“I didn’t think so, but I thought I should ask. It’s all right. You needn’t worry. The board of education will work with us on this, you being a special circumstance and all. Good night, everybody.”
Theo didn’t rush after Freeland to set him straight. He decided he could wait until practice the next day to explain things. Without the chaos that surrounded him in the small kitchen, calmer heads would prevail.
“Mama, when are we gonna eat?” John Patrick asked.
“I’m putting it on the table right this minute.”
“We should be going,” Theo said to Michelle.
“You’ll stay to supper?” Cherry asked. “We’ve got plenty.”
He shook his head. “Ordinarily I’d take you up on your offer, but the fact is my stomach isn’t up to a meal just yet. I ate some of Jake’s gumbo, and it was a little too spicy for me. My stomach’s giving me fits.”
It was a lie, but Michelle thought he’d told it well. Cherry was nodding in sympathy. Daryl looked a little suspicious.
“We always have enough to feed our guests.”
“He’s from the big city, Daryl,” Michelle reminded him as though that explained everything.
“I forgot about that,” he said. “I guess Jake’s gumbo would upset your stomach if you weren’t used to hot food.”
“I could make you a cup of my special tea,” Cherry offered. “It should settle you down in no time at all.”
“I sure would appreciate that.”
Daryl nodded. “Fix him up then, Cherry. Mike, do you mind changing this bandage for me while you’re here?”
And so Theo drank hot, bitter tea in a hot, muggy kitchen while Michelle rebandaged Daryl’s hand and Cherry fed her children. John Patrick insisted on moving his plate next to Theo, and by the time the child finished eating, Theo’s stomach was growling. It took extreme discipline not to grab one of the homemade biscuits out of the kid’s hand.
They left the family after Theo had finished his third cup of tea. John Patrick took hold of Theo’s hand and officially walked him onto the front porch. The little boy tugged on Theo’s shirt and said, “Tomorrow’s my birthday. Are you gonna get me a present?”
“That depends,” Theo replied. “You have anything specific in mind?”
“Maybe you could come back with a bigger gun.” He let go of Theo’s hand and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t tell Mama I asked you for a present.”
Michelle had already gone down the steps and was waiting for Theo by the car.
“That kid,” Theo remarked as he backed the car onto the road. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll be reading about him in about fifteen years.”
“He’s an angel.”
“He’s bloodthirsty,” he countered. “I don’t get it. He’s got at least four older brothers . . . right?”
“Yes?”
“So how come they don’t tell this Lois to leave him the hell alone? I used to look out for my younger brothers and sisters. I wouldn’t let anyone mess with them. That’s what big brothers are supposed to do.”
“Do you still look out for them?”
“Do your brothers still look out for you?”
“They try,” she said. “Fortunately, Remy is in Colorado, so he can’t interfere in my life too much these days, and John Paul has always been a bit reclusive. Of course, he still shows up at the most unexpected times. I think Daddy sends out an SOS every once in a while.”
John Patrick was frantically waving to them. Michelle rolled down her window and waved back to the little boy.
Theo put the car in drive and headed toward Bowen. Glancing back at the child, he shook his head and said, “I’m telling you, that kid’s just not normal.”
She laughed. “He’s a perfectly normal little boy.”
“Lois isn’t a neighbor, is she?”
“So you noticed there aren’t any other houses on this stretch. No wonder you work for the Justice Department. You’re very observant.” “Hey, I’m on vacation,” he countered. “I’m allowed to be a little slow. So tell me, what exactly is Lois? A possum? No, I bet it’s a raccoon. God, it’s not a snake, is it? They can dig holes and —”
“Lois is an alligator.”
He slammed on the brakes and damn near wrecked the car, narrowly missing a big oak when he swerved off the road. Even though he knew alligators lived in the swamp — hell, he read National Geographic like everyone else, and he occasionally watched the Discovery Channel when he had insomnia — it still had never occurred to him that there would be any so close to a house.
And who in his right mind named an alligator Lois? “Are you telling me there’s a full-fledged, live alligator living in that kid’s backyard?”
The expression on Theo’s face was priceless. He looked as though he’d just found out there really was a bogeyman.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. The females are very territorial. Lois has decided their backyard belongs to her. She chases anyone who goes out there . . . or at least she did, until my brother moved her. And, by the way, I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Ben Nelson. Alligators are protected, and my brother could get into trouble.”
“Do you people name all your alligators?”
“Just some.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Jeez,” he whispered.
“You ready to go back to Boston?”
“Not before I go fishing. So tell me, how do I get back to your place?”
She gave him directions, and before he knew it, they were in St. Claire, where there were actually sidewalks. When he turned the corner at an honest to goodness traffic light, he could see the golden arches looming in the distance.
“Ah,” he sighed. “Civilization.”
“I’m still going to cook a healthy dinner when we get home,” she said. “But I figured . . .”
“What?”
“You deserved a treat.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“Because you were starving when you were sitting in that kitchen drinking hot tea . . . because you didn’t grab the biscuit in John Patrick’s hand that you were eyeing like a hungry wolf . . . and because . . .”
“What?”
“You let Daddy take advantage.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A whole day had passed since the package had been delivered. Cameron waited again with the others in John’s library for Dallas to arrive to give them Monk’s report.
The waiting was making him crazy. Dear God, how had he arrived at this place? What had happened to him? He had had such dreams, such hopes when he’d started out. Where had it all gone wrong?
Now he felt as though he were trapped in a ghoulish game of beat the clock. Every hour that passed was an hour closer to the iron bars slamming shut on him. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the sound of the door locking him in.
“We can’t just sit on our hands and do nothing,” Cameron said. “It’s been a day now. The clock’s ticking. We’ve got to do something and do it fast.”
