Divine Justice Page 14

  “I’m not much into tooting my horn. Is he from Divine?”

  “Oh, no, he retired here. Got a little place up near the river and then took over running the newspaper here.”

  “Was he into journalism before?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Where?”

  “Somebody told me once. The Washington Post.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Look, Ben, I can pay you if you’d look into it.”

  “Bob, go see the sheriff. That’s his job. Not mine.”

  “But—”

  “I’m sorry, Bob. I can’t.”

  CHAPTER 30

  LATER, Stone walked to the craft shop and did something he really didn’t want to, but he was out of options. He called Reuben.

  “Oliver, tell me where you are,” he said immediately.

  “Just listen, Reuben. I need some information.”

  Another voice came on the line. It was Annabelle.

  “Oliver, we want to help you. But you’ve got to tell us where you are.”

  “I’m not getting you involved in this, Annabelle. So stop trying to help me. I don’t deserve it anyway.”

  “I don’t care if you killed those men. What I care about is you.”

  Stone took a deep breath. “I appreciate that, Annabelle, I really do.” Stone glanced up to see Wanda, the shopkeeper, eyeing him from across the room. He smiled and turned away from her.

  “Oliver, are you there!”

  “Look, it means a lot to me that you want to help, it really does. But if I’m going to go down, it’s going to be just me, not all of you.”

  “But—”

  He cut her off. “If you really want to help me, put Reuben back on.”

  He could hear her accelerated breathing for a few seconds and then Reuben said, “What do you need?”

  “Has Knox or anyone else been back?”

  “No.” Technically Reuben wasn’t lying since Annabelle had gone to see Knox, not the other way around. In fact, they were parked out on Knox’s street right now watching and waiting for the man’s next move.

  “The news said that they have all the airports, train and bus stations under watch.”

  “I heard that too.”

  “That’s a lot of ground to cover, even for the FBI.”

  “They’re working with Homeland Security on this, which has opened up all local resources as well. Lot of street cops out there looking.”

  “You said Knox knew it was John Carr, and that he and I were one and the same.”

  “That’s right. Though nothing in the press has said anything about John Carr now being Oliver Stone.”

  “Have any photos of me been circulated?”

  “Not to my knowledge. At least publicly. But who knows what’s going on behind the scenes.”

  Stone leaned against the wall and studied a miniature black bear formed from a lump of coal. Coal is king. Stone is dead. “Any idea if they think I’m still in the area?”

  “Are you?”

  “Reuben!”

  “Okay, slit my throat for caring. Nothing specific, but you can count on the fact that any place within a few hundred miles of D.C. will be under close watch.”

  Stone sighed. “Thanks for the info, Reuben. I hope I won’t have to call you again.”

  “Oliver, wait—”

  Stone hung up the phone and walked toward the front of the shop, managing a smile at Wanda as he passed her.

  She said, “Heard about Willie. That sure was real smart of you.”

  “I’m just glad I could help.”

  “I told my husband about it. He was in the army. I told him I heard you were too. He wanted to know which part.”

  “The part that fought in Vietnam,” Stone said as he closed the door behind him.

  He went back to the rooming house and packed his few belongings. The bus ride to the vicinity of Divine had taken three hours from where they had gotten off the train. He remembered the general direction they’d come, but the corkscrew roads and hairpin curves were impossible to recall with any specificity. He thought back to the night he and Danny had come here via hog truck. He remembered the towers of Dead Rock prison. The main street of Divine. The warm bed above Rita’s. The shotgun in his face the next morning. Abby Riker’s scowl that had somehow turned to a smile.

  He waited until it was well dark and then headed out of town. His route carried him past the road leading to Willie’s place. A few minutes later he saw the burn of car headlights coming his way and he quickly stepped off the main road and onto the dirt one leading to Willie’s trailer. He quickly retreated into some bushes lining the dirt drive as he waited for the car to pass. He only got a glimpse at the driver as it sped by and continued to watch as the car kept on going before it rounded a curve and its rear lights vanished.

  Stone looked back at the main road and then glanced the other way. He was on his way again when yet another car came along the main drag, forcing him to scurry once more back down the road to Willie’s place. He obviously hadn’t waited until it was late enough. Right now, for him, every car could be a state trooper with his digital picture painted on the laptop computer in the cruiser.

