Broken Angel (8 page)

FOURTEEN

I
t took until long after dark for Mason to return to Cumberland Gap. He found Pierce in the diner just off the town square, where he pulled up a chair and faced Pierce across the table, arms crossed, making it clear that he had no intention of joining Pierce in a meal.

They were the only customers at the diner. All the others cleared out when Mason walked in.

Mason waited for Pierce to ask what had happened during the day in the valley. He liked making other people speak first.

Pierce kept sipping his coffee. Then he waved at the waitress and asked for his bill.

“It’s on Sheriff Carney,” she said, standing as far as possible from Mason. Mason leered at her, and she crossed her arms over her chest and made a fidgety move backwards.

Pierce nodded at the waitress, then pushed back his chair. He stood.

“Hang on,” Mason said.

Pierce leaned on the table with his palms but didn’t sit.

“Don’t you want to know about the girl?” Mason asked.

“If you had something to tell me, I should have heard it by now. Table’s yours.”

“She’s not in the valley,” Mason said. “Alive or dead.”

Pierce raised an eyebrow. Mason didn’t like this, the man standing above him, looking down. He was being disrespected. By an Outsider.

“Widen the circle,” Pierce said. “This is your territory. I’m not going to tell you how to find her.”

“It’s not that simple,” Mason said, boiling. “You going to sit back down?”

Pierce shrugged and sat. But it was clear that Mason had lost some face by asking.

“We picked up her trail,” Mason said, “from the waterfall to about a mile downstream.”

“Okay, so she climbed down during the night,” Pierce said, “then started walking out until she heard the hounds. Turned back.”

“It took awhile with the bloodhounds to figure it out completely,” Mason said. “This is what her trail looked like.”

Mason pulled a piece of paper from his vest pocket. He’d drawn a crude map with a stream, the waterfall, and the shape of the valley. He’d also drawn a dotted line in the shape of a V, with the bottom of the V at the waterfall.

“From the waterfall,” Pierce said, touching the bottom of the V, “she started one way. Retraced her steps, started another way.”

“Maybe. But at both these points”—Mason touched each open end of the V—“there’s no sign of her. Like an eagle swooped down and picked her up.”

“Not a horse,” Pierce said.

Mason snapped. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years, and I’m the best there is. You don’t think that’s the first thing I’d consider? No horse tracks nearby. No way possible for horses to be that deep in the valley, anyway. Not in that kind of terrain. She didn’t leave by horse.”

“I believe that’s what I just said,” Pierce said. “Maybe I need to be clearer about who is boss here.”

“Maybe I—”

“You think I didn’t see you signal to release the dogs on Jordan last night?” Pierce said. “That was stupid and unnecessary. Now the man’s dead.”

“Dead?”

Pierce nodded. “Now there’s no way to ask him where the girl might have gone.”

Mason scowled and glared at Pierce.

“Which eye?” Pierce said.

“Huh?”

“You’re trying to stare me down, but I don’t know which eye I should focus on.”

Mason pressed his hands on the table, his knuckles going white with tension. “Time you lost some blood.”

“If you pull your knife, I’ll kill you. In the meantime, you better find that girl.”

Mason moved his hands off the table, onto his lap.

“If I pull my knife,” Mason said, his hand on the hilt, “you’ll be clear on who’s boss.”

In an instant, the tabletop slammed into Mason’s face, spilling him backward in his chair, pinning his arms in place as he crashed on the floor. Just like that, Pierce was kneeling on the table with his full weight, trapping Mason under it like a bug under Pierce’s heel.

The waitress disappeared into the kitchen.

“For three days now,” Pierce said, “I’ve put up with your crap.”

“You better make sure I’m dead before you lift away this table,” Mason said, struggling against the top. “Otherwise, I’ll kill you. Whether I have to knife you in the back or strangle you in your sleep, you won’t live to Sunday.”

“How badly do you want to face Bar Elohim? He knows all the snakes you’ve been hiding under your pile of rocks. You’re a free man only because it suits him. But this is so big, if you don’t deliver, Bar Elohim will make sure your face shows up on every vidpod in Appalachia as the most wanted, and even your own men will hunt you. Not a good prospect, given you’ve spent years showing them the nastiest tricks in the book.”

