The White Mountain (3 page)

Walls opened his mouth to
respond, but Mary stepped in and tried to calm her sister.  “Sorry.  I know
you’re freaked out.  That was—there’s something more important going on.”

“Damn straight there is.”

“No,” Mary said.  “I mean
there may be something bigger than what you found.  You want to sit back down? 
Might be a good idea before you hear this.”

Alice crossed her arms and
glared at Mary and Walls.  Chin out.  Defiant.  Silent.

Walls cleared his throat,
saying, “You mind?” as he reached up and pulled the ceiling fan cord.  The
blades swished to life and sent a cool breeze throughout the room, pushing the
smoke to different places instead of dissipating it.  “Now,” he said, “Mrs.
Blevins—do you mind if I call you Alice?”

Annoyed, Mary rolled her eyes
and said, “If you say ‘official police business’ one more time—”

“I’ll say it if I damn well
please.  That’s the problem with you people these days.  No respect for
authority.”

“You people?”

“Those unaffiliated with the
law.”

“Unaffiliated, huh?  Where’d
you learn that big word?”

Alice said, “Jesus H. Christ,
would y’all quit it?  I don’t care which one of you’s got the bigger dick, just
tell me what in the hell’s going on.”

Mary nodded.  “Fine.  Go
ahead, Detective.  Tell her.”

Walls said, “Couple more
questions for you, then we reckon it’ll be a good idea to get you and your boy
to a safer place,” and pulled a baggie containing the crumpled napkin out of
his pocket.

Alice cocked her head and
leaned forward, curious.  “What’s that?” 

Walls ignored her question.  “You
have no idea who that man is out there?”

“I done told you no.”

“Does ‘The White Mountain’
mean anything to you?”

“The what?  The White Mountain?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Like it’s something
on a grocery list, or maybe the name of a place around here.”

“Henry Walls.  You grew up
three miles down the damn road.  You know as well as I do there ain’t no place
around here goes by that name.”

“Just answer the question,
please.  Anything sound familiar at all about it?

“Nope.  Never heard it
before.”

“How about the words
powder
and
devil
?  Any significance?”

Alice lit another cigarette
and then blew the smoke up toward the fan.  “What kind of nonsense are y’all up
to?”

Walls flashed a look at Mary,
then back to Alice.  He asked, “Nonsense?”

Alice’s reluctance seemed
odd.  “I know it’s random, Al,” Mary added, “but if it means anything to you—”

“Mrs. Blevins, this is
important.”

“You two are like hounds on a
rabbit hole.”  Alice pulled at the hem of her top, glanced around the room,
avoiding eye contact.  “Don’t mean anything to me.”

“You sure?”

“Dang it, I done said it
don’t.”

Mary heard the screen door
screech open in the kitchen, slamming shut with a
bang
.  The spring, the
one that allowed it to close quietly, hadn’t worked for months.  Yet another
thing around the house gone unrepaired in Randall’s continued absence.  She assumed
it was Tucker or Gordon coming to check in with Walls. 

The detective leaned to the
side and glanced down the hallway.  When no one appeared around the corner, he
shrugged and looked down at the baggie in his hand, held it out to Alice. 
“Found this on that feller out in the coop.  Take a gander.  Tell me what you
see.”

Alice took it from him,
twisted it around to get a better look in the available light.  Her hand
trembled as she read the contents.  “That’s our address.  God almighty, y’all
found this on him?”

Mary said, “You know what it
means, don’t you?”

Alice shook her head.  “I’m
not supposed to—”

“Not supposed to what?”

Alice stepped backward and
flopped onto the couch, then threw the baggie onto the coffee table.  She took
a long draw from her cigarette, using the other hand to run her fingers through
her hair.  “This ain’t good,” she said, staring at the floor, right leg
bouncing like a needle in a sewing machine.

Walls leaned forward and
asked, “What’s that, Mrs. Blevins?  What’s not good?”

“He said they’d come, but I
never believed it.”

Mary asked, “Who’s coming? 
Coming for who?” 

