by Sharon Sala
“There was a woman named Lynn Gravitt who worked with my mother. I talked to her. She’s the one who told me about Harold Mackey still being in St. Louis, and where he worked.”
“She knew his work schedule?” Whit asked.
Holly hesitated.
Bud frowned. There it was again, that expression that made him nervous. What else didn’t he know about what she’d done?
“Dang it, Holly, this isn’t the time for secrets, remember?”
“I might have called the warehouse and asked what time he got off work.”
Bud groaned.
Whit Carver’s frown deepened.
“And you didn’t think that would make him suspicious?” he asked.
“I pretended to be a courier with a package that needed to be signed for.”
Bud groaned again.
“I’m assuming you never showed up with anything to be signed for, right?” Whit asked.
“Right,” Holly said.
“So a man with secrets to hide finds out about a phone call from a courier asking about his work hours, then never gets the promised delivery. What do you think he’s going to do?”
Holly suddenly felt faint. She looked at Bud for help, but he wasn’t talking.
“I didn’t think,” she whispered. “I just needed to see him.”
Bud put his arm around her for moral support, while wondering how fast he could get them on the first plane back to Montana.
Carver was already playing catch-up in his head. “I need to let my undercover guy know that Mackey might be watching for something to happen. Are there any other surprises you have for me?”
Holly was near tears. “I’m sorry.”
Bud gave her a quick hug. “Tell him about the dreams you’ve been having.”
Whit reached for his notepad.
“I’m pretty sure that when I was little, I actually saw him with his stash of trophies from the murders. I think that’s why my mother got me away from St. Louis so fast.”
“Stash of trophies? Are you talking about—”
“The scalps.”
Whit looked up. “You saw those?”
“What I saw were a whole lot of wooden plaques with pieces of hair on them that were hanging on a wall in a little room off our basement. There were little gold nameplates underneath each hunk of hair, like the way his trophies that hung on the walls in the den were mounted.”
“Holy shit,” Whit mumbled. “Hell of a thing for a kid to see.”
“I don’t think I knew what I was seeing back then. But in dreaming about all this now, I realize what they must have been. It explains how freaked out he got when he saw me, too. He grabbed me and slammed me up against the wall, told me not to tell what I’d seen or I’d be sorry. He said if I told anyone, I’d never see my mother again.”
Whit’s gut knotted. Yet another bit of info to add to Holly Slade’s theory that Mackey had killed her mother.
“And that’s all,” Holly added.
Whit sighed. “That’s enough.”
Eleven
The moment Holly and Bud were gone, Whit got on the phone. He was pulling Riley off the case ASAP. If Mackey was already suspicious, there was a good chance he might spot a tail, which could jeopardize the case even more. They didn’t need Mackey to disappear before they got a chance to make an arrest. Just when he thought his call was going to voice mail, he heard Riley’s voice.
“Yeah, this is Riley. What’s up?”
“This is Carver. What are you doing?”
“Watching Mackey disappear,” he said, as the delivery truck disappeared over a hill.
“Let him go,” Whit said.
Riley frowned. “Okay, but why?”
“We have reason to suspect Mackey knows some thing’s up. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say, you’re done.”
Riley shrugged. “Except for mapping the rest of his route, I was done anyway. You could set your watch by this guy. He’s in bed by eleven every night.”
“I assume you didn’t leave anything at the surveillance site?”
“A folding chair.”
“Consider it a donation to the real estate agent. Don’t go back to the neighborhood for anything.”
“Then consider me gone,” Riley said, and disconnected.
Holly was noticeably silent as she and Bud got back in her car. Even after they’d buckled in, she sat quietly, without turning the key in the ignition.
“Do you think I’ve messed up the entire investigation?”
Bud reached for her hand. “No, baby. I’m sure it’s okay.”
She nodded, but still didn’t start the car.
“There’s not more, is there?” he asked.
“No, no, of course not.”
“Then what is it?”
“I feel like something bad is going to happen,” she said.
Even though he wasn’t completely sold on his answer, Bud gave her hand a quick squeeze and said, “It’s understandable why you would feel that way, but I think we’re okay. You know what he looks like, right?”
She nodded. “A great big man with a long gray ponytail.”
“So have you seen him following us anywhere?”
“No, and I have been looking.”
“I guessed as much. Andrew didn’t raise any fools. Although you did call the warehouse about him, there’s no way to pin you personally to the call, right?”
Holly thought back to the sequence of events leading up to her trip to the police station and finally agreed.
“You’re right. Even if they told him about the call, no one saw or overheard me make it, and there’s no reason to assume I’d be the first person he thought of. After all he’s done, there have to be other people he’s crossed who don’t like him. And I don’t see how he could recognize me. I was a little girl when he saw me last, and honestly, I don’t think I look like either one of them now.”
“Then there you go, home free,” he said. “What do you think about going home now? You did what you came to do.”