Pierce moved off the table and kicked it away. Mason began to sit, reaching down with his right hand for his knife. Pierce stepped on Mason’s wrist, leaned down and grabbed Mason’s elbow, yanking it upward so quickly it took Mason a second to comprehend that the horrible snapping sound and the incredible pain in his lower arm were two connected events.

He opened his mouth to gasp for air. Pierce shoved a napkin in it and put his knee on Mason’s throat.

“A man like you succeeds because you have no scruples in breaking the rules of civilization, and by the time a normal man realizes this, it’s too late for him to fight back.” Pierce spoke calmly, his face only inches away from Mason’s. “You think I’m a sissy from the city and don’t understand what’s happening here? What you don’t know is that I’m better at this than you. Nod if you understand. Otherwise I’ll break your other arm the same way and not think twice about it.”

Mason’s forehead was cold with sweat. He nodded. Not from fear, but practicality. He wasn’t in a position to fight back, and if both his arms were broken, it would be that much more difficult to kill the agent later. Not to mention capture the girl.

“Tomorrow,” Pierce said, “we’ll go over plans to track the girl down.”

Pierce pulled the napkin out of Mason’s mouth and walked away from him. Mason focused on his hatred for Pierce to dull the intense pain in his broken arm.

“In the meantime,” Pierce continued, “I’ll send Dr. Ross to the sheriff’s office to set your arm. That’s where you’re going to spend the night. Watching surveillance video on the public cameras in case the girl tries to sneak into town.”

FIFTEEN

C
aitlyn and Theo had waited hours after the dogs quieted, then silently traveled to the edge of town. They looked down at Cumberland Gap from a hill, well hidden by dark and trees. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalks of the city below, but night masked the buildings and alleys. It was past curfew in Cumberland Gap, and the town showed no life.

Even with the blanket of dark, Caitlyn didn’t feel safe. Too much ahead. Too many questions.

Her father’s letter had instructed her to steal a horse for the next part of her journey.

Although it was just one more crime against Bar Elohim—and after a certain point, when execution by stoning was inevitable, what did it matter how many more crimes?—the thought still terrified Caitlyn.

Yet what else could she do? Papa’s actions had committed her to flee, and without a horse, she’d face certain capture in the next day or two.

“You can’t be taken, dead or alive. You must not fall into their hands.”
Words from the letter, to haunt her.

All that remained was forward. For survival and answers, she’d steal a horse.

“I’m afraid you won’t come back,” Theo said. He shivered slightly.

“You said you were forced into a factory when you were ten,” Caitlyn said. She’d already explained that once they were on a horse, the bloodhounds wouldn’t be able to track them on it, but she had not explained how she’d get the horse. “So you know and remember enough about the towns to understand how big the liveries are, right?”

“Fifty or sixty horses,” Theo said. “Sometimes up to a hundred.”

There were paved roads in Appalachia, connecting the towns and suitable for automobile traffic. But the only vehicles on the road were government supply trucks that traveled from town to town. Bar Elohim had outlawed private vehicles and reduced all personal travel to horseback. Because the towns were small and self-contained, people had little reason to travel far anyway, and at the most, it was only an hour or two by horseback or carriage to the next town. The benefits to Appalachia exceeded the simpler, unhurried American life of two centuries earlier; Outside paid a hefty annual fee to Appalachia for carbon emission credits. This, along with the computer chips produced at the factories and the sale of water to Outside, provided a stable economy inside Appalachia.

“The livery man will walk a few blanketed horses out into the feedlot tonight,” Caitlyn said. All of it had been on the instructions waiting for her in the cave. From Papa. She didn’t even know if he was alive. She swallowed and continued explaining. “He walks them out every night, so it doesn’t seem suspicious. Every once in a while, however, one of the horses is already saddled beneath the blanket. He will leave that horse near the gate, out of view of any public surveillance cameras. The timer on the gate is set to be unlocked from 11:55 to 12:05. That’s when I step inside the gate and get the horse.”

Caitlyn held out a letter, and there was just enough light from the moon for Theo to see it.

“I want you to hold this. There are instructions on where to go once we have the horse.”

“You can read?” Theo refused the letter and stepped away nervously, looking at Caitlyn as if she were contagious. “No wonder they want to find you.” He shivered again. “Now I’m really afraid you won’t come back.”