She saw movement in the
doorway and flicked her head around to see Randall standing there, thumbs
hooked through his belt loops.  His t-shirt was wrinkled.  The bags under his
eyes were bulky and dark.  He looked exhausted.

Randall asked, “What’d you
find on him?”

Mary grabbed the evidence bag
and handed it to Randall.

He read, then tossed it back
to Walls.  “Figured it’d happen one of these days.  I reckon they’re coming for
me
.”

“Who is?”

“The people with the list.”

CHAPTER 3

Randall didn’t have a chance
to elaborate before Jesse ran into the den and wrapped himself around his
father’s leg, asking if he’d seen the dead guy out in the chicken coop, asking
if he knew about the shadow man.

Mary and Walls stood by while
Randall dodged the questions and tried to ask how Jesse had been doing in
t-ball.  They waited patiently until Alice pushed herself up from the couch and
led him out of the room, promising that he’d have plenty of time with his
daddy, but right now, he had to have a talk with Auntie Lamb and the nice
policeman.  Jesse whined at first, but how quickly young minds are changed with
a peace offering of chocolate pudding. 

When they were gone, Randall
arched his eyebrows and said, “So.  The shadow man, huh?”

Walls said, “The shooter, but
let’s leave that be for a second.  You’re on a list?”

“Ready for a story?  You go
on and have a seat, Mary.  I know that leg’s gotta be killing you.  And you
too, Henry.  Looks like you could use a breather.”

“Reckon I’ll stay right
here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Mary plunked herself down on
the couch, thankful to give her leg a rest.

Randall slid over an old,
rickety chair, flipped it around backward, and sat down on the woven-twine
seat.  He crossed his arms and leaned across the back.

Walls said, “Mr. Blevins—”

“Loosen up your pucker.  Randall
will be fine.”

“He’s been like that all
morning,” Mary said.  “Don’t worry about him.”

Walls said, “No, he needs to
worry about me.”

Randall grinned.  “Like
throwing your weight around, Henry?”

Walls’ cheeks flushed. 

Mary pinched her lips
together to prevent a smile.  She knew that the lack of congeniality between
the two men had been going on since high school.  There was no way to tell by
looking at him now, but twenty years ago when they all attended the same
classes, Randall had been a pimple-faced nobody.  Thin as a hay stalk and quiet. 
With teenagers just coming into themselves, jockeying for societal position,
Randall was an unconfident target for every bully and jock at Smythville High
to use as a place to wipe their hormonal, alpha-male feet.  Chief among them
had been Henry Walls, the star point guard for the state champion Mustangs.

And even though Walls had
received some level of comeuppance and could barely buckle a seatbelt around
his belly, it did little to assuage Randall’s distaste for him, and he was
often vocal about it.  Especially during the years that Mary had spent on the
force.

Time changes life’s direction,
motivation is found or lost, but memories remain.

Randall said, “Just yanking
your chain.  No use in me gnawing at your throat with all this shit going on.”

Walls snorted his disapproval,
trundled over to the couch, and then plopped down.

Mary felt the aftershocks
vibrate through her cushion.

Randall held out a hand and
said, “I’ve done some things, under orders, that I ain’t too proud of.  I can’t
tell you what I did, but shit happens out there in the dark that nobody should
ever have to see.  Hell, I bet that right this very second, there’s some
douchebag ten thousand miles away getting a Colombian necktie because he’s threatened
to release a computer virus that’ll bring down half the planet.  And I can
guarantee you there’s a general at a damn ops base lighting up a cigar and
patting himself on the back for a job well done because of it.  More power to
him.  But the shit I’ve seen, the shit I’ve done...it’s hard to come back from. 
Follows you around like an itty-bitty devil in the back of your mind, harping
on you all the time.  And enemies?  Let me tell you about the enemies.  People
don’t forget.  If they ever get wind of your whereabouts, well, trouble comes
looking.”

Walls leaned up and said,
“And what’s this got to do with the dead man out in your chicken coop?”

