“Yo, cops,” Aces said as Warren’s hand touched the knob. They both turned. “Bailey’s a pussy. That fuckwad Harris had it in for him, but I don’t know why. It’s good Bailey got out o’ here. This place was gonna kill ’im.”
Warren nodded respectfully toward the prisoner. “Why, thank you, Aces.”
“I didn’t say nothin’.”
Chapter 20
Trendra and Steve Nicholson hadn’t spoken to each other in the last hundred miles. It had been Steve’s idea to drive straight through for their return from Disney World, thinking it better to get the driving—and the attendant whining from the kids—out of the way in one endless marathon, rather than prolonging the agony over several days, the way they usually managed their longer trips. Even after thirteen years of parenthood, he was surprised at just how miserable kids could become during an eighteen-hour drive.
Somewhere in South Carolina, Kendra had reached the end of her rope, and had begun lobbying for a stopover for the night. Steve talked her into going just another hundred miles, and once that was done, another hundred didn’t seem so unreasonable. But as Norfolk disappeared in the rearview mirror and Richmond remained a distant gdal, Kendra reached her breaking point and just stopped talking.
Steve was on a quest now. And even though he knew that the drive home would in all likelihood be the only part of the trip that Kendra would remember five years hence, he had made a commitment to drive straight through, and by God, he was going to do it, even if it killed them all. As morning approached afternoon and the misery of the dark hours faded from memory, Steve sensed that the tension was easing a bit. And now, as they got within a mile of the house, Kendra would start warming up again. He was sure of it. He hoped.
“There it is!” he announced to the family as their house came into sight. “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”
The kids—Jamie and Amy—bolted upright in their seats and cheered as they saw their house.
Steve playfully squeezed Kendra’s knee. “There. Now aren’t you glad we’re not still somewhere in South Carolina with five hundred miles left to go?”
Kendra’s response was a blistering glare. Okay. So he’d pushed too hard. She’d come around.
Steve piloted the Range Rover into the driveway and pressed the visor-mounted garage door opener. Even as the weather seal parted from the concrete floor, he recognized that something was wrong. Curiously, the first thing he noted was the cover shroud on the floor. I didn’t leave that there, he thought. It all crystallized for him an instant later, but it was Kendra who spoke his thoughts.
“Where’s the car?” she gasped.
Harry Thompkins actually watched the digital display on his wrist count up the last sixty seconds to ten o’clock. Just four more hours of agony until his meeting with Lieutenant Michaels, at which time he was certain that the career at which he had worked so hard to excel would come to a disgraceful end. With only 240 minutes left in his professional life, he had all but given up on the Divine assistance that might somehow salvage his job; or at the very least, a tiny shred of his dignity.
His assignment until further notice was to sit in an unmarked car out in front of Mark Bailey’s house, waiting for someone to arrive. Harry prayed that that someone might miraculously turn out to be Nathan Bailey, but such things didn’t happen outside of the movies. He’d be lucky if he could get a glimpse of the elusive Uncle Mark, whom no one had seen since his nephew’s disappearance. It certainly was interesting how both Baileys disappeared at the same time, Harry thought. As he sat alone and bored in his car, Harry began to wonder if perhaps they hadn’t disappeared together. If he got the chance before he was fired, he’d mention it to Lieutenant Michaels.
Harry closed his eyes and read the description sheet on Mark Bailey without looking at it. White male, 175 pounds, with blond hair, blue eyes and a mustache. Drives a late-model red Bronco, license plate WLDMAN. Wanted for questioning. Not a suspect at this time. He opened his eyes to check his recall and smiled. He had missed a few words, but the essentials were all there.
And so was Mark. Or at least the red Bronco. Harry watched as it nosed into the driveway and parked. Out of the car came a white male, about 175 pounds with blond hair and a huge bandage on his hand. The man moved as though he were in considerable pain, every movement slow and deliberate.
Harry slipped out of the car and jogged across the street. “Excuse me!” he called. “Mr. Bailey!”
Mark turned at the sound of his name, then quickened his pace toward his front door. Before he could take three steps, Harry was next to him.
“Excuse me, sir,” Harry said. His voice was polite, but his eyes were not. “You are Mark Bailey, aren’t you?”
Mark tried to look bored as his mind raced to figure out what the cop could possibly know. “Yeah. What do you want?”
“I want to ask you a few questions. Why are you trying to run away from me?”
Mark glanced down at his arm, and hefted it up as if making an awkward toast. “Do I look like a man who could do much running, away or otherwise?”
Harry knew right away that he was hiding something. Perhaps it was a boy? “Maybe I was mistaken,” he conceded, preferring to discuss the real issues at hand. “It looked like you might be trying to avoid me. Where have you been all night, sir?”
“Have I done something wrong, Officer?”
“Could you answer my question, please?”
“Is that a request or a demand?”
Harry considered another officious exaggeration, but, remembering the beating he took on the radio, thought better of it. “It’s merely a request, sir,” he replied, adding the sweetest of insincere smiles.
Mark smiled back. “In that case, Officer, I’ve been in the hospital all night.” He again gestured delicately with his mangled hand. “I had a bit of an accident. A car fell on me while I was working on the brakes.”
Harry couldn’t have cared less about how Mark had been injured, and his practiced caring nod showed it. “Are you aware that your nephew escaped from the Juvenile Detention Center night before last?”
“I said I was in the hospital, not a cave. Yes, I’m aware.” The realization of Harry’s suspicions hit Mark suddenly, and felt better than a cool breeze on this blistering day. He smiled broadly. “Are you thinking that I might have Nathan here?”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Should I be thinking that?” he asked.
Mark tossed back his head and laughed loudly, genuinely amused. “Not if you know anything about Nathan and me. Look, Officer… uh…”
“Thompkins,” Harry offered.
“Thompkins. Yes, of course. I didn’t even look at your name tag there. Officer Thompkins, my nephew and I hate each other. I sent him away—asked him to be jailed—mainly just to get rid of him. This is the last place Nathan would go.” It was refreshing to tell the whole truth for a change, Mark thought. “And rest assured,” he added, “if Nathan shows up here, he’ll wish he hadn’t.”
As they conversed, Harry edged toward the door. “Then you wouldn’t mind letting me in to look around, would you?”
“Actually, I would,” Mark said coolly, the image of the broken TV and God only knows what else he had left behind flashing through his mind. “I would mind that very much.”
Harry looked as though no one had ever said that to him before. “But why?” he asked. “You said you have nothing to hide.”
Mark studied the policeman’s face for a long moment. “No, we all have something to hide, don’t we? Even you, I wager. What I said was I have nobody to hide. And that is the honest to God truth.”
“Then why won’t you let me in?”
“Because you don’t have a warrant, and because I don’t have to.” Mark’s tone was suddenly flat. “I spent some time in prison. When I was in the joint, I had to put up with you assholes searching my asshole, and anything else you wanted to peek into, night or day, whenever it floated your boat. I’m back in the world now, and you have to play by the rules.”