Eleventh Hour

“I’m so tired, Albia. I believe they’re going to release me soon.”

Albia rose. “Yes, I’ve taken care of it. If you’d like to dress now, I’ll take you right home.”

“Thank you. I would like that very much. But, Albia, I want to go to my own place. I’m just not ready to move in with John.”

NINETEEN

BEAR LAKE, CALIFORNIA

Dane had volunteered to drive the two hours up to Bear Lake to see what they could find out about Weldon DeLoach from the staff and, they hoped, from his elderly father. “Hey, maybe,” Flynn had said, “old Weldon will be hiding in one of the rest home’s closets.”

Dane pulled onto the freeway, then turned to Nick. “I forgot to tell you. Flynn got a search warrant and went over to Weldon’s house. Unfortunately they didn’t find anything to either implicate DeLoach or give a clue as to his whereabouts. And just before we left, Delion checked in with Lieutenant Purcell. They haven’t caught up with Stuckey yet, so we have no gun. There wasn’t anything in Milton McGuffey’s apartment either that gives us a clue to the man who called Stuckey. But it’s early days yet.”

She nodded, stared down a moment at her clasped hands. She had a jagged fingernail and began worrying it. “I wanted to tell you that I was really sorry I couldn’t be with you at the cemetery. I wanted to say good-bye to Father Michael Joseph, too, but they rushed me off so fast I didn’t have a chance to speak to you about it.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t come, too. At least the media didn’t catch up with you. But you can bet some enterprising souls are trying their best to put this all together. Something will leak soon from the studios, if it hasn’t already. Then it’s going to be really rough, with you at the epicenter.”

She looked, quite simply, terrified.

Dane, impatient, said, “Look, Nick, you know this is an international story. For God’s sake, you’re the eyewitness to my brother’s murder.”

“Not really. I haven’t been any help at all.”

“We’ll see. Now, the media thing. It’s going to happen. You really need to reconsider telling me what’s going on with you.”

“No, I don’t.” She still hadn’t come to a decision about what to do. She knew she couldn’t be a homeless person forever; it wasn’t any sort of solution at all, but what she would do, she just didn’t know yet. “You made a deal. Keep your questions to yourself.”

He shrugged, and she knew he was irritated, probably more than irritated. He changed lanes to avoid being stuck behind an eighteen-wheeler. He looked over at her, his expression serious. “I’m sorry, but the shit will hit the fan. It’s coming. Okay, no more questions, but when you’re ready to tell me, just let me know.”

She said nothing, just stared at the dashboard.

“I want to thank you, Nick, for the way you’ve stuck with me over the last days. It’s—it’s been difficult, and you really helped me.”

She nodded. “It’s hard to believe that so little time has passed. It’s been very hard for you.”

“Yes.” He was silent, to keep control. Damnation, it was so hard. He said, “It’s been difficult for you as well.”

She said, surprising him, “I remember when my father died—it was in a hunting accident—some idiot took him for a deer up in northern Michigan. Death like that, so sudden, so unexpected, you just can’t figure out how to deal with it.”

“Yes,” Dane said, eyes on the road in front of him. “I know. How old were you when your dad died?”

“Nearly twenty-two. It was really bad because my mom had died just two years before. Sure, I had lots of friends, but it’s just not the same thing.”

He said slowly, “I never really thought of you as a friend.”

She felt a punch of hurt at his words. “I would have thought that we’ve been through enough to be friends, haven’t we?”

“You misunderstand me,” Dane said. “No, I didn’t think of you as a friend precisely, I thought of you as someone who was there for me, who understood, someone important.”

She was silent for a moment, but to Dane it seemed an aeon had passed before she said, “Maybe I agree with you.”

Dane smiled as he slowed for a car coming onto the freeway. “Hey, you got any relatives at all?”

“Yes, two younger brothers, both Air Force pilots. They’re in Europe. All these questions. Are you trying to trip me up? Is this one of your famous FBI strategies to make a perp spill her guts?”