Дэвид Балдаччи - Walk the Wire

“I heard it was a fistfight between a bunch of guys that turned into something more. Joe apparently de-escalated it. But some people went to jail and some went to the hospital.”

“The guy I’m looking for is probably not in the ‘dumbass bar fight’ category.”

“I saw the body when it came in,” said Southern softly. “So I understand what you mean.”

“Not a pretty sight.”

“We’ve had some bad ones here. Not murders. Accidents. Explosions and fires from fracking gone wrong. Those were... challenges from a cosmetic perspective. We had to do a closed casket with a picture of the deceased in... happier times on top.”

“I can see that.”

She finished her drink and put the empty on the bar. “Something like this could be a real drag on the town, just when things are going so well.”

“And Irene Cramer probably deserves some justice, too,” said Decker bluntly.

She bowed her head slightly. “I never thought otherwise. Good night, Agent Decker.”

She left and walked up the stairs leading to the second story of the bar. Decker turned back to see that Stan Baker and Caroline Dawson were no longer on the dance floor. He looked around the bar space but didn’t see them anywhere. He finished his beer, braced himself, and headed back out into the heat, though he found it was cooler outside than in.

A bolt of lightning far to the west speared downward, and something seemed to explode at the spot where the slash of electricity had stabbed the earth. The sound reached them even here, and a plume of flames shot upward and lit the sky for miles around. The other people on the streets kept on walking, or staggering, as though detonations like that were routine.

London, North Dakota, was getting more interesting by the minute, thought Decker as he trudged on.

Six A.M.

Decker flicked open his eyes and rose without the need of the set alarm on his phone. He trudged to the bathroom, showered, and changed into a fresh set of clothes. He looked out his hotel window. The sky was dark and still clogged with clouds, but he could see a seam of dawn starting to build, like a sleepy eye about to open. He looked at the weather app on his phone. It was only sixty-eight degrees but with a dew point that would make Louisiana proud. Decker thought he could actually see the air outside, it was so thick with moisture.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple extra seconds as he awoke more fully. Another town, another case to solve. His life. And welcome to it.

He went down to breakfast to find Jamison already sitting at a table with Joe Kelly in the hotel’s restaurant. The local detective was dressed in a dark two-piece suit, white-collared shirt, and no tie. His shoes were black scuffed boots with worn heels.

Decker sat at the table. “I thought I’d be the first one down,” he said.

“I’m a borderline insomniac, so I’m usually up by four having my first of too many cups of coffee,” said Kelly.

“And we gained an hour coming out,” said Jamison, who was looking over her menu. “So it’s actually a little late for me.”

Decker eyed Kelly. “I was out walking last night and a bolt of lightning hit something in the far distance. And there was an explosion.”

“I heard that, too,” chimed in Jamison. “Wondered what the hell it was. But nobody in the hotel seemed bothered by it.”

Kelly nodded. “It was probably just lightning hitting a saltwater disposal pond. The lightning is sort of drawn to those things, and also to the metal freshwater tanks and piping stations. The bolt hits it, it blows up, and they come and repair it. Cost of doing business up here.”

“Okay,” said Decker. He shot Jamison a quizzical look.

After they ordered and their coffees were delivered Kelly said, “Any updates on why Irene Cramer was important to you guys?”

Jamison glanced at Decker, who said, “Not yet.”

“So Feds keep things from other Feds?” asked Kelly, looking disappointed.

“These days everybody keeps things from everybody else,” noted Decker. “Anything on your end?”

“I’ve got an interview lined up for us with Cramer’s landlady. I was going to go see her when I found out you were coming to town. So I held off.”

“We appreciate that. Did Cramer have a job other than being an ‘escort’?” asked Jamison.

“She did actually, a pretty important one,” replied Kelly. He paused and said somewhat haltingly, “She worked as a teacher with the Brothers.”

“The who?” said Jamison.

“The Brothers. They’re a religious group. Branch of the Anabaptists.”

“Care to elaborate?” said Decker.

“They’re sort of like the Amish, only they can drive cars and use heavy machinery and stuff. They’re farmers and also do some manufacturing. Communal living is their standard. They take it straight from the scriptures. Good people, but they keep to themselves.”

“So an escort was employed as a teacher by a religious group?” asked Decker with a pair of hiked eyebrows. “How the hell does that work? And why didn’t you tell us that last night?”

“Well, they obviously didn’t know that she was also an escort. Plus, she was apparently a really good teacher and got along well with the kids. They’re going to be devastated by her death. I’ve already talked to Peter Gunther, the minister, though I didn’t tell him about Irene’s ‘other’ job or what had happened to her. And I was working up to tell you. I just couldn’t find the words last night. You Feds coming to town was a little bit of a surprise. I hadn’t decided how to handle it.”

“Minister? Like a preacher?” said Jamison curiously.

“No, as in the leader of the organization.” He eyed Jamison. “The Anabaptists are a male-led sect. The women do a lot of the work, including all of the butchering, cooking, cleaning, and sewing. But the men are the leaders.”

“Welcome back to the 1950s,” said Jamison drily.

“They’re good people, like I said,” replied Kelly defensively.

“How do you know so much about them?” asked Decker.

“My grandparents used to belong to the sect when I was a kid” was Kelly’s surprising reply.

“And they got tired of communal living in an age of male dominance?” retorted Jamison.

“No, but my parents did, apparently. They left after my grandparents passed on, when my sister and I were still kids.”

“Do your parents live here?”

“Nope. They retired to Florida about three years ago.”

“And your sister?” asked Jamison.

“She passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry. She was really young then?”

“Yeah. She had a rough life.”

“What else can you tell us about the Brothers?” asked Decker after a few moments of silence.

“They’re antiwar pacifists. Some of the Hutterites, the largest branch of Anabaptists in the country, were persecuted for that stance during World War II.”

Decker nodded. “So that covers her place of lodging and her work as a teacher. What about her work as an escort? You said you weren’t sure if she actually was one, even though you recognized her from the website. But are you sure it was her?”

“I am.”

“How?”

“I contacted her through the site. I made arrangements to meet with her. It was at a flophouse on the other side of town. I got there before her. Badged her when she showed up.”

“Did you arrest her?” asked Jamison.

“No.”

“Why not?” asked Decker. “You’re a cop. She broke the law. Seems pretty simple.”

“Look, I was trying to help her out. She didn’t need a prison sentence. She just needed some positive reinforcement and guidance. Only it looks like I failed on both counts.”