He wondered what would have happened if she’d kept driving west. Would they still have found her just like they found her here? “Okay, after you drove into Bricker’s Bowl, what did you do?”
“Just walked around. Everyone knew who we were—how, I have no clue, but I knew they were talking about us, wondering about us, I guess, wondering, maybe, if we were weird. I’ll tell you, I don’t blame them a bit.
“We stopped at the small grocery store because it was hot and Autumn wanted an ice cream. There was a woman in there who looked at us like we were members of the devil’s fold. I’ll never forget how she stared at Autumn and said, ‘She looks just like him,’ and she crossed herself. I was appalled and grabbed Autumn’s hand to get her out of there but the woman said then, ‘I was very glad Martin escaped. I’m very sorry he’s dead. Everyone liked Martin, but no one knew when he was going to be buried. Preacher Michael even called Mrs. Backman, but she didn’t tell him a thing.’ And then she shut up and shook her head.”
“The lady asked me what kind of ice cream I liked best,” Autumn said. “I told her I really liked butter pecan, and she said that was good because she’d just made some.”
Lula strolled into the living room, tail high. She meowed when she saw Ethan, padded quickly to him, and jumped up on his lap. She began kneading his leg.
Autumn leaned over to pat her and Lula stretched under her hand and kept kneading.
Of course Mackie wasn’t to be left out. He was soon seated on Ethan’s other leg, his claws sharper than Lula’s, who’d had a manicure only two days before when Maggie had come to clean up the cottage and managed to catch her. Mackie had escaped clean.
Autumn yawned and leaned back against her mother’s chest, all boneless, like the cats when they were with him in bed at night. “Mama,” she whispered, “I think we can trust Ethan. We started to tell him about those poor dead people. I think we should tell Ethan more of it, Mama.”
19
JOANNA WAS PALE and quiet. He gave her a moment to think about what Autumn had said, and slowly stood up. “I think both of you could use a soda. How about it?”
Joanna looked at him, drew in a deep breath, and slowly nodded. “Yes, a drink would be nice. Autumn, stay here, sweetie, sit on my lap.”
When Ethan came back to the living room, he popped open the cans and passed them on. He kept his voice easy and slow as he said to Autumn, “You were telling me about seeing them burying people. Did you see how these people died?”
Those stark, unbelievable words hung in the air. Autumn stiffened up, pressed her back against her mother’s chest. Ethan sat forward, reached out his hand, and lightly touched her shoulder. “You know me now, Autumn. Your mom knows me too, in fact, she even knows I play the piano. I’ll play for you later, but first, it’s time we cleaned up this mess, and that means you’ve got to tell me what you saw. All right? Can you do that?”
Autumn gave him a long look, then said, her voice clear and steady, “The people were already dead, Ethan. They were lying next to each other. Blessed and Grace were digging Daddy’s grave even deeper so those dead people would fit in it.”
“You’re sure they were people, Autumn?”
Even as she nodded, Ethan saw her small face cloud over. He knew what she was thinking: He doesn’t believe me; he thinks I’m a stupid little kid. She couldn’t have been clearer if she’d spoken out loud.
“Could you tell how many dead people there were?” Now wasn’t that real smart, asking a seven-year-old how many bodies were piled around.
Autumn sat forward, her small hands making fists on the table, her eyes on his face. “I was so scared, Ethan, I just couldn’t think. I ran to Mama.”
Joanna said clearly, “Yes, she came to tell me what she’d seen, Sheriff.”
“Did you go and look?”
“At that point I didn’t think it was necessary.”
At that point? What did that mean?
He said, “If my kid came to tell me she saw dead bodies, I think I’d be up like a shot to see what was going on. Oh, I see, you thought Autumn was making it up.”
“No, Mama didn’t believe that,” Autumn said. “She just didn’t think I saw what I thought I did.”
