P Deutermann - Spider mountain

I parked the Suburban in a back corner of the lot where semis would usually park, and we attacked the food. Both shepherds were partial to the No. 2 Combo, which they dispatched with a gusto that gave new meaning to the term “fast food.”

“What did he mean right there at the end?” Carrie asked. “That ‘wrong’ and ‘better’ stuff?”

“Delirium of the dying,” I said. “I don’t think it meant anything.”

There were no other vehicles parked back where we were; the one semi that had been there when we went through the drive-through left. I was wondering whether or not we were being just a mite conspicuous when I saw a Robbins County cruiser pull up into the drive-through lane. There were two deputies riding, but they didn’t seem to be actively looking for anyone. They stopped at the order box, placed their orders, then started around to the pay window. Halfway through the turn, their brake lights came on, followed thirty seconds later by their blue light rack. Hamburgers forgotten, they swerved out of the line, turned left out of the parking lot, and sped off in the direction from which we had come. The girl in the pay window stuck her head out and stared after them.

“Word’s out,” I said.

“Yup,” Carrie said. “Too soon. Now what?”

“Now we go up there.”

“You’re just going to drive into the Creigh compound and, what? Demand they turn over the children?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Tell ’em Mingo’s dead. Tell them the game’s up and that a whole herd of feds are on the way. We don’t want them, just the children. Give them up, we leave, and you sick fucks have maybe an hour’s head start. Like that.”

“And I suppose I get to go up on the front porch?”

“You’re the peace officer,” I said.

“You seem to forget: I resigned, just like you did.”

“Actually, I don’t think you did. I think you just told everyone you did. And while we’re at it, I think the Big brothers are SBI, too.”

She cocked her head sideways. “Really.”

“Yeah, really. Brother King told me he had people in Rocky Falls. Baby Greenberg supposedly had a cell on watch when I landed in the pokey, but it was the Big brothers who showed up to spring my butt. And even more miraculously, they switch allegiance from Mingo to Hayes’s office, and get hired in a single day, after you told them to execute that little move. And back at Hayes’s cabin an hour ago? When I was suggesting that they stay there? John didn’t agree until you gave the okay.”

She wasn’t looking me in the eye anymore. “Well,” she said. We saw another cop car go roaring past, lights ablaze, in the same direction the first one had gone.

“Yeah, well-nicely done, actually. It’s not like I’m pissed or anything, and of course I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But enough’s enough: I’m going up there. If you won’t pitch the deal, then it’ll be harder, but I’m not going to sit here eating some fries while the clock’s ticking on when Grinny Creigh decides to cut her losses. How about it?”

“I have to make a quick call,” she said, pulling out her cell phone and opening the car door.

“Quick’s the operative word,” I said and got out myself to run the dogs for a moment while she conferred with whoever was running her little operation, probably King. I was telling the truth when I told her I wasn’t pissed. I’d sort of figured it out when I thought about how easily the Big brothers were moving through the various jurisdictional lattices. And then up at Hayes’s cabin those boys had looked to her more than once, even when I was the one yelling orders.

I got the dogs back in the car and readied Hayes’ shotgun. I was wishing I’d snatched up the Bushmaster, but I hadn’t seen any more magazines lying around. Carrie got back in the car.

“Okay, let’s do it,” she said. “King said all hell’s breaking loose in the Rob-bins County Sheriff’s Office right now, but he doesn’t think the Creighs have been alerted yet.”

“That something he knows?”

“Nope. Not at all. I think we have to assume the opposite.”

Assume, I thought, and started laughing. I don’t think Carrie appreciated why.

The closer we got to the Creigh compound, the less confident I was. I couldn’t tell if Carrie felt the same way, but I could not for the life of me think of any different move. Nathan might get one look at me and come screaming off the porch with a handful of knives, as might Grinny herself, over Rowena if nothing else. It was fully dark, so they might have to wait a few seconds to see who or what had showed up. Carrie kept trying her cell phone to establish comms with someone, anyone, but the signal evaporated once we left Rocky Falls. I looked at my watch-it was seven thirty. I hadn’t seen any utility poles going up to their cabin, so, even if they did have a generator, they might not have telephone service. The trees looked larger than life as our headlights swept over them along the river road.

“If the kids are there, where would she keep them?” Carrie asked.

I told her about Baby’s theory that there was a cave or some other underground structure behind or below the cabin. “And I thought I saw some little faces inside that time I was taken there at night,” I said. We were approaching the turnoff to the dirt road.

“You really think I should go up on the porch?” she asked.

“Hell, no,” I said. “We’ll drive up there, honk the horn until someone shows up, and conduct our discussion from inside the car. In fact, you should be in the backseat with a shotgun instead of over there on the passenger side. That way you can give me some cover if they come out shooting.”

“What if they don’t come out at all?” she asked. Good point, I thought. But I had a plan.

“Then I’ll find some way to set the place on fire and we’ll burn ’em out. Like they tried to do to Laurie May.”

“Listen to you,” she said. “Eye for an eye-you’re starting to sound like you’re the one who came from here, instead of me. Stop and let me get into the backseat.”

We were approaching the entrance to the field that lay out in front of the cabin. I stopped and she switched seats, taking Hayes’s shotgun with her. There were no lights showing up above around the cabin. I decided to drive right up there, the way Mingo had done. I turned the headlights on bright to make it tougher for anyone inside to see who was coming and gunned it up the front field, half-expecting gunfire as we made our approach.

Nothing happened. I pulled up in front of the steps and lay on the horn. Carrie was crouching in the backseat with the shotgun barrels resting on the left rear windowsill. I had her nine in my lap. It felt like a toy. I hit the horn again, waiting for lights inside.

Nothing. Silence. Not even a dog barking. Then I realized there should be a dozen or more dogs barking.

Nothing but the sound of my engine running.

“Where are all those damned dogs?” I asked.

“They’ve run,” Carrie said quietly from the backseat.

I decided to shut down, get out, and look around. It felt like there wasn’t anyone there. Carrie got out, and I asked her to cover me with the shotgun. I left the dogs in the vehicle, just in case Grinny’s pack appeared suddenly. I walked down across the front of the cabin, the nine in hand, until I got to the dog pen area. It smelled as rank as before, but it was definitely empty. The moon was rising in the east, but it was still pretty dark up there. A small breeze stirred the pines, bringing a draft of clear, cool air down from the big ridge behind the cabin.

I opened the door to the barn where they’d cuffed me in the stall, and it, too, appeared to be empty of any animals, four- or two-legged. Carrie had moved halfway down the covered breezeway with all the firewood in order to keep me in sight.