Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) (14 page)

That was a huge relief, but he
immediately felt guilty. Once again, the price of his peace of mind was another
person being dead.

'None of this helps you, does it?'
Barbara said, laying her hand lightly on his knee. In any other situation it
would have been a gesture of comfort or support, but not today.

'I'm afraid not,’ he said, his voice
suddenly gravelly. ‘I feel like I've gone backwards.'

'A bit of a wasted journey. All that
way for nothing. We wouldn't want that, would we. Can’t have you going away empty
handed.' There was something in her tone of voice. Something primeval and
predatory. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. From where he was
sitting he could see exactly what he’d like to fill those empty hands with;
they were rising and falling steadily as her breath quickened, the nipples
clearly visible now through the thin material. His fingers ached to reach out
and touch them.

'I hope you don't mind me saying,'
she said, leaning forwards to give him a better view down her top, 'but I couldn't
help noticing how you can't take your eyes off my breasts.’ She looked down at
them herself as if seeing them for the first time. ‘I know you've tried; given
yourself a stiff... neck trying, but you still need to work on it. Some people
might not like it.'

From the way her lips parted and her
tongue darted out and ran along her teeth, it was clear she didn't count
herself in that number. Some people liked it a lot, in fact. He could feel the
heat coming off her body and smell her perfume.

He didn't see the point in trying to
deny it. The evidence against him was growing by the minute. Now it was her who
couldn't take her eyes off him. He swallowed thickly. He was sure his tongue
was hanging out of his mouth by now.

'It's got me slicker than deer guts
on a doorknob,' she said, 'if you know what I mean.'

Evan thought he had a pretty good
idea. He also couldn't see any good reason why he shouldn't get up and sit down
next to her before it was too late.

Driving back from Barbara's house,
Evan felt more relaxed than he had since he couldn't remember when. Bryan
Adams'
Thought I'd Died and Gone to Heaven
was playing on the radio,
which was maybe a bit strong for how he was feeling, but he was still feeling
pretty good.

He would have liked to have come
away with some ground breaking insights into the case but he was happy enough
with his consolation prize. He marvelled, as he had many times before, at the
way people reacted to bad news by reaffirming their own life in the most basic
way - although basic wasn't really the right word for some of what they'd got
up to.

Now he had to decide whether to go
round to see Faulkner and ask him whether he knew anything about the
possibility of Hendricks changing his name. Surely that would have come up in
their investigation.

More importantly he wanted to see
Faulkner's reaction to the fact that it was looking highly unlikely that Robbie
Clayton had killed his son and run away. It wasn't conclusive proof by any
means, but he believed Barbara's story. Robbie Clayton sure as hell wasn't
living there now and he doubted he ever had been. It was still possible that
he'd run away on his own, but he didn't think it was likely.

The afternoon's extracurricular
activities had taken quite a bite out of his day, but he decided to go anyway.
One thing was for sure - he wouldn't be going for another beer with him after
what happened last time.

Despite his best efforts he'd
somehow managed to get his damaged ear caught up in the elastic of Barbara's
pantyhose when she clamped his head tight between her thighs and refused to let
go. Now it was hurting like hell. At the time, the sight of her heavy breasts bouncing
and swinging wildly as she laughed uncontrollably while he clutched his ear had
made it worthwhile, but now he wasn't so sure.

It was still light when he got to
Faulkner's trailer park and there was an old Dodge Ram pickup truck parked next
to Faulkner's car in the driveway. He parked behind it and got out and walked
up to the trailer. Inside he could hear two men's voices. They weren't shouting
but it was a fairly heated conversation. He knocked on the door and waited. The
voices stopped abruptly and after a few moments silence Faulkner opened the
door.

'What the hell do you want?' he
said, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Evan caught a quick
glimpse of the back of the other man inside before the door closed.

'It's nice to see you again too,'
Evan said. 'I thought you'd be interested to hear how I'm doing after you took
me to that bar the other night.'

'You're right; I haven't been able
to sleep at night with the worry. Anyway, I'm in the middle of something right
now. Can this wait?'

