Mean Streak(94)

“Perhaps she didn’t.”

The agent shrugged, indicating it was no longer an issue. Bannock had been found. Or as good as.

“What else can you tell me about him, Dr. Charbonneau?” he asked.

He has a thunderbolt tattoo just above his groin. When I traced the design with my tongue, he warned me of consequences. I didn’t heed his warning.

“He keeps his promises,” she said softly. “He reads a lot. He repairs things.” She looked at Jeff. “He glued the stem of my sunglasses back together. He also builds things.” She described the bookshelves, the unfinished shed.

Connell said, “He holds a degree in constructional engineering.”

Beside her, Jeff had begun to fidget. “This is all thoroughly captivating, Mr. Connell. But does it have a point? What does any of this have to do with what Bannock did to Emory?”

Connell jumped on that. “You’re assuming that he knocked your wife unconscious and carried her away.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I would be very surprised,” the agent replied. “Shocked, actually.”

That took Jeff aback. Emory as well. She looked over at Knight, whose hand had been arrested in midair between the bag of popcorn and his open mouth.

Connell remained focused on her. “Is that what you believe happened to you that day on the trail?”

“When I woke up in his cabin, not knowing where I was or how I got there, my initial reaction was to be afraid of him. And for the first two days, I remained wary and cautious. I even made a couple of futile attempts to leave.”

“He stopped you?”

“Circumstances did. The weather. Then the situation with Lisa.”

“Okay. You were saying?”

“Over time, I came to believe that he hadn’t harmed me and didn’t intend to.”

“Truly, Dr. Charbonneau, I believe you were safe the entire time you were with him,” Connell said. “It would have been totally out of character for him to see a woman alone, or anyone with whom he didn’t have a quarrel, and attack them. He’s not a sexual predator either. That’s not what he’s about.”

“Then what is he about?” Knight asked.

“Punishment. I suppose some would term it vengeance, but it’s less personal than that.”

“I believe the Floyd brothers would take personally what he did to them,” Jeff said.

“Actually punishment fits,” Knight said. “The deputy who interviewed Lisa speculated that her brothers had been messing with her and that’s how she got pregnant.”

They all looked to Emory, who said nothing. But her pained expression must have given her away.

Jack Connell sighed as he dragged his hand down his face. “That would light Bannock’s fuse, all right. But his grudge against the Floyds goes back farther than the abuse inflicted on their sister.”

Looking at Emory, he continued. “His moving to the mountain wilderness wasn’t coincidental. He tracked Norman and Will Floyd here. He was out to wreak havoc on them and was only biding his time. Did he tell you that?”

“I inferred it, and when I asked, he didn’t deny it, but he also didn’t explain what he held against them.”

“We’ll get to that, too. First I want to ask you about his cache of firearms. Knight told me Bannock shot at the Floyds.”

“He didn’t,” she said. “He had a pistol, but he never used it. He never even took it out.”

In his own defense, Knight spoke up. “Norman Floyd told our deputy that Bannock fired both barrels of a shotgun at them.”

“That’s a lie,” Emory said with emphasis. “It was their shotgun, not his, and he used it to shoot out their TV.” The three men registered astonishment, prompting her to relate the circumstances.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Knight said. “He wanted to keep them from collecting the reward, but he didn’t collect it himself.”

“He’s not about money either,” Connell said.

“Wouldn’t it be far more enlightening if you told us what he is into rather than what he isn’t?”

Connell looked at Jeff, but didn’t acknowledge his catty remark. Coming back to Emory, he began asking her all the questions the detectives had already covered, but she answered them patiently. She apologized for not knowing the make and model of his truck.

“Don’t feel too bad,” the agent told her with a wry smile. “He would have ditched it by now anyway. Did he mention leaving?”

“Leaving town?” she asked.

“Leaving the area. Moving on, relocating.”

She shook her head.

“Did he mention a soccer coach in Salt Lake?”

“No.”

“A priest in Kentucky who resigned his parish and the priesthood, some believe under threat of death?”

“No.”

“A hairdresser in Wichita Falls, Texas?”

Emory shook her head in bafflement. “Why are you asking? What do these people have in common?”

The agent sat forward and propped his forearms on his thighs, speaking to her directly, as though they were the only ones in the room. “They have two things in common. Hayes Bannock.” He paused, took a breath. “And a mass shooting in Virginia that left eight people dead.”