Joanna Backman’s face was so leached of color he thought she’d faint. He waited for her to say something, but it was Autumn who spoke. “I wanted Mama to come with me so I could show her what they were doing, but she wouldn’t. She pulled me against her and rubbed my head and told me it would be all right, and we were leaving first thing in the morning, and I wasn’t to worry about it. I’d forget about it—that’s what she thought. But I knew it wouldn’t go away. How could it? I saw them digging up Daddy’s grave, and I saw them burying dead people in it.”
Joanna took her daughter’s hand. “She’s right. I believed Autumn was seeing something in her head, but I didn’t believe the Backmans were actually in the cemetery at that moment burying people. Autumn had just lost her father; she was grieving for him terribly. Perhaps she’d misinterpreted whatever she’d seen.”
The thick silence in Ethan’s living room was broken only by Lula and Mackie’s purring.
He said slowly, “You believed Autumn was seeing horrible things in her head because of what you’d both seen earlier that day in the cemetery? You thought she was dreaming it?”
Joanna saw incredulity on his face, heard the disbelief in his voice. She said, “That’s what I hoped at the time. I mean, who wants to believe something that horrible was actually happening right below the bedroom window?”
Ethan said, “You went to the cemetery, didn’t you, Joanna?”
“Yes, I planned to, alone, so I could come back and reassure Autumn. I was walking toward the center staircase when I heard the three of them come through the front door. They were talking. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, so I tiptoed down to the bend in the stairs. I heard Mrs. Backman then, her voice was really clear, so I stopped right where I was and listened. I couldn’t have misunderstood her. She sang out, sounding happy as a lark, ‘Well, boys, I’m thirstier than a desert in hell. We got it done, all solemn and proper, and it’s over. Nobody could complain we didn’t do it right. That big pile of dirt will settle down soon enough. Now, I need a nice whiskey sour. Grace, you know exactly how to make it. Blessed, you want a Diet Coke?’
“Blessed said he did, with a slice of lemon. Grace didn’t say anything. I would swear they should have heard my heart pounding. They’d just buried people and she wanted a whiskey sour? I wanted to run, but I knew I had to wait and listen, but for the longest time I didn’t hear them say anything more. I stayed bent down, in the shadows of the bend of the stairs. I thought they’d gone when Shepherd said, ‘We’ll take care of Joanna in the morning. Make it look like an accident, Blessed; we don’t want Autumn to distrust us. Everyone will be so pleased she’s here at last, where she belongs. She’s strong. I know it now, stronger than Martin.’
“I heard Blessed grunt and say he’d stymie me easier than Nat Hodges. That was the word he used, ‘stymie.’ Then Grace said something, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“I felt frozen, so terrified I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, could scarcely draw a breath. Finally they moved away, probably to the kitchen, so Blessed could make this horrible old woman a whiskey sour.
“Later, probably after three o’clock in the morning, Autumn showed me the tree branch outside the window and we climbed down.”
Ethan said, “Did you go to the cemetery before you went to get your car? To know for sure?”
Autumn turned in to her mother and wrapped her arms around her back. “It’s all right, sweetie.”
Autumn nodded and turned back. “Mama wanted to see it with her own eyes. But she said she believed me now after what she heard Mrs. Backman say. She knew I didn’t see it in my head.”
Joanna hugged her daughter tightly to her. She kissed her hair. “Know this, Autumn, from now on I will always believe exactly what you tell me.” She gave her dau
ghter a lopsided grin and another hug. “However, whether or not I want to believe you is a very different matter.” She looked up at Ethan. “It was too dangerous to stay. We had to get out of there.”
Ethan studied the little girl’s face. “Tell me, Autumn, what were you doing in the cemetery so late, and alone. When you saw them burying the people?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She glanced at her mother, then quickly away. Finally she said, “I wanted to say good-bye to Daddy.”
Joanna looked like she’d collapse in on herself.
Ethan said matter-of-factly, “Okay, thanks for telling me. So, Joanna, you got out of there fast?”
He’d thrown her a rope and she grabbed it. “You bet. Thankfully my car was on a bit of an incline in front of the huge garage, and I put it in neutral, pushed, then jumped in as it gained speed and steered it back down that long driveway. I didn’t have to start the engine until we were nearly at the road that runs past the driveway.”
