The Watchman (23 page)

“The second set of prints came from a coffee mug in London's office. As to the dead guy at Quentin, it couldn't have been anyone but Ralph Jensen. He and Marshall were the same size, and only one convict turned up missing after the riot. That's the only conclusion that makes sense.”

Amos pulled up a chair and sat down with a thump. “You went into London's office? How'd you get the cup without being caught?”

I grinned. “You don't want to know.”

He shook his head. “Well, I guess this clears you and may even let Rachel London off the hook.”

I gave Amos the Marshall family picture.

Sally copied both sets of prints and handed them to him. She looked across at me. “Where is the real Harry London?”

That question had also occurred to me. “I don't know. But as soon as I get my hands on Marshall, I'm going to find out.”

There was more to that statement than Sally and Amos would ever know.

I leaned against the wall of Sally's cubicle and couldn't keep the grin off my face. “Do you want to get the arrest warrant issued? That just might get you a promotion and a raise.”

Amos stuffed the prints and photo into his inside coat pocket and his lips spread into a broad smile. “You bet I do. I only know about two judges and one D.A. who would sell their mother for the privilege.”

I flipped my cell phone open and called Rachel.

After I explained the Marshall/London connection, the phone went silent for a moment.

“I—I can't believe it. Are you sure? Is it really over? I can take Cody home?”

“I'm sure, Rachel. The police are on the way to get a warrant issued for Ben at this very moment. He should be in custody within the hour. You don't have to worry about him anymore.

“The jailbreak charges against you still stand, but I'll call Jake. Let's see what he can do before you return to Hebron.”

I hung up, two calls still needed to be made. One to Jake and one to Lincoln Armstrong.

They were going to love this.

 

 

 

 

19

 

Hand Me Down Ranch

The ranch loomed clean and pristine when I arrived New Year's Day.

Emma had called and invited me for dinner. She wanted me to join them in getting the New Year off to a good start. My body and emotions were relaxed with the threat of Harold London off my back. I looked forward to a pleasant dinner with friends.

I could afford to take this last holiday off before beating the streets for new cases. Even though I was still officially on Lincoln Armstrong's payroll, it would only last until the police picked up Ben Marshall and put him away.

Cody's Christmas tree lights blinked from the living room window, soon to be dismantled and ornaments stored for another year. I had no warm fuzzies about holding on to the past year. It had been a real bummer. One I hoped not to repeat anytime soon.

Holidays alone had become a norm for me since my grandmother passed away. Today, I planned to enjoy this family gathering to the fullest.

Emma and Rachel passed out hot chocolate and rich bread pudding soon after I arrived. They planned a late dinner.

Bill challenged me to a game of chess, and we hunched over a chessboard most of the afternoon. Around 2:00 PM, Bill flashed an evil grin. “Checkmate.”

“You have no mercy.”

He chuckled. “None, whatsoever. And if you don't finish your dessert soon, it's mine.”

Cody eased behind me and perused the board. “You should've protected your queen.”

I turned and ruffled his hair. “Where were you when I needed you?”

Cody grabbed my arm and dragged me into the living room. He'd displayed his Christmas gifts along the hearth for my inspection. He straddled a bright new saddle, his knees folded on the floor. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Bill and Emma gave this to me. Neat, huh?”

“Very neat.”

Bill entered the room and reached behind the Christmas tree. He brought out a colorful package and handed it to me.

“For me?” I was stunned.

He grinned and nodded.

Emma and Rachel entered and stood behind me. With careful movements, I unwrapped the parcel, unsure what to expect. When the paper lay on the floor at my feet, I discovered another box inside labeled, “Money Making Kit.”

Everyone moved in close as I looked under the lid. When the cover fell to the floor, shouts of laughter filled the room.

On the box bottom lay a black Lone Ranger mask and a toy gun.

I gave Bill a grin. “Thanks. If I don't line up some new cases soon, I may have to use this.”

