Wolfhunter River (Stillhouse Lake #3)(80)

She doesn’t know how much I don’t deserve that. And how much I needed to hear it.

I strip off the earbuds and hand back the phone. “Don’t delete it,” I tell him. “Send it to me.”

He doesn’t ask why. Proving, once again, I can pick good friends when I try.

We make up a chess set out of spare change and random junk, and play until the guard comes back to unlock the door. “Judge is ready,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve got him,” Mike says, and takes my arm. To be fair to the guard, it looks like he’s capable of ripping the arm off, which is probably why I don’t get shackles like I did earlier; it makes walking easier, at least. “Try to look pitiful. Oh, wait, you nailed it already.”

“Shut up.”

He walks me through the gates.

The ride to the courthouse is about two minutes. I wonder if Mike’s as alert as I am, because it’s a chilly predawn now, mist rising up from the ground like escaping ghosts . . . and we’re alone in a police car with two of Wolfhunter’s Finest, neither of whom look friendly. We could disappear, end up dead on the banks of Wolfhunter River like the woman Connor and I found. Or never be found at all. Still, making a prominent FBI agent disappear is probably too big a magic trick for this town to pull off.

Hopefully.

The only cars on the street this time of morning are three police cruisers . . . and a surprising number of black SUVs. I point at one that’s parked near the courthouse. “That yours?”

Mike nods. “Why?”

“You bring company?”

He gets it in the next second as he takes in the other, similar vehicles. “No,” he says. “They don’t look too local.”

“They don’t,” I agree. “I count three of them in view right now.”

“That’s a lot of strangers.”

“You’re sure they’re not FBI? TBI?”

“I’m sure,” Mike says. “How many people you think it would take to secure this town?”

“The whole town?” I think he’s kidding for a second. He isn’t. “Uh . . . one main road in and out, so . . . couple of cars ought to do it. If you mean locking down resistance, you’d want to hit the police station first. Right?”

“Right,” he says.

“But that hasn’t happened.”

“Not yet.”

He doesn’t say anything else. We’re not close enough to read license plates in this dim light, or I’m sure he’d be jotting them down or taking a picture.

Mike’s got a theory, I think. He’s just not telling me what it is.

Once we’re out of the car and inside the courthouse, I breathe a little easier. The judge is a grumpy old man from out of town. He’s made all the more angry by the hour, and the fact he must have been rousted out of bed by someone at the highest state levels to get this done. He gestures to the yawning court clerk, who calls the case, and I realize my lawyer isn’t here. Well, shit. It doesn’t seem to matter; the judge just makes a pronouncement that seems like he’s reading it from a card.

“Based on my review of additional evidence, I’m amending the earlier decision and granting bail to the defendant in the amount of two hundred fifty thousand dollars. Usual conditions apply.”

That must be shorthand, because the court clerk keeps typing as if more’s been said, and for quite a while. The judge waits until she stops, then bangs the gavel and rushes out. He’s still got on pajamas under the robe, looks like. I can’t imagine his next defendant is going to have a very good time of it.

“Two hundred fifty thousand?” I say to Mike when he comes to claim me. “Yeah, don’t bother to tell me you haven’t got it handy.”

“Man, I don’t got it at all. But you’re in luck. Someone does.”

It’s not Gwen. She does have some cash socked away, but definitely not that much. Mike walks me out, and I don’t know what I’m expecting when we hit the sidewalk, but I balk when I recognize the car. It’s a rented Buick.

Mike opens the door and gestures me in to sit beside Miranda Tidewell.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask him. “Mike. Come on.”

“Just get in. You needed an angel.”

“She’s the opposite.”

Miranda leans out and says, “Sam, don’t make me regret my investment in you. Please. Get in. Listen to what we have to say.”

I look at her, then at Mike Lustig. “So it’s we now.” I feel doors shutting inside me. Ties being cut. I’ve counted on Mike and his friendship for a long time, longer than I knew Miranda; I never thought anything could shake that trust, or break it.

But I feel that chain coming apart now, link by link.

“Get in, man,” he tells me again. I could walk away, but fact is, where would I go? Gwen isn’t here. And she’s dealing with worse than this.

I get into the car. Mike climbs in on the passenger side up front, and the entire sedan groans and settles a little. “Well,” I say to Miranda, “at least you didn’t make him your chauffeur. Even for you, maybe that’s a bridge too far.”

“Fuck you,” Mike says. “You think I did this for money?”

“I don’t know, Mike, why don’t you tell me why else you colluded with a woman you know I hate?”