Autumn said, “I was looking back, and I didn’t see any lights go on. I told Mama we’d be okay.”
“I drove until morning. Believe me, I never stopped, even for an instant.”
Autumn said, “I tried to call Daddy, and that was stupid because there couldn’t be an answer now since he’s dead. But before he died, I spoke to him when he was in prison. Do you know, Ethan, Daddy would talk to me about everything, but he wouldn’t ever talk about his mother or his brothers. I guess I know why now. They’re creepy. I’m glad he ran away.”
Ethan asked without thinking, “Your dad had telephone minutes?”
Autumn cocked her head at him. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, he did,” Joanna said. “That’s enough for tonight, Sheriff.”
“One last thing you might help explain, Joanna. Blessed must know we’re aware of who he is now, where his family lives, yet he still tried to take Autumn. What did he intend to do with her? Where did he think he could take her? And why? And what did Shepherd mean by saying Autumn was stronger than Martin?”
“You’ll have to ask Blessed that, Sheriff. He didn’t exactly share it with us.”
20
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
Sunday evening
“That was a good call on Buzz,” Savich said to Jimmy Maitland, who’d stopped by after dinner. “He’s safe now, no way the two of them can get to him in Aruba. That would mean passports, and Lissy Smiley doesn’t have one.”
“Victor Nesser does, but the alert’s out on him. I would strongly doubt they have the sophistication to obtain good forgeries,” Maitland said. He accepted a cup of coffee from Sherlock, cocked his head at her. She said, “Yeah, yeah, the coffee god over there made it, not me.”
Maitland toasted her with his cup. “You’re looking pretty good, Sherlock. Like I told my wife, in the long scheme of things, I’d rather lose a spleen than some other parts I can think of.”
Sherlock wanted to whine about how her body still wanted to sleep when she wanted to keep working—even piddling everyday stuff—how a nice sweaty workout was still at least a week away, but she smiled. “I’m feeling it less and less every passing day.” She handed Dillon a cup of hot tea.
He said, reading her quite clearly, “Another couple of weeks and you’ll be throwing me all over the mat at the gym. Be patient.”
Maitland looked at the two of them, saw the shadow of fear still in Savich’s eyes from the thought of the bullet she’d taken. Then Savich lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “I take that back. If you were being patient about this brief vacation, I’d wonder where my Sherlock was.”
Maitland said, “Sit down, Sherlock; let’s talk about what happened at the airport.” He took a sip of coffee, sighed, and smiled. “Okay, after Buzz called me, we got over there fast, but Victor and Lissy were gone.
“We looked at the security videotapes, saw Victor helping Lissy across the terminal, straight to the Caribbean Air counter, then flat-out running with her toward the line at security. But they missed Buzz; he was already through and on his way to the gate.
“Next we saw them ducking through an employees-only door that led down to the tarmac. This part borders on the hard to believe—Buzz was not only sitting in a window seat, his seat was on the terminal side. To top it off, he just happened to be looking out the window to see Victor sticking his head out the door, Lissy behind him. Then he calls me, tells me what a lamebrain he is because he didn’t suspect a thing when he dropped off his car at his mechanic’s, didn’t think about anything hinky until he saw Lissy and Victor eyeing him from that employees’ doorway.
“We sent the bomb squad over to the car, but it wasn’t rigged. They only found water mixed in with the gasoline in the gas tank. Buzz was lucky he got as far as he did.”
Maitland paused a moment, took a drink of his coffee. “I guess because of how close this was, I decided to make doubly certain Buzz will be safe. He’ll stay only one night in Aruba, then one of our agents is escorting him to Barbados on a private plane so there’ll be no earthly way for Victor and Lissy to trace him. I may be going overboard on this, but I like the guy.”
Maitland grinned. “Buzz said he was going to visit the horse-racing tracks in Barbados first thing—he was feeling real lucky.”
Savich said, “Okay, so that means Victor and Lissy got to his neighborhood just a few hours after she escaped. They found Buzz still home, spiked his gas, and followed him to the car shop, then on to the airport. What undoubtedly saved him was that Lissy’s injuries slowed them way down. Pretty smart, though, not taking Buzz on at home where he was armed. They knew he wouldn’t be carrying a gun on his way to the airport.”
