Going Once (Forces of Nature) (16 page)

She thought about what a hassle Laura must be having at the Red Cross center and wished she could help. It would be a useful way to pass the time, but they’d already gone that route and put a lot of people in danger. It wasn’t fair, but while the killer was running free, she was the one in jail.

Tate came back into the room as they were printing out the last pages.

“The director is pleased to learn we have a new angle. He’s assigning extra help back at headquarters for us, so we need to sort through this stuff ASAP, eliminating the stories we don’t think apply, then give them the names we need further background on and they’ll do the rundowns.”

“That’s fantastic,” Wade said. “This would take days otherwise, and that’s time we don’t have. I’m sorting by date. I’m thinking the earlier disaster stories could be what we need to look at, because later on, after the National Guard and FEMA finally showed up, things changed.”

“Agreed,” Tate said. “Let’s sort by date, then pull any of the stories that have to do with a woman’s death, and especially stories where a man and woman were trapped and she didn’t make it.”

By now it was nearly eleven. Nola was getting hungry, and she knew they would be, too. There was no room to cook with everything going on. It would be sandwiches again. She longed for her old kitchen, and her grandmother’s pots and pans. That perfectly cured cast-iron skillet that fried the best chicken in the South, the family silverware that had survived Sherman’s march through Georgia and accompanied Great-Granny into Louisiana when she married. It hurt to her very soul to know those links with her family were nothing but memories.

She got up quietly to see what sandwich stuff was left. These three men had gone through in two days what would last her a week or more. Before she could make a decision, Tate changed the plan.

“Hey, honey, don’t worry about making something. Call Eats and order some burgers and fries, and one of us will go pick them up.”

“Then the question is, how many burgers apiece? I already know Wade wants two
plus
everyone’s leftovers.”

They all laughed, including Wade.

“Wade, if you ever get married, I hope she can cook,” she added.

His smile shifted slightly. “Oh, I’ve been married, and cooking had nothing to do with why we’re no longer together.”

“Sorry,” she said.

He shrugged. “Life happens. I’ll settle for your leftovers and not complain.”

She patted him on the back as she left the room to call in the order, and a few minutes later Cameron went to pick it up.

As he did, he passed their neighbor driving back into the trailer park. He waved, but the man didn’t seem to notice.

* * *

Hershel pulled up in front of his motor home and parked. He got out with the full intention of going inside to change and get back to the gym, but when he turned to glance at the trailer where the Feds were staying, he saw something on their roof, and when he realized what it was and that it was staring back at him, he froze. He kept thinking it would fly away, but it didn’t, and he found himself in a stare-down with a vulture.

* * *

Nola was at the window when their neighbor drove past their trailer. She watched him stop and get out at his motor home, but instead of going inside, he glanced in their direction, and then didn’t look away.

“That’s weird,” she said.

Tate looked up.

“What’s weird?”

She waved him over. “Hurry.”

Tate bolted toward the window.

“He’s been staring like that ever since he got out of his truck,” she said.

His eyes narrowed and before she knew it, he was out the door, standing on the porch. He gave the man a “What the hell’s going on?” gesture. The man had a strange look on his face as he pointed up to the roof.

Tate stepped off the porch and backed up to see what was so interesting, then saw the vulture. It was staring straight at the man and the motor home like they were a tasty piece of roadkill.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

The vulture didn’t budge, and when Tate turned to look at their neighbor again, he was gone. Tate shrugged, went back inside and shut the door.

“What’s the deal?” Nola asked.

“He wasn’t looking at us, he was looking at what’s sitting on the roof.”

Wade looked up. “
What’s
on the roof?”

“A vulture. Craziest thing is, it’s just sitting there staring at his motor home like it was about to become dinner.”

Wade shivered suddenly. “Damn it. We’re sleeping in a haunted trailer, and now we’ve got a vulture using it for a roost. If that doesn’t say ‘crazy,’ I don’t know what does.”

Nola shook her head. “It’s not crazy. My granny would have called that an omen.”

Tate frowned. He remembered her granny. She was part Cherokee and lived a lot in the old ways.

“An omen of what, honey?”

She shrugged. “All I’m saying is, if she was here, she’d be saying, ‘Somebody’s going to die.’”

Tate’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

Nola watched his facial expressions, and when his eyes widened, she had a feeling her granny would have been standing there saying, “I told you so.”

Moments later, Tate hung up.

“The Stormchaser struck again. Killed a father and son right out in their front yard upriver.”

