Two for Flinching (10 page)

“On her cell?”

“Yeah.”

I was having a hard time seeing Mary and
Amber having a lot in common. “How well do you know Steven?”

“He was, you know, my boss?”

“How long have you been working with
Hannah?”

She hesitated, not seeing where I was going.
“Six months.”

“And you still talk to your ex-boss?”

Mary shook her head. In the negative or to
clear it, I couldn’t tell. “Not much.”

“You said he told you I might be around.”

“Yeah. He, uh, called, wanting to know if I
had heard from Amber.”

“And you told him you had called her?”

She nodded firmly. Back on solid ground.
“Last Wednesday.”

I drank more coffee, somehow avoiding serious
injury.

Mary said, “I don’t know what the problem
is.”

I decided to go with the detective’s best
friend. The bluff. “I have Amber’s cell bills.” It wasn’t much of a
bluff. I had a bunch of stuff from Steven back at the office and
figured the cell bill had to be in there. However, they were back
at my office and I had no idea what calls might or might not have
been made or received last Wednesday.

Mary paled. “It could’ve been her house
phone.”

I put on my disbelieving face. “What do you
think about Steven?”

“He has always been nice to me.”

“I bet.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Look, I gotta get back.”

“Forty-five minutes until your next
appointment.”

“We, uh, you know, get a lot of
walk-ins.”

“Sure.” She stood, taking the five dollar
coffee that wasn’t coffee with her. “Mary.”

She stopped, giving me a cautious look.

“I’ll be back.”

Chapter Sixteen

The Zac Brown Band and I drove through
Chickasaw Falls to my office. I had a nagging feeling that
something in that stack I had received from Steven was missing.
Something important.

Big Bird’s partner was waiting for me in the
middle of the sock factory lot. His crew neck sweater was tucked
into the blue jeans, a brown toboggan over his head. He wasn’t
wearing a coat.

I parked the Jeep at the far end, not my
usual spot in the handicapped space, breaking the pattern. I took
the Colt out and put it in the pocket of my leather jacket. As I
got out, I paid him absolutely no attention. It was obvious he was
unarmed, except for maybe a piece hidden in an ankle holster, and
if that was the case, I could plug him four ways from Sunday before
he could get to it. The real threat was Starling and I didn’t see
him. From what I could tell about the pair, if they were going to
set a trap, Big Bird would have made for a better distraction, his
partner the shooter. The partner had set off alarm bells since the
first time we met.

I slowly approached, my eyes dancing to the
woods along the side of the abandoned mill, up the stairs, even to
the window of my office. I played the moves out in my mind,
rehearsing them.
Pull the pistol as I dropped. Take out the
partner. Roll into the brush. Find the threat. Eliminate the
threat.

He held out both hands, reading my wariness.
“I’m not here for trouble.”

“Where’s Starling?” I asked without looking
at him.

“I left him at the bar.”

“Where’s your truck?”

“Bird’s truck. It’s still at the bar.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I walked.”

“At least three miles to the nearest
tavern.”

“Tell me about it.”

I finally gave him my full attention. Not
full, but close. He appeared to be on the verge of shivering. I
kept my hand on the gun in my pocket. “What are you here for? If
it’s not trouble?”

“To talk.” His accent was strong, like
something from another world, hard on the A’s, light on the
R’s.

“Where are you from? South Shore?”

He smiled. “You’ve been to Boston?”
Bahston.

“No. Served with a boy from there. Talked
funny like you.”

He shook his head. “I’m not from Boston.”

I waited.

He finally said, “Providence.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

He shook his hands and I nodded and he let
them fall to his sides. “About the girl.”

“What about her?”

“You’re a hard one, aren’t you?”

I shrugged.

“I did my research on you, Camp.”

“I’m sure it was fascinating.”

“Army Ranger. Two tours in Afghanistan, one
in Iraq. Couple of Purple Hearts. A Silver Star. Chest full of
medals.”

