He woke up with his head pounding, unclear where he was.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Iowa.”
Richard blinked and took in Gordy Lister’s face. There was a weak smile on the newspaperman’s lips.
“Wha…?” He sank back. He opened his eyes again and realized that he was in the passenger seat of his pickup.
“Where are you staying?” Lister asked, starting the engine.
The name of his hotel swam up to the surface of Richard’s mind. He managed to whisper it.
The pickup moved off, gears crashing. “Jesus, you actually drove all the way from Iowa in this?”
“Stop!” Richard gasped, remembering the twins. “I need to talk to my kids.”
“Forget it,” Lister said. “You saw the crowd they’re with. You want to get yourself killed?”
“What’s it to you?”
“What’s it to me?” Lister said, shaking his head. “Exactly what do you think I am? Some kind of animal?”
Richard didn’t reply. He was wondering if he had the strength to open the door and roll out when the pickup was still moving.
“Look, Iowa,” the newspaperman went on, glancing at his passenger. “Let me level with you. I feel bad about what’s happened to your kids. I liked them, really I did. I even tried to set them up with some advertising work.”
“Yeah,” Richard mumbled, “there’s always a market for good-looking twins.”
Gordy Lister looked at him again. “That’s right. You know more than I thought.” He raised his narrow shoulders. “But they got sucked into the drug scene. I’ve seen it happen before with kids from Hicksville. No offense.”
“Fuck you,” Richard said to himself. A thought struck him. “Take me to the police, will you?”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Lister. “Whoa, man. What do you think the cops are gonna do? The twins are twenty-one, they’re adults. The cops will just give you the brush-off.”
Richard sat up slowly, looking out at the lights of the city. For someone who supposedly had only known the kids for a few days, and that months ago, Gordy Lister was very specific about their age. Richard decided against insisting. Tomorrow, he’d go to the cops alone.
At the hotel, Lister put a hand on his arm. “You all right, Iowa? Need any help getting to your room?”
Richard pulled his arm away, the small man’s touch burning like a snake bite. “Get the hell out of my pickup.”
“Okay, okay,” Lister said, opening the driver’s door. “Sorry I asked.” He turned back and caught Richard’s eye. “There’s nothing you can do here. You have a good trip home, you hear, Iowa?”
The farmer watched him walk away, then hail a passing cab. For all the fake concern, Richard knew for sure that the newspaperman had a serious interest in the twins.
Twenty-One
“Drop it!” The voice was high and harsh.
I glanced at Mary. She raised her shoulders. I let the pistol slide out of my hand and fall to the gravel.
“Now step away!”
I complied again. The figure came nearer and I realized it was an elderly woman, her white hair pulled back to reveal a heavily wrinkled face.
“You all right, Mary?” the woman asked.
“Yes, Mom. It’s okay-he’s with me.”
I turned to the woman next to me. “This is your mother?”
She nodded with a sweet smile.
“What’s he doing with a semiautomatic pistol in his hand?” the old woman demanded.
“You might have told me,” I protested.
“She took me by surprise, too. She used to be a pretty good shot, but I’m not sure that still applies.”
“You mind your mouth, girl,” her mother said, lowering the shotgun. “I’ll have you know I killed three crows yesterday.”
Mary raised her hands. “All right, Mom, I believe you.” She came round to my side of the car. “This is Matt.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.
The old woman took it after a pause, her pale blue eyes scrutinizing me. “Where you from?” she demanded.
“London, England. All right if I pick up my gun now, Mrs. Upson?”
She leveled the shotgun. “I’m watching you. And don’t call me that-I’m not an Upson.”
“Ms. Jacobsen,” Mary whispered.
“Mary’s father upped and left me for one of his fancy women when she was six,” the old woman said, allowing her daughter to take her weapon to my relief. “Beats me why she uses his name.”
Mary shrugged. “Whatever he did, he’s still my father.” She took her mother by the arm. “Come in. Let’s get you inside. It’s a cold night.”
She was right. I had only the uniform shirt on my upper body and I was shivering. I followed them inside. We went into a cozy sitting room where the wallpaper was faded and the paint flaking, but it was clean. And it wasn’t a concrete cell.
“You sit here, Mom. Matt and I need to sort out the cars. All right if I borrow yours?” She headed for the door without waiting for a reply.
“You do what you want, girl,” her mother said. “You always did.”
I went back outside and helped Mary.
Although her mother’s dark green Ford pickup must have been over a decade old, it was in good shape and it started the first time. I drove it out of a ramshackle shed and watched as Mary drove her car in.
“Now we’re as anonymous as you like,” she said when she’d finished. “It’ll take the cops some time to link me to this place. Mom’s only been here a couple of months.”
I looked at her. “Why are you doing this, Mary?”
She returned my gaze, her eyes wide. “Can’t a girl do what she can for an innocent man?” The doubt I was feeling about myself must have been obvious. “You are innocent, aren’t you?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” She laughed. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
I grasped her forearm. “Look, I’m in deep shit and I have no idea why. You should steer well clear of me.”
Mary’s lips twitched. “Too late, Matt. Once I’ve bitten the hook, I don’t let go.”
That struck me as a strange way of putting things but she headed back inside before I could comment.
“Anything to eat, Mom?” she asked, back in the sitting room.
“You’re in luck, girl. I made a pot roast today, your favorite.” The old woman’s face was split by an unexpectedly sweet smile.
Mary smiled. “Okay, I’ll get things ready.”
“Want any help?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nope. You chat with Mom.” She smiled mischievously. “Tell her what you’ve been up to in the woods.”
Ms. Jacobsen watched her daughter walk out, and then turned to me. “Sit down, Matt. Well, what have you been up to in the woods? What is that, some kind of uniform?”
I shook my head. “Just hiking gear,” I said, lamely. “I…got lost and couldn’t get my bearings for a couple of days.”
“You were safe enough, though.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your gun,” she said, frowning. “You English boys always go walking with Glocks in your belts?”
“Em…”
“Never mind.” She got up and came over to me. “I don’t want to know the details. You listen to me, Matt-if that’s your real name. My Mary’s had a troubled life. She’s too trusting. This isn’t the first time she’s got involved with a man most parents would have shot before he got inside.”
“But I’m not your daughter’s-”
She raised a hand. “Hear me out. I’m not overpossessive, but I have to look after Mary every time a worthless piece of shit turns her head and then dumps her. Men are assholes. I reckon that applies where you come from as much as here.” She looked into my eyes. “So don’t expect me to welcome you with open arms. If Mary’s happy for now, that’s okay. But remember this. The last guy who messed with her is still in hospital.” She laughed emptily. “Unfortunate hunting accident. You make sure you treat her right.”
I watched nervously as she went back to her armchair. Never mind the camp and its armed guards. I had the feeling I’d walked into an even more dangerous creature’s lair.