“I’m not going to abandon you here!” Her nostrils had become accustomed to the skunk smell, but the boy still aggravated her. She’d take him farther, just enough for him to get well fed and to be safe. “That’s why I told you all that, about the plan, and offered the letter. So you know you can trust me. I can’t leave you here, or you could go to the Elders with what you know.”

“That’s not it,” he said. “What I meant is that I’m afraid something will happen to you. The horses have radio chips too. Nobody can steal a horse.”

“What if the horse isn’t reported stolen?” Caitlyn said.

“Oh.” Theo was almost violently shivering. “But I’m still afraid something will go wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong.” She wondered if she looked as convincing as she tried to sound. “I promise.”

SIXTEEN

B
illy Jasper didn’t like the dark presence of Mason Lee, who leaned on his left elbow on the counter that divided the front part of the sheriff’s office area. He occasionally lifted his uninjured hand to stroke his waxed mustache.

Mason had walked in five minutes earlier, setting his shotgun on the counter. Billy knew who he was—everyone in Appalachia did—and guessed if Mason could walk the streets with the shotgun, it wasn’t against the rules to take it into the sheriff’s office.

Mason had yet to speak, but Billy could still hear his hard breathing. Maybe he was waiting for Sheriff Carney, but there was something odd about how Mason’s right arm hung at his side and the constant sweat beading on his forehead. Maybe Mason had been injured while cornering the fugitive. All around town, word spread about how the dogs had torn the man apart and how he’d died already. Billy himself had seen the undertaker and his assistants move a coffin from the apartment on the other side of the town square into a wagon.

With Mason close, Billy had looked over only once and felt guilty even for that brief glance. He had specific instructions to watch the computer screen all night. That one glance, however, had shown the bounty hunter staring at Billy hard, with one milky eye wandering in different directions, adding to Billy’s discomfort.

Billy was wondering if he should pick up his two-way radio and call for Sheriff Carney when Dr. Ross pushed open the door to the office.

“Billy,” Dr. Ross said pleasantly. “Surprised to see you here at this time of night. You going to be here long?”

Billy thought through Sheriff Carney’s instructions. He couldn’t find any reason not to answer Dr. Ross.

“Hello, Dr. Ross,” Billy said. “Sheriff Carney wants me here all night. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m here to set Mr. Lee’s broken arm. Might be easier if he lay on one of the cots.”

Dr. Ross referred to the two jail cells which could be reached via the door just left of Billy, where he had slept nearly all of the afternoon. More than once, Dr. Ross had come in to tend to someone who had hurt himself while drunk and disorderly, despite Bar Elohim’s strict laws against alcohol.

“Where I’m standing is good,” Mason grunted from the counter. “Let’s get this done.”

Billy moved his eyes back to the screen. He intended to do this assignment without any mistakes. He heard a small
thunk
at the counter and assumed it was the doctor’s carrying bag.

“It will take some time for the freezing to set,” Dr. Ross told Mason. “You’d be more comfortable on a bed. Or at the least, sitting down.”

“No freezing,” Mason said. “Just set it and cast it.”

“If I don’t freeze it,” Dr. Ross said, “it’s going to—”

“Doc, I’ve stitched myself up with needle and thread before. Don’t need you to freeze it. Just set it and cast it and get out of here.”

“Your muscles will be in shock around the bone and spasm. I’m going to pull hard. And if there’s any bones grating, it will—”

“You don’t hear too good. Just get it done.”

Billy was grateful that he had his assignment to hold his focus. He didn’t want to watch someone have his arm set, especially without freezing.

He wished there were more interesting images on the computer screen though. Just the front and side view of the livery. He was familiar with it, as he’d spent years of his boyhood working the stables. With no movement on the screen, there was little to distract Billy from the grunting behind him. He did peek over once and saw that it wasn’t Mason making the noise, but Dr. Ross, who had to use all his strength to pull Mason’s arm into place.

Mason’s face was flat. Except for the beads of sweat, he could have been playing a poker game. Billy found this frightening, along with Mason’s calculating stare. It seemed to Billy that Mason was paying special attention to the computer screen, but with that one eye drifting, it was hard to tell.

