Robert Crais - The Forgotten Man

"He had a gas station?"

"Yeah, a little bit out of town-Payne's Car Care."

"Did he have a family?"

"Listen, why don't you talk to one of those guys at the station. He has two guys out there."

Biggins gave me directions to Keller's home, and said I would pass Keller's gas station on the way. He told me that Keller's employees were Elroy Lewis and Frederick Conrad, and that either one of them might be able to answer my questions. Biggins was helpful. After I copied the directions, I wrote out my cell number, tore off the page, and put it beside Pardy's card.

"If I miss the sheriff and he gets back, tell him I need to talk to him. It's important."

Biggins glanced at the number.

"Cell phones don't work up here. You can't get a signal with the mountains."

"I live in the middle of Los Angeles, and I can't get a signal."

Biggins laughed.

"It was like that in Riverside, too."

I turned to leave, then stopped.

"If Diaz or Mullen check in, tell them I'm here. Tell Diaz I asked after her parents, and she should talk to me before she does anything."

"Okay. Sure."

"There's something else you and the sheriff should know. Pardy didn't know this earlier, or he would have told you. Payne Keller and his son are suspects in a multiple homicide. If Keller's son is up here, he will be dangerous."

Biggins stared at me without comprehension.

I nodded toward the transceiver.

"You should tell the sheriff."

Frederick

Payne's cabin was as lonely as yesterday, but that was good.

The air still carried the smoky scent of the fires he had used. It wasn't so bad. It smelled like a cold fireplace.

Frederick unlocked the front door, then stepped into Payne's living room. He was trying to decide where best to wait for Cole when a car pulled up the drive. Frederick jumped at the sound, and hurried to the window, thinking-

"You bastard! This is what you're going to get for Payne, you bastard!"

But when he looked, it wasn't Cole; it was the Canyon Camino sheriff, Guy Rossi.

Frederick stood back from the window, watching as Rossi parked alongside his truck. The sheriff eyed Frederick 's truck, probably wondering who it belonged to. The sheriff walked along the length of the truck, and that's when Frederick saw the shovel. Here he had been driving all over Los Angeles, here he had worked so hard at cleaning up Payne's place to get rid of the evidence, and the shovel he used to dig up the stuff was still in his truck. The shovel, with evidence on its blade.

Sonofamotherfuckingbitch.

He had forgotten to clean the shovel.

The sheriff started toward the house.

Frederick set the shotgun behind Payne's couch, then put on the face and stepped out. Maybe Cole had already spoken with the sheriff. No, not likely-a murderer wouldn't talk to the cops.

Frederick said, "Boy, this sure is a sad day."

Rossi stared when Frederick appeared on the porch. In that moment, out of context, it was obvious the sheriff didn't recognize him.

Frederick said, "It's me, Frederick Conrad. I work for Payne."

The sheriff finally placed him.

"I didn't expect anyone to be here. You heard the bad news?"

"Oh, yeah. I've been feeding Payne's cats. Payne has three cats around here somewhere. I don't know what's going to happen to them now."

Frederick ambled over as he gave the sheriff the business about the cats, and stood so the sheriff had to face away from the shovel. Frederick shook his head sadly.

"I guess we can put up a sign at the station, try to find them a home. I could take one, maybe, but three-"

Frederick sighed heavily, as if the unfairness of what was about to happen to Payne's cats was crushing.

The sheriff seemed to consider Payne's house, then put his hands on his gun belt like he wasn't sure what to do next.

"Did Payne ask you to take care of'm before he went away?"

"Not before, no, sir. My understanding is it was some kinda family emergency. He called later and asked me to come out."

The sheriff grunted like he wasn't really thinking about the cats.

"He tell you what happened?"

Frederick assumed the sheriff had already spoken with Elroy, so he fed out the same line.

"His sister was hurt in some kinda car wreck. They didn't think she was gonna make it."

"He call you from Los Angeles?"

"He was in Sacramento."

The sheriff grunted, and Frederick was suddenly worried the L.A. police had told the sheriff a lot more than he was letting on.

"He leave a number up there?"

"No, sir, he just said he would call back when he knew what he was going to do. That was the last time I heard from him."

The sheriff drifted in a slow arc around Frederick toward the house. Rossi studied Payne's roof like he expected something to be up there. Then he studied the trees, then Payne's garage. Frederick didn't like the slow way the sheriff was moving and the way he studied everything. Frederick 's palms grew clammy and a pulse started in his ears. What did the sheriff know?

Frederick said, "You want me to leave the door open, or should I lock it?"

"You have a key?"

"Payne keeps one under the pot there."

"Better give it to me. I'm gonna take a look around before the L.A. people get here."

Frederick gave him the key, wanting to move away from the truck but scared to do anything out of the ordinary.

The sheriff dropped the key into his pocket. He studied Frederick.

"I've been up at the Catholic church all morning. I understand Payne spent a lot of time up there."

"Payne was a devout man. Me, I don't go so much, but Payne was very religious. You'll see when you go inside. Jesus is everywhere."

"Was Payne close with the priest, Father Willie?"

"I really don't know. I guess he must've been."

Sweat crawled down Frederick 's sides like bugs. He was certain that Cole would drive up at any second, and he didn't like the way the sheriff was looking at him. Now the sheriff was wondering how Payne and Father Willie were connected. Maybe Payne had confessed to Father Willie, and Father Willie had told someone else. The sheriff just kept staring at him, and Frederick 's breath came faster and faster.

"Let me ask you something."

"What's that, Sheriff?"

The sheriff walked to the truck. He glanced into the truck's bed, studied the shovel, then draped his arm over the side panel. Frederick 's heart thundered.

"How long have you known Payne?"

"I dunno," Frederick mumbled. "Must be ten, twelve years."

The sheriff seemed to study him even more closely.

"You know he once went by another name?"

"I didn't know that."

"He never mentioned another name to you?"

"No, sir."

"George Reinnike?"

"No."

"He tell you about his son?"

Frederick 's vision blurred, and his lungs couldn't get enough air. He barely managed to speak.

"He didn't tell me anything."

Frederick was certain the sheriff was watching him. The sheriff's head floated up and down in a slow-motion nod. His head tilted ponderously as he considered the shovel again. He studied the shovel forever before his eyes returned to Frederick. They rested on Frederick. They crushed him.

The sheriff smiled. Not a happy smile, but wise. Knowing. As if he could see the connections between Frederick and Payne.

"Looks like Payne had a few secrets."

The sheriff moved past Frederick toward the house.

"Looks like they're about to come out."

Frederick said, "Sheriff?"

As the sheriff was turning, Frederick picked up the shovel. The blade bit deep, and then it was done.

Biggins's directions led me to a small independent service station with a single pump island and a tow truck parked at the rear. Large yellow signs at the edge of the turnoff announced WE HAVE PROPANE and DIESEL. A thin man in a blue windbreaker came around the side of the building as I pulled up. A yellow lab gimped along behind him, then flopped to the ground by the station's front door. When the man saw me, he waved like he was waving good-bye. He was too young to be David Reinnike.