Evan didn't really have an answer for him. Faulkner was right and they both knew it. Faulkner wasn't going to leave it there either.
'The only thing that differentiates us,' he continued, 'is that I already had to find out if I had the balls to do it. You - I'm not so sure.'
Evan didn't know how he had allowed Faulkner to get him on the back foot. On the subject of Sarah too. It was time he turned the tables again.
'Okay, okay, you did what you had to do,' he said in his best John Wayne voice. 'Your wife's getting better, you're learning to live with it, Hendricks is keeping his nose clean...and then Daniel Clayton happens. That can't have been a good day.'
Faulkner snorted. 'Not for anyone, it wasn't.'
'I don't suppose you want to share your initial thoughts when you took that call?'
'Sure I do.’ He smiled. ‘Probably something along the lines of I better not do a Buckley here.'
Evan's bewilderment amused Faulkner. He smiled again, although it didn't get up anywhere near his eyes.
'It means I better not go off half-cocked, jumping at the first half-assed conclusion that enters my preconceived mind.'
Evan could feel his cheeks burning. 'You expect me to believe it never crossed your mind it could have been Hendricks - and you'd given him the perfect opportunity? You must have been scared shitless the chickens had finally come home to roost.'
Faulkner shook his head emphatically and grimaced. 'No. For one, it was a young boy who went missing. That's very different to Hendricks and his piece of jailbait. A man who goes after a girl because she looks twenty-five isn't interested in prepubescent schoolboys.'
It sounded to Evan like the kind of homegrown psychology that Ray Clements had complained about. He was surprised at Faulkner, who must have come across plenty of degenerates who crossed the lines during his time on the force.
'Okay, let me put it a different way...'
'You can put it where the sun don't shine for all I care.'
'Just hear me out. Let's say you were looking into all the other potential suspects and one of them just happened to have a criminal conviction for unlawful sexual intercourse. Would that have flagged him up; made you treat him any different to the others? Maybe concentrate your efforts on him.'
'I didn't need to concentrate on Hendricks any harder. I already knew everything about him.'
'And chose to ignore what you knew.'
'For Christ’s sake, Buckley, you're impossible. I didn't ignore what I knew - I made a judgement call on the basis of that information. '
'And that was it?'
'No, of course that wasn't it. We interviewed him along with everyone else. But, like I told you before, he had a perfect alibi. When the boy disappeared he was driving a bus full of fifty screaming kids. Then he went to a strip club. To look at women's tits, not little boys' wieners.'
Evan had to admit he had a point. Everything he knew about Hendricks suggested he was a low-life pussy hound. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions.
'What did your wife think when it happened?'
'She thought it was going to go badly for him. She was scared his past would get dug up and then everyone would jump to conclusions, just like you.' He jabbed his finger in Evan's direction. 'Not to mention the effect it would have on my career and our lives.'
'But still no doubts about her darling brother? It must have seemed like one thing after another - and it's never his fault. She didn't see any kind of a pattern there?'
'No. Nor did she see things that weren't there in the first place.'
Evan was well aware that the comment was directed against him. 'Better than deliberately not looking at things that are staring you in the face.'
Faulkner would have thrown something at him then, if he'd had anything to throw apart from the cheap plastic TV remote. Instead, he lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes again. His face relaxed. 'I really don't think we're getting anywhere here. I think I'd like to get some sleep now.'
Evan agreed. Whatever Faulkner really thought and felt, he wasn't about to share it with him. He started for the door and then stopped.
'One more thing.' Faulkner groaned. 'Why did Hendricks attack you?'
'I have no idea. You'll have to ask him.'
'What was the argument about?'
'Nothing that would make him want to try to kill me.'
'I suppose I just have to take your word on that as well?'
'How about I just make something up? Will that make you go away?'
Evan knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of Faulkner. He headed for the door again.
'What are you going to do? I hope you're not going to go over all this again with Hendricks,' Faulkner said.
Evan stopped and turned around. 'What do you care?'
'I don't want to be the cause of any more trouble as a result of what I've told you.'
Evan was instantly alert. 'What do you mean any more trouble?'
'Okay, that's it. We're finished here. Send in the nurse on your way out, will you. For some reason my head hurts twice as bad as when you arrived. Forget I said we were quits.'
Evan took the hint and left. Damn, he thought as he walked down the corridor, I forgot to ask if it was okay to borrow his gun.
CHAPTER 35
Evan didn't know what to make of Faulkner's comment about causing more trouble. He couldn't decide if it had been an innocent slip of the tongue or if Faulkner secretly believed Hendricks was guilty and felt responsible for everything that had happened.
He certainly had enough to lose. Back when it happened, he already had thirty years on the job and he'd made it to the top of the tree. That was a lot to throw away. Against that, he just didn't seem like the kind of guy who would let a serious crime go unpunished to save his own skin.
Those were Faulkner's problems. Evan didn't have any such conflicts of interest. He knew exactly what he wanted to do and now seemed like the perfect opportunity. With Hendricks lying low, it was the perfect opportunity to nose around his property. Whatever Faulkner might think, Evan reckoned it was worth a more thorough look. Any kind of look would be better than doing nothing like the police.