'Sure - I just wanted to let you
know I went to see the woman Robbie Clayton was seeing before he disappeared. I
think it's pretty certain he didn't run off voluntarily.'

He watched Faulkner carefully to see
how he took the news. As far as he could see, he might as well have been
telling him what he'd eaten for breakfast for all the reaction he got. Maybe
his eyes narrowed a fraction but that could have been the late afternoon sun
slanting through the trees.

Faulkner snorted. 'I'd be interested
to hear what kind of proof you think you've got,' he said, 'but I'm busy right
now. What are you doing tomorrow?'

Evan was momentarily distracted by a
movement at the window behind Faulkner, but it was too quick for him to get a
look at Faulkner's visitor. Faulkner waved a hand in front of Evan's face.

'Sorry. I've got a pretty full day
sitting around, kicking my heels, but apart from that I think I can fit you
in.'

'Don't be a smartass. If you can
haul your lazy ass out of bed in the morning, why don't you come back about
seven tomorrow morning and I'll take you fishing.'

'Fishing?'

'Yes, you know - you go out in a
boat with a rod and a reel and catch fish. Millions of people do it every day.
It's called a hobby.'

'Who's being the smartass now?'

'I'm going anyway. If you're here by
seven, you can tag along. I've got enough gear for both of us. There's an added
attraction for you, too.'

Evan didn't really want to give
Faulkner an easy shot at him, but he asked 'What's that?' anyway.

'Even you should be able to see
McIntyre coming if you're half a mile from the shore in the middle of a lake.'

He’d almost forgotten about
McIntyre. Driving away from Faulkner's place he knew he had to think of a way
to deal with him. He didn't want to risk meeting him even if it was somewhere
public; the man was clearly a maniac.

An idea started to form in his mind.
It wasn't perfect but it was the best he could come up with. He still had Kevin
Stanton’s numbers in his phone; he'd never rung the home number but he'd taken
it down just in case he couldn't get him on his cell.

No time like the present. He pulled
onto the shoulder, found the number and hit the dial button. She picked up
straight away.

'Mrs Stanton, my name's Evan
Buckley.'

There was a long silence. He
wondered if she was still there. 'Hello?'

'You're the bastard who took the
photos and gave them to Kevin.'

'Yes. I'm very sorry about the way
things turned out.'

'Sorry? You’re sorry! Your pictures
killed my husband,' she spat.

He didn't think it was an
appropriate moment to point out that if she hadn't been screwing Hugh McIntyre,
there wouldn't have
been
any pictures. Or that, as far as he could see,
she hadn't given a shit about her husband in the first place.

She was still talking, if that was
the right word to describe the venom coming down the phone line.

'You sick bastard. I can't believe
you're calling me.'

Already he was starting to wonder if
this was such a good idea. But she hadn't hung up on him, so he might as well
plow on.

'I need to talk to you.'

'Is this how you get off, you
pervert? You got bored jerking off to the pictures already, and now you want
phone sex. Is that it, you filthy pervert? Got your credit card ready?'

She was almost screaming. Evan
didn't say anything and let her rant on for a while longer. She needed to get
it off her chest. Quite a nice chest too, he seemed to recall. Maybe he'd keep
just one copy, after all.

'Did you know Hugh McIntyre attacked
me a few nights ago?' he asked when she'd quietened down.

'Yes, he told me. If he'd brought
you back here, I'd have bitten off a lot more than your ear, you sick bastard.
I hope your balls never come back down.'

Evan smiled to himself at the
thought that he'd already had the opportunity to road test the aforementioned
equipment. And it had all passed with flying colors. He decided not to share
the thought with her right now. Maybe later.

She'd gone quiet for a moment, which
was a relief. He wasn't sure, but he thought she might have covered the
mouthpiece with her hand.

'I don't want to talk on the phone.
Why don't you come over?' she said in a much calmer tone of voice.

Nice try, but no coconut. Do I look
like I was born yesterday?

'I don't think that's a good idea in
the circumstances.' He decided to pretend that he hadn't seen the newspaper
report. 'I want to ask you what this is all about.'

That set her off again. 'What do you
mean what's it all about? What do you think it's all about? Are you stupid as
well as sick? Is that why you spend your life ruining other people's; because
you're too stupid to get a proper job...'