“They weren’t stranded?” Wade asked.

“Their house was surrounded by water. They were out in the yard reinforcing the sandbags they’d put around the house. But either he’s getting sloppy, or he thinks he’s immune to discovery.”

“Why?”

“He left another witness. I doubt he knew she was there, just like he didn’t know Nola was there, but it’s happened twice now. The younger man’s wife was upstairs and got a good look at him, although it’s probably another disguise. This time he was dressed like a biker. Black pants and leather vest, a bushy mustache, black shaggy hair and wearing a baseball cap. And this time he used a rifle, probably because of the distance,” Tate said.

Wade frowned. “A single bullet to the head with a rifle, from any significant distance, isn’t easy. This isn’t as simple as driving a boat right up to them and taking them out with a pistol. Our man is either ex-military or a damn good hunter.”

Nola slipped into the living room, crawled up into a chair and pulled her knees up beneath her chin. They were talking about murder the way other people talked about going to the store. It was startling and frightening, mostly because her life depended on them finding this particular killer, but also because it really brought home to her that this was Tate’s life now.

She heard a car driving up out front and looked out the window.

“Cameron is back.”

“Good. As soon as we eat, Wade and I will go out to the site. Cameron can stay here with you.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to get rid of that vulture before we go, or I swear to God, I’ll shoot it off the roof myself.”

Tate shook his head. “It may be gone already.”

Cameron opened the door.

“You won’t believe what’s sitting on our roof.”

“A vulture,” the two men said in unison.

He nodded. “It’s pretty creepy, just sitting up there.”

“We’re sleeping in a haunted trailer with a vulture on the roof,” Wade muttered.

“No one is asleep, and it will fly away. Damn, I did not know you were so superstitious,” Tate said.

Wade shrugged. “I think hamburgers will cure me.”

Laughter followed, and Nola hoped it was enough to chase away lingering ghosts.

Fifteen

H
ershel didn’t go back to the Red Cross center as he’d promised. In fact, he didn’t leave the motor home at all. He was so freaked out about the vulture watching him that even after it finally flew off, he couldn’t settle down and turned on the television just to hear someone else’s voice. He tuned in right in the middle of breaking news—about him.

He sat down in disbelief. He’d barely gotten back to town and they’d already found the bodies? How the hell did that—

Breath caught in the back of his throat as he heard the commentator.

Another witness? He’d left another witness behind. He jumped up and began to pace. It still didn’t matter. Even if she’d seen his face, he’d been in disguise. But now he knew why the vulture had been there staring at him. It was a warning! He was making too many mistakes. Unless he rectified things now, he was going to die.

He sat back down and turned off the TV.

“Louise, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I need you to come back and talk to me. Please? I can’t stand being alone. Not like this.”

But Louise wasn’t talking to him. He had to make something happen, and fast. Surely the Feds would leave now to go out to the kill site. When they did, he had to make his move. He needed to plan what to wear, and how to get Nola out to the boat without getting stopped. That was going to involve getting rid of whichever agent they’d left to guard her, but without killing him. Hershel was fond of the trio. They’d been through a lot together. He didn’t want any of them dead. Just out of the way.

Now that he had a plan, he felt better. He made himself a sandwich and ate it standing up, looking out the back window. There was a back door on the Feds’ trailer. He could drive right up to the back door and take it from there.

So what if there are two witnesses, not one?

Hershel gasped. “Louise! You came back.”

I was never gone. You quit listening.

“No, no, I missed you. I was trying to hear you all this time,” he said.

No you weren’t, Hershel. You still don’t get it, do you?

“Get what? I don’t get what?”

You don’t need to kill anyone. Neither woman can identify you. Why don’t you just pack up and go home? You’re only making this worse.

“No, I’m fixing it. They were mistakes. I have to fix the first one, and then the second one will go away.”

That doesn’t make sense. You’re talking crazy.

He threw back his head and laughed.

“That’s what they said about me at the hospital when I had my nervous breakdown. ‘You’re talking crazy, Hershel.’ That’s what they used to say. I guess I’m showing them now. I’m not crazy. I’m getting even. Thank you for coming back, but I have things to do now, and if you’re not going to help me, then you need to back off. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Silence.

“Louise? I said I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I hear you, Hershel. I just wish you could hear me.

* * *

Don Benton was in serious pain, but it wasn’t anything that drugs could fix. Mrs. Coffee’s daughter had just left his room after coming to make sure he was okay. Even as she was weeping for the loss of her mother, she had been apologizing for his pain and suffering, because she knew her mother had caused the wreck. She’d actually begged for his forgiveness.

