Seeing Red(47)

After they trooped out, Harvey Jenks took the first deep breath he’d taken in minutes.

He had heard the harpy terrorize the kid into unlocking the door and then had stood motionless and breathless inside the closet of Kerra Bailey’s room during the ensuing discussion, which seemed to have lasted forever.

Somebody, probably the skittish motel employee, had conscientiously turned out the light as they went, so the room was in darkness when Jenks moved soundlessly from his hiding place.

His plan had been to be waiting inside the room for Kerra Bailey when she returned.

His plan was now screwed.

The closet had been a tight fit for him, but he thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t been discovered. He crossed to the door, opened it a crack, and made certain that the coast was clear, that the TV people weren’t yet making their way back from the motel office, then slipped out.

Although he wasn’t too worried about anyone seeing him leave. The weather was keeping motorists off the roads. Even if he were spotted by a passerby, so what? He was a deputy sheriff. One would assume he was guarding Kerra Bailey.

Inside her room?

If challenged, he’d come up with a rambling explanation that would sound plausible to a civilian even if it was nonsense. But he returned to his car confident that his break-in and breakout of Kerra’s room had gone unseen. He slid behind the steering wheel and pulled out his cell phone.

His call was answered with a brusque, “Done?”

“She didn’t come back.”

“What?”

“I was in place. All set. Except she didn’t come back from the hospital with the TV crew.” He related the rest of the story. “Narrows down to her being with the deputy. Or Trapper.”

“Shit!”

“Her coworkers are checking it out.”

Jenks had won favor by returning from Monday’s predawn excursion alone, without Petey Moss. He had a story prepared to tell anyone inquiring after Petey: He’d had to hightail it to Tennessee to lay low with a cousin until his ex, who now lived in Wisconsin or someplace equally remote, stopped hassling him about delinquent child support checks.

Petey wasn’t likely to be missed by many. His ex was long gone. He never saw his kids, never bothered to contact them. He had lived alone and had claimed few friends.

Jenks had twinges of remorse whenever he recalled how trustingly Petey had accompanied him out to The Pit. Too large to be called a pond, too small for a lake, The Pit was an abandoned gravel pit that years ago the county had filled with water to create a swimming hole. The first summer it was open, two fourteen-year-olds had gone out there in the middle of the night to smoke dope and have sex. While skinny-dipping, both had drowned.

Their parents, looking for somebody to blame, had sued the county and won. After taking that financial drubbing, county officials hadn’t had the budget to reopen The Pit. The only thing out there now was a rusty eight-foot cyclone fence with rustier “Keep Out” signs posted every so often. It was a good place to do something you didn’t want witnessed.

Jenks had lured Petey to it by suggesting they kill a six-pack of Bud while watching the sunrise and commiserating with each other over the ass-chewing they’d received for botching the job at The Major’s place.

Of course that wasn’t what had gone down when they got there. Petey hadn’t been given time to drink even one beer. He didn’t regret tricking Petey. If he hadn’t acted first, Petey would have. In which case, his carcass would likely be decaying on the bottom of The Pit right now.

Anyhow, it was done, and now he was faced with new concerns, like the disappointment and anger he sensed coming at him through his phone from the man at the other end of the call.

“With Kerra wanting to go on TV again tomorrow evening and talk about the Pegasus, The Major’s near miss, all that, tonight’s timing was crucial.”

Jenks thought it best not to try to defend himself against the subtle rebuke. Instead he said, “What do you want me to do now?”

“I’m thinking.”

Oh, Christ. Rarely did anything good come of that.





Chapter 14




Frigid as it was outside, Kerra was smoldering. “Bait?”

“Well, when you say it like that—”

She unbuckled her seat belt, launched herself across the console, and grabbed Trapper’s arm. The SUV swerved, went into a three-sixty spin, then another, and when it stopped, its rear tires were in the ditch, and it was resting at an angle so steep its headlights were projecting up through the sleet and snow mix.

Trying to shake her off, Trapper shouted, “What the hell?”

“Turn this thing around and take me back to town.”

He swatted her hands away and yanked his head from side to side to prevent her from slapping him. “You could have gotten us killed.”

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Okay, you’re furious.”

“That doesn’t come close.”

She went for him again. This time her palm connected with his cheek, and it smarted. “Dammit, Kerra, stop it! I don’t want to hurt you.”

He finally managed to get hold of both her wrists and trapped her hands inside his coat against his chest, then took a moment to catch his breath. He said, “That was a dumb thing to do.”