P Deutermann - Nightwalkers

"You, of course, did not ask him where or how he got it."

"There you go. Anyway, some of his income was tax free. Now you tell me: Whose income is tax free?"

"Military guys in a war zone, for one," I said.

"And some of those security contractors, say, like in Iraq and Afghanistan?"

"Wow," I said. "He's one of them."

"That was my contact's general impression, based on records he did not see."

"That would explain some of the toys and methods he's been throwing against me. Any local records?"

"The local sheriff knows him but says he's never been a problem. He has a driver's license, so I've requested a photo from DMV."

"Be interesting to see that," I said. "That little white mask on my front seat would indicate that Willard missed."

"Willard will be sad to hear that," he said, "but yes, that's what I would conclude."

"The major could have put that there," I said.

"The major is gonzo."

"He was in the army, too, though. I saw his medals in the library last night. It might be interesting to know what he did for a living in the Green Machine."

"It wouldn't matter," he said. "Just feature the major in court. Even if he's been helping his son mess with your mind, which isn't likely, is it, we couldn't touch him, other than maybe to commit him."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, suddenly out of answers.

"Chain yourself to a tree out in front of the big house at Glory's End tonight. Turn on some spots and bleat like a goat. We'll be up on the porch, watching for the tiger. How's that sound?"

"Not great."

"We've got to flush him," he said. "He has to know the will scam won't fly anymore, but if he is still around, I'd assume he wants your ass dead."

"So either way, I'm bait?"

"Any other suggestions?" he said. "I mean, this thing's murky enough right now. I'd be satisfied with a righteous self-defense shooting."

My brain still wasn't working on all eight cylinders, even after two coffees.

"I've set up camp in the house at Glory's End," I said, "but if you put guys out on the perimeter, he'll just wait until you run out of overtime money."

"Yup."

"Goat, hunh?"

"Yup."

"Will you come when I call?"

"You bet," he said. "Hopefully just in time, too."

Then his cell phone went off. He looked at the screen and said he had to boogie. As he went out the door, Carol Pollard came in. She saw me and waved, and I motioned her over to my table, since the cafeteria was pretty full. I had a third coffee that I didn't need and filled her in on the events of the past few days. She laughed when she heard the part about the goat.

"We've tried to find a way to take the initiative from this guy," I said, "but it keeps coming back to waiting for him to make his big move."

"So far it's been mostly talk, hasn't it," she said.

"So far," I said. "It's not like he didn't have some opportunities."

"Yet it was Hester who actually raised a shotgun and tried to shoot you."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that she's the driver in this game. He's doing what she tells him to do, because it's really Hester who wants you off that property. You want the initiative, squeeze Hester."

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about this: Tell her you're going to dismantle the house. Take it apart, pile up the pieces, and then rebuild it stick by stick-like I did with my house. If there's something there she's afraid of, something hidden in the house, I don't know, some deadly secret? She'll act, or she'll push Callendar's go button."

I thought about that, and the fact that the Lees cared an awful lot about the family's reputation. They also tended to act decisively when someone failed them, like Callendar's shooting down the dog lady. It might work.

"Okay," I said. "How do I get this message to Her Hestership? She sees me, she's likely to reach for that coach gun again, and Valeria will hand her the ammo."

"Let me do it. I'm a volunteer here, too. I'll go upstairs, run into the Lees somehow, and positively bubble over with excitement about your plans to dismantle the house. How interesting it will be to see how the house was built, and all its historical secrets."

"How do you know she won't fold you into the goat pen with me?" I asked.

"You need some help out there?" she said. "I'm not all that bad with that Mag."

"Plus, you're bored."

"A little bit, yes. It's a very small-."

"Town," I finished for her.

She smiled brightly.

"It would mean you'd have to spend the night," I said. "Think of your reputation in this very small town."

"What can I tell you," she said. "A local creep tried to break into my house one night. I surprised him, and he ran for his truck. The truck ended up with a blown engine, two shattered axles, no window glass, and smelling like a sewage treatment plant. Since then my reputation and my Magnum have been married, so to speak."

I spent the rest of the day setting up for something of a siege at Glory's End. I acquired two real beds and some other stuff from a seedylooking furniture store that was desperately in the "huge sale, limited time only" mode, on the condition that it all made it out to the house by three this afternoon. The store manager promised fervently that it would. Then I loaded up on groceries, some more Scotch from the ABC store, a coffeemaker, and some fresh ammo for my various guns. The shepherds gamely rode around in the Suburban for the whole shopping expedition and were very glad to get out back at the house. Frick surprised a squirrel, and then all three dogs got into a fight over the carcass. Being in the car all day makes them cranky.

Tony called in around three with the news that he had not been able to find out anything at all about the major or Callendar. Since 9/11, the Defense Department had put up some pretty big walls around military personnel data. I told him it was okay, that the sheriff had found out a little bit. He asked if I thought the guy was going to make his move soon or just take off. I told him about our little plot to light a fuse under Hester, and he asked if he should come out tonight. I demurred, saying only that this might take a few days to work. Or not.

I checked in with the sheriff; he informed me that Cubby had been released to recuperate at home. I was surprised he'd gone directly from ICU to outpatient release, but apparently the hospital was more afraid of its own community bacterial problems than of what might be lurking at Cubby's house. I told him about our move to shake up the Lee women, and he agreed that Hester might react. He said he was on the way over to the Johnsons' house with one of his detectives to have a little chat and would call me if he learned anything of tactical significance.

"Like where he's been holing up?"

"Just like that," he said. "Although that old carriage house across the river is the likely spot. Our forensics people found plenty of signs that it had been occupied."

"He's got another hole over on this side," I said. "If it isn't on Hester's property, then it's over here at Glory's End somewhere."

"Remember-make him come to you," he said. "You go out on patrol, he'll have you."

"We'll keep that in mind," I said.

"We?"

I told him about Carol. He was quiet for a moment.

"You know why she left the Job?"

"She told me it was because of a shootout of some kind that went bad, something she did, or didn't, do. I didn't press for details."

"She lost her nerve," he said. "There was a three-way gun-pointing situation, and the bad guy stared her down, shot her partner dead, and then, and only then, did she open fire. She put the mope down, but he put her in the hospital and gave her a gimp leg."

"I see."

"Do you?" he asked. "She's good people, Cam. Honest, kind, and intelligent. She sincerely regrets what happened and makes no excuses about it being someone else's fault. Still, don't get yourself into a tactical situation that requires her to be your only backup. I don't think she has it in her."