It was early evening and there were still a couple of hours of daylight left as he drove out to Hendricks' farm. He drove straight past it and checked for Hendricks' pickup but the driveway was empty. It could be hidden round the back of the barns, but that was a chance he was going to have to take.
He drove on until he came to a disused farm track about a half mile past Hendricks' place. It led to a five bar gate which didn’t look like it had been opened in years, so he backed his car in as far as he could go. He was happy enough it wouldn't be visible from the road unless someone was specifically looking. There was hardly any traffic on the road anyway.
He stuffed a pair of thin cotton gloves into his pocket and felt the reassuring presence of the SIG-Sauer. Then he headed back down the road towards Beau Terre.
Nothing passed him on the road in the time it took him to get there. There was a small stand of red maple just before he got to Hendricks' driveway and he made his way towards it. The daylight was draining slowly out of the sky and he was almost invisible standing amongst their trunks. He had a good view of the house and barns as well as most of the yard so he settled in to wait for a while.
After a quarter hour he hadn’t seen any lights come on or movement in the house. There could be other rooms on the far side of the house that he couldn't see, but he was getting a strong impression that the place was empty.
Suddenly a light came on by the front door. He stiffened and caught his breath, even though he was invisible form the house. He strained to see if he could make out any movement inside the house, and then relaxed again as he saw the large white cat lightly descend the few steps down from the porch and run off into the bushes. It must have been asleep in the rocker and set off the security light as it headed off for the evening. After a couple of minutes the light went off again.
&nb
sp; He decided he'd given it long enough and trotted briskly across the yard. He pulled on the gloves and tried the front door first. It was locked, so he headed round the back. To his amazement the back door was unlocked. Either Hendricks was especially trusting or he'd left in such a hurry he forgot to lock up. Or he was sitting inside in the dark with a shotgun across his knees waiting for unsuspecting intruders.
Evan opened the door carefully and stepped into the kitchen. No Hendricks and no shotgun. The key was in the lock on the inside so he locked the door behind him and dropped the key into his pocket. He wasn’t going to risk anyone creeping up on him. He probably had about an hour of daylight before it got too dark to see without turning on the lights.
First of all he wanted to check the whole house to make sure it really was empty. Everything in the kitchen was neat and tidy; no dirty dishes in the sink; no trash can overflowing with beer cans. He crossed the room and made his way slowly down the hallway, checking each of the rooms as he passed. Two living rooms, a dining room, a study, all of them empty. If he hadn't seen Hendricks sitting on his porch three days earlier, he wouldn't have been able to say if anyone had lived there in the last six months.
There was a door under the stairs leading down to the cellar. He'd have to turn the light on to see anything down there, so there wasn't any point wasting any of the daylight doing it now.
He crept up the stairs. His mouth was dry and he had an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost as bad as kicking down motel doors. Luckily nothing creaked under his weight in the solid old house. He reached a large landing with four bedrooms and a bathroom leading off it. He checked the bathroom first and then the two smaller bedrooms. No sign of life.
That left the master bedroom and what was probably a guest room. He checked the guest room first, leaving Hendricks's room until last. Somebody was obviously living in it. The bed was neatly made with what he thought were called hospital corners, and it had definitely been slept in. There were a couple of pairs of men's pants, a dark blue blazer and half a dozen shirts hanging in the closet, all of them clean and pressed. He looked under the bed and saw two pairs of shoes. He pulled the nearest pair out. It was a pair of meticulously shined black Oxfords. Looking down at the gleaming toe caps and the orderly way the clothes were hanging in the closet, he wondered if the visitor was Hendricks's buddy from the army; the one he went to prison with. Perhaps he lived here; there was more than enough space. There was some underwear and T-shirts in the drawers - even the T-shirts were ironed and folded like they were still on the shelf - and some other stuff that was of no interest. No porn in the nightstand drawer but no crucifix above the bed either.
There was a shoe box on the top shelf in the closet. Evan got in down but it was empty. Something about it smelled familiar but he couldn't quite place it. Then it came to him: it was gun oil. He took the SIG-Sauer out of his pocket and sniffed it. It had the exact same smell. So whoever the gun belonged to was carrying it around with him.
He moved on to Hendricks's bedroom. It was the largest; at the front, overlooking the driveway and the road and then the fields beyond that. The low sun slanted across the crops and Evan stood at the window admiring the view, thinking how unfair it was that Hendricks lived in such a lovely house.
The peaceful silence of the evening was broken by the sound of a car coming down the road. He stepped back from the window slightly, not that anyone would have been able to see him. The car kept coming and then, to his horror, he saw it slow down and then swing into Hendricks's driveway. It was a blue Crown Vic, unmistakably a police car, unless someone had bought a used one on ebay. Damn, it must be Guillory. Where the hell's he been all this time?
He watched it park and saw Guillory climb out from the driver's side. Then the passenger door swung open and his fat partner, Ryder, got out. He stretched and hitched up his belt. His gut wobbled like something just turned out of a Jell-O mold. Evan would have loved to see his ugly head explode in a cloud of red mist as Hendricks or his buddy shot him from the rooftops, but it didn't happen. Maybe another day.
