"You FBI creeps still think we're all guilty of something though, don't you? Why can't you leave us alone?" said Vicky. She began to furiously thrust grocery items into the refrigerator, casting cold glances his way.
The silence was broken by the shrill whistle of the tea kettle. Vicky dropped a teabag into a pink flowered mug and poured hot water in after it. Picking up a spoon, she carried it, along with the honey jar, to the table and set them in front of Diane.
"Thanks Vic."
Skirting the puddle on the floor, Vicky returned to her groceries without a word.
Jack sipped his beer and studied the agent thoughtfully. "You've got to do way better than that. Why don't you tell us exactly why the FBI has agents in this out of the way corner of the country? Floyd isn't exactly a crime hotspot. Obviously you're looking for something in particular. What does the case have to do with us, or are you actually looking for us? Maybe you're not telling us the whole truth?"
He didn't answer right away, but got up and retrieved a beer from the refrigerator for himself and placed another in front of Jack. Vicky opened a bottle of red wine, filled a large glass and sat next to her husband. Frowning at him, everyone sipped their drinks and waited for his explanation. No one seemed to be in a particularly hospitable mood.
Chris looked at them and sighed. Toying with his beer bottle, he considered his options. They're good people and I like them all, especially Diane. I hate lying to them. Maybe I should go ahead and quit the Bureau. Find another line of work. That would put an end to all the travel and odd hours. Missing holidays with friends and relatives is getting old.
Then again, I've had eight years with the FBI and I'm on a good career path. There's a better than an even chance that I'll be in line for that promotion when the boss retires later this year. Leaving now would be a tough decision.
I shouldn't tell them anything, but...maybe this is the time to bend the rules. Just a little. It's not as though I've never bent the rules before. Why not tell Diane and her friends why I'm here. They might even help me in the search for The Blowtorch. Stranger things have happened.
"So, are you going to tell us what you're doing here?" asked Jack, breaking the silence.
"All right." He drank some beer and let out a long breath. "Okay, the reason I'm here is because there's someone the Bureau has tracked to Floyd. There's a good possibility that he's in the vicinity. I had a convenient cover story, because I come to Floyd from time to time. I've got property here where I've been slowly building a house, for nearly three years."
Diane stared into her tea as she drizzled in a spoonful of honey.
"Coincidentally, this does have something to do with Tony DePalma, the idiot whose laundered drug money you stumbled onto last fall."
This got their attention.
"I thought he was in jail," said Jack.
"He is, but he turned state's evidence and gave up information, which led us down here." He paused. I've already said too much. Maybe, they'll be satisfied with what I've told them, and won't ask questions.
"So, you're looking for somebody with links to DePalma," said Jack.
"You might say that," he answered evasively.
"Chris, I know you're friendly with my Uncle Dominick," said Vicky. "Didn't he help you with the Tony DePalma thing? Don't you think you can trust us?"
"I do trust you. It's not that at all. It's just..." How much should I tell them? If Rodriguez found out she'd raise hell, but on the other hand, Agent Rodriguez bends the rules whenever she damn well pleases.
He rubbed his hands over his face and moaned softly. "Wait one minute. I'll be right back." He quickly went out to the Suburban and retrieved a manila envelope.
Joining the others at the kitchen table, he drew out a five by seven photograph and slid it across to Jack. "Rodriguez has been showing this picture around town to see if anyone recognizes him. I want each of you to take a look at this guy and tell me if you've ever seen him before."
They each studied the picture of Toricello and shook their heads.
"I've never seen this guy," said Jack. "He looks like a dangerous character though."
"That is an understatement," he said. "This guy's nickname on the street is, The Blowtorch. Partly because he's always got a cigar in his mouth, but mostly because of the method he uses to gain information before he executes his victims. He's one of the worst."
"If he was Tony DePalma's boss, he must be from Jersey or New York. What's he doing here?" asked Jack.
"Hiding from us. I guess he thought no one would ever look for him in a place like Floyd."