***

I was getting out of the shower, fresh back
from my last tour. A shortened tour. Stella stood naked in front of
the mirror, brushing her long blond hair, still wet from the shower
we had shared. It took my breath away. Months and months in
sandland, thinking about that sight. Her body was flawless, toned
and muscular. Soon it would be undergoing the change, her stomach
extending and dropping. The breasts growing even fuller. Ankles
swelling. Not for long though. One month after the birth of Sarah
and you wouldn’t even be able to tell.

She smiled at me. Perfect white teeth behind
full lips. That smile had hypnotized me from the moment I laid eyes
on her. “You’re dripping all over the floor.”

“
Sorry.” I took the towel from the rack
and began drying.

“
Wow.”

I turned to face her. “What? My rock hard
abs?”

“
No. It’s the first time I’ve seen
it.”

I looked over my shoulder. The flesh was
still red, raw.

“
How did you get shot in the ass?”

“
Because I was running like hell.”

***

“Bronze Star,” I corrected. “What about the
girl?”

He sighed. “I know Bird came on a little
strong.”

“A little?”

He laughed. His body remained perfectly
still. “We mean the girl no harm. We only want her found.”

“That makes three of us. Why do you
care?”

“I don’t. Bird does.”

“They old friends or something?”

“Couldn’t tell you. I can tell you, though,
that we won’t hurt her. She has nothing to fear from us.”

“And I do?”

“Maybe. Bird is a bull in a china shop.
That’s the only way he knows.”

“So bullying me is the path to the girl?”

“In his mind.”

I nodded. I had known people like Clarence
Starling my entire life. “How did you end up with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Bird is an asshole. You’re a guy who
seems…competent.”

“Nobody is perfect.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“What did you do? To win the Bronze
Star?”

“I lived. Everybody else died.”

Chapter Seventeen

Five thirty on a Friday, there was only one
sure place to find a cop. Angel’s Bar and Grill was full of them. I
got a half dozen smiles and a dozen dirty looks as I made my way
through. Randy was perched on the corner, a tall draft before him.
He was overjoyed to see me.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Maybe overjoyed wasn’t the word for it.
Before I could answer, the barkeep stretched his hand over the
walnut bar. “Beason, where have you been? My profits have plummeted
since you resigned.”

Randy said, “He was fired, Angel.”

I ignored him. “I’ve been drinking with a
better class of people.”

“Yeah? I heard you’ve been hanging out with
pimps and crack whores.”

“Like I said.”

Angel laughed. He had put in his twenty and
promptly opened the bar. He made a drink and passed it over. “On
the house,” he said. “For old times.”

“Thanks.” I sipped it. A double shot of dark
Bacardi over ice with enough coke to change the color. And a lime.
It was perfect. Angel nodded and went to serve his thirsty
patrons.

Randy said, “I’m off the clock.”

I slid into the high stool next to him.
“Can’t a man have a drink with a friend?”

“Have to find a friend first.”

Tough crowd. “How’s the search for Amber
Noble going?”

He tapped the watch on his wrist.
“Clock.”

“Give it a rest, Randy. You can talk to me
for five minutes or I can pester you all night.”

“I could shoot you.”

“No,” I said with more feeling than I meant.
“You couldn’t.”

He shook his head and sipped his beer.
“Asshole.”

I fought the urge to knock back the rum and
coke. I had too much to do tonight and getting tanked in Angel’s
was never a good idea. “Amber Noble?”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell, this won’t take five minutes.”

“Your lucky day.”

“Tell me about it. Investigation is
over.”

“Over?”

“Yeah. Pending new developments, we assume an
adult woman has left her jerk of a husband.”

“You must have spent some time with
Steven.”

Mock shudder. “I don’t see how she lasted
that long. Have you heard from her?”

“No.” I slipped the folded sheet of paper
from my leather jacket. “Have you got that copy of her cell phone
records?”

Randy nodded. “In my briefcase.”

“When did you start carrying a
briefcase?”

“When I started having to carry my work home
with me.”