He had reassured her that he would heal, convinced her that horrible accidents happen and expressed his regrets and condolences to her for her family’s loss. And now she was gone and he was left to deal with what he had done to his son. Don knew that he’d treated dogs better, and he also knew that Tate would never forgive him. What he now had to come to terms with was how to live with himself. It had been much simpler when he’d been the one who had been wronged. He had carried the burden of Julia’s betrayal like a shroud, and now the truth of what he’d done would be with him until they buried him in the ground.

He wanted to call Tate, but he had no number to call. What he needed was a go-between, and when he learned the chief was also in the hospital, he found out how to call from one room to another.

* * *

They made Beaudry do physical therapy twice a day and had promised to release him in the morning, which couldn’t be soon enough for him, because all he wanted was to go home. Even when he finally got comfortable and was able to sleep, someone was always coming in to give him meds, check his IV or ask him if he’d had a bowel movement yet. He’d never felt so invaded in his life, so when his phone rang, he answered it gladly.

“Hello.”

“Chief. Don Benton here. Heard about the shoot-out. How are you feeling?”

Beaudry frowned. Don was an all-right guy but not the kind for chitchat, and the last person he would ever have expected to call.

“Oh, you know...sore, ready to go home, but still in lockup. How about you? One of the nurses told me about the accident. Really sorry about that.”

“Thanks for the sympathy. But the accident’s not why I called. I wanted to call my son, but I don’t have his number and wondered if you did.”

Beaudry frowned. A father who didn’t have his own son’s phone number...? He knew they had been at odds for some reason, but it said a lot about their relationship that they were so completely estranged.

“Yes, actually, I do. Give me a sec. I have to put this phone down to reach my cell.”

Don sighed with relief. “No problem. Happy to wait.”

Beaudry scooted himself around until he could reach his cell, pulled up the number then got back on the phone.

“Do you want me to read it out, or do you need to get a pen and paper first?”

“Just read it. I have a perfect memory. I always remember what I see and hear.”

“Must be handy,” Beaudry said.

Don thought about Julia’s false confession and sighed.

“Not always. It seems I have a good memory but no discernment when it comes to the truth.”

Beaudry gave him the number, and Don repeated it back, then thanked him and hung up without prolonging the conversation. He needed to get this over with. He got an outside line and made the call.

* * *

Tate and Cameron were getting ready to go out to the site where the latest killings had taken place when Tate’s cell phone rang. He saw it was from the hospital and hesitated. It could only be two people. If it was Beaudry, he needed to take it. If it was his father, he didn’t want to hear it. But without a way to tell, he was given no choice.

“Hello.”

“Tate, it’s me. Don’t hang up.”

Tate closed his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

Don was unaccustomed to feeling inadequate, but he was getting a hard lesson in it right now.

“I wanted to thank you for donating blood.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you heal. Thanks for calling.”

“Wait!” Don cried. “I didn’t know. I honestly thought your mother was telling the truth.”

Tate sighed. “Do you hear yourself? You still don’t get it. You were ready to forgive
her
but not
me,
and I was the only innocent one in the picture you thought you saw.”

“You don’t understand. Look at it from my point of view. It was a horrible shock.”

Sarcasm was thick in Tate’s voice. “Not half as big a shock as having your own father punch you in the face, and throw you and everything you owned out of your own home.”

Don frowned. “I know. All I can say is I’m sorry.”

“Well, you should be. However, it’s past repairing. Forget it. I know I have.”

“I don’t want to forget it, but I do want you to forgive me.”

“Mom always said, ‘Son, you don’t always get what you want in life. Be happy with what you have.’ Well, you threw me away. It’s over. Deal with it.”

Don wasn’t happy, and yet it was nothing more than what he’d expected. “When did you know the truth?” he asked.

“Almost from the start I suspected it. Six months after you kicked us out, I found your hairbrush in some of Mom’s stuff and ran a DNA test.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because
I
didn’t want
you
anymore. My bloodline shouldn’t have mattered. You were the only father I knew, and you threw me away. It’s good that you’re healing, but I do not want, nor will I resume, a relationship with you. You revealed your true self eight years ago, and you no longer matter to me.”

The line went dead in Don’s ear. He put down the phone. His hands were trembling, and the walls had begun to blur.

* * *

Tate dropped his cell phone in his pocket and then turned around. Nola was standing behind him. He shrugged.