Holly couldn’t shake her anxiety, but there was nothing that she could do to change that. “No. I can’t leave until I know what happened to my mother.”
Bud sighed. He’d been afraid she might say something like that. But at least he was here with her now.
Holly threaded her fingers through Bud’s and gave his hand a squeeze.
“So what do you want to do now? There are some great places to see here in St. Louis. Would you like a mini-tour of the city? I could show you where I used to live.”
Bud frowned. “I think we need to stay away from anything to do with your past. Why don’t we go back to the hotel, then walk down to the Arch? I think I’ve got enough guts to go up in that monstrosity, even if I don’t much like heights.”
“Oh, good, I haven’t done that yet. We can do it together.”
It was midafternoon before Harold realized he was no longer being tailed—at least by the man on the bike. The knowledge made him nervous, and he began watching all the cars and people around him even more closely. What if they’d pulled a switch? Now he wouldn’t know who to look for. He tried to spot a new tail but couldn’t pinpoint anyone who looked suspicious.
At quitting time he followed his usual routine and picked up dinner on the way home, this time from a local Italian restaurant. Spaghetti and meatballs were good, and easy to heat up in the microwave. But the whole time, he couldn’t stop worrying. He didn’t believe that someone would go to all that trouble and then just quit. It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t see anyone who seemed remotely interested in where he was going. Even so, he wasn’t naive enough to think this was over.
At home, he ate his meal in the living room in front of the television. Once he’d finished, he decided he had enough daylight left to mow the lawn. The new grass was getting tall enough that he would be getting looks from his neighbors if he didn’t get it cut down, and Harold’s determination to stay under the radar meant never calling attentio
n to himself.
It was almost dark by the time Bud and Holly left the Arch and started back to the Jameson. Bud felt uneasy about staying out so late and being on foot. Except for the vague description Holly had given him, he didn’t know what Mackey looked like. He took her by the hand, then slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“Are you cold, baby?”
“No, just tired.”
As they waited for the light to change, she looked up into his face. The strong cut of his jaw was so familiar to her, and yet, as her lover, this man was nearly an unknown. She’d had no idea of the depth of his passion, and the thought of the years they had ahead of them made her shiver with joy and longing.
Bud felt her gaze and looked down, then winked.
Holly grinned. There he was—the Bud she knew.
“Want to get something to eat in the hotel?” he asked.
“Yes. There’s a steak house I haven’t tried, and then another place called Annie’s Kitchen that I have tried.”
“I’m thinking steak,” Bud said.
She smiled. “I would have bet money on that.”
“Light’s changing,” Bud said, and eased her off the curb. “Let’s hurry. I’m starved.”
He had her laughing as they jogged across the intersection, and completely unaware that his haste had been a need to get her inside into a safer location, rather than a need to feed his hunger.
The steak house proved to be a good choice, and by the time they were back in the room, they were both groaning.
“I ate too much,” Holly said.
“I know a way to work it off,” Bud said.
Holly felt a flush spread up her neck and face, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. Before she could answer, her cell phone began to ring.
She glanced at the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number.
“Hang on,” she muttered, as she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, sugar, it’s me.”
Holly spun toward Bud, her eyes dancing. “Savannah!”
Bud took off his Stetson, hung his jacket across the back of a chair and smiled as headed for the bathroom.
“Tell her I said hi,” he said.
Savannah frowned. “Is that Bud? Is Bud there with you?”
“Yes. Your jump into the ocean freaked him out. He’s taking his guard duties very seriously,” she said, not yet ready to talk about the recent change in their relationship. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Savannah said. “Judd’s here with me, which is part of why I’m calling.”
“So what’s up?” Holly asked.
“We’re engaged!”
Holly squealed. “Finally! I can’t believe it. Congratulations, honey. I’m so happy for the both of you.”
“It’s just awful that it took nearly dying for me to get my act together.”
“Don’t remind me,” Holly said. “First Maria, then you. Bud’s a basket case thinking I’m next, but he won’t admit it.”
Bud came out of the bathroom in time to hear Holly’s words. “I am not a basket case,” he said. “So what’s going on?”
“Savannah and Judd are engaged.”
“Congratulations to the both of you,” Bud said loudly.
“Tell him we said thank you,” Savannah said. “Hey, Holly, Judd’s here, and it looks like something just came up. I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you later. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
Holly hung up the phone, and then turned around and gave Bud a big hug.
“I’m so happy for them. This has been a long time coming.”
“And so has this,” Bud said, as he took the phone out of her hand and laid it on the bedside table, then began kissing her as he backed her toward the bed.
Holly was already taking off her clothes as he turned off the light.
The sun was going down by the time Harold finished mowing. He wiped sweat from his forehead before rolling the mower back into the shed, then stood in the backyard for a few moments, inhaling the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass before he made his way into the house.
