"It's not out of mine," she said.
"Nothing's changed in that regard, Terri. You do that and they'll paint you into a corner. They..."
"They've lost control now, Will. If you care at all about the people who elected you, and the people who are vulnerable to this, you'll take a leadership position, I'll stand beside you," she said. "We'll do it together." He was silent a moment.
"Will?"
"Let me think about that, Terri. You might be right," he admitted. "I'll call you later today. I want to hear what they've got to say, what they're doing. Okay? I'll call you this afternoon."
"I'm not back home. I'm at Hyman's cabin in Willowemac. I'm supposedly taking a much-needed rest with Curt."
"Understood," he said. "I know the place. It's peaceful. I envy you."
"Yeah? Well, I'm not feeling very restful at the moment, Will." Curt smiled.
"Squeeze the bastard," he cheered.
"If this goes on, Will, you will be the one blamed."
"Is that a threat?"
"Just a clearly thought-out realization, Will. You have the information and you're sitting on it and another person is dead, and a teenager to boot." He was quiet.
Curt's smile widened as he nodded and whispered, "Yeah, right on."
"I'll call you later," Will said. The line went dead. She held the receiver a moment and then slowly cradled it.
"Maybe, I should go back to the office," she said.
"To do what? You're only an hour away, baby. Seconds away from reaching the media. Will Dennis knows that in spades now. We might as well go fishing. You've done what you can and very well, too," he added.
"I guess you're right," she said after a moment's thinking.
"Sure I'm right. It's like any negotiation. You deliver your best assault and then you let the other side stew. A watched pot never boils," he added. She smiled.
"Who told you that one?"
"My grandmother always used it, and Dad never forgot it. He loved to move on to another case and leave the first one hanging there."
"Yes, well I don't know if this one is hanging or seeping," she said. He leaned over to kiss her.
"You'll know soon enough," he said. "C'mon, I'll put the worms on the hooks." She laughed and followed him out. He had their fishing poles set against the railing and a basket between them.
"What's in there? And don't tell me worms," she said quickly.
"No, some wine, some cheese, a loaf of that French bread. A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou beneath me in the wilderness. Ah love," he moaned and she poked him.
"Curt Levitt, since when did you become the romantic?"
"It was that smack on my head," he told her.
"In that case I'll bop you every night."
"Big talker," he teased, kissed her on the cheek and started for the boat. She watched him a moment and then followed. Despite it all she couldn't help feeling guilty about enjoying anything. She should be doing more, she thought, only she had no idea what it was she could do now.
Pick on the unsuspecting fish, she thought and hurried to catch up to Curt.
He sat in his vehicle and watched the front entrance of the county building. At one point he saw the two men who had accompanied Will Dennis to the motel and handled the cleanup. They went into the building and a little over an hour later, they emerged, but without Will Dennis.
He wasn't patient, but he looked patient sitting there in the car, calm. No one going by paid the slightest attention to him, he thought, actually, to us. He actually felt invisible. Finally, Will Dennis came out of the building. He was accompanied by two sheriff's patrolmen. They stopped at the bottom of the steps and spoke for a while. Then the patrolmen went to their vehicle and Will Dennis walked around and into the parking lot where his county vehicle was parked. He got into it and drove out.
Following at a safe distance behind, he could see Will using his car phone. He drove a good fifteen minutes before pulling into a self-service gas station about five miles or so past what was once the Monticello Trotters Race Track. Restaurants and gas stations, as well as motels had sprouted around it, but it all looked in hibernation now. There was nowhere near the bustling activity that characterized the area in its heyday.
Ghosts, he thought to himself. This place is haunted by its past. Memories lingered in old road signs that made promises no longer kept, hawking this bungalow colony or that small hotel, tempting visitors with now faded pictures of beautiful lakes and emerald-green golf courses. We've got to do our business and move on, he thought. There was an inherent danger to camping out in cemeteries. The dead might enjoy your company.
He pulled up behind Will Dennis, who was again on his cellular, talking while he filled his gas tank. Dennis had his back to him. He got out slowly, fingering the pistol he had used back in the motel owner's apartment. There was only one other gas customer, and he was finished, closing his tank and getting into his car. He watched him drive away. Will Dennis still had his back to him, still talked on the phone.
"Okay then," he said, "I'll be there in an hour." He flipped his phone closed and turned to reach for the gas hose, which had stopped its flow. For a moment, probably because of the black hair, he didn't recognize him. He even flashed a smile and said, "Just about done."
"Leave it," he told him.
"Pardon me?" Will said. He stared and then rose slowly as his eyes began to reflect recognition.
He pulled out the pistol.
"Leave it," he repeated. "Just walk to my car." Will Dennis looked about frantically.
"Move," he ordered firmly.
"Look, there are people who can help you. They're here now, and I was just going to meet with them, actually. Why don't you follow me in your car and..." He pulled the hammer back on the pistol.
"Walk to my car or die here," he said.
Will nodded and started toward his car. He backed up to let him pass. The driver's door was still open.
"Get in behind the wheel," he commanded as he opened the rear door. "Go on."
"What do you want?" Will asked.
He smiled.
"I told you that before. I want more. Now get in and close the door." Will did and he got in behind him and held the pistol close to the back of his head.
"Imagine," he said, "your brains splattered on that windshield. What a mess of thoughts and memories, huh?"
"I can help you," Will said. "Really. I'm on the phone with everyone involved. We have a solution."
"Oh, I know there is a solution. I know you can help me." He stopped smiling and added, "I want you to take me to her. Go on."
"Take you to whom?"
"The doctor, Dr. Barnard, the one who could make trouble for us. Go on."
"But..."
"Drive or decorate the windshield," he said putting the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.
Will dropped the shift into drive and pulled around his own car, looking at it longingly, as longingly as a man who was being swept past his last hope for rescue at sea.
"There's no need for this," Will said. "You're a very valuable person. They want to take you back, to help you, to make sure you're healthy and everything you need is provided."
"I know what I need and I know how to get it," he said. Will thought.
"I don't know where she is," he said.
"Then make a call and find out. You can find out anything you need to find out, and believe me," he added poking him sharply just where his neck and head joined, "you need to find this out."
"She's at work for sure," Will said.
"See. You're screwing up already. I know she's on vacation."
"Well, then she's gone. She's out of the area."
"She's only away for a few days. She can't be far. If she is gone, you are gone," he said. "Either you will die or she will die today. Who will it be?" he asked.