Mean Streak(93)

Sam Knight said, “He insisted on coming to talk to y’all right away.” The detective sounded no happier about this meeting than she was. “Grange’s kid is sick, so I told him he could skip.”

“Dr. Charbonneau.” The FBI agent crossed over to her, removed his leather glove, and extended his right hand. “Jack Connell.”

“How do you do?” They shook hands. “I understand you got lost in the fog.”

He smiled with a chagrin that made him human and likable. She resisted the appeal of those traits. She didn’t want the man hunting Hayes Bannock to be engaging.

He said, “I was afraid I would drive off a cliff, so I pulled over at a roadside stand that sells boiled peanuts. Just a lean-to and a chicken wire fence securing the cauldron. There was no one around, but I stayed put until Sergeant Knight met me and guided me in the rest of the way.”

“I know firsthand how impenetrable the fog in the mountains can be.”

“I want to hear about that.”

They remained in an awkward tableau until she invited everyone to sit down. The two arrivals discarded their outerwear. With a noticeable lack of cordiality, Jeff offered them something from the minibar. Jack Connell declined refreshment. Knight asked for a Diet Coke, adding, “And are there any peanuts or a snack of some kind?”

Emory returned to her place on the sofa. Connell took the easy chair recently vacated by Jeff but moved aside the ottoman. Yielding the floor to the federal agent, Knight carried his canned drink and a bag of cheddar-flavored popcorn to the dining table. Jeff sat down beside Emory. She caught herself moving her knee from within touching distance of his.

Connell began. “Sergeant Knight provided me an overview of your experience. As soon as I read his e-mail, I traveled straight here. That fingerprint is the first tangible—”

“Excuse me. Fingerprint?”

He explained to her how it had been retrieved. “It’s the first tangible lead I’ve had on Bannock in years.”

“What did he do?”

“We’ll get to that, Dr. Charbonneau. And, by the way, we here in this room, and Sergeant Grange, are the only ones privy to this information, and for the time being I want it kept that way. Can I count on your discretion?”

Jeff said, “What’s the big secret? This individual is a fugitive or you wouldn’t be here.”

Connell said, “It’s sensitive,” then dismissed Jeff and directed his attention to Emory. “I’m very interested to hear firsthand about the time you spent with Bannock. Start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

She did so—omitting the personal aspects. “I assume you know about his altercation with the Floyd brothers?”

“Sergeant Knight filled me in,” Connell replied. “Bannock left them in bad shape.”

“After leaving their house, he drove me into Drakeland and let me out near the Chevron station.”

“Did he say why he let you out on the roadside?”

“No. But he…he did ask me not to call anyone until I reached the gas station.”

“Giving him a head start,” Connell said.

She didn’t tell him those had been Bannock’s words exactly.

“How’d he look?” the agent asked. “I mean overall. Healthy and fit?”

“Yes.”

“Did he seem depressed?”

“I wouldn’t call it depression.”

“What would you call it?”

She searched for a word to describe Hayes Bannock’s reticence. “Introspective.”

“Hmm. Was he hostile?”

“Toward the Floyds? Yes.”

“Toward you.”

“No.”

“Toward anything else?”

“Such as?”

“The government.”

She shook her head. “Not specifically.”

“What was his attitude about life in general?”

Again, she took time to find the right word. “He seemed resigned.”

The agent nodded as though he understood her meaning. “What did you two talk about?”

“Nothing substantive. Until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know his name.”

“What did he tell you about himself?”

“Virtually nothing. I guessed that he’d been in the military, and he more or less confirmed it. He didn’t say where he served or in what capacity, but I got the impression he saw combat.”

“He did.”

“On the subject of war, he said he didn’t recommend it.”

“He wouldn’t. He served in Afghanistan. Two deployments. Hard-core army. Did he mention his family?”

No bride. No wife. Not ever. She cleared a sudden hoarseness from her throat. “He told me he wasn’t married.”

“No, but he has a sister and niece in Seattle.”

Seattle, from where his rent was paid. “How old is the niece?”

“Twelve.”

Remembering how he’d been with Lisa, she thought he could probably easily win the affection of a twelve-year-old niece. And his sister? “Are he and his sister close?”

Connell grimaced. “Like you wouldn’t believe. In fact, just over twenty-four hours ago, I was in her house, trying to pry, cajole, wring information from her. She claimed not to know where he was.”