After a quick shower, he changed into comfortable clothes, dug his hunting knife out of the closet, pocketed his car keys and settled in for a little TV. As he kicked back in his recliner, his gaze slid to the mounted elk head on his wall. Something about it looked off. He got up for a closer look and then frowned. An industrious spider had spun an interstate of webbing from one side of the elk’s antlers to the other. Yet another clue as to how badly his house needed cleaning. As a rule, he didn’t like people in his house, but he liked cleaning even less, and there was a limit as to how much even he could tolerate. He made a mental note to himself to call that Happy Helpers cleaning service he occasionally used, then settled back in his chair, aimed the remote and focused on his show.
Every so often he would glance over to the house across the street, expecting to see that glow of light from the snoop’s laptop. Once he knew the man was back at the house, he intended to get rid of him…permanently.
But it never happened. At his regular bedtime he turned out the lights, then moved to the window. The empty house was still shrouded in darkness.
Harold frowned. He didn’t like loose ends and wasn’t going to sleep until he knew for sure that the man was gone. He palmed the hunting knife just in case, and for the third time in as many days, exited his house through the back door, jogged up the alley, across the street, then back down the opposite alley to the empty house. The motorcycle that had been there last night was gone. The backyard was empty. He strode through the grass to the side window and peered in. The room was dark and empty of everything but that folding chair.
It wasn’t what he’d expected to see, and the fact that he would not be disposing of this snoop as he’d planned made him uneasy. He didn’t like it when plans changed without his say-so.
Frustrated, and even more confused than before, he went back to his house. Once inside, he stood within the silence, listening…thinking.
The kitchen faucet had a drip he needed to fix, and he could hear the faint sounds of scratching, which meant there was a mouse in the house. He could live with dust, but he cursed at the thought of sharing his home with a rodent. He turned on the kitchen light long enough to find a mouse trap, baited it, then set it beside the refrigerator, near the back door. Satisfied, he turned off the light as he left, stowed his hunting knife back in the closet, then headed for his bedroom.
He finally got to bed, but he lay awake, rethinking his options. With the snoop gone, the only other person on his radar was Holly Slade. He needed to find out what he could about her. If she were part of what was happening, he would make sure her participation met with a swift end. Satisfied with his plan, he rolled over on his side, punched his pillow a couple of times until it felt just right and then closed his eyes.
The next day Harold worked his route on autopilot. His mind was racing through every stop as he tried to recall the bits and pieces of his life before.
He’d actually cared for Twila. He’d chosen her specifically because she came from good people, had a good work ethic, and took good care of him and their house. When their baby, Harriet, came along, he felt no parental bond and simply eyed the baby as an inevitable aspect of his life with Twila. It was his job as the male and head of the house to procreate. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, but he never stayed awake at night worrying about her, either.
His life as a married man had revolved around the convenience of having a sexual partner at his disposal, and always having a clean house and good food. It never occurred to Harold that there was something lacking in him. He viewed himself as a perfect male—strong, resourceful—and lived by a credo that amounted to “survival of the fittest.”
When he got to the Green Lantern Café where that skanky bitch Lola worked, again, he was so distracted about what was going on in his life that he completely ignored her digs and sexual innuendoes. As
he left, he even missed the curious look she gave him, though ordinarily he wouldn’t have missed a thing and would have been bothered to know he was giving off vibes that something was wrong.
He ate lunch in the truck on the way to his next stop, then delivered the order without anything more than a “Sign here” when he was done. He showed up at Riverfront Wholesale, turned in the signed work orders and clocked out without even telling Sonya, the dispatcher, goodbye.
Harold got into his car and drove out of the parking lot, circled the block rapidly to see if he could spot anyone suspicious in the vicinity, then whipped through an alley and came out four blocks over before turning in the opposite direction from home. He sped through the streets, taking back roads and shortcuts to get to the Jameson. Now that he knew the woman always valet parked, he knew where to look for her car. It took him a few minutes to find it once he entered the garage. The fact that it was there meant that either she was in the hotel or sight-seeing on foot. He drove out of the garage and around to the front of the hotel, found himself a parking spot where he could see the front entrance and settled down to wait. The longer he sat, the more amped he became. He was doing what he did best: waiting for game. The Hunter was back on track.
First thing that morning, Bud called home to check on his uncle and see how things were going at the Triple S. Delbert Walker didn’t carry a cell phone, so Bud knew he had to call early enough to catch him in the house in the morning, or wait until night. His main concern was to make sure he hadn’t given the old man too much to handle.
He was counting the rings while admiring the way Holly’s jeans fit the curve of her backside when Delbert answered the phone.
“Start talkin’,” Delbert yelled.
Bud grinned. Why waste a hello? “Hey, Uncle Delbert, it’s me, Bud.”
“Hey, Buddy. You got things under control out there?”
“Yes, things are under control,” Bud said.
Holly heard what he said and turned to face him with a “How dare you?” look on her face.
Bud winked. “Are you having any problems? I watched the weather. Looks like a clear forecast for at least a week.”