"And, you found out about this, how?" continued Jack.
"Got a lucky tip. It was purely accidental. The details don't matter."
"I understand," said Jack, nodding. He drained the first beer and reached for the next. "You don't want to mention your source, right?"
Jack Conners was smart to pick up on that. He decided not to confirm it, and simply responded with a shrug.
"He's a murderer?" asked Diane, still studying the photo.
"He's armed and extremely dangerous. If you happen to see him, don't engage him. I can't stress that enough. Just walk away and let me know as soon as you possibly can. That's about as much as I can tell you for now. You guys are not under suspicion." He paused and frowned slightly. "I'm sure you're all innocent."
Vicky gave him a sharp look. "Let me take a guess. Agent Rodriguez still isn't convinced that we weren't involved with Tony and his criminal activity."
"Maybe, but don't worry about her." Jack and Vicky were both pretty astute. I'll have to remember that. He got up for another beer and encountered the puddle on the floor. "Jack, why don't we get this mopped up and see if we can replace the fixture?"
"Good idea, you guys do that, and I'll make the salad," said Vicky. "You must be starved."
While he and Jack mopped up the water and studied the broken faucet, the two women began pulling things from the refrigerator. He didn't think Vicky and Jack suspected him of being untruthful. Diane however, still seemed skeptical. He found an opportunity to take her aside.
"It's important that you believe me," he said quietly. "I didn't come down here looking for you. I had no idea that your friends would show up. I was as surprised to see you as you were to see me."
"I'm not sure what to believe," she said warily, pulling away from him. "I'm going to give the animals their dinner." She went into the pantry, brought out the dog's bowl, and started for the porch calling, "Bella! Here's your dinner."
It occurred to him that he hadn't seen the dog for a while. Usually she wanted to be wherever the people were. "Diane, Where's Bella?"
Holding the food dish up, Diane turned around. "She must be here somewhere. Maybe she's sleeping in the other room." Puzzled, she walked through the house calling, but there was no response. No enthusiastic scramble of dog claws on the hardwood.
"I can't remember the last time I saw her," said Diane, frowning. "I don't know what I'll tell Sandy if she's lost. She's crazy about that dog."
"Don't panic. She never runs off," he said, making his way to the back door to check the porch. When he opened the door, Bella bounded inside, followed more sedately by Colby Jack. Kyle Evans brought up the rear, smiling and pushing his ball cap to the back of his head.
"Diane, I stopped by to see you earlier, but I missed you. So I thought I'd run back down with Bella. I found her playing with our dogs."
"Oh thank you, Kyle," she said, smiling at him. "I'd really started to worry. Would you like a beer?"
"That sounds just fine. Don't mind if I do." He pulled out a chair and cranked his hundred watt smile up even higher when she handed him a bottle.
She returned to the counter where she and Vicky were making a salad.
"Still like to show you around tomorrow. There are a few places we could stop to eat if you'd like," said Kyle eagerly.
Chris strode over and planted himself in Kyle's line of site. Crossing his arms he stared down men
acingly at the young man.
Apparently, Kyle missed the message. He continued smiling, and drinking beer.
"As long as you're here, would you like to stay for dinner?" asked Vicky. "We're about to set the table. We've got lasagna, garlic bread, and salad."
"Now that sounds real nice!" Kyle beamed enthusiastically. His smile faded a little when he saw the look on Chris's face, but he rallied.
"Let me set the table. I help Sandy out with the breakfasts on Saturdays, so I know where everything is."
Chris tried to think of a reason for Evans not sticking around for dinner. Before he could open his mouth to object, Kyle got up and headed for the cabinets, took down a stack of plates, and headed for the table. He scowled after him. This idiot is showing up here way too often, and paying way too much attention to Diane.
* * *
Toricello had come to Southwest Virginia prepared for any eventuality. Looking for a hideout, he'd discovered a deserted house that morning after nosing in and out of quiet country roads. Secluded, this particular place was mostly complete, but obviously still under construction. Dust on the floors and kitchen counters revealed that no one had been in the house for at least a couple of months.