Sherlock nodded. “I’m wondering, though, what would they have done even if they’d caught up with Buzz? Would they have shot him right there in the terminal?”
“I believe she’d sure give it a try,” Savich said. “During the bank robbery, Lissy Smiley was out of control, whether from drugs or a misfiring brain, I don’t know.”
Sherlock said, “The word nuts comes to mind.”
Maitland set down his coffee cup, picked up the plate with the small slice of apple pie in the center, the only slice left after Sean had demolished it. “But why sneak out to the tarmac? Were they thinking they could shoot him as he boarded? Blow out the landing gear? What?”
Savich said, “I can see Lissy pushing it to the end, without hesitation. Each moment for itself, no thought or reflection of what might happen, that’s Lissy.”
Sherlock said, “All spur-of-the-moment, just reaction when they saw Buzz hop into that taxi.”
Maitland said, “So now they look like losers again. And that leaves you, Savich. I really don’t want them to blow up your new Porsche.”
Sherlock said, “Our insurance carrier would kick and moan, that’s for sure.”
Maitland saw she was both mad and worried, and that was good. She said, “I wonder why Lissy went after Buzz first when you were the one she threatened?”
Savich shrugged, sipped his tea. “I’m thinking I’m the frosting on her cake.”
“She and Victor will figure out we live in Georgetown,” Sherlock said. “After all, you were in one of the local banks.”
“I expect they’ll find out our address. Remember, they found out about Buzz’s flight to the Caribbean, so one of them’s pretty clever. We’ll know which one soon enough. Sherlock and I are going down to Fort Pessel, see what we can find out.
“One other thing, sir, can you get round-the-clock surveillance on both the Smiley house in Fort Pessel, Virginia, and Victor Nesser’s apartment in Winnett, North Carolina?”
Maitland got to his feet. “All right, for three, four days. You think we can get them in that time?”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Sherlock said.
Savich said, “I’ve got this gut feeling they’ll go back to one or both places before they come after me, hunker down, and try to come up with a plan. Too, Lissy Smiley can’t be feeling
great. How she managed to run at all at the airport is astounding. She must be feeling the results of that now. She’ll have to rest, maybe several days.”
“I can’t see them taking the chance of going home though,” Maitland said.
“They’re kids,” Sherlock said, “and it’s home. At least Lissy’s a kid.”
Savich said, “I have a feeling Lissy wants to take me down herself, and she’s got to be one hundred percent to do that, and she knows it. She’s got to lie low for a while.”
Sherlock said, “I keep wondering why Victor left the Smileys three years ago. What do you think happened for him to make that abrupt break? And why did he get back together with them?”
Maitland said, “Sex, drugs, or rock and roll; gotta be one of those.”
21
NEAR PAMPLIN, VIRGINIA
Sunday evening, dusk
“I feel like crap.”
“I know, Lissy, I know,” Victor Nesser said, and pulled over on the shoulder. “It’s time. Here, take your pain pill.” He unscrewed the water bottle and handed it to her. “Fifteen minutes and you’ll be snoozing.” He came around to the passenger side and tried to get the front seat of the old Chevy Impala to recline more, but it wouldn’t. They should have lifted themselves a newer car where the seats went down flat like a bed. “But you’re better today than you were yesterday. That run through the airport didn’t help things.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll live.” She smacked her fist against the warped glove compartment and cursed, sucked in a couple of deep breaths, and tried not to move.
He slid his palm over her breasts, patted her cheek. “Rest now.” And he got them on their way again.
Lissy’s eyes were closed, her hands were on her belly, lightly massaging her fresh scar because it hurt. Another ten minutes, she just had to hang on another—it had to be only nine minutes now—and that sweet numbing haze would float over her brain. She said, “We should have taken him out at the mechanic’s place, a nice, big, stupid target—”
The FBI Thrillers Collection: Vol 11-15 Page 76