Mercifully enough, the setting only took about a minute. Dr. Ross went into the back room and found water to mix the plaster for Mason’s cast, and afterward, wrapping the arm was finished in another couple of minutes. Dr. Ross bid Billy good night, but pointedly said nothing to Mason before stepping back onto the street.

“Did you like the show, boy?” Mason said as soon as the door shut behind Dr. Ross. “Someday you’ll tell your grandchildren how you saw a doctor set Mason Lee’s arm. Be sure to tell them how the bones grated.”

Billy kept his eyes on the computer screen.

“Switch that screen so it shows all the cameras in town by rotation,” Mason said. “I’m going to take over that computer now.”

“I can’t,” Billy said. “Sheriff’s orders.”

“Then maybe your children and grandchildren
won’t
be hearing this story.”

Billy watched the screen.

“That was a threat, boy. I meant you may not live long enough to have children. You aren’t too dense to understand that, are you?”

This, Billy decided, was one of those questions that didn’t need answering.

Mason said, “What’s so important about the livery?”

Billy started giving thought as to whether Sheriff Carney would want Mason to know.

“Are you as stupid as you look?” Mason said. “Answer me.”

If he had to answer, the question needed consideration. Billy finally said, “I don’t know how stupid I look, so I’m not the one who can tell you.”

“Why are you watching the livery?” Mason hissed.

“It’s sheriff’s business.”

“My arm’s in a cast,” Mason said, “but I could still slit your throat. Don’t think because you’re big that I couldn’t do it.”

Billy understood, but he was more afraid of Sheriff Carney. Especially after how bad things had gone wrong at Mrs. Shelton’s. He pressed his top teeth hard against his bottom teeth. Couldn’t say anything to make Mason Lee kill him if he kept his mouth like that.

“So tell me what you’re looking for,” Mason snapped.

“Sheriff’s business.” Billy had to say something. But he didn’t take his eyes off the screen. He wondered if he’d be able to turn around in time to stop Mason from slitting his throat.

“You’re not afraid of me?” Mason asked.

“I know who you are.”

“Then you know well enough to tell me what I want to know.”

“Sheriff’s business,” Billy said.

“All right then,” Mason said, grinning like he’d decided to toy with Billy. “Guess I’ll just stand here and watch with you.”

Billy wished Mason wouldn’t, but he didn’t have any orders to cover what to do with a bounty hunter who worked directly for Bar Elohim. So Billy said nothing when Mason put the shotgun on his lap, pulled up a chair, and moved it within two feet of Billy, who could feel Mason’s glare switching between the screen and his face.

It took a few minutes for Billy to grow accustomed to the smell of drying plaster and Mason’s acrid body odor. Even so, the next hour was not comfortable for Billy, with Mason’s menacing silence so close. At least Billy didn’t get drowsy, wondering if Mason would pull out a knife without warning.

Movement appeared on the screen. Mitch Evans, who managed the livery, led a few horses out the rear door.

Billy knew what to do about that. He reached for the radio to call Sheriff Carney.

“This is what Sheriff Carney was waiting for?” Mason said.

Billy was conflicted. Sheriff Carney wanted to know the minute that Mitch Evans appeared on camera. But did Sheriff Carney want Mason Lee to know what Sheriff Carney wanted to know?

“I’m going to leave you here.” Billy pushed away his chair, two-way in hand. He’d call Sheriff Carney from the back room where the jail cells were.

“Don’t think so.”

Billy was surprised a man could move so fast, especially with one arm in a cast. It seemed before Billy could blink, Mason was standing and pressing the shotgun barrel into Billy’s spine.

“You’ll talk to him right here,” Mason said. “But if you say a word about me, there’s going to be a big piece of you spread all across that far wall.”

Billy obeyed both sets of orders. He informed Carney about Mitch Evans. He didn’t say a word to Sheriff Carney about Mason Lee. The sheriff told Billy to stay put.

“You’ll have no problem following those orders,” Mason said after Billy put the radio back on the desk. “You ever been in one of your own jail cells before?”

“This afternoon,” Billy said. “Getting some sleep. And one other time, last week, I accidentally locked myself in. Sheriff Carney got mad at that.”

“Well then,” Mason said, pushing Billy away from the counter with the shotgun, “you can handle going back in for a while.”