"Jeez. If only I could use my cell, but the Feds can track the damn signal," Bruno Toricello muttered to himself. Puffing on his cigar, he paced the room, brooding over the situation that had sent him into hiding. "DePalma, you're a dead man," he said aloud.
He was camped out in the partially finished basement, where he'd found a woodstove already in place. The night was cold, so he'd kindled a fire with scrap from a substantial stack of lumber piled against the wall. His truck was hidden a hundred yards up an unused gravel road, which wound past the house into the woods and petered out at the top of the ridge.
He sat down in a comfortable folding lawn chair and propped his feet on an empty packing case. A Coleman lantern provided the light he needed. A convenient work bench at his side held his wine, food supplies, and a stack of magazines. Beside him was an air mattress with his sleeping bag unrolled and ready. Tucked just inside, was his 9 mm automatic.
Those two cars I saw down the road from Frank's hunting cabin, they gotta be FBI, DEA, or some other nosy Federal assholes. If the Feds are in the area, it's smart to find a new place every few days. I can hideout here for a while.
He rose, opened the woodstove door, and tossed the butt of his cigar inside. He followed this with a few chunks of wood and returned to his seat. Unwrapping a fresh cigar, he lit it with his gold Zippo and puffed it to life. Reaching for his bottle of Italian Strega, he took a swig and blew a smoke ring, watching it drift lazily toward the ceiling.
There's no way the Feds could have found out I'm in Virginia. DePalma must have snitched. Nobody else who knew about Frank's hunting cabin would have squealed. Bruno grunted to himself and what passed for a smile twisted his lips. "When I get back, I'll make dog meat out of the bastard."
Chapter 10
"On the road again," sang John Van Wart as he pulled smoothly onto route 81, heading south. Skillfully maneuvering his Ford Explorer into the ebb and flow of traffic, he maintained a steady seventy-five miles per hour, keeping a wary eye out for the big tractor trailer rigs. Brushing his dark hair back, he relaxed and reached for his over-sized travel mug. He sipped, and sighed with satisfaction. He and the love of his life were on a pre-wedding getaway to the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia.
Glancing at the woman next to him, he reached over and stroked her thigh, resting his hand there. "I've got a full gas tank, fresh hot coffee, and I've got you. It doesn't get any better than this, Babe."
"What the hell!" squealed Theresa, staring in disbelief at her phone. "No way! I don't freakin' believe this!" She frowned at her fiancé and then at the slim pink phone in her hand. "Oh my god! Those bastards are still at it. They never want to give up."
He glanced at her. "What's wrong? Who's the text from?"
"Vicky. She and Jack drove down to the B & B yesterday, so they're already with Diane." She lowered the phone and turned to him, "Are you ready for this? She says those FBI agents, Chris Owen and his partner, Rodriguez, are there. You remember, the crazy Puerto Rican woman that arrested poor Diane and dragged her downtown in handcuffs last fall?"
"I remember her, but I think she was Guatemalan, or maybe Mexican, not Puerto Rican." John's eyes twinkled. "She had a dynamite body. The tits on that woman were like--"
She slapped his hand, but he left it on her leg and chuckled softly.
"What could they want in that little town? Why would they show up in southwest Virginia just when we're going there?" she asked indignantly.
"Hey. You're right. Something's going on here and I don't like it."
Theresa pressed a hand to her stomach. "This is giving me agita."
"Do me a favor," he said laughing. "Look out the window and check the sky for black helicopters following us." Then he sobered. "You know what I think of the government, Babe. Don't trust any of them, far as I could throw them."
"Wait. Vicky says they all talked to Owen last night and he told them that the FBI isn't interested in any of us. She says everything is all right and our going to Virginia now is just a big coincidence. Agent Owen is looking for a man they suspect is hiding down there." Disbelieving, she sputtered, "Yeah, right."
