Marlin made a large loop around the county, stopping at hunting camps and deer leases along the way. He cruised north on Highway 281 to Round Mountain, west on 962, south through Sandy, and on down to Blanco. Then northeast through Henly and up to Pedernales Reservoir.
He wanted to check in with Bobby Garza to see if there had been any progress made with Jack Corey, but he decided to swing by his house first and make a call. Almost eight o’clock. Maybe Fanick would be in his office by now.
Back at home, Marlin poured himself a to-go mug of coffee and tried calling Fanick. He got routed into voice mail and left a message. It was the weekend-Fanick might not even go into his office today, despite Marlin’s pleadings for a quick turnaround. All he could do was hope.
He stepped outside and saw Inga Mueller’s yellow Volvo bouncing up the driveway. She pulled in behind his truck and killed the engine. Marlin waited on the porch for her, but she simply sat in her car, staring at the windshield. Marlin trotted down the steps and walked over to her window. Before he could even say anything, he knew something was wrong. Her face was clenched, fighting back tears.
“You all right?” Marlin asked.
A small shake of the head.
“What happened?” Marlin asked.
She turned and looked him in the eye. “I almost got raped last night.”
“Oh, Jesus. When? Where?”
Inga stepped out of the car and told Marlin the horror story from early that morning. A masked intruder, a knife at her throat, Tommy Peabody coming along and saving the day, then taking off just as quickly.
Marlin wanted to reach out and grip her arm, reassure her-but he didn’t know if she was ready for any male contact. “I’m so sorry. Did you report it?”
She nodded.
“Which deputy took the call?”
“I think her name was Cowan.”
Rachel Cowan was a young, fairly new addition to the department, but she was smart and hardworking. She had spent six years with the Austin Police Department, and had learned plenty in that time.
“I just got through with her about an hour ago. Drove around for awhile, trying to decide what to do next… then I came over here.”
“It’s probably best that you don’t stay in town anymore. Johnson City is so small, the guy could spot your Volvo in no time.” Marlin was going to suggest that she find a place to stay in Blanco, fifteen miles to the south.
“That’s kind of what I was leading up to, John. I had an idea-and please tell me straight-out if you think it’s a bad one-but I was wondering whether I might be able to stay with you for a few days?”
The request surprised Marlin, and it must have shown on his face. Inga waved her hand in the air as if she was erasing the idea off a chalkboard. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thought. Forget I even asked.”
“No, it was just a little unexpected, is all.” Marlin tried to sound enthusiastic, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it himself. “I’ve got plenty of space, an extra bed, it’s no trouble at all.”
“But I don’t want to put you out, or-”
“Hey, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Seriously.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I sure would feel a lot safer. And I can’t leave town until Tommy-”
“I understand. No problem.”
She leaned in and gave him a hug. For a few seconds, he felt awkward, wondering whether he should hug back. But she pulled away before he could decide. “I’ll grab my things out of the trunk.”
Marlin led her inside, gave her a quick tour, then found a spare key in a kitchen drawer. “This opens both doors, front and back.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything in the pantry or the fridge. And you know where the bathroom is and everything…”
She smiled, and Marlin found it difficult to hold her gaze. She already appeared less distressed by the attack, more like her usual, confident self. “You’re helping me out so much, John. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble.”
She held up three fingers, making an oath. “I’ll be a perfect roommate, I promise. Won’t even hang my panties on the shower rod.”
Marlin felt his face getting warm, so he told her he had to go see the sheriff and would probably be gone for several hours. He walked out of the house and took a breath of fresh air.
Marlin drove into Johnson City and made his way toward the sheriff’s office. It was just after nine o’clock, a bright, cloudless morning with remarkably little humidity.
He parked behind the traffic barriers that circled the sheriff’s office. Most of the curious onlookers were gone now, and only one news van-from KHIL-sat hunkered nearby.
Just inside the barriers, Deputy Ernie Turpin was sitting in a lawn chair reading a magazine, glancing up now and then to make sure no civilians ventured too close.
Marlin asked him what the situation was, and the deputy said nothing had changed. “Damn guy’s stubborn as a mule,” the deputy said. “But hell, Garza’s sent food in a couple of times, ain’t put any pressure on him, so why should he come out, you know?”
Marlin had known Turpin for fifteen years, and knew the deputy was a take-action kind of guy. If Turpin were calling the shots, the building would have been raided just hours after Corey had taken Wylie hostage. Several men could be dead. On the other hand, Wylie might be free.
Marlin nodded at Bobby Garza’s cruiser in the distance. “Sheriff around?”
“Yeah, he ain’t hardly left since this thing began. Took a break early this morning for a coupla hours, but that’s it. Guy needs some sleep, if you want my opinion.”
Marlin didn’t, but he nodded thanks anyway, and walked over to Garza’s car. The sheriff was stretched out in the backseat, but Marlin could see that his body was too tense for him to be sleeping.
“Damn,” Marlin said through the window, “every time I drop by, you’re catching some z’s. Being sheriff looks awful damn easy.”
Garza kept his eyes closed. “Aw, man, I’m having that same nightmare again. The one with that pain-in-the-ass game warden.”
Marlin chuckled and climbed into the front seat, leaving his left foot on the pavement. Both men remained silent for several minutes, Marlin drinking from the traveler’s mug of coffee he had brought along. Garza’s police radio squawked on occasion.
Finally, Garza groaned and sat up in the backseat. Marlin eyed the sheriff’s haggard face in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you have a brother named Bobby? Looks like you, but a lot younger?”
Garza rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m too worn-out to whip your ass for that. Pass me that thermos beside you, will ya?”
Marlin opened the thermos and poured Garza a cup of coffee. He let the sheriff drink in silence for a few moments, then said, “No change, I guess?”
Garza ran a hand over a stubbled cheek. “No, he’s still in there, eating eggs and sausage courtesy of Blanco County. Had some pepperoni pizza for dinner last night. But I’m screwed, ’cause if I don’t send food in, Wylie goes hungry, too. Meanwhile, certain people are starting to get uptight.”
Marlin raised his eyebrows.
“The mayor, for one,” Garza said. “He was griping at me last night, saying this thing would ruin business for the weekend. Like it’s my fault we had to rope off some of the little shops along the sidewalk. Says we should shrink our perimeter a little, give people a little more access to the surrounding area.” Garza’s teeth were clenched now. “But if Corey decides to let a few bullets fly, maybe a tourist gets hit by a stray, guess who everybody would blame? Not the mayor, I can tell you that much.”
Marlin nodded in agreement, hoping to cool Garza down a little. “You’re doing the right thing, Bobby. Forget what they’re saying. Just go with your gut.”
“I know, I know. I just want to get Wylie out of there, but it keeps dragging on. Corey’s still thinking you’re gonna pin it on someone else. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from the lab?”
“Not yet.” Marlin glanced at his wristwatch. “I need to head back to the house and give them a call.”