He said slowly, his voice as unthreatening as he could make
it, “To hurt me you’d have to come closer. You know better than to
do that. Yeah, you’re strong, maybe I wouldn’t even want to run
into you in a dark alley. But there’s a big something you’re wrong
about. Everyone has something to lose, including you. Things have
just gotten a bit out of hand for you, that’s all.”
“A bit out of hand,” she repeated slowly, then laughed, an ugly,
raw sound. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She
waited, just stood there, the knife up and arched, her hand starting
to cramp, her muscles starting to protest, staring at him, wondering
what to do, wondering if she could believe him and knowing she’d
be a fool even to consider it.
“Actually, I do. What I wanted to say was that the media and the
press are after you in full force, that’s a fact, but you should be safe
here.”
“You found me.”
“Yeah, but I’m so good I occasionally even surprise myself.”
She raised the knife even higher. She felt the sun warm between
her shoulder blades. It was a beautiful day and everything was a
mess. He was her guardian angel? Her arm muscles were burning.
He started to say something more, then stopped. It was the look
on her face that kept him quiet. It was like they were both frozen
in time and place. Then she surprised the hell out of him. She
dropped the knife to the ground and walked straight up to him.
She stopped a foot short, looked up at him thoughtfully, then stuck
out her hand. He shook hers, bemused, as she said, “If you’re my
guardian angel, then get on the phone to the medical examiner’s
office in Augusta and find out how long that poor woman who fell
out of my basement wall was buried in there.”
He didn’t release her hand. She was tall. He didn’t have to look
down that far. “All right.”
She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Just like that?
You’re so powerful you can find out something just that fast?”
“In this case, yes, I can. You don’t look much like your mother.”
The hand stiffened, but she didn’t jerk free. She said calmly,”No,
I don’t. Mom always told me that I’m the picture of my dad. My
dad–his name was Thomas–he died in Vietnam. He was a hero.
My mother loved him very much, probably too much.”
“Yes,” he said. “I know all about that.”
“How?”
“It’s not important right now. Believe me.”
She didn’t, of course, but she was -willing to put it on hold for the
moment because she said then, “I saw a really old snapshot of him.
He looked so young, so happy. He was very handsome, so tall and
straight.” She paused a moment, and he heard the hitch in her
voice. “I was too young to remember him when he died, but my
mom said he’d seen me born, held me and loved me. And then he left
and didn’t come back.”
“I know.”
She cocked her head to one side, and again she let it go, saying,
“When I first saw you in Food Fort, I thought you looked hard, like
you didn’t smile very often, like you ate nails and hot salsa for
snacks. I thought you could be mean if you had to, maybe even
cruel. You still look mean. I can sense that you’re dangerous; actually,
I just know it, so don’t even bother trying to deny it. Who are
you, really?”
“I’m Adam Carruthers. I told you that at Food Fort. That really
is my name. Now, take me to your house and I’ll get on the phone.
We won’t find out who the skeleton is, but we’ll find out at least
how long she was in that wall. They’ll have to do DNA tests; that
takes a while. First things first.”
He watched her pick up her Coonan and stuff the bullets in her
jeans pocket. He picked up her kitchen knife and followed her
back to Jacob Marley’s house.
It took him eleven minutes and two phone calls. When he laid