“The call was inevitable. It’s over.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I will
always
be okay with you in my life.” He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her soundly. “We had hopes of viewing the kill site but found out it’s already under water. However, the witness is talking to the Tidewater police at the moment, so we’re going to go talk to her, too. Cameron will be here with you, okay?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a big Walmart in Tidewater. I think you’re due a sketch pad and some supplies, yes?”

Nola’s eyes lit up. “Oh, thank you, Tate, thank you. At last I’ll get a piece of my life back.”

“And we’ll bring back some food for supper, too, so don’t think about cooking for everybody. You’re not the maid.”

“I didn’t mind, but I’ll gladly pass on the job. Wade is never full.”

He grinned. “We know. So, see you later, honey. I don’t have to tell you to be careful, because I know you will.”

“I trust no one, right?”

“Right.”

A few minutes later he and Wade were gone, and she and Cameron were on their own.

“I’m going to take a nap,” she said, “so you don’t need to worry about babysitting, okay? Do your work or whatever you want. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but I won’t be farther than the living room, so yell if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she said, and then stopped in the bathroom to get a hair band so she could braid her hair. It wasn’t the best job she’d ever done, but at least her hair wouldn’t be a tangled mess when she woke up.

She pulled back the covers and crawled into bed, then stretched out and closed her eyes.

* * *

The vulture was back, sitting on the roof of the Feds’ trailer and still looking in Hershel’s direction, which reinforced his need to remove what he considered his jinx. He’d watched two of the Feds leaving and knew which one was still there. His name was Winger. A big guy with a steady gaze. It wouldn’t be easy to put him out of commission without killing him, but that option was off the table.

The trick would be choosing a disguise that Winger wouldn’t see through. He’d already done the cop here, but that would still be the best way to take the Fed off guard. He’d be thinking Hershel was one of his own when he opened the door. Satisfied with his decision, Hershel began pulling out gear and running through the little monologue he would use to get himself inside.

* * *

Tate and Wade got into Tidewater just after 1:00 p.m. and went straight to the police station. They’d been there once before, the day when they’d gone to the hospital to talk to Nola, and recognized the sergeant on duty. When he looked up, it was apparent he recognized them, too.

“What are you boys after now?” he asked.

“We would like to talk to the woman who saw the man who shot her husband and father-in-law,” Tate said

“That would be Patricia Fremont. She’s gone to her parents’ house here in town, but I need to call and make sure she’s up to it. I heard she’s had a breakdown.”

Tate frowned. “Tell her that we won’t intrude any longer than we have to, but that it’s vital that we speak to her.”

“Hang on,” the sergeant said, and picked up the phone.

Tate stepped away from the desk while the cop made the call.

“What do you think? Will she talk?” Wade asked.

Tate shrugged. “She has to.”

A few moments later the sergeant waved Tate over.

“She’ll talk to you. This is the address. Go down the street to the first stoplight and take a right. The street you want is ten blocks down. Take a left. House number is over the garage.”

“Thanks for the help,” Tate said.

“Just catch the crazy bastard,” the sergeant said.

They left the police station, both of them thinking about how hard this interview was going to be. When this woman had woken up this morning, she’d had a husband and a father-in-law, and before noon they’d both been dead.

“She’s going to be pretty fragile, probably still in shock,” Tate said.

“Do you think the killer will focus on her like he has on Nola?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I’d say not right away. He’s going to blame any later mistakes on Nola, because she broke his perfect record, and he’s going to want to deal with her first, even though she’s even less likely than Mrs. Fremont to be able to ID him.”

“He’s crazy,” Wade said.

Tate nodded. “Quite possibly literally. Hey, give Cameron a call and tell him to look for any stories of Katrina survivors who were hospitalized for mental problems after losing someone they loved.”

“Will do,” Wade said, and made the call.

The phone rang a couple of times, and then Cameron picked up.

“Hey, Wade.”

“Hey yourself. Tate wants you to set aside any stories you find of people who had mental breakdowns after Katrina, too.”

“Yeah, I figured that out and I’ve already started separating them out. How’s it going?”

“Well, we’re here and on the way to interview the latest witness. She’s gone to her parents’ house. Everything okay there with you two?”

“Yeah, all except that vulture is back on the roof. I heard the damn thing land.”

Wade frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Otherwise, Nola’s taking a nap and I’m on the job. See you when you get here.”

“We’ll call you when we get ready to head back that way and take orders for supper.”

“Good. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, later,” Wade said.