Even Steven (30 page)

"I'm sorry," Tim said, as genuinely as he knew how. "I didn't mean to shut you out. I was just thinking about the footprints in the woods, and wondering if maybe they belonged to this brother."

Homer recoiled from the thought. "What the hell kind of man would just stand there while his brother was getting shot to death?"

"I don't know. Be interesting to find out, wouldn't it?"

Homer returned his gaze to his papers. "Well, we traced the 911 call that led us up here in the beginning. Turns out it was made from a pay phone at a convenience store outside of Winchester, Virginia. My troopers tracked down the night clerk who was working the desk, and he said he remembers only one guy who wasn't a regular coming in after midnight. Said he bought gas and diapers."

Tim's head cocked. "Diapers? As in for a baby?"

"As in Pampers. Said the guy was really surprised at how much they cost."

"Tell me he paid by credit card."

Homer shook his head. "No such luck. Cash. But apparently he didn't have a whole lot of it. He had to change the amount of his gas purchase after he found out about the price of the diapers. And no security cameras either, so we don't have any pictures."

Tim's assessment of Homer LaRue was improving with every passing minute. "The Pampers bring to mind those little footprints, don't they?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Homer noted. "Not exactly ironclad, but we're getting there."

Tim and Homer both knew that every camper who ever entered Catoctin National Forest probably stopped at that convenience store to buy something. Hell, the store counted on that business, else why would they have opened it there? It was a long leap from being in the store to accusing someone of murder. Still, it was worth a chat.

"Just so you know," Homer went on carefully, as if preparing Tim for bad news, "I asked the clerk if he saw what the customer was driving, or what he did before entering or after leaving the store, and he said no."

"So we've got no witness linking the shopper to the phone."

"Right. And just the clerks best guess as to time."

Tim sighed and lifted his fatigue cap to scratch his scalp. The time had come to do something daring. "Tell you what, Lieutenant. What do you say you and I take a trip out to Wetzel County to pay a visit to Samuel Stanns? Let's see if he can shed any light on what happened up here."

Homer looked confused. "Why don't I just have a trooper bring him in?"

Tim pretended to consider that for a moment before shaking his head. It wouldn't do to tell this hillbilly that he didn't want to share the credit for a good hunch with a bunch of locals. Instead, he just said, "I'd kind of like to see their place for myself."

NEVER TOUCH THE little phone.

It was the thought that jolted Samuel out of his nap. With the lawn finally done, and with all the excitement and tragedy of the night before, he finally just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He'd almost fallen asleep on the tractor, in fact. Lord only knows what might have happened then.

The cell phone chirped again.

Never touch the little phone.

What was he supposed to do now? That was Jacobs phone-the one that The Boss always called on; the one that Samuel was never, ever to touch, except to plug it into its charger, which he had done just as he was supposed to when he first got home. The whole drive back from the park last night, that's all he'd thought about-making sure that the phone got back into its charger. It was kind of a test; if he could remember to do that, then he could remember anything.

Except, he almost forgot to undo the alarm. The fucking alarm. The most important thing of all. Never leave the house without setting the alarm, and never ever forget to turn it off. That would have been big, big trouble.

The phone chirped again.

What would he say to whoever was on the other end? What would they say to him? He wasn't supposed to answer, dammit! See? This was exactly the kind of thing that Samuel worried about most, now that Jacob was dead.

The phone chirped.

He had no choice, did he? He had to answer it. Rising from his spot on the sofa, Samuel walked slowly over to the charger near the television set and poised his hand over the phone, waiting. Maybe it wouldn't ring again, and he wouldn't have to worry about these things.

It rang.

Haltingly, Samuel reached out a hand and lifted the phone from its charger. It felt somehow heavier when it was ringing. He pulled open the bottom part, just as he'd seen Jacob do a thousand times in the past, and he brought it to his ear.

"Hello?" Dammit, that's not how you answer the phone! Jacob always said, "Yeah?" And when he did, it always sounded so tough.

The voice on the other end was nasty and abrupt. "Burn the package."

Samuel scowled. "What?"

The voice stopped, as if he were suddenly suspicious of something. "Who is this?"

"This is Samuel. Is this The Boss?"

The line went dead. Not so much as a "good-bye." Just silence. Samuel closed the phone and laid it back on its charger. Two seconds later, it chirped again, startling him. This time when he answered, he made an effort to get it right. "Yeah?"

"Is this Moonlighter?"

Moonlighter! Samuel had heard Jacob use that name before, but he had never explained what it meant. Why would anyone want to call themselves something they weren't? "Urn, no, th-this is his brother."

Again, the voice seemed confused. "His brother?"

"Yes, you see-"

The line died again, and Samuel began to wonder if someone was playing a prank on him. He'd heard about children who would call People and say things and then hang up. Or maybe he'd seen it in a movie or something. Anyway, people did that sometimes. As he closed the phone yet again, he was sure that was what was happening here.

It chirped again.

This time, the right tone came easily. "What!"

"I want to talk to Moonlighter."

"Why do you keep hanging up?"

"Why do you keep answering the goddamn phone?"

"Because you keep calling. Jacob's not-I mean, Moonlighters not here right now."

"Well, where the hell is he? He's always supposed to be there."

"Who is this?"

The voice paused, and for a second Samuel thought the man was getting ready to hang up again. Now, that would really piss Samuel off. But the man didn't hang up. Instead, he took a deep breath. "Burn the package."

