Craig Johnson - A Serpent's Tooth - A Walt Longmire Mystery

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want somebody to keep an eye on him.”

“Well, Rockwell hasn’t shown any interest in kidnapping Cord since being in contact with us. I guess he figures Cord is about as safe as he can be without being locked up.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Then why are we sprinting to the Busy Bee?”

“Because you never can tell.” I moved past. “Let’s get off these stairs; I’m having way too many serious conversations here.”

When we got to the sidewalk, Saizarbitoria pulled up in his unit and reached across the bench seat to manually roll down the passenger-side window. “I want a new car.”

Vic laughed. “Get in line.”

“I’m not joking; there’s a guy over in Story that’s got a four-wheel-drive with cruise control and electric windows—I’ll pay half.” He lowered his head so that he could look up at me. “It’s even white. Please?”

“Put in a requisition, and I’ll see what I can do.” I rested my forearms on the sill of his door. “Anything on the fugitive?”

“I put an APB out on him and figured I’d make the loop down by the church just in case he decided to go there.”

“Good thinking.”

“Ruby called the Ferg in, and he’s on Route 16, started for the mountains to make sure he didn’t head up that way.” He threw a wrist over the steering wheel and glanced down through the heart of town. “He’s ancient. Where the hell could he have gone off to?” He pulled the car from the curb, flipped on the lights and siren, and the few cars in the main drag cleared to allow him to pass.

“Way to sneak up on ’em, Sancho.” She turned to look at me, the tarnished gold pupils dialed up to high, and planted a Browning tactical boot forward in a provocative manner. “Hey, Walt?”

“No, you can’t have a new vehicle.”

She started to punch my chest with the index finger that sometimes felt like a truncheon but then slowed the velocity until I could barely feel the tip of her finger as it rested there. “You know she’s dead, right?”

I stared at her.

“The mother, Sarah Tisdale, the one you’re hanging this whole investigation on. You know she’s dead.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Missing persons after the first twenty-four—you know the percentages.” She squared off in front of me, folded her arms, and looked at the sidewalk, which gave me a little relief from the metallurgy. “Three weeks and nobody’s heard from her? I don’t know who killed her, Walt, but she’s dead as Kelsey’s nuts.”

“She could . . .”

“No, she couldn’t.” She stepped in close and looked up at me. “Stop it.” She ran her fingers along the edges of my jacket lapels. “I know how you are and don’t think I don’t appreciate it.” Her hand rested over my heart. “I sometimes think that’s where your true strength lies, in that bullshit hope of yours, but I’ve also seen the aftermath when it doesn’t work out and we all get to watch you crawl from the wreckage.” She patted my heart and let her hand drop. “I’m just warning you that this is going to be one of those times.”

I nodded and raised my head to find the boy standing on the sidewalk only about ten feet away. “Hi, Cord.”

Vic turned and looked at him. “Jesus.”

He dropped his head, and we watched as a brief exhale wracked his narrow chest. None of us moved, and then his face rose and he smiled the crooked smile. “Hi.”

Vic traded the hand from me to him and held it there between them. “Kid, I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s okay.”

The skinny youth started to walk past us toward the steps as Vic glanced up at me in appeal. I cleared my throat and called out to him. “Hey, Cord, how would you like to go meet your grandmother?”

He stopped and glanced back with a confused look on his face. “Huh?”

“Your father is Roy Lynear, and your mother is Sarah Tisdale?” He looked at me blankly. “That’s your mother’s maiden name, the name she had before she married your father—Tisdale. Did she ever mention any relatives you might’ve had here in Absaroka County?”

His head dropped, and he nodded. “Yeah, but she never told me any names.”

“But that’s why you really came here, to look for them, right?” He stared at me for a moment and then nodded again. “Would you like to meet your grandmother?”

His eyes escaped for an instant but then came back to mine, and the color there was like fear. “Would she like to meet me?”

• • •

We weren’t having much luck in locating Rockwell, so I took the opportunity of a trip south in hope of possibly finding him on the roadside as we had before. Figuring the kid could probably use some company in the backseat, I stole Dog back from Ruby; the only thing I was worried about now was that he was going to wear the brute’s hair off petting him.

“So, do you have any idea where Mr. Rockwell might’ve gone?”

He shook his head at me in the rearview mirror.

“We don’t want to hurt him; we may not even arrest him, but it would probably be a good idea if we knew where he was.”

He looked at Dog, who looked back at him.

Vic, still evidently feeling a little embarrassed at having Cord overhear our conversation, was now half-turned in the seat in order to attempt to engage the youth in conversation. “So, what are you doing with all the money you’re making washing dishes, Cord?”

I glanced at him in the rearview as he continued to pet Dog.

“Saving it.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know.”

My undersheriff pulled a leg up and tucked it under her. “A car?”

“I don’t drive.”

“How are you ever going to get a girl if you don’t have a car?”

He shrugged. “You have to have a car to have a girl?”

She smiled, exposing the lengthy canine tooth. “Doesn’t hurt.”

I interjected, “Especially if you’ve got a mustache and your name is Rudy.”

She reached over and slapped my shoulder without looking. “You ever had a girlfriend?”

“One time, kinda.”

“What’s kinda mean?”

He looked embarrassed. “I made a necklace for this girl I knew, but she’d been promised to her uncle, who was one of the elders.” He plucked a tuft of dog hair from the seat and let it float. “He was an old guy.”

Vic glanced at me and then back to Cord. “That’s fucked up, just so you know.”

I thought the kid’s head was going to explode. “You know you’re going to hell, right? I mean it’s okay—I’m going to hell, too.”

Vic’s voice took on a different tone as she continued to study him. “What makes you say that?”

“All my family is on the inside and they’re going to heaven, so where does that leave me?”

“What if they’re wrong?”

“I don’t think that they can be wrong.”

“Kid.” She gestured between the two of us. “Our very livelihood depends on everybody being wrong sometimes, trust me.” She leveled the eyes on him again. “So, what are you saving up for?”

He squirmed a little, obviously taken aback by Vic’s unadulterated attention—I knew how he felt.

“I don’t know; maybe a gun.”

I thought about the magazine the kid had buried in the pump house and unconsciously let off the accelerator. I put my foot down again when Vic glanced at me. There was an uncomfortable silence as I drove south on the two-lane blacktop. “What do you need with a gun—you’ve got us.”

He stopped petting Dog and glanced at me. “I won’t always have you, so I’ll need a gun.”

My undersheriff readjusted herself, the irony of her squeaking gunbelt underlying her next statement. “Who you wanna shoot?”

He sat there under her interrogation. “Nobody in particular; I just want to be left alone.”