Widowmaker (Mike Bowditch #7)(95)

“Russo!”

“Bowditch,” he said, his face as blank as usual. “Congratulations.”

“Get away from him.”

“What? Why?”

“Did Clegg give you permission to talk to him alone? You shouldn’t be talking to him before the detective does.”

Russo nonchalantly closed the cruiser door. “I think you’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion, buddy.”

“Where did you go before?”

“Where did I go when?”

“You dropped this bombshell about Dyer having a rifle that fired the same-caliber bullets as those found at Foss’s, and then when the time comes to break down his door, you’re nowhere to be found.”

“I had a call back at the mountain,” he said mildly.

“That can be checked, you know. Whether you actually received a call.”

I stepped forward until we were nearly chest-to-chest. The man’s body gave off no smell or heat.

“Are you all right, Warden?” he said. “You seem confused. You might want to have an EMT check you out for a concussion.”

“So what were you saying to Dyer just now? What were you telling him?”

Russo paused. His expression was as unreadable as always, but I thought I saw a flicker of amusement behind his eyes.

“I told him that he was fired,” he said. “What else would I be telling him?”

And then he stepped past me and returned to his vehicle. His headlights came on. I watched him do a perfect three-point turn and then drive away.

When I looked in on Dyer myself, he gave me a smile that showed off his discolored teeth.

“What did Russo say to you just now?” I asked. “Tell me what he said.”

“He said I’m going to be famous.” I found myself wanting to slap him again across his smug, triumphant face. Whatever else Logan Dyer was, he was no patsy. He had killed twelve men that I knew of, starting with Adam, and nearly including Mink and me. But I still couldn’t believe he had written that so-called manifesto, couldn’t believe he had planned and executed his vigilante campaign alone. I had to sit down on a snowbank to cool off.

Pulsifer was the last warden to arrive, and he pretended to give me holy hell for my ruined truck. “I am no insurance adjuster, but I would file this one under ‘totaled.’ Don’t be surprised if your rates go through the roof, Bowditch.”

Gary helped me transfer my gear from my truck to his—the stuff that hadn’t been shot full of holes, that is.

“What about these?” he said when we were almost done. He held out my father’s dog tags. In the artificial light of the emergency vehicles I read the stamped words again, as if for the first time:

BOWDITCH

JOHN, M.





004-00-8120


O NEG


NO PREF.

I sucked in my breath.

“What?” asked Pulsifer, narrowing his eyes and sticking out his chin in that foxlike way of his.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘Blood doesn’t lie’?”

“Yeah. Why?”

I put the dog tags around my neck and tucked them under my T-shirt. I didn’t pause to think about what I was doing or why. The metal felt cold against my chest.

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

*

I stayed with Lauren and Gary Pulsifer again that night. I’d asked Clegg to call me if he got any information out of Dyer, thinking I’d hear from him in the morning. But the detective called even before we’d finished the hot chocolates Lauren had made to warm us both up.

I took the phone into the Pulsifer’s guest room, which was as drafty as ever.

“He confessed to everything,” Clegg said. “As soon as I started back to Farmington, he started talking. He said, ‘Yeah, I killed them all. Langstrom, too. I’m guilty, and that’s all I’m going to say. If you want to know why I did it, read my letter.’”

“His letter?” I said.

“That word struck me as odd, too. I said, ‘Are you referring to your manifesto?’ And he said, ‘Yeah, my manifesto. That letter I wrote. All my reasons for doing it are in there. Read it and you’ll understand why. I’m guilty, and that’s all I’m going to say.’”

“So what were the reasons he supposedly gave in his ‘letter’?”

Clegg answered as if he might have had the document in front of him. “It starts with him having a revelation that he has only a short time to live, and that he decided the best way for him to spend his final days was in dramatic action, taking extreme measures to protect the children of Maine, since the criminal justice system has failed so mightily. He claims this country was founded on vigilantism and the only way ‘to take it back’ is by adopting the methods of our Founding Fathers. It’s quite a lengthy document.”

“That sounds a lot more like Johnny Partridge than it does Logan Dyer. Don’t you think?”

“Speaking for myself, I would say yes. Speaking for the state of Maine, I am not sure it matters.”

“How can it not matter?”

“Because you caught him in the act of trying to kill Nathan Minkowski and yourself. Because every bit of physical evidence we have found so far connects him to the massacre of those men. Because he had means, motive, and opportunity. And because his ‘letter’ tells us exactly why he chose to leave Langstrom’s truck near the SERE school.”