Neil McMahon - Lone Creek

"I kind of went on a retreat, Gary," I said. "You know, like in grade school?"

His head tilted skeptically to the side. But then he gave me a cautious nod. Gary was a steady Catholic, and I was doing my shameless best to play on that.

"I seem to remember you were maybe going to be a priest," he said.

"I was maybe going to be a lot of things, and I fucked them up." I spoke too sharply, and I saw that both men were taken aback. I hunched over and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm wrapped tight as hell and wiped out, both. And I've got something that's hard to admit. I saw you at my place Sunday night."

Gary's eyebrows rose.

"I was on my motorcycle," I said. "I rode it to sneak onto the ranch and talk to Doug, the foreman. Then I went to Josie's. On my way home, a tow truck passed me. I followed it to my place. You were waiting there." I paused and exhaled. "I freaked out. All I could think was that Balcomb had found some new way to hammer me, and it was really serious this time."

There was a longish silence. Reuben cleared his throat. Gary's finger started tapping again.

"So you took off on a retreat," he said. "A church here in town?"

"I dumped the bike and hiked on up into the Belts. That's what I used to do when I was a kid and I got bummed. I had this whole deal laid out-tree stumps that were stations of the cross, a nook in the rocks that was a confessional. Like that."

"Huh. Well, I wouldn't want to go violating a sacrament, but can you give me a hint what you confessed to?"

"Stealing that lumber-although I still have a mental reservation that I salvaged it, and Balcomb was just being a prick," I said. "Acting like a pissed-off kid and burning it, there's no excuse for that. Running from you instead of facing up. Some other things like that."

He shook his head ruefully. "I wish my conscience was that light. Hell, if I was on the other side of the screen, I'd let you off with an Our Father and a couple Hail Marys."

"There's more, but it's hard to explain," I said. "My life's been crashing, getting out of control. I was trying to figure out how it happened and what to do about it." I shrugged. "I didn't, but I came away feeling a little better."

"Well, I wouldn't call that exactly an ironclad alibi," Gary said. "You were up there the whole two days, huh?"

"I came back next afternoon."

"How'd you manage? You know, eating and sleeping."

"I keep my camping gear in that garage back of my cabin. I sneaked in and threw some stuff in a pack while you guys were busy with my truck."

He grimaced. "My boys ain't going to be happy to hear that."

"If it helps any, tell them it was because they scared the shit out of me."

"I don't suppose anybody else saw you."

"I didn't want anybody to see me. That was kind of the point. I know that country pretty good, and there's hardly anybody around there anyway."

"That might not have been real smart," he said.

"I wasn't trying to be smart. Not like that, anyway."

Reuben had stayed silent, and seemed not to be paying attention. But he broke in suddenly.

"Now, Gary, how important is this?" he said. "Nothing happened during that time. Kirk was gone already and Balcomb not yet."

"That's true, Reuben. But they still are missing, and Hugh's right in the middle of the squall."

I'd seen many confrontations between men, sometimes open and even violent, more often couched in the underhanded courtesy of the professional world. This was a silent showdown between two aging bulls who'd known each other all their lives, weighing the many factors that hovered between them-power, indebtedness, loyalty, and that unwritten code they'd grown up with.

Gary couldn't control the investigation completely, but he could do a lot to steer it. This was potentially big, and his reputation was on the line. His safest course would be to keep the pressure on me. But Reuben was ready to fight.

Maybe Gary guessed that the reason had something to do with Celia.

He looked at his watch again and stood up.

"OK, Hugh," he said. "I ain't saying this is over, but I don't see enough reason to hold you now."

I sagged and mumbled thanks. Reuben gave me a curt, congratulatory backslap.

"I'll talk to Judge Harris and get him to drop everything," Gary said. "I found out why he set your bail so high, by the way. Balcomb told him you'd been screwing one of the ranch wives, and that was the real reason he wanted to give you a hard time."

I shook my head in disbelief at Balcomb's bottomless bag of tricks. He must have known that the judge was an old-school gentleman who enjoyed his liquor and gambling, but was notoriously straitlaced about sex.

"That's the first goddamn thing I've been accused of I wish was true," I said. Reuben grunted appreciatively and Gary's lips curved in a slight smile.

But then the irony hit me, verging on the eerie, that I had been dallying with one of the ranch wives. Balcomb's.

"Stop at the desk and sign for the stuff we took from your place," Gary said. "Everything checked out clean. I'll get your truck brought around."

I caught myself just before I closed my eyes in relief.

Reuben and I followed Gary out to the main office, where he issued brief instructions and got my paperwork started.

"I'm going to mosey on home and get some sleep," Reuben said quietly. "Keep in mind what the man said-it's a long ways from over."

I knew he wasn't just talking about the investigation, but about what we'd revealed to each other last night. From then until now, we'd been carried by adrenaline, common interest, and his shrewd toughness. But that was going to give way to the ugly truths we'd both learned, and rationality and emotion would go to war. Whatever truce we might end up with would be uneasy at best.

We had evened out our long-standing grievance, but it was a devil's bargain.

I thanked him for his support, assuring him I'd stay in touch. We shook hands, and he left.

I signed the release papers for my possessions-besides the truck, a plastic bag with a computer-labeled tag containing the dirty clothes and spare boots I'd planted, which the sheriffs had also taken and checked out.

I stepped through the courthouse doors into the outside world, carrying the bag over my shoulder like a homeless man-but free once again to legally walk the streets. The deputy with the withered arm who'd first brought me in was standing in the background, watching. He didn't look happy to see me go.

I spent a couple of minutes waiting out front for my pickup truck to come back from wherever they had it impounded. The morning was clear and crisp, the weather getting into that glorious Indian summer that was the best part of the year around here.

My liberty might not last long, but Lord, did it feel fine.

Like Reuben had said, a minefield of worries still lay ahead. With someone of Balcomb's stature, a host of authorities would step in, probably including the FBI. I could count on being grilled again, and it was all too possible that I'd slip up or that some damning piece of evidence would come to light. John Doe might come back for revenge, or Balcomb's smuggling partners might decide to get even with whoever had disrupted their operation. If none of those exploded under me, there was still Kirk's Jeep, which would almost certainly be found next summer. With any luck, the sheriffs would decide that he'd been in it when it crashed-had gotten thrown out of the open top and carried away by underwater currents. But the fact that it had just happened to end up in my neighborhood was going to raise Gary's hackles.

In my favor, there was good reason to think that Kirk and Balcomb had been involved with high-level criminals, which was true. No doubt Balcomb had plenty of other enemies to cloud things further. Only a few people knew what really had happened, and all of them had good reasons to stay silent. Madbird. Reuben. John Doe, if he was still alive. Laurie might or might not ever turn up again-with her money, she could stay vanished forever. But if she did get questioned, there was still no reason for her to do anything but feign ignorance. And she sure knew how to spin a story.