  He hustled down the dirt road and stopped. The car was parked in front of Willie’s trailer and there was a light on inside. He glanced at the car; it was a small red two-door Infiniti. He looked inside. There was a purse on the front seat and the smell of cigarette smoke was heavy. He peered around at the trailer. The front screen door was partially open. He heard a small crash from inside.

  He quickly moved up the steps and said, “You okay?”

  “Who is it? Who’s there?” It was a woman and her voice trembled.

  She appeared at the door a moment later; a tall bleached blonde with a spare tire wedged into slim jeans and spiky heels. A cigarette dangled from her left hand. She looked to be in her late forties, although the amount of makeup she had on made it difficult to tell.

  “I’m Ben, the man who helped Willie last night.” Her features looked familiar. “Are you Willie’s mom, Shirley Coombs?”

  She took a drag on her cigarette and nodded absently, but the suspicious look only deepened. “How’d you know that?”

  “You look like each other.” Stone glanced over her shoulder into the trailer. She followed his gaze and said hurriedly, “I came over to check on things when I heard ’bout Willie. Got folks round here that might take advantage of him being laid up in the hospital. Messing with his stuff and all.”

  It occurred to Stone that Mom might’ve been messing with her son’s stuff too.

  “Have you seen Willie yet?”

  “Planning to get over there soon. Long drive. And my car’s not too dependable.”

  Stone glanced back at her car. “Looks to be pretty new.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a piece of crap. Keeps stalling out on me.”

  “Everything look okay in there?” he asked.

  “Willie’s not the neatest person in town, so it’s hard to tell, really. Looks okay, I guess.”

  “You need any help?”

  “No,” she said quickly, a beat too quickly actually. “I mean, you’ve helped enough. Willie would be dead except for you. I thank you for that.”

  “I’m glad I was around. But Bob helped with Willie too.”

  Her features turned dark. “Yeah, old Bob is real good about helping folks. At least ones he likes.”

  “He doesn’t include you in that group?”

  “You could say the whole town doesn’t include me in that group.”

  Okay. “I was sorry to hear about your husband.”

  She stiffened. “Who told you about him? Bob?”

  “No, Sheriff Tyree. He mentioned the hunting accident. Pretty tragic.”

  “Yeah, real tragic.”

  Stone looked at her quizzically. “I hope Willie will be okay,” he said, after an awkward silence.

  “Hell, he’ll be fine. He’s got four shotguns, a deer rifle, two hunting b
ows, a pickup truck, his own double-wide, cable TV and propane to keep warm, a camp stove to cook on and folding money from the mine. What’s not to come home to? My boy aimed high in life, didn’t he?” She smiled. But then it quickly faded. “Look, I got to go,” she said. “Thanks again for saving my baby.”

  She closed the door behind her and moved past Stone.

  He watched as she got in her car and drove off.

  He hoisted his bag and walked back to the main road.

  Five minutes later the truck almost hit him as it flew by. He dodged out of the way, rolled and came up in time to see a man throw himself out of the truck cab and land hard in the road. Stone raced toward him and turned him over.

  It was Danny. He was badly beaten but still breathing. And then Stone looked up. The truck had stopped. As he watched it turned and headed toward him, stopping a few feet from where he knelt next to Danny. Three men climbed out and each one carried a baseball bat.

  CHAPTER 31

  JOE KNOX SAT in his town house having a cup of coffee and pondering his next move. The idiot Agency artist he’d requested to do a composite had gotten lost on the way to Leroy’s place. And when he’d gotten there Leroy had gone off on his damn boat. Leroy didn’t have a phone so the best Knox could do was send another agent up there to try and pin the man down. Until he had a picture to show around, Knox was at a standstill in his investigation. And if Leroy had been involved and was now on the run after Knox had conveniently warned him?

  There will be no way to explain such a junior mistake to Hayes.

  He decided to run through again what he’d learned at the military records center, in case it might suggest something. A half hour later he was no further along. Maybe he should go back to the records center and go through some more documents. The attendant had been able to easily find the other boxes for him. It probably wouldn’t take—

  Knox slowly set down his coffee cup. The next moment he was racing to the phone. He got the number for the records center and punched it in. A minute later, after being forwarded along to several extensions, he heard the voice of the man who’d helped him before. Knox identified himself and then asked the question.

