

“What? You’re accusing us of breaking into someone’s office? I think Skip just told you that we took a walk. A simple walk. Down the path, up the path. We were looking for James, but apparently the poker game broke up.”

Crayer backed up two steps. I backed up two steps. All I could think of was Crayer raising that arm with the pistol. I was scared for Em, scared for myself.

“Have you seen James?”

He kept staring at Em, like he was trying to figure out her role in this caper.

“No. He played poker, lost a lot of money, and left.”

Em stared right back at him. “If you’ll kindly get out of the way, we’ll get our things and leave. Please, step aside.”

He seemed frozen in place.

“Now.” Her voice was firm. Very firm.

And you know what? He did. He stepped aside.

Be bold. A lesson from Em. He’d stepped out of her way as she barreled past him, heading for our truck. I took several steps, then turned and stared at him. “I don’t appreciate being accused of breaking and entering. And I want to know if you’ve got any idea where James is.”

He scowled. “I told you. No. Actually, I was back behind the tent, going through the office. They think whoever broke in may have stolen something.”

“Money?”

“I don’t think so. We don’t keep money there.” A disgusted tone of voice. I think he was amazed that a woman had backed him down. “So you weren’t back there? Right?”

“She told you, we took a walk.”

He seemed to purse his lips, mumbled something under his breath, turned, and walked away.

I quickly walked to the truck, finding Em sitting on the rear of the bed. She was breathing heavy and when I touched her arm, it was damp with a layer of perspiration.

“You were something. You called his bluff. Way to go.”

“God, Skip. He had a gun. He knows we were back there with Daron.”

“You’re shaking.”

“What do you want me to do? He had a gun. I called
his
bluff?
I
was all bluff. I figured any minute he was going to either shoot me or grab me from behind in a chokehold.”

“Didn’t happen, babe.”

She shuddered. “Where is your damned roommate?”

I didn’t want to think about what might have happened to James. They’d nailed Daron and now James was missing. I wasn’t sure what else could happen tonight, but so far our batting average was about zero.

When we were younger, we had a couple of run-ins with the cops. Nothing serious. It was more a case of somebody in uniform giving James and me a warning for acting like kids. One time we shoplifted some candy, and once we got caught sneaking a video camera into a movie theater. James was going to film the movie and sell videos. That didn’t happen. Anyway, I knew James’s feelings about the police. He didn’t care for them at all. Sometimes we’d drive by a cop car and I could feel him bristle. He was careful to avoid them at all costs. Since he’d been an adult, I don’t think he’d ever even gotten a speeding ticket. So it’s hard to picture a situation where I’d ever call the cops or alert any law enforcement agency regarding James.

“Skip, maybe we should call the police.”

“What? Why?”

She gave me that wide-eyed stare that she’s perfected over the years. “Maybe because we saw Daron being hauled away?”

“Em, Daron broke into Cashdollar’s office.”

“To help
us
.”

I had serious doubts about that. “It’s a crime. We’re going to call the cops and turn him in?”

“Skip, you told me, these guys are capable of killing someone.”

“It’s only a theory, Em. There’s obviously no proof. If there was, they’d be in jail by now.”

“Well, then, how about the fact that your roommate seems to have mysteriously disappeared.”

I thought about that. Crayer said he didn’t know James’s whereabouts. And he’d apparently been on guard duty most of the late evening. I also thought about the fact that somebody had abruptly left the poker table. Probably after the game, since they seemed to start guard duty after everyone had played the game. But someone had left abruptly nevertheless. Somebody had gotten word that security had been breached. I could picture the half-smoked lit cigar in the ashtray.

“Well?”

“No. You know how James feels about the cops.”

“So what do we do? If we don’t call the cops, what do we do? Skip, Daron got hauled away and James is missing. Think about it.”

I thought for a moment. We couldn’t very well leave the grounds. James was here. And I did feel somewhat conflicted about Styles. Em was right. The guy found out some important information regarding our status. Crayer must have known that we were suspected of being FBI informants. Maybe that’s why he let us go. And if they thought James was working for the FBI, what would they do with him? Hopefully they’d let him go too. But according to Styles, the last informant died of a drug overdose. And if I found James with a needle in his arm, I’d have a good idea where to start looking.

“Should we look for him?”

I thought about what she’d said. That maybe James had
actually signed on to work for the FBI, accepting money and putting us both at risk. James was a piece of work, and capable of just about anything, but first of all he wouldn’t do that to me, and second of all, he wouldn’t work for anybody in law enforcement. Couldn’t happen.

“Yeah. Let’s take another walk. We’ve got to do something.”

She nodded. “You know, Skip, you’re probably right. James would never work for the FBI. In any capacity.”

It scared me when she mirrored me like that.

“That leaves the question, why was he so insistent in trying to get to the bottom of this. Is he just stubborn? Bullheaded? Somebody shot his tires out and tried to get him to leave and he’s stupid enough to stay and get in their face?”

“Yes. On all accounts.”

She thought about that for a moment. “And we’re even dumber.”

“I’m guessing.”

“There’s one more thing we need to address.” She tugged on my arm as she jumped off the back of the truck.

“What’s that?”

“We’re blindly following James, right? You agree?”

“Not necessarily ‘blindly.’ I’d like to get to the bottom of what happened. Why they think we’re working for the FBI. Why Cabrina Washington was killed. Why Crayer was in South Beach when the shooting occurred today.”

“All right. Not blindly. But Skip, there’s one other thing we’re not dealing with.”

“Probably more than one thing.”

“Daron.”

“While we’re looking for James —”

“It’s not even that. You don’t trust Daron, do you?”

“Not at all.”

“But he broke the law to help us out.”

“True. I think he was helping himself as well.”

“So now we’re somewhat obligated to him.”

“Sort of.”

“What if he lied?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t trust him. You know he’s a scam artist. He’s obviously selling stolen shoes and who knows what else, yet you blindly believe him when he says the car was FBI. You blindly believe him when he tells you that you’re on the computer accused of being a plant.”

“You think he made it up?”

“I think he could have.”

“To what end?”

“Maybe he works for the full-timers. Maybe he’s trying to scare you off. You know, it makes sense. It makes sense that the FBI would be following this little sideshow because there’s a chance that someone here had something to do with the killing of a senator. That part makes sense.”

I agreed. How the hell had we surrounded ourselves with these people and gotten into this situation? It was like a fantasy. A fantasy nightmare.

“But what if there really is an FBI informant?”