"Coincidence my ass! They're a bunch of liars. Rodriguez never did believe that we weren't mixed up with your boyfriend, Tony, and his drug dealing business."
"He wasn't my boy friend! Stop calling him my boyfriend!" she shrieked, slapping his hand again.
John grinned at her mischievously and poked her leg. "Okay, not your boyfriend, your former fiancé then." He liked to push her buttons and knew just how to do it for maximum effect.
Her large dark eyes flashed and the long brown curls flew as she whipped her head around to face him. "Everyone's entitled to make one mistake. Okay? I don't want to talk about it." She turned back to the phone and began rapidly texting a response to her cousin.
"I love you, Babe. God knows I've made some big ass mistakes in my life." His poking became a playful caress on her thigh. She reached for his hand, squeezed it and held it there.
"Tell Vicky we'll be there this afternoon and ask her to kick out the FBI before we arrive. I can't believe it. There's something going on, no matter what your cousin, Victoria, told you."
Theresa slipped the phone back into her purse, but before she could respond, it trilled musically, signaling an incoming call.
"Oh my god, here we go again," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "It's Ma. More wedding issues that need decisions right now. Guess I gotta take this. I'll so, be glad when this wedding is over."
"Give her my love and tell her she's the best mother-in-law in the whole world."
For this comment he only received another, more elaborate eye roll.
"Yeah Ma, we're good, thanks. What is it this morning?"
* * *
"Chris, the house is beautiful!" Diane jumped from the front seat of the SUV. "This is amazing! The view up here is awesome."
The sprawling farmhouse had a deep porch that stretched across the front and disappeared around the far side. The exterior was a soft blue gray stone that blended well with the natural surroundings. Lots of windows in front took full advantage of the view and at the center of the roof, a massive brick chimney protruded skyward. The house sat on a broad shelf of lawn facing the rolling vista of wooded ridges to the south. Behind it, the ground rose steeply, carpeted with evergreens. The gravel road looped past the driveway and snaked its way uphill, disappearing in the woods. They'd passed two or three houses on their way up the private road, but except for distant homes in the valley below, no other neighbors were visible.
"Glad you like it." He'd parked his vehicle in front of the wide garage doors and walked around to where Diane stood admiring his new home. "I helped draw up the plans and it's been my go-to project for nearly three years. Now that it's nearly
complete, I'll have to find something else to occupy my time."
"The house is so much bigger than I'd imagined," enthused Diane, closing her door and starting for the porch. "Let's go inside. I can't wait to see it."
"Just a minute." Walking slowly up the curving road, he examined the house from the rear and came back down to where Diane stood. He turned thoughtfully in a circle, taking in the panorama and frowned. There was something out of place here, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"That looks like a really big chimney up there," she said gazing at the roof. You must have a gigunda fireplace."
"It just looks big because there are three flues. I put fireplaces in both living and dining rooms and there's a woodstove in the basement."
"That sounds incredible. I love a fire. My dad used to burn ours all the time."
He had that odd tingling sensation at the nape of his neck again that always warned him when things were not entirely as they should be. Something was wrong. But what? There was the faintest hint of wood smoke in the air. One of the neighbors probably had a fire to take the chill away. It was certainly cold enough last night.
"Chris, is everything okay?" asked Diane, studying him.
"Yeah, sure. Be with you in a second." He returned to the SUV, reached under the front seat, and slipped his pistol into his jacket pocket. You could never be too careful. As she was admiring the house, he was sure Diane hadn't noticed him taking this precaution.
Diane took a deep breath and looked around once more at the beautiful view, saying softly, "It's lovely up here and so quiet and peaceful."
Grinning, Chris reached for her and slipped an arm around her waist. "Come on. Let's go inside." As they walked up the broad steps to the front porch he added, "I hope you like what I've done. There aren't any appliances in the kitchen yet and I still have to put down hardwood in the dining room and install some carpeting, but it's almost finished. Lot of painting to do, but I'll need some help choosing colors. Maybe you could do that for me."
Finding Floyd Page 9
