Wolfhunter River (Stillhouse Lake #3)(79)

13

SAM

I don’t like being in jail. It’s my first time, and it feels worse than I imagined it would. I’m not claustrophobic—can’t be a pilot if you are—but the walls close in anyway. Despite what I said to Gwen before they led me out, I feel lost now. Very much on my own in a place that feels like the belly of the proverbial beast.

Two hours in, I’m trying to close my eyes, and not daring to really sleep, when a voice from outside the bars says, “Opening number six.”

I’m in number six. I hear the rattle of the lock, and I sit up fast, already reaching for the makeshift blackjack I’ve put together.

I feel pretty stupid when Mike Lustig ducks under the too-low opening and steps inside. The cell locks behind him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He nods toward the weapon. “That soap in your sock, or you just happy to see me?”

“Jesus, man.” I put it down and sink onto the narrow, shallow bunk. The mattress feels like it’s filled with crushed scorpions. “The hell are you doing here?”

“You’re in jail. Dumb question.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to risk your new, shiny rep associating with a felon.”

“First off, I’m not associating. I’m investigating. Second off, shut your damn mouth. Did you talk to them?”

“Facts only,” I tell him as he leans against the wall. He’s a big dude, Mike, bigger than you’d think would fit into a pilot’s cockpit, but he’s damn good despite his size. He takes up a lot of this small space. “Nothing but facts.”

“You know better,” he says. “Any word comes out of your mouth they can twist. And right up in here, they will.”

I stop and look at him. Really look. He’s tired. He’s come all the way from DC, probably on his own dime, to help me. “Gwen called,” I say.

“Hell, yes, she did. Good thing, too, because I guarantee you that in this snake pit you’d have some episode by morning and end up either dead or beaten half to it.” He puts scare quotes around episode. “Killing a cop’s bad enough, but killing a small-town cop in a town that thinks of the Civil War as being waged last week? Only way it gets worse for you is if you’re black. Which you’re lucky you’re not.”

“But you are,” I say. “Maybe this isn’t the place for you.”

“Oh no, son, it’s exactly the place for me,” Mike says. “I’m your best friend until the judge I woke up gets your bail hearing done.”

“I had a bail hearing. I didn’t get any.”

“We’re revisiting.”

“Oh.” I shake my head. “Thanks, but don’t you dare put up the cash.”

“Why? You planning on cutting out on me?”

“Not unless they say I can’t leave town. I mean it, though. Don’t.” FBI agents are not wealthy, and Mike’s putting himself in debt for this already. “Gwen and the kids. They’re okay?”

He changes position, and I’m immediately on guard; the dread sets in when he speaks, because he’s changed tone too. He now sounds professionally comforting. “They’re fine, man. Listen, there was a problem, but they’re okay, I want to say that up front.”

I stand up. It isn’t voluntary; I need to be on my feet. “What happened?”

“Someone came after them on the road,” he says. “The car’s shot to shit, but they’re not hurt.”

“Who?” My knuckles hurt, and I realize I’ve balled my hands into fists. “Who the fuck—”

He’s held up his hands to fend off the anger. “Don’t know yet,” he says. “We’ve got a description of a truck, and a guy dead on the road. She didn’t kill him; he got thrown out of the truck when it spun out. We’ll find the driver soon enough and ask some questions.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, for a start. Plus, there’s a pretty decent TBI investigator.”

“Fairweather?”

“Yeah. Got a good rep. We’ll add people when we find decent ones. Not that we’re likely to find many in Wolfhunter proper. Rot spreads, and this town smells like it’s got it in the bones.”

Mike’s getting almost lyrical about it, but I don’t doubt his instincts. Not for a hot second. “Tell me again that they’re okay.”

“Yeah, man. They’re okay. They’re at the county sheriff’s substation, about half an hour out to the west. They’ll be there all night, most likely. Soon as I know more, you’ll know.”

I slowly sink back down on the bed. It doesn’t feel any better, but I stretch out anyway. “They need protection.”

“Fairweather’s on that. I asked.”

“You should go.”

“Ain’t going nowhere until you are.”

I sigh. Feel it deep, like the exhaustion. “Thanks, Mike.”

“Yeah, remember me at bonus time.”

“Like I’m ever going to be able to afford you.”

“Another charity asshole.” He digs a phone out of his pocket, and a pair of earbuds. “Here. Listen.”

I send him a look and put the earbuds in, not sure what the hell he’s doing, and then he plays Gwen’s message. I close my eyes, listening, hearing, the real emotion in her voice, and when she says I love you, my eyes open and I stare at the dark ceiling. The ghostly light of the phone throws everything into sharp relief.