Chapter 10

Sitting in his car, Sam watched the house. He was across the street, and half a block away. As he watched, he ate a cheeseburger he’d bought at Jack-in-the-Box.

He had arrived at five o’clock, dressed in civvies and driving his own Chrysler. Darkness closed quickly over the street. Lights appeared in the windows of nearby homes. The home of Elmer Cantwell, however, remained dark, and Sam wondered if he’d been wrong about the mother.

At 5: 52, light appeared in an upstairs window. It soon went off. A few minutes later, the picture window lit up, and he could see into the living room. Then the draperies slid shut.

He hadn’t been wrong about the mother.

At 6: 10, a Volvo entered the driveway and stopped. A man climbed out. From his bulging shape and the slouch of his walk, Sam knew it had to be Elmer.

Elmer entered the house, leaving his car in the driveway.

Going out later?

Sam finished his cheeseburger. He turned on the radio, and listened to quiet music. As he waited, a chill seeped through his trouser legs. He had a blanket in the trunk, but didn’t want to bother with it. He turned on the car engine. Soon, the heater was blowing warm air on him, and the car began to feel cozy.

Not as cozy as home, though. Nice to be back at his duplex, sitting on the couch, staring at the TV news and sipping a vodka gimlet. Nicer to be with Cynthia. He wouldn’t be with her tonight, though, even if this hadn’t come up. Maybe she would straighten things out with Eric. It’d be good to know the kid. The three of them could get together, go to movies, go fishing. Not right for a kid to grow up without a father.

Better no father, though, than the guy Eric would’ve been stuck with if Cynthia’d married that bastard who raped her. Harlan. Scotty Harlan. Damn good thing he’d left town. If Sam ever got his hands on the guy … Christ, to do a thing like that to Cynthia! She’d cried the night she told Sam about it, cried so hard she could barely talk as she described how he stood with a knife and made her strip, how he pressed the blade to her throat as he took her, and threatened to slice off her nipples if she ever told.

People saw Scotty leave the house, and knew he was the one when she got pregnant, but she never told anyone how it happened. No one but Sam, on a night fifteen years later when he asked about Eric’s father and she spoke in a voice so broken by sobs that he cried, himself, and held her tightly.

A guy like Scotty Harlan shouldn’t be allowed to live.

Sam had never killed anyone, but he’d like a chance at Harlan.

Maybe not kill him, Sam thought. Maybe just blast apart his knees. And his elbows. And shove the muzzle against his cock and blow that off.

He realized that he was trembling with rage. He took a deep breath. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers.

Keep your mind on the job, he warned himself. No point dwelling on Scotty. You’ll never get a chance to do anything about him, never get a chance to stick your gun up his ass…

Stop it!

Think about Dexter.

Somebody hated Dex awfully bad to cut him up that way, hated him the way I hate Scotty. So who did Dex rape?

He wouldn’t.

Berney had Chet and Buck looking through the station files for suspects – guys Dexter had stepped on, over the gears. Guys who might want to return the favor. Even in a town the size of Ashburg, a cop could accumulate plenty of enemies.

Sam put his money on Thelma, though. Former spouse. Showed up in town the day before he was killed. Has to be a connection of some kind. If she didn’t handle it herself, she might’ve put somebody else up to it.

Maybe Elmer.

Even as he thought about the man, he saw Elmer Cantwell leave the house. The hunched figure crossed the lawn and ducked into the Volvo. The car backed out of the driveway.

Sam swung away from the curb, and followed. He stayed a full block behind Elmer’s car as it moved up the deserted street. At an intersection ahead, another car pulled in front of him. With this one as a shield, he narrowed the gap. It soon turned onto a driveway. By this time, Elmer was passing the Baptist church. The business district was only a block away. With traffic picking up, Sam didn’t bother to drop back. He stayed several car-lengths behind Elmer, and kept moving when the Volvo swung into the parking area of Harney’s Liquor.

Near the end of the block, he pulled up to a vacant stretch of curb. He waited, wondering if he was crazy to be tailing Elmer. Tailing him on an errand, for Christsake! His old lady probably ran short of apricot brandy … On the other hand, maybe Elmer planned to do some entertaining.

This could pan out, after all.

Sam chewed on his lower lip, and watched the rear-view mirror.

Soon, a car backed onto the road. Sam looked away as it approached. When it passed him, he looked. A Volvo. He let it get a good headstart, then pulled onto the road behind it.

The Volvo approached an intersection.

If he’s heading back home, Sam thought, he’ll turn here.

He didn’t turn.

Sam grinned, and followed. The Volvo led him away from the business district, down tree-shrouded streets. Not far ahead was the entrance to the Ashburg Golf and Tennis Club.

Where Babe Rawls once tended bar.

Where Thelma used to hang out.

But Elmer drove past it.

The open fields of the golf course began. On the other side of the street, the last few houses were left behind, and the cemetery took over.

Sam’s headlights lit a wooden sign. ‘You are now leaving Ashburg, ’ it read. ‘Come back soon. ’

Where the hell’s he taking me? Sam wondered.

Better be to Thelma.

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