Shadows Reel (Joe Pickett #22)(76)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


    Kovács Family Secrets


Later that day, Joe grimaced in pain as he shifted his weight on the examination table in a room in the emergency wing of the medical clinic. He wore a paper gown over his underwear and his naked feet dangled near the floor. His skin was mottled with bruises in their original shade of blue (they’d bloom into Technicolor in the days to come), but he’d been correct to assess earlier in the library that he had no broken bones or internal injuries. The slivers of glass in his scalp from the smashed pickup windows had been removed by an intern with tweezers. He was waiting for the doctor to release him so he could go home, and he eyed his uniform, which had been hung up in the small closet.

There was a series of sharp knocks on the door and he looked up, anticipating the doctor.

Instead, Marybeth poked her head in and smiled. Her face was flushed and she looked, well, happy.

“I found you,” she said.

“You found me.”

“They weren’t very helpful at the front desk. So, how are you doing?”

“Dandy,” he said. “Just cuts and bruises. I’m ready to get out of here.”

“I told the girls to stay away. They’ve seen you in hospital rooms way too many times.”

“True.”

“I brought a guest,” she said with a lopsided grin.

“A guest?”

“AnnaBelle is with me, so you might want to get decent.”

From behind his wife, Joe heard AnnaBelle say, “I’ve seen half-naked men before, you know.” Like Marybeth, she sounded almost giddy.

“Not this one,” Joe grumbled. He stepped down from the table and quickly shed the gown. Climbing back into his uniform hurt more than he thought it would. He pulled on his boots but didn’t tuck the cuffs into the top of the shafts because bending over that far made him wince.

“Have you two gotten into the wine?” he asked them as they came in.

“We should have,” AnnaBelle said. “We have plenty to celebrate.”

“Don’t be grumpy,” Marybeth said to him. “We’ve come with all sorts of interesting news.”

Joe climbed back up on the table and gestured for her to continue.

“This is going to sound kind of convoluted at first,” Marybeth said, “but hang with us. We’ve spent the entire morning getting enlightened. First, the guy who surrendered to the cops is named Viktór Kovács, and he’s singing like a bird. We think we know everything now.”

“I’m interested,” Joe said.

“I sat in on Viktór’s statement to the sheriff,” AnnaBelle said. “I took notes. I was surprised he was so forthcoming, but he seemed to be getting a lot off his mind. We still have to verify everything he told us, of course. But he basically confessed to everything.”

So it wasn’t wine, Joe thought. It was resolution.

“I had a long talk after the event with a reporter from the Magyar Nemzet newspaper in Hungary,” Marybeth said. “She watched our presentation and stayed online afterward. She really opened my eyes on what led to this and she answered a lot of questions.”

Joe arched his eyebrows. “You’re saying you did the broadcast? With all that happened?”

“The show must go on,” Marybeth said. “AnnaBelle found the album in the wrecked car and got it to me with two minutes to spare. The media who participated had no idea what was going on outside the room. To them, it was all about the discovery of the album. We all think it went very well.”

“Wow.”

“And you’re a hero, Joe,” she said as she reached out and stroked his cheek. “You stopped them.”

“I had help.”

AnnaBelle dismissed his show of being humble, even though it wasn’t an act. She said, “If you hadn’t crashed into them like that, who knows how many citizens and law enforcement personnel could have gotten hurt?”

Joe shrugged. “And another pickup destroyed in the process.”

Left unsaid was that Joe had the dubious honor of being responsible for the most damage to property than any other employee of the state of Wyoming. This would add to the list.

“Forget that,” AnnaBelle said. “I’ll vouch for you if you have a problem. The fact is, those brothers were desperate and they had a hostage.”

“And they’re killers,” Marybeth added. “You stopped them.”

“Brothers?” Joe asked. He assumed the hostage was the dancing underwear man.

“Yes,” Marybeth said. “Here’s where it starts to get weird. Believe me, I just had a crash course in Hungarian politics.”



* * *



—

“Viktór and László Kovács are brothers,” she said. “They were going under assumed names and passports, but Viktór admitted it and the reporter from the newspaper confirmed who they were when AnnaBelle sent over their photo IDs. They are well known in Hungary, and they’re part of a very prominent political family.”

“Hungary?” Joe said, recalling the Eastern European accent he’d heard from the deputy. “How did they get hold of a Campbell County Sheriff’s vehicle and the uniform?”