'I understand why he wants to hurt
me,' he interrupted. 'I don't understand what else he wants. The police have
the photographs. There isn't anything else.'

'You must have copies.'

'I delete them as soon as the case
is over.' He felt a little bit guilty thinking about the copies he had mailed
to himself at home, but that was just insurance. He'd delete them as soon as
this was all sorted out.

'Why would I keep them?'

Incredibly, she decided to pass on
the opportunity to accuse him of jerking off again. He figured he would
continue playing dumb. 'I don't see why the photographs are so important. Your husband
is dead and, as far as I know, McIntyre isn't married. The damage is already
done.'

'You don't understand.'

'Then tell me.'

'What, so you can blackmail us. Do
you think I'm stupid?'

This wasn't going anywhere. Added to
which, yes, he did think she was stupid. If he had been looking to blackmail
them, she'd as good as told him there was something to blackmail them about.
All he had to do was look in the paper.

'I don't want to blackmail anyone,
but that's irrelevant because there aren't any more pictures anyway. The reason
I'm calling you is because I would like you to pass the message to McIntyre.'

'What message?'

God, give me strength.

'That there aren't any more copies,'
- another pang of guilt; he didn't like lying - 'therefore, there is no point in
McIntyre stalking me and trying to abduct me and then torturing the truth out
of me, or whatever else he had in mind.'

'I can tell him, but I don't think
it will make any difference. He never listens to me.'

At least he's got some sense, Evan
thought. At that moment, his car was rocked violently as the pickup truck he'd
seen outside Faulkner's trailer flew past, doing eighty at least. He hadn't
been paying attention to the road so he didn't get a chance to see the driver.
On a whim, he decided to follow it.

'I've got to go now,' he said,
pulling back onto the road. 'I'd be grateful if you'd pass on the message.
There's not a lot else I can say.'

She started to say something but he
ended the call without listening to her. He was quite convinced that it wouldn't
have been anything of any importance.

The pickup truck was about a quarter
mile up ahead, still burning up the road. Evan put his foot down, got up to
eighty himself, then kept his distance. It didn't really matter because he
didn't think the man in the trailer had seen his car, but it was better to be
safe.

After a couple of miles the pickup
slowed and took a left, and then slowed right down on the smaller road. He
recognized the road as he turned left, but couldn't immediately place it. It
started to come back to him and was confirmed a mile further on when the pickup
turned into the driveway of a nice looking property on the right.

He kept on straight and glanced at
the sign at the entrance to the driveway as he passed.
Beau Terre
looked
as picture perfect as it had last time he'd been there. Carl Hendricks was
climbing down from the pickup's cab and looked up as Evan drove past.

It was a quiet road and didn't get
much traffic - probably only the neighbors. Evan looked away quickly. He didn't
know whether Hendricks recognized him or not. It was one of the few times that he
wished he'd gone for the drug-dealer style tinted windows that everyone seemed
to have these days. At least his window was up, so there was a chance the
reflection on the glass would have obscured his face.

He drove on for miles until he found
another left turn - he didn't want to turn round and drive past Hendricks'
place again - which eventually looped round and he joined the main road back
into town again. His mind was spinning as he took it easy through the back
streets to his apartment block. He parked up and stayed sitting and thinking in
his car.

One thing was glaringly obvious -
Faulkner and Hendricks knew each other, and Faulkner hadn't mentioned that
particular to Evan. It also looked like they'd just had an argument, what with
the raised voices coming from inside the trailer and then Hendricks taking off
like a bat out of hell.

What wasn't so clear was; what did
it all mean, if anything? There were a million questions flying around in his
mind. Did they know each other before the disappearances, or had they got to
know each other subsequently? Was that why Faulkner hadn't looked very hard at
Hendricks? But most importantly; could he trust Faulkner? The man had been good
to him after McIntyre attacked him and now they were about to become fishing
buddies. Should he even go on the fishing trip tomorrow? Maybe McIntyre wasn't
who he should be worrying about when he was stuck half a mile out in the middle
of a lonely lake.