Preston agreed. “I say we drive to Bowen tonight.”
“And what do you propose we do when we get there?” John asked.
“Anything is better than sitting here waiting for the police to come and get us,” Preston argued. “The longer we wait —”
Cameron cut him off. “I’m through waiting. If I have to take matters into my own hands, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
John slammed his fist down on the desk. “The hell you are,” he roared. “We’re in this together, and you aren’t going to do anything unless we all agree. Do I make myself clear?”
“Since when did you become our leader?” Cameron muttered. Shaken by John’s fury, he tried to regain the upper hand. “I don’t remember voting for you,” he blustered.
“I made all of you a fortune,” John said. “And that makes me leader.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Preston said. “Everyone just calm down and try to be reasonable. Maybe Dallas will have some good news for us.”
“That’s another thing,” Cameron said. “How come Monk won’t report to any of us? Why does he have to go through Dallas? He’s getting his money from all four of us, and we should be able to get hold of him any time we want. Hell, I don’t even know Monk’s cell phone number.”
“I think Cameron’s right. Why can’t we talk directly to Monk?”
“The two of you are obsessing over a minor detail,” John said. “Dallas brought Monk in, remember? Maybe our killer doesn’t like meeting with the four of us because he doesn’t trust us.”
“Bull,” Preston said. “Dallas just likes running him. It’s a stupid power play if you ask me.”
John was irritated. “I don’t give a damn who he gives his report to as long as he gets the job done.”
Dallas was standing in the doorway listening to the conversation. “You want Monk’s phone number? Two-two-three–one-six-nine-nine. Happy now, Cameron? What about you, Preston? Want to know his home address? Even I don’t know that, but I could put a tail on him and find out . . . if you want that information too.”
“Tell me you’ve got good news,” Preston said, ignoring the sarcasm.
“If you’re asking me if Monk has the package, the answer’s no.”
“He still hasn’t found the damn papers?” Cameron asked incredulously.
“The package has to be in the hospital,” Preston said. “It’s the only place Monk hasn’t been able to search thoroughly.”
“Then get him back in there,” Cameron demanded.
“I told Monk to stay on Renard,” Dallas said. “He can’t be two places at once, and besides, he already looked through her locker at the hospital. Remember what I told you, Cameron? He even had an aide helping look around the ER. He can’t just waltz in there and start opening drawers. Use your head.”
“I don’t like assumptions.” John made the statement as he rocked back and forth in his swivel chair behind the desk. “I’m not convinced Michelle Renard didn’t take that package with her when she left the hospital. Just how thorough do you think Monk was when he went through her house and her clinic? Maybe he was in a hurry . . .”
“Bull,” Dallas said. “He’s a professional, and he did his job. Why wouldn’t he be thorough? He’s going to make a hell of a lot of money the second he hands over the package. He wants to find the files as much as we do.”
Turning to John, Preston said, “God damn your wife. She put us in a hell of a situation here.”
“Get real. We killed her, remember?” Dallas said.
Cameron buried his face in his hands and leaned forward on his elbows. “John, you’re the one who got us into this nightmare, you son of a bitch.”
John remained calm. “What’s done is done. We have to think about the future.”
Cameron shouted back. “What future? If we don’t get those papers, it’s over.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
There were six messages on Theo’s cell phone. He went to Michelle’s library to listen and make notes while she started dinner. When he was finished, he called Noah Clayborne and asked him to drive over from Biloxi.
“Is dinner ready? I’m hungry,” he asked when he came into the kitchen.
“No, dinner isn’t ready,” she said. “This isn’t a bed-and-breakfast. You’re going to help.” She picked up the knife and began chopping celery and carrots. He leaned against the sink watching her.
“Damn, you’re good.”
“That’s what all the boys say.”
“You’re like a robot with that knife. Quick, precise . . . impressive.”
“You do know how to turn a girl’s head.”
He grabbed one of the carrots and popped it into his mouth.
“What do you want me to do? I’m starving.”
“That double cheeseburger didn’t do the trick?”
“That was just an appetizer.”
“You could light the grill for me. There are some matches in the drawer to your right.”
“Is the grill in the backyard?” He was looking suspiciously out the back window, squinting to see into the twilight through the screened-in porch.
“Of course it’s in the backyard. What’s the matter?”
“Do I have to worry about another Lois out there?”
“No,” she assured him. And then, as her daddy would say, the devil got hold of her and she couldn’t resist adding, “Of course, Elvis could be in the neighborhood. You might want to take the broom out with you, just in case.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Elvis?”
She tore a sheet of aluminum foil and was piling vegetables in the center. “Our local celebrity. Last time anyone reported seeing him, he swore Elvis was sixteen feet long.”
“You named an alligator Elvis? What’s the matter with you people?”
“We don’t name all of them,” she defended. “Just the impressive ones.”
“You’re joking about Elvis. Right?”
She smiled sweetly. “Sort of.”
“It’s sort of damned cruel to torment a man who has an obvious phobia about alligators, Mike.”
“I would prefer it if you called me Michelle.”
“I would prefer it if you didn’t joke about alligators.”
“Okay. Deal.”
“So how come I can’t call you Mike? Everyone else does.”
She was carefully folding the edges of the foil when she answered. “I don’t want you to think of me as a . . . Mike.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t very feminine. How many men do you know who would want to get involved with a woman named Mike?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“I don’t want to ‘never mind.’ Are you saying you want to get involved —”
She interrupted him. “No, that isn’t what I’m saying. Just don’t call me Mike. Now, go light the grill, and stop looking at me as though you think I’ve lost my mind. If you get scared, scream and I’ll come out with a broom and save you.”