“You don’t think I’m getting
to it?  Hold your horses there, gumshoe.”  Randall glanced at Mary, gave her a
smirk as if to say,
Can you believe this guy?

She turned up a corner of her
mouth in response, lifting one shoulder along with it.  But, she didn’t want to
tell him she had been wondering the same thing.  Was he leading up to some sort
of veiled confession, or merely stalling?

Randall went on.  “Look, I’ll
just get right down to it.  The White Mountain?  That’s me.  My old nickname in
the Corps, you know, after I put on a pound or ten.  So two years ago, I’m in
Norfolk visiting a bunch of buddies.  We were out drinking, catching up on old
times.  This guy comes up to me, right?  Squirrely looking dude.  Short hair,
glasses.  Got this thick German accent and he says, ‘Congratulations, Randall,
you’ve made our ten most wanted list.  I hope you’re ready.’”  Randall stared
at a spot on the wall, eyes blank, looking at the images in his memory.  He
said, “I was drunk and so damn dumbfounded that I just stood there and watched
him walk through the crowd.  By the time I snapped out of it and went outside
to chase him down, the son of a bitch was gone.  Just vanished.”

Mary said, “Their ten most
wanted list?  What list was he talking about?”

“To be honest, I thought
maybe I was being recruited for something, but here’s where it gets crazy. 
I’ve done some checking around, used every contact I can think of, but as near
as any of them can figure—hell, y’all are never going to believe this.  I don’t
even know why I’m bothering.”

Walls said, “Unless you want
a stint in the pokey for impeding an investigation, you might wanna give it a
shot.”

Mary tossed her hands in the
air.  “I don’t think that’s necessary—”

Randall said, “It’s okay,
Mary.  Man’s got a job to do.”  To Walls, he added, “You ever read
The Most
Dangerous Game
?”

Walls fiddled with his tie. 
“Can’t say that I have.” 

“Man hunting man.  Predator
against predator.  What I know is, there’s a group of underground assassins out
there—shitheads from all over the world—that’re taking out marks from the
Special Forces.  Retired ones.  My buddy from the CIA says they’ve heard
chatter that it’s some kind of contest.  Low priority, so nobody’s followed up
on it.  They don’t know who’s running it, who’s playing, or what the prize is,
but as of two months ago, they could count nine unexplained deaths.  Four
SEALs, four Rangers, and one spec ops Marine.  And let me tell you what, they
must be some badass bastards if they can take out those guys.”

The trailing silence lasted
for two ticks of the clock before laughter erupted from Walls with such force
that he began coughing and hacking, struggling to fill his lungs.  He composed
himself long enough to catch a breath, and then slipped back into another fit
of giggles.  When he was able to speak again, he wiped his eyes and said, “You
mean to tell me that you got somebody like Jason Bourne out there, hunting you
down?”  Another peal of laughter, more coughing.  “I’ll be damned.  I’ve heard
some nonsense in my day, but that one right there takes the cake.”

Randall, flat-faced and
unperturbed, said, “You don’t believe it, stick around a while and see who else
shows up.”

“Oh, I’ll be sticking around
a while,” Walls said, wiggling forward, pushing himself up off the couch with a
groan, “but not to listen to this crap.  When you’re done with the hogwash and
feel like telling me the truth about who the dead man is and who blew a hole in
his back, I’ll be outside with the boys, trying to solve a
real
crime. 
Or better yet, y’all tell me when the movie comes out.”  He moved for the
doorway and stopped just outside the den.  “Gonna throw my weight around here,
Randall.  Don’t even think about going anywhere until we have another talk.”

Mary waited until she heard
the door slam, then scooted up to the edge of her seat and said, “How much of
that is true?”

“Every bit of it.”  Randall
stood up from his chair and walked over to the west window, using an index
finger to lift a single blind.  He peered out, studying the empty expanse of a
once-flourishing tobacco field behind the house.  He gave a soft
humph
and let the blind snap shut, then twisted the hanging wand.