Samuel hated feeling like this, as if he'd walked into the middle of a conversation and he had no idea what anyone was talking about. Only, no one else was talking here; just he and whoever was on the other side of the phone. "Is this The Boss?"

Another pause. Then, finally, "Yes, this is the boss. When will Moonlighter be back?"

Samuel gasped. He was going to have to tell, wasn't he? He was going to have to tell The Boss something. This was the man who always made Jacob so difficult to be around after they talked together. You never ever fuck with The Boss. Jacob had said that a thousand times. You never fuck with The Boss.

"Are you there, or what?" The Boss demanded.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Jacob-I mean Moonlighter-won't ever be back," Samuel said, surprised by the strength in his voice. This was, after all, the first time he'd said it to anyone out loud. "Moonlighter is dead."

Another pause. "Well, what about the package?"

'What package? You keep talking about a package, and I don't know what you're talking about."

The man on the other end of the phone sighed. "You're the stupid brother, aren't you?"

"I'm not stupid!" Samuel shouted. "I'm not always smart, but I'm not stupid!"

The voice laughed. "Yeah, okay, whatever you say. You were with him last night, weren't you?"

Samuel nodded, but not with much enthusiasm. Now he understood why Jacob didn't like this guy. "I was there."

"You don't remember picking up something last night? Something about three years old?"

"You mean the little boy?" Why the hell didn't this guy just say what he had on his mind?

"Hey, shut up, you dwid. This isn't a secure line."

Samuel said nothing. He didn't have to talk to anyone who spoke to him that way. Maybe he should be the one to hang up this time. Maybe that would teach the guy to watch what he said.

"Well, were you there for the pickup, or weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was there." Samuel made sure that he put all of his anger in his voice, so the guy would know he'd pissed him off.

"And you know where Moonlighter put him?"

Samuel felt himself blushing as he shifted feet. This was the embarrassing part. "Well, I know where he tried to put him," he mumbled. You don't fuck with The Boss.

"What do you mean, 'tried?'"

Samuel stuffed his hands in his pockets, the phone cradled into his shoulder. How was he going to explain this? How was he going to explain how he'd fallen asleep and how the little boy just got away? He didn't want to explain any of that. He wanted to hang up. But that would be fucking . . . well, you know.

"He sort of got away," Samuel said, trying to make it sound like something less than the huge deal that he knew it was.

"What the hell do you mean, he got away!"

See? The Boss thought it was a big deal, too. He thought it was a really big deal or he wouldn't have shouted like that.

Samuel's mind raced, trying to come up with something he could say that would make The Boss less angry. "I-I mean, we had him, and then, well, he got away. He ran through the woods. We tried to catch him, and that's when Jacob-I mean, Moonlighter-got into the fight with those people and then got killed. That's why he won't be home again. Did I tell you that? Jacob got killed last night."

"So, you don't know where the package is?"

While Samuel was talking, his hands found a piece of paper all crumpled up in his pocket. He wondered what it was-Samuel liked papers, and he liked writing, because he wasn't good at that stuff himself-and when he pulled it out, he almost didn't read it. What a mistake that would have been!

"Answer me, you stupid shit!"

Suddenly, the names this guy was calling him didn't matter anymore. Suddenly, Samuel had an answer that he knew would make it all sound better. And The Boss wouldn't be all pissed off at him anymore. On that little sheet of paper-the one he remembered picking up as he was going to kiss Jacob good-night-he saw a name and address. The little slip of paper said Robert and Susan Martin, and Samuel remembered the nosy nellies calling each other that. Well, she called him Bobby, which is almost the same as Robert, but he definitely called her Susan. And the slip of paper had their address on it.

"I know where he is," Samuel said triumphantly.

"Yeah? Where?" The Boss sounded as if he didn't believe him, but before Samuel could answer, The Boss quickly corrected himself: "No, wait. I don't want you to say it here. Not on this line."

"But I can get him." Samuel thought The Boss would be at least a little happy about that.

Silence from the other end while The Boss thought about things. "Tell you what," he said finally. "I want you to get the package-you know what I mean by 'the package?"

"You mean the little boy."

The boss growled. "Okay, right. Well, I want you to go get him and meet me tonight at midnight at the place where you lost him. Do you think you can find that place? You're not too stupid for that?"

"I'm not stupid!" Samuel shouted. "I drove all the way home from there all by myself. I can find it."

"Good." The Boss's voice did sound a little lighter. "Then you meet me there with the package-with the boy-at midnight tonight."

Something in the tone of the voice made Samuel feel funny. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

Another silence. "No. No, I don't want to hurt anyone."

Samuel listened, wondering whether he should trust the voice. "Because I don't want to hurt him. We never wanted to do that. It was all a game. Jacob told me."

The voice laughed. "Jacob told you that, did he? Okay, well, we certainly don't want to turn Jacob into a liar, do we? No, we're not going to hurt anyone. You just be there at midnight, okay? It's time to bring him home."

"I'll be there," Samuel said, worrying that it might be risky to make promises like that without first looking at a map to see how far he had to drive. He hoped that he could get where he needed to go and be back in the park by midnight, but he wasn't completely sure, and he didn't want to fuck with The Boss. On the other hand, he didn't want to talk with him anymore either, and he figured that by saying yes, he'd be off the phone that much sooner.

"I'll be there," Samuel repeated, but the line was dead again.

Samuel liked maps. He was good with them, just as he was good with some numbers, such as lock combinations and telephone numbers. He could remember them without even trying, and maps were just plain fun to read. It wasn't even like reading, really, not in the way you had to put words together in your head to make a story.