At the dinner table Bill, Cody, and I salivated as Emma and Rachel brought in the meal. Tangy aromas of brisket and spicy yams made my stomach rumble. Corn bread and traditional black-eyed peas added to the feast.

Bill lowered his head, and we all joined hands.” Heavenly Father, we thank You for the food You have so bountifully supplied today. We give thanks for the family and friends with us, and we thank You for the freedom to worship You. We ask that You bless the soldiers, at home and abroad, who daily put their lives on the line so others might know these freedoms we enjoy. And Father, thank You for Noah, who through your grace, made this New Year's Day one to remember. In Jesus's name. Amen.”

That said it all.

The meal ended, and we returned to the den for coffee.

Rachel tapped her coffee cup with a spoon. “I have an announcement. As soon as the police have Harry, or should I say, Ben, in custody, I want to return to Cedar Hills Drive and put the house on the market.” She turned to Emma. “If that's all right with you?”

Emma nodded. “You're welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Rachel heaved a deep breath. “I'm sure I'll have a delayed reaction to all the mystery surrounding the man I was married to, who turned out to be someone else, but right now all I can feel is joy—thankful that it's over.” Her mouth curved slightly. Not a smile of happiness. More a cessation of pain and anxiety. “I haven't planned too far in advance yet. It depends on Jake—on how long it will take him to clear me of the jailbreak charges.” She placed her hand on Emma's shoulder. “Words can never express how much I've come to care for you both and to appreciate what you've done for us...”

She hesitated and blinked back tears. “Looks like I'll have to buy a horse so Cody can put that new saddle to good use, although I'm not sure how that will fit into Crown Heights' restriction codes.”

Cody stopped with a fork full of dessert halfway to his mouth. “Awesome.”

 



 

Hebron, Wyoming

On my way into the city the next morning, I took the turnoff to my grandparents' homestead, drove past the farm, and then to a church cemetery nearby. The gray sky mirrored my melancholy mood.

In the corner of the small graveyard stood five black marble headstones, side by side, covered with snow. I brushed away heavy flakes frozen to the smooth surface. The names of my father, mother, brother, and grandparents were etched into the black stone markers. I was the last of a long line of Adams's.

My mind raced back to that morning long ago, when Craig Reid shot and killed my mother and brother. My gifts had spared my life. Why the Lord saved my life that night, rather than my mother or Tommy, why he gave me the powers, I didn't know. Surely they were more deserving. The Lord knew my failings. How could I ever make up for their loss?

The guilt inside gnawed like a cancer that ate away at my soul.

I'd been the lone witness against Craig at his trial. Throughout the long ordeal, my most vivid memory was my grandmother's face smiling encouragement from the gallery.

After conviction, the state took ten years to put Craig to death. Every day he lived, my grief turned to rage, and the anger into bitterness that harden my heart. Somehow, his death, when it finally came, didn't end my hate, even though I desperately wanted to leave it behind.

A year after I came home from the service, my grandmother had died quietly in her sleep. The serenity of her death befitted the lady she was.

At my family's gravesite, my voice trembled—whether from cold or emotion, I wasn't sure. Perhaps both. “Thanks, Grandma, for standing by me through the fragile years, college, and the tour of duty in the Marines. I always think the emptiness of your death will pass, but it never has. Pray for me. That I will lose this heavy burden of hate for the man who took Mom and Tommy away from me.” I traced her name with my finger on the headstone. “I wish you could have been with me today. I chalked up one for the good guys.”

Back in my car, I drove home, to Bella, Brutus, and a late dinner with Mabel and Ted.

Later, feet propped up on the coffee table, I sipped hot cider Mabel had sent over with Ted. The television drama had ended, and I'd trudged across the frozen street to see Ted home.

After making sure Ted was inside safely, I returned to my place and to the basement. Home felt good. Bella lay at my side, and Brutus curled at my feet, as we watched the news. My mind fuzzy with fatigue, I only half listened to the newscast, until Bella raised her head and barked.

My feet hit the floor. The sixty-two inch TV displayed a photo of George and Tooie. I grabbed the remote and increased the volume.