“Place is falling apart since I left.”

“Fired, Beason. You were fired.”

“Semantics. Can I see them a second?”

He gave me a look.

“I can break out into song if it helps. You
still like country music?”

“Anything to spare me
that
.” He
reached down and pulled the case from his feet and sat it on the
bar. He unlocked the case, flipping through a few files and handed
me the printout. My eyes ran down the sheet, comparing it to the
numbers in my hand. Randy said, “What?”

I showed him the list I had. “Is this what
Steven gave you?”

He dug some more in the case and pulled out
his list. They were identical. “What?”

“These are supposed to be Amber’s
friends.”

“Yeah.”

I laid the sheet of paper alongside the phone
records. The phone records Steven had neglected to give me. “She
didn’t talk to these people.”

Randy raised an eyebrow.

“I spent the day running them all down,” I
said, “and they all have more in common with Steven than they do
with Amber.”

“Huh.” His interest was up, but not by
much.

“Have you talked to her sister?”

“I didn’t know she had a sister.”

“Yep.”

“Have you been in contact with the
sister?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“What did she say?”

I decided to go with the relevant and leave
off what might or might not have been said on the couch. “She
thinks Amber left Steven.”

“There you go.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that Steven would
give us a list of
his
friends?”

“How many friends do you have?”

“Counting you?”

“No, not counting me. Or Nero or any other
criminals.”

“That kinda cuts it down.”

“Uh huh. And Stella? How many of Stella’s
friends did you know?”

“Not enough.”

Randy winced, instantly regretting bringing
it up. “All I’m saying is, husbands can be…oblivious to their
wife’s friends—especially if the marriage is on the rocks.”

“Brother,” I said, “you said a mouthful.” I
finished the drink, put the empty glass on the table and stood.

“I’m sorry, Beason. I didn’t mean for it to
come out like that.”

“No worries. I gotta run.”

“Friday night, you might as well drink here.
Best way to stay out of a DUI is to drink with police.”

“I have a date.”

Randy turned in his seat to examine me.
“Miracles never cease.”

***

I thought about bad decisions and Providence
as I drove through town. The night had the weekend’s energy, more
cars out on the road as people went to dinner or to a honky-tonk to
blow off steam. I could trace all of my bad decisions to three
factors: drink, a hot temper, and thinking with the wrong brain.
The hot temper had always been with me—and always would be—but I
had made strides as I got older. Sarah had helped with that,
broadening my horizons, my world no longer wrapped up in only me
and what people did to me. The drink I felt I had pretty much under
control, no more blackouts, though I knew it was still on the heavy
side. That damn smaller brain still controlled me too much (Exhibit
A-Amber, Exhibit B-Madison.) I knew it was time to take my father’s
advice.

Providence concerned me. I couldn’t
understand why one gangster from Louisiana and another from Rhode
Island would be interested in Amber Noble. She was a nurse in a
small town. She didn’t use drugs and, as far as I knew, she didn’t
gamble or have any use for illegal guns. Providence had told me
they only wanted her found, that they had no intention of hurting
her. He seemed like an honest man—that whole honor among thieves
most thieves don’t posses. He carried it, wore it like the jacket
he needed this afternoon. Of course, he could have been lying. I
considered myself an honest man and I couldn’t keep track of all
the lies I had told. To suspects, insurgents and collaborators
alike—even to my superiors. I had to keep that in mind. The only
thing I could come up with was that Amber had seen or heard
something she wasn’t supposed to see or hear. Where, though? At the
hospital? Maybe one of her patients had let something slip to her,
something that presented a problem to Big Bird. Was that why she
had disappeared so completely? Going so far as to cut off contact
with her mother and her sister? If that was the case, then she was
still alive or Starling and Providence would never have shown up on
my doorstep. All I had to do was find her.

The lot was full and I had to leave the Jeep
on the street. I picked my way through the crowded lobby to the
teenage girl at the podium. She gave me a harried smile. “How
many?”