Keith got in the Blazer and turned the ignition switch. Nothing happened. Completely dead. He popped the hood release, got out, and lifted the hood. The battery was gone, and in its place was a note that said, simply, "Fuck you."
Keith took a deep breath. The man was making it difficult for Keith to keep his promise to Annie. All in all, the last few days hadn't been good days, starting with Charlie Adair driving up to his house. The White House was no treat, either. Neither was Hurricane Jack. Now this. "Okay, Landry. A new transportation problem." He thought a moment, then walked to the barn. The garden tractor had a 12-volt battery, and it should have enough amps to kick over the Blazer.
He slid open the door and sat on the tractor. He was going to start it, ride it over to the Blazer, let it charge awhile, then put the tractor battery in his car. He pushed the starter button. Dead. But he heard a clicking sound and looked at the dashboard. Someone had turned on the headlight switch, and the battery had run down. "Cliff, you're getting on my nerves."
He got off the tractor and looked out across the road at the Jenkins farmhouse. He could borrow a battery from them, but he noticed that both their vehicles, the car and the pickup truck, were gone. He could borrow their tractor battery, with or without their knowledge, but you didn't do that around here.
He went inside and tried the Jenkinses' number, but, as he thought, no one was home. The Muller farm was about a half-mile walk down the road. "Damn it."
He looked through the phone directory and called a service station out on the highway, and they said they'd be there in half an hour with a new battery. The man added, "Damn kids probably stole it. You ought to call the cops."
"I will." He gave them directions to his farm and hung up. "Maybe I should have called Baxter Motors because that's where my battery is."
He considered calling Terry. Annie was there now, waiting, and Cliff Baxter was presumably out of town. But what if his calls did actually go through police headquarters? No matter how guarded he tried to be with Terry, or whoever answered, the call would be like a four-alarm bell ringing at police headquarters. All his instincts, as well as his tradecraft, said, "Do not use the phone."
He used the time to shave, shower, and change into casual clothes, all the while trying to put these bad omens into a happier context. The course of true love never did run smooth. "Tonight, Washington, dinner with the Adairs, Sunday, maybe the National Cathedral, Monday, Charlie's tour of Washington, then submit a written turndown of the job offer, get the passport, and fly to Rome no later than Wednesday." Sounded good. "Where's the damned battery? For want of a nail, the king sat in Dumferling Town." Something like that.
About forty minutes after he'd called, a pickup truck came into the driveway, and within ten minutes, he had a new battery. He started the Blazer while the serviceman was still there, and everything seemed to be all right.
Keith pulled out of the driveway, and within a few minutes was heading south on a straight country road toward Chatham County. It was one thirty-five P.M., and he'd be there in less than an hour.
A blue and white Spencer County sheriff's car fell in behind him. At this point, Keith couldn't care less. There was only the driver in the car, and Keith decided that if the sheriff pulled him over, the sheriff would find himself hog-tied in the trunk of his own car.
At the southern end of Spencer County, Keith got onto an eastbound highway, giving the impression he was heading to Columbus and points east, in case the man was wondering why Keith Landry was taking the rural road to Chatham County.
The sheriff's car kept following, but as they approached the Dawson County line to the east, the sheriff's car turned off. Keith continued on, out of his way, for another ten minutes, then turned south, then west again toward Chatham. He suspected that the Spencer sheriff had radioed to his Dawson counterpart to track the Blazer, but Keith didn't pick up any tails. The rural sheriff's departments were small, and the counties were big. Compared to the drives he used to make from the West German border across East Germany to Berlin, this was easy. But when you were avoiding the police, whether they were rural sheriffs in the American heartland or the Stasi on the prowl in East Germany, luck played a big part in the game.
Within fifteen minutes, he crossed the county line into Chatham. He didn't know exactly where he was, but it was easy to navigate the grid squares of roads, which ran almost true to the cardinal points of the compass.
Eventually, he found himself on County Road 6 and continued west, reading the road markers of the intersecting township roads numbered in descending order until he got to T-3, the road where Terry lived, where Annie was waiting. He didn't know if he should turn left or right but flipped a coin in his mind and turned left. He drove slowly, looking for the red brick Victorian house, which he saw up ahead on the right. Truly, he thought, some sixth sense had gotten him here without a wrong turn, and he remembered with a smile what Charlie had said about following his reproductive organ, though Keith believed he was following his heart, which was beating rapidly now.
He slowed down and turned into the gravel drive. The first thing he noticed was that there was only one vehicle in the driveway, and it was a pickup truck. The next thing that disturbed him was that the side door of the house opened, and the woman who came out to meet him, though she looked like Annie, was not Annie.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Terry stood at the door a moment, then walked over to Keith, who had gotten out of the Blazer.
Keith already knew by the look on Terry's face that Annie wasn't there, but he didn't know why.
Terry said, "Hi, Keith."
"How are you?"
"Okay... Annie's not here."
"I know that."
"She was here, but she left."
He nodded. "Okay."
"She... had to go."
Neither of them spoke for a while, then Terry said, "You want a cup of coffee?"
"Sure."
He followed her into the kitchen, and she said, "Have a seat."
He sat at the round kitchen table.
As Terry poured two mugs of coffee, she informed him, "Annie left you a note."
"She's all right?"
"Yes." Terry put the mugs on the table, with cream and sugar, and said, "She was upset."
"Well, I don't blame her."
Terry sat and stirred her coffee absently. "She wasn't angry. But when she got here, she was all... sort of excited... then, when I told her you'd be late, she was disappointed. But then she was okay again, and we had a nice visit."
"Good." Keith looked at Terry. She was about three years older than Annie and had Annie's good looks, but not Annie's sparkle or bounce. Terry had graduated high school two years before Keith and Annie had started going together in their junior year. She'd gone to Kent State, so Keith hadn't seen much of her except for summers and holidays, but as Annie had reminded him, Terry sometimes covered for them when she was home. Terry was one of the romantics. He recalled that Terry had met her future husband, Larry, in college, and they'd married and left school before either of them graduated. Keith and Annie, freshmen at Bowling Green by that time, had gone to the wedding together. He recalled now that Terry had given birth about seven months after her wedding, and Annie had said to him, "We will graduate, marry, and have children, in that order."
Terry said, "We had lunch. I haven't seen her so happy in years." She added, "A guy from down the road pulled in to drop something off, and when she heard his truck in the driveway, she jumped out of her chair and went out the door." Terry looked at him and smiled. "I guess I shouldn't give away family secrets."