“Should have left that little witch over there,” he said, starting to spin himself up again. “Who’s that goddamned woman think she is, anyway?” Then he stopped, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You say you’re leaving. Where are you going?”
“Away?” I said, echoing his earlier words.
“How far away?”
“Far enough to be out of your hair.”
“That’s not an answer,” he said.
“I know it isn’t,” I replied. He just stared at me for a long moment. He started to say something but then sighed and set his jaw.
“You told us to go, and we’re going,” I said. “Why not just declare victory?”
He leaned forward in his chair. “If you guys get yourself into any kind of crack up there with Mingo or the Creighs, do not, repeat, do not expect me or any of my people to come bail you out, understand?”
I nodded.
“And for the record, I’m telling you not to go back there. Let the appropriate authorities work the Robbins County problem. Neither of you fits that category anymore, right?”
I nodded again.
“Okay, then. We’re done. We’re still cranking out paperwork on your latest mess. Out.”
Back at the cabin I found Carrie busy sorting out her equipment. The two shepherds were in attendance, watching with their usual interest. Everything is a great adventure to a shepherd.
“He buy it?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “And he made it pretty clear that if we do go back there, there will be no cavalry from Carrigan County.”
“Never expected any,” she grumped. “Guy’s lost his nerve. He’s afraid of Mingo, and that’s the long and the short of it.”
“We have until noon tomorrow,” I said. “Time enough for us to get what gear we need and then to make our move. I’ll call Mose Walsh.”
“Go in daylight?”
I sat down on the edge of the bed. “The Creighs and Mingo own the night in Robbins County. I think if we just drive in there, go straight to Laurie May’s, we’ve got a pretty good chance of remaining undetected. Her place is nowhere close to town.”
She plopped down on the bed. “What we don’t know is whether or not she’ll let us hole up there again,” she said. “Or if she’s even there. They may have done something to her.”
“Or worse,” I said. “She might be part of it. That’s one loose end we need to work out. But that’s the only place I can think of to base, now that we’re been thrown out of here.” As I said that, though, I had another idea.
“What?” she said.
“We could base up in the national park,” I said. “Remember that cabin we used? The one that’s been requisitioned by the DEA?”
“That’s a long hike from where we want to go,” she said. “And the last time we had permission.”
“But it wouldn’t depend on Laurie May Creigh. Plus, I doubt the Park Service people know about your leaving SBI.”
She sighed. “That would mean I’d have to basically impersonate an SBI agent,” she said. “I don’t want to do that. Look: We need to break open this child-smuggling ring. We can’t do that from the safety of the national park. We have to fight the Creighs on their own turf.”
“Taking on your enemy on his home ground is not usually a prescription for success,” I said.
“Mingo has to know he’s got Sheriff Hayes buffaloed,” she said. “He’s been there a long time, and he’s used to getting things his way. So’s Grinny Creigh. If we’re going to do this thing, we have to do what they least expect. It’s the only hope we have.”
They least expect it because it has the smallest chance of success was what I wanted to say.
“I guess I really can’t do this alone,” she said. She’d put a rueful smile on her face, and for a moment she reminded me a little bit of Mary Ellen Goode. A woman who’d been beat up now screwing her courage to the sticking point. She had to know what the odds were, and she was still determined to go back there and uncover the Creighs’ secret. I looked over at the two shepherds, who were still watching from the doorway. They were game, but then again, they were always game. Being game wasn’t the same as being smart, though.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s figure out what we’re going to need.”
12
We spent the morning doing logistics, checking out of the fancy lodge and into a much smaller motel closer to the Robbins County side of Marionburg. I called Mose Walsh late in the morning and then met him at the outfitter’s shop. Instead of maintaining their own individual shops, most of the local guides were associated with one of the two storefront outfitters in town. Mose met me at the one on the main street of Marionburg. He was chatting up one of the young salesladies at the register counter when I walked in. There were maybe a half dozen customers in the store, most of them just looking at all the woodsy stuff. Mose said something quietly to the girl that made her giggle and then came over to meet me at the front door.
“Don’t you ever quit?” I asked him. The girl at the register looked like she was maybe fifteen.
“Woman once told me,” he said, in his most dignified Big Chief voice, “that I was so damn ugly that women would be either repelled or attracted, but they’d all be just a bit curious.”
“Like your granddaughter over there?”
“She’s twenty-six, married, but not serious about it, God love her.” He looked around to make sure no one was listening to us. “What’re you guys doing, fucking around with Grinny Creigh and her demon spawn?”
“Us?” I said, pretending total innocence. “We’re just going camping.”
He nodded with his head in the direction of the pack racks, and we walked back there. “Word is,” he said, pretending to examine the pack selection, “that the auto-da-fe down at the lodge parking lot last night was a hit squad of meth mechanics from Robbins County.”
“Really,” I said. “What else does Mr. Word have to say?”
“That your lady friend is wearing a headscarf because one Lucas Carr creased her headbone with his thirty-ought, on orders from Nathan, who is, word says, somewhat indisposed up there on Spider Mountain.”
“Big Chief’s jungle drums are fairly well informed in these parts,” I said.
“All sorts of people go to bars. People go to bars, they drink. They drink, they talk. Big Chief doesn’t talk and actually doesn’t drink a whole lot anymore. Big Chief listens. So then they feel they have to fill the void. It’s fucking amazing, sometimes.”
“Heard any stories about the late Rue Creigh?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “That was you?”
It was my turn to pretend to be interested in the packs. I tried out my version of the Indian grunt. Mose wasn’t impressed.
“God damn, man, and you’re going back up there? Why don’t you just go find a hornets’ nest, pluck it down from the tree, and strap it on like a gas mask?”
I took him by the elbow and steered him to a back window where there were no other people. I told him what had happened with Rue and why we were going back in there, and all the wise-ass went right out of him. He stared bleakly out the window for a full minute, digesting what I’d told him. Then he shook his head resignedly.
“Try as you might,” he said wistfully, “you can’t get away from it. Kids?”
I nodded, then had a thought. “What can you tell me about Bill Hayes?” I asked. “Is he possibly in bad health?”
Mose shook his head. “It’s not him. It’s his wife. She’s dying of some badass bone disease. Docs told him to call the hospice. It’s fuckin’ the guy up, to hear the deputies tell it. What’re you and the SBI lady planning to do about this?”
“At the moment, I have no freaking idea,” I said. “First we have to find them.”
“You’ve got that bassackwards,” he said.
“I’m talking about the children, not the Creighs. Look, maybe you could help.”
He gave me a wary sideways look. “Help?”
“Yeah-you hear stuff. You say people talk to you. Push that process a little bit. Anything about exploiting children in Robbins County.”