A solemn field reporter stood in an office, surround by debris, police milling in the background. “—destroyed the office of local aviation entrepreneur, George Thomas.

“Fortunately, Mr. Thomas wasn't in the office when the vandal struck, but his dog wasn't so lucky. While Thomas locked down the hanger for the night, someone trashed his business. Mr. Thomas was unharmed, but the intruder killed his watchdog. We'll keep you informed as this story develops.”

Twenty minutes later, I slid into the parking lot of the Hebron Municipal Airport. The camera crew had departed, but two police officers stood by. Silent. Stone-faced. They knew George. They knew Tooie.

George's muffled sobs filled the room as he cradled Tooie's head on his lap.

One of the cops was from my old days on the force. He shook my hand. “Hey, Noah. Glad things worked out for you in that Judge London mess.” His gaze shifted to George, and he shook his head. “He's in pretty bad shape—didn't want to leave him alone.”

I nodded my thanks to the officer, knelt beside George, and placed my hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, George.”

His tear-stained face looked up at me, and anger flashed in his dark eyes. “Tooie never hurt anybody in his life. He...wouldn't bite...a biscuit.” Sobs broke out anew.

I caught the eye of one of the officers. “There are a couple of blankets in the backseat of my Jeep. Would you bring them in for me?”

He nodded and left.

I pulled a chair over and coaxed George into it. “We need to get Tooie home. Norma will be worried. Let me wrap Tooie in blankets and put him in my car. I'll drive you home.”

George placed his head in both hands and nodded.

The officer returned with the blankets and laid them on the floor. “Anything else we can do? We've finished here.”

I shook his hand. “Thanks, I'll take over. Any idea who's responsible?”

The officer shook his head. “George didn't see anybody, but he saw a dark blue or black sedan pull away as he reached the office. He didn't get the license number—worried about Tooie.”

My head jerked up. “A blue sedan?”

The police officer studied my face. “Blue or black. You know who it was?”

I stared in the distance for a long moment and visualized the face of the thug that busted my shoulder. “Sounds like a guy I had a run in with a while back.”

The cop pulled out his notepad. “You know his name?”

“No, but I could pick him out of a line-up.”

The cops left and George looked up at me. “You know who did this, Noah?”

I brushed broken glass out of the chair beside him and sat down. “Sounds like the guy who busted my shoulder.”

George shook his head, face gray, eyes red streaked. “Why would he come here, kill Tooie?”

A lump formed in my throat. “He must have followed me or found out we were friends. Perhaps he hoped you had information that would lead him to Rachel and Cody. He's a vicious thug. Gets his kicks hurting people.”

A muscle twitched in George's jaw. “I'll show him vicious if I ever get my hands on him.”

I picked up Tooie, placed him on one of the blankets and covered him with the other one. “He'd better pray you find him first.”

Norma and the kids waited when George and I arrived. They were almost as distraught as George, so I hung around until after two o'clock while they cried and talked themselves into exhaustion.

 



 

Noah's home, Hebron, Wyoming

At almost ten o'clock the next morning I jerked awake, my brain still sleep-addled. In the kitchen, coffee in hand, a black mood hung over me that I couldn't push back. Both of my cases were solved, and Armstrong still paid my daily fee. At least until Marshall was behind bars. I should feel elated.

A special edition of the newspaper lay on my lap, I scanned the headlines:

 

LOCAL JUDGE HAROLD LONDON REVEALED AS

ESCAPED CONVICT BENJAMIN MARSHALL

 

The front page featured pictures of London alongside Marshall's prison mug shot, their resemblance unmistakable. The story encapsulated Marshall's jailbreak along with speculation on the whereabouts of the real Harold London.

The telephone's shrill ring sent a subliminal warning. Thinking perhaps my dark frame of mind was playing tricks on me, I lifted the receiver with caution

“Cody's missing.” It was Bill Hand.

I stood up, dumped the newspaper on the floor, and splashed a puddle of black liquid onto the counter top. “When? How?”