P Deutermann - Spider mountain

I just looked at him. He must not have cared for the expression on my face, because he became angry.

“We know there’s something wrong in Robbins County,” he said. “Believe it or not, we might even be working on it, but since you are an ex-lieutenant, emphasis on the ‘ex’ part, I’m not inclined to share, okay? Same thing goes for ex-special agent Carrie Santangelo. Emphasis once again on the ‘ex.’ Chances are, you stay out of Robbins County and you’ll both be a whole lot better off. Go the fuck home. Trust me, I’ll be telling her the same damn thing in the morning.”

Gelber, who’d been listening, had a nasty smile on his face and was exuding agreement from the car. King gave me a curt nod and went over to get into the car. I tried to think of some really clever retort, but by the time I did, they were down the road and gone. As usual.

I walked back to the cabin. It was a pleasant night, although there was a hazy ring around the moon presaging rain later. The shrubbery around the creek smelled of late summer, and the pea gravel along the walk crunched respectfully under my feet. A zillion insects were communicating in the woods in the rising humidity. The shepherds were waiting by the front screen door, so I let them go water the grounds for a few minutes. I sat down on the front steps while they ran around and thought about what King had said.

Go the fuck home. Basically, this is our game and we’ll play it out the way we want to. Retirees, agents who resign, and other undesirables, especially ones who blunder into one fix after another and who believe in rural legends, need not apply. He’d been pretty convincing. M. C. Mingo and the Creighs hadn’t gone into business yesterday, and it would probably take years of careful and methodical police work, as usual, to roll them up in a way that would stand up in our wonderfully liberal court system.

Much as I hated to admit it, Special Agent King might just be right.

Then the shepherds returned. They were escorting one bedraggled-looking Carrie Harper Santangelo. I sighed. From the grimly determined look in her eyes, I knew there was no way in hell that I was going to get home any time soon.

“Breakout?” I asked her as she shuffled up to the cabin.

She nodded and then staggered just a little. I realized she was probably still under the effects of sedation. Her balance was off, and she was having trouble forming words. I helped her into the cabin. It being a bridal suite, there was only one real bedroom and one enormous bed, and that’s where I took her, the shepherds following with lots of concerned interest. She’d apparently found her dirty clothes and put them on over her hospital gown.

I sat her down on the edge of the bed and examined the top of her head. She rested her forehead on my chest patiently. Her scalp was a mess, albeit a professionally sutured and disinfected mess. She looked up at me, and then one eye wandered just a bit. Whatever pain meds they’d given her were definitely still onboard. I wanted to get her a bath, but right then and there she was bound for the arms of Morpheus.

I stretched her out on the bed and, as gently as I could, relieved her of her shoes, jeans, and shirt. The hospital gown did little to protect her modesty, but there was nothing sexy about undressing a woman who’d had the top of her head sliced open by a rifle. She made a halfhearted attempt to cover herself and then gave up when I rolled her into clean sheets and pulled up a light coverlet. Her body was slim, trim, and athletic, lovely and round where it should be, yet surprisingly light. Some genuine joy there for the right guy, I thought.

I went into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. I washed her face as gently as I could and then her hands. She made little mumbling sounds. I brought her some water and she drank an entire glass. She said something about scotch and I smiled. Not tonight, dear heart. I fluffed up her pillows, made sure her arms weren’t contorted, and turned out the lights. I think she was asleep before I got out of the room.

I thought about one final scotch and then decided to pass. I was turning out lights and appraising the couch when there was a quiet knock on the door. It turned out to be the other Big brother, Luke.

“She okay?” he asked. He was twisting his deputy’s hat in his hands, and I could tell he was somewhat embarrassed to be there.

“Lemme guess: You failed door duty.”

He nodded. “Big time,” he said. “She pops out into the hallway, bottom in the breezes, says she has to get out of there. I tried talkin’ her back in, but she wasn’t havin’ any. Said she’d seen Mingo. Said she’d go out the window, she had to. Said people die in hospitals, she was leavin’, and she had a gun.” He grinned, despite himself.

“She get herself dressed, did she?” I asked.

He blushed harder. “Um, no, sir, I had to help her with that, too. Couldn’t see lettin’ her go half-nekkid down the damn hall. Said she had to get up with you. Said I had to spring her, that they was people comin’ to get her, same people as what cracked her head.”

I had to wonder where the hospital staff had been for this little drama, but I was glad he’d gone along. “You did the right thing,” I told him. “I think.”

“She gonna be okay?” he asked. “I can take her on back, you say so. Them nurses is gonna be havin’ themselves a hissy by now.”

“They know you aided and abetted?”

“No, sir, don’t believe so. They was busy bein’ distracted, sorta.”

I didn’t want to know any more. I told him it was okay and that he should go back to the hospital and tell them she’d checked herself out. “If she seems off in the morning, I’ll bring her back, but she’s probably safer here than in the hospital. There still a county vehicle out in the parking lot?”

“One comin’,” he said. “John was here, but he got called out. You got you a gun?”

I told him I had Nathan’s ten-gauge, and then remembered that I hadn’t baked out the shells. He grinned.

“John said you kicked his evil ass.” Then his face sobered. “He’s gonna do somethin’ about that, you know. They’re gonna do somethin’, best believe it.”

“So I’ve been told. Make sure the deputy in the parking lot knows about that possibility. In the meantime, it’s been a long damn day and night. I’m going to bed. She’s safe here with the shepherds. We’ll reevaluate tomorrow morning, okay? If there’s any shit, they can come see me. I’ll keep you out of it.”

He nodded, looking relieved, and left.

I secured the cabin, put the ten-gauge and the least soggy shells near the bedroom door, and then went in to check on Carrie. She was sleeping, or so I thought. I adjusted her covers, and then one small hand came out of nowhere and grabbed mine.

“Hold me,” she said.

I considered it and then said okay. I got undressed and slid into the bed with her. She rolled onto her left side and I put my arm around her. She took my right hand and pressed it to her left breast and then began to snore quietly as her body relaxed into mine and she dropped off into real sleep, probably for the first time in forty-eight hours.

I hadn’t been in bed with a woman since losing Annie Bellamy to the cat dancers mob. Carrie’s hair smelled of Eau de Betadine and hospital soap. Still, it was a nice feeling. The wind came up outside, and a rain squall pattered on the windows. The shepherds abandoned their porch and snuck into the bedroom. I pretended not to notice.

The county hospital people were less than pleased about Carrie’s checking herself out, but were pacified by some exculpatory paperwork from her via one of Sheriff Hayes’s deputies. I’d awakened before she had. I took the dogs out for a morning walk in the lodge precincts, making sure to stay within visual range of my cabin while she was in there by herself. When I got back she was in the shower, which I thought was a good sign. I made coffee, and when she came out she looked a lot better. Over coffee, she told me about hearing a loud crack, seeing stars, then falling. The shock of icy water revived her, and she remembered crawling into the rocky shallows only to be grabbed up by Lucas a few minutes later and hauled into the woods. He’d used duct tape to blindfold and gag her, and some kind of clasp chain to pin her arms and hands.