Guillory walked up the steps onto the porch and disappeared from Evan's view. The security light came on again and lit up Ryder's face as he looked up at the window. Evan froze and held his breath, even though there was no way Ryder could see anything with the light in his eyes. Suddenly Ryder looked back down at his feet. The white cat had come back and was rubbing itself up against his leg. He half kicked, half pushed it away and the cat howled and shot off across the yard. Ryder glanced briefly up at the window again and then headed round the back.
Evan relaxed and let out his breath, and then almost jumped out of his skin as Guillory hammered on the front door. His pulse was racing; he felt like a cornered rat. He heard Ryder try the back door. When it didn't open he shook it violently a couple of times before giving up. Thank God I decided to lock it from the inside, he thought. He could probably have talked Guillory round, but Ryder would most likely have shot him first and asked questions later, before Guillory could stop him. And thank God he'd parked out of sight half a mile away.
Guillory hammered on the door some more and then came back down the steps and walked round to join Ryder. Evan could hear them talking but couldn't make out what they were saying. Luckily they didn't seem to think the house was worth any more attention and started walking towards the barns.
They disappeared from sight again and Evan ran towards the back of the house to get a better view. There was a faded Persian rug on the polished wood floor of the landing. Generally, it stayed put when a person walked over it in a normal, sedate manner but when Evan ran across it, it slipped under him and he crashed into the door frame of the back bedroom, hitting his damaged ear right on the sharp wooden edge. He gasped and clamped a hand to his ear, and stumbled forward into the room, losing his balance and falling flat on his face in front of the window. It sounded to him like a herd of buffalo had just invaded the house.
He lay on the floor, hardly daring to breathe. He wanted to peek out the window to see if they had heard anything. All he could do was wait and see if they came back to the house again. He couldn't hear them at all, but that might mean they'd drawn their pistols and were stealthily approaching the house. Evan loved having such a vivid imagination. And his ear was hurting like hell.
He heard one of them laugh and the other one joined in. You wouldn't do that if you suspected there was someone hiding out inside the house, would you? Unless one of them had said he was going to shoot whoever was in the house in the butt, and the other one laughed and said no, shoot him in the balls. Police humor.
Evan thought he could risk taking a look. He slowly got himself onto his knees, backed away from the window and straightened up until he could see over the sill. Guillory and Ryder were both standing in front of the larger barn with their backs to him. They seemed to be fiddling with the padlock on the doors. Evan moved forward and across to the side of the window where he could see better. The light was fading fast now so he didn't really have to worry about being seen.
He saw Ryder pull the padlock free and open the barn doors. Evan could see Hendricks' pickup inside. Either he owned another vehicle or his army buddy was driving - or he was holed up somewhere nearby where he didn't need a car. Guillory found the light switch and Evan watched them go inside and look around. From inside the house Evan couldn't see anything else in there but he couldn't see all the way to the back wall. It didn't seem like there was anything of any interest in there anyway, because Guillory and Ryder came back out again in under two minutes. Guillory turned out the light and they closed and padlocked the doors again.
They walked across to the smaller barn and tried the padlock on that too, but it was clearly more of a challenge than the other one. They gave up after a couple of minutes. A bit of gentle persuasion was okay it seemed, but not shooting the lock off. Besides, it's quite difficult to relock a padlock that you've just shot off. They had a quick conversation and started back towards their
car.
Now, Evan thought, now's the time for your head to explode with bits of bone and brain matter and blood flying everywhere. It didn't happen this time either, but Evan enjoyed the mental picture he had. They didn't even give the house another look as they passed it. Evan walked carefully back to the front of the house in time to see them get into their car and drive away.
CHAPTER 36
He slumped down into a rocking chair in the corner of Hendricks' bedroom and wondered what to do next. It was now too dark to do anything useful without turning on the lights. After Guillory and Ryder's visit he didn't feel comfortable doing that. Driving away could be a ploy and they might come back. Then he remembered the basement. He could turn the lights on down there and it wouldn't be visible from outside. It was probably his best bet anyway - wasn't that where the bodies were always buried?
He went back downstairs and round to the basement door. The house was eerily quiet. It seemed very different in the dark and he felt for the comforting presence of the SIG-Sauer. He patted his pocket - nothing. He patted the other one - again, nothing. A slight frisson of panic went through him. It must have fallen out when I fell, he thought. He turned round and started back up the stairs. A number of the treads creaked as he stepped on them, sending a shiver across his skin. They hadn't creaked before. At the top of the stairs he groped his way round the wall to the doorway that he'd crashed into. His ear throbbed in sympathy. He got down on his hands and knees and explored the area immediately around the doorway. No gun. It must be in the bedroom. He did a methodical sweep across the floor starting at the door and moving towards the window, but still couldn't find it. Under the bed? He got down on his belly and slithered underneath. Sure enough, he felt it in the furthest corner. It had come to rest against a pile of other junk. If he'd had some light he might have had a look to see what was under there. But not in the dark. From the smell he'd have said there was at least one successfully deployed mousetrap with its decomposing victim. It didn't make him want to feel around blindly.
Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) Page 18
