Part of Stevie did want him to wait, but he figured he was going to need some time with Sergeant Hatley.
“Can you come back in about half an hour?” he asked.
“Sure, kid.” He waved off the twenty-dollar bill Stevie had taken out. “I’ll just run you a tab, it’ll be easier that way.”
Stevie got out of the cab and watched with some regret as Miles Hoy backed down the driveway and headed off. But he squared his shoulders and walked up to the front door. There was a screen door, and as he approached, he could see someone standing in the doorway. He could also hear barking-loud barking.
“Mac, be quiet,” Stevie heard the man say.
He didn’t open the door when Stevie walked up.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a tone Stevie did not think sounded very friendly.
Just looking at retired sergeant James T. Hatley was intimidating. He was huge, at least six foot three, Stevie thought. His head was shaved and he had a mustache and a goatee. He was probably in his midfifties, and he wasn’t smiling. The barking dog stood next to him. Stevie was a cat person, so he didn’t know breeds, but this one was big and looked mean.
“Sergeant Hatley, I’m sorry to bother you-” Stevie began.
“Then why are you?” Hatley interrupted.
“I just need maybe five minutes of your time to ask a couple questions-”
“About what?” Hatley said.
“About Norbert Doyle and-”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you about Norbert Doyle or about the accident,” Hatley said. “It’s all in the report. There’s nothing more to say.”
How did he know I wanted to ask about the accident? Stevie’s mind was screaming.
“Yes, Sergeant, I did read the report-”
“You’ve got fifteen seconds to get off my property,” Hatley said. “You should have told your cab to stay. Now you’re gonna have to walk.”
“Hang on, hang on,” Stevie said. “Hang on for just a minute.”
“Ten seconds,” Hatley said.
“Just one question,” Stevie said, pleading. “Why didn’t you give Doyle a sobriety test?”
“Time’s up,” Hatley said. “I’ll give you a five-second head start on Mac because you’re a kid. The guy said someone might show up, but he didn’t say there would be kids involved.”
The guy? Stevie’s mind raced. Walsh! It had to be Walsh.
“Please,” Stevie said, almost pleading. “Let me explain why this is important.”
Hatley pushed the screen door toward Stevie and said, “Okay, Mac-go!”
Stevie didn’t wait any longer. He turned and ran as fast as he could, keenly aware of the big dog right behind him. His backpack slapped against his back, and he knew the dog was going to run him down any second. He tried to lengthen his stride and felt himself trip. He went sprawling in the dirt and covered his head instinctively, waiting for the dog to attack.
“Mac, stop!” he heard from somewhere in the distance.
The barking and growling stopped. Stevie looked back and saw the dog no more than a step from him, standing stock-still. He couldn’t see Hatley, but he could hear him.
“Get up and walk off my property,” he said. “Say one word, take a single step in my direction, and I won’t stop the dog.”
Stevie was aware of a sharp pain in his shoulder, and he knew he had cut himself in several places, including his mouth because he could taste the blood.
“Get up now!” Hatley said. “I don’t care if you broke your leg. Get up and get moving.”
Slowly Stevie stood up, his shoulder throbbing, blood oozing from several scrapes. He looked back long enough to see Hatley standing in the yard, halfway between where Stevie was and the front door. He resettled his backpack on his back and started walking.
If only he could walk all the way home.
14: CLOSING THE LOOP
STEVIE WALKED TO THE END OF BRILL’S LANE before he even glanced over his shoulder. Seeing no one, he stopped and took his backpack off so he could check to make sure his computer hadn’t been damaged when he fell.
It appeared to be fine, as was his phone. He then dialed Miles Hoy. “That didn’t take long,” Hoy said. “Hatley any help?”
“Not exactly,” Stevie said, not interested in explaining but knowing Hoy would ask him about his bloody lip and the state of his clothes. His shoulder was throbbing, but the pain wasn’t that bad. “Can you come pick me up at the end of Brill’s Lane?”
“Give me ten or fifteen minutes. I came back downtown to eat. I forgot to get lunch.”
Stevie didn’t argue. He hung up, found a grassy spot near the road to sit, and dialed Kelleher. When he told him what had happened, Kelleher’s first response was, “Oh jeez, your dad’s going to kill me. I told him you couldn’t possibly get into trouble.”
“You wouldn’t think that dealing with a retired policeman would be dangerous work,” Stevie said. “What do we do now?”
For the first time since he’d met him, Stevie sensed that Bobby Kelleher was unsure what to do next. The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening.
“Bobby?”
“I’m thinking,” Kelleher said. “Part of me says you should catch the next train home, come to the ballpark, and get your shoulder looked at by a doctor. Then we should sit Susan Carol down and tell her the time for keeping secrets has passed.”
Stevie liked that idea. But he didn’t think it was the right thing to do. He was already in Lynchburg. They knew now that Norbert Doyle had lied about his wife’s death. But they didn’t have enough facts to write a story yet or even to confront Doyle.
“I think I should stay awhile longer,” Stevie said. “I think I should try to find the babysitter and see if she knows anything. It must’ve been Walsh who warned Sergeant Hatley someone might be coming, right? But maybe he figured that’d be enough. Maybe he hasn’t found Erin James yet.”
Again Kelleher didn’t answer right away. “Okay,” he said finally. “Start with the phone book. There’s obviously a good chance she doesn’t live there anymore, but it’s worth a shot while you’re there. I’m still trying to find out who the hell Walsh is. He told that cop some kind of giant lie about you or, more likely, paid him off to not talk to you. So he’s not another reporter.”
“He could be a tabloid guy.”
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s possible. I’m heading for the ballpark now. Maybe I’ll find out more there.”
“Okay, I’ll call you back if I have any luck.”
Stevie heard Kelleher sigh. “Do me one favor,” he finally said.
“What’s that?”
“Be careful.”
“Bobby, I am being careful,” Stevie said.
“I know. Be carefuller.”
“That’s not a word.”
“For you I need to make up words. Call me back within the hour one way or the other.”
He hung up just as Stevie saw Miles Hoy’s cab come into view. He stood up and waved even though he was the only person on the road. He glanced at his watch and saw it was a little after two. He still had time to find Erin James-he hoped-and make that 4:45 train.
Hoy braked to a halt and Stevie climbed into the backseat. Hoy turned and stared at him. “What in the world happened to you?”
“The guy’s got a big dog,” Stevie said. “I fell running from him.”
“He sicced his dog on you? That’s crazy! What could you possibly have said to get him that upset?”
“I didn’t get to say much of anything,” Stevie said honestly.
“Wow,” Hoy said. “So are you going to head home now?”
“Not just yet,” Stevie answered. “There’s one more person I need to find.”
“I hope whoever it is doesn’t have a dog,” Hoy said.
Stevie laughed, which made his head hurt a little bit.
“I don’t suppose you know Erin James?” Stevie asked. “She lived here about a dozen years ago…”
“Still lives here,” Hoy said. “She teaches my son history at the high school. She’s also the girls’ basketball coach. I would think we’ll find her at practice right now.”