  “How did you find what I wanted so easily? It was like the boxes were already out.”

  “Well, actually they were,” the man replied a bit sheepishly. “I mean, they’d been checked out some months back. Maybe six months or so, and I’m a little embarrassed to say that no one had filed them away yet. And we’ve been a bit shorthanded as of late,” he added quickly, as though suspecting that Knox might actually be some sort of military archives inspector trying to pull a slick one.

  “So someone else was looking at those records?” Knox said slowly. “Can you tell me who?”

  The man excused himself for a minute. When he came back on the line he said, “Guy named Harry Finn. Says here on the sign-in log he used to be with the Navy SEALs. He had the credentials and top secret clearances to get access to the boxes you looked at. That help you any?”

  “That helps me a lot, thanks.” Knox clicked off and spent the next hour tracking down Harry Finn, former SEAL.

  An hour later he pulled his truck to a stop, got out, walked up to the steps and rang the doorbell. A few moments later it opened and he was staring across at a tall young man whose gaze burned back into his.

  “Harry Finn?”

  Finn didn’t answer. His gaze instinctively checked behind Knox.

  “I’m alone. Well, as alone as is probably possible on something like this.”

  “Something like what?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Who in the hell are you?”

  Knox flipped open his creds. “I’m here to talk about Oliver Stone. Or you might know him as John Carr.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say.”

  “I’m not sure why you were looking up the guy’s military record, or whether you’re his friend or not. But he’s on the run and somebody’s going to get to him at some point. And when they do.” Knox simply shrugged.

  Finn was about to say something when Knox’s cell phone rang. He’d been half expecting it actually, even as he glanced over his shoulder and saw the black sedan parked down the road. His expert gaze, however, did not pick up the nondescript white van parked farther down. It was Macklin Hayes on the phone, and as usual he got right to the point.

  “What the hell are you doing there, Knox?”

  “Where?”

  “Harry Finn is off-limits.”

  Knox backed down the steps and turned away from Finn. “Nobody told me that.”

  “I’m telling you now. How did you get on to him? Anything to do with your visit to the military records center?”

  “And why do you find need to follow me, sir?” Knox turned and waved to the men in the black sedan.

  “What did you find?”

  “Not much. He fought in Vietnam. He was a good soldier. Then he just disappeared. Probably when he was recruited for”—Knox glanced at Finn and smiled—“for that thing that doesn’t exist.”

  “You are to leave that house now and never go back.”

  The phone went dead. Knox put it back in his pocket and turned to Finn.

  “You’ll be happy to know that you’re officially off-limits, or so my boss just told me. But just keep in mind that something really screwy is going on with Carr. I’ve already gabbed with his friends, including the lady who calls herself Susan Hunter. She told me Carr had the goods on Carter Gray but that Gray got it back probably at the Capitol Visitor Center. You probably already know that from your suitably blank expression. Maybe you were even there. All I can tell you is I’ve been assigned to track Carr down. That’s all. But when I do track him down, and rest assured I will, other people will show up and take over. And I doubt they’ll have his best interests at heart. Whether you give a shit or not, I don’t know and really don’t care.”

  He put out a hand for Finn to shake. When he did, Finn came away with a business card with Knox’s contact information on it.

  “You have a good day, Mr. Finn.”

  Knox walked back to his truck while Finn stared after him.

  Knox didn’t know exactly why he’d done that. Well, maybe he did. John Carr had gotten his ass shot up for his country and they’d screwed him. Whatever else the man had done, that just wasn’t right.

  In the white van, Annabelle punched in the number. A moment later Harry Finn answered. He relayed to her what Knox had told him and she in turn filled him in.

  “Do we trust this guy, Annabelle?” Finn asked.

  “I didn’t at first, but now I’m not so sure. He seems to be caught right in the middle.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Sit tight. I may need your help later. Or more to the point, Oliver will.”

  “I owe Oliver everything. So I’ll be there if you need me.”

  CHAPTER 32

  STONE ROSE, his right hand undoing his belt as he did so. He slipped it off and held it by the buckle. The silver pointed end dangled a few inches from the road.

  The men circled him, holding their bats ready.

  “Odds don’t look too good for you, pops,” said one of them.

  An instant later he was on the ground, his face covered in blood from