CHAPTER 21
VERY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Knox started with the caretaker's cottage at Mt. Zion Cemetery. He went over every square inch of it, pulling up loose floorboards, emptying every drawer, checking inside the fireplace, and poring over the books Stone kept there, many in different languages.
"If the guy can speak all these languages, he might have already left the country," Knox told himself. Other than that, the cottage was a bust. The guy had obviously cleaned it out before fleeing. He next set about searching the cemetery. Here he was a bit more fortunate, though it ultimately turned out to be nothing. His sharp eye discerned that one tombstone had been recently moved. He yanked it over and found the small compartment carved in the earth. Whatever had been there, though, was now gone.
The "dirt" Macklin Hayes had hinted at?
Two hours later found him standing in the rear grounds of Carter Gray's former home. Knox had decided not to go by Simpson's murder scene. The vacant construction site had not given up any clues on the first go-round and he'd wisely decided that it was probably not going to give up any simply because he went back.
He stared out at the bay. Stone had told the FBI agents that the person who'd blown up Gray's house might have escaped by jumping off the cliff. He walked to the edge and peered down. Hell of a long dive, but probably easy for someone like Oliver Stone/John Carr.
Okay, he tosses his rifle into the water and jumps. Then where did he go?
He did not for a second believe that Stone had committed suicide. One did not plan hits so meticulously to merely end it all with a plunge off a cliff. He had lived. Knox was sure of that.
Carrying a knapsack over his shoulder, Knox walked along the cliff's edge, following on land what might have been Stone's journey in the water. He passed through woods, open fields, and then more woods, all the while keeping his eye on the shore below. Finally, he stopped. There was a bit of a beach down there. Stone had shot Gray before seven a.m. Knox had checked the tide charts. That time of morning would largely mirror the tide he was looking at right now. He eyed the boulders, then spotted the cleft in the rock, the trail coming up. He followed it to where it reached the top of the cliff. There was a path there. He took it. A half hour later he came to the series of shacks.
"Can I help you?"
Knox looked over at the short, squat man in the Green Bay Packers knit cap and greasy coat who was staring at him from beside an ancient tractor with one wheel off.
Knox approached. "I was over at Carter Gray's house." He held up his creds. "I'm Agent Knox."
"Good for you. They call me Leroy because that's my name. Gray, huh? The important fellow what got himself shot?"
"That's right. I take it someone's been by to see you."
"Hell, yeah. But like I told them, I don't know nuthin' 'bout nuthin'."
"You live here by yourself?"
"That's right, ever since my Lottie went to meet her Lord four years ago."
"Sorry to hear that. Nobody to help you around here? What is it that you do, by the way?"
"Anything I can to make a little money. Had me a helper but he went on."
"When was that?"
"Same day that man got shot."
Knox looked anxious but Leroy held up his hand. "Don't get yourself excited. He was here when them FBI folks come by. You can ask them. He's old, bum leg, bad eyes and feller couldn't even talk, just grunted."
"Tall, short? Fat, thin?"
"Skinny, though with the bad leg it was hard to tell how tall he was. Lot taller'n me, that's for sure. Big beard and thick glasses."
"Why'd he leave?"
"Who the hell knows? Been with me about four months. Then he just went moving on. It's not like I had him locked into no million-dollar long-term contract." Leroy laughed and shot a glob of spit at the ground.
Knox looked around. "Did he stay in one of those buildings?"
Leroy nodded and pointed at the one closest to the path.
"Mind if I take a look through it?"
"What agency you with again?"
"Federal."
"I know that. But which one?"
Knox held up his "public" creds close to the man's face. "That one."
Leroy took a step back. "Go on ahead then."
Knox inwardly smiled. That was at least one perk you got doing what he did. There weren't many others.
The search of the shack turned up only one significant fact. There wasn't a single fingerprint in the place and Knox had brought equipment with him that would show if there were. That alone told Knox that he was probably on the right track. Most people, including gimp-legged, nearly blind mutes, were not known to be so meticulous about wiping away such identifiers.
He left the shack and found Leroy puttering around.
Knox said, "I'm going to have an artist come up here and he's going to do a composite drawing based on your description of the guy."
"I'll do my best."
"I know you will."
CHAPTER 22
THE DINNER WAS DELICIOUS, mostly fried and filling. Abby had cooked it herself and Stone had helped her serve it. It was only the two of them. He'd taken a shower in an upstairs bathroom decorated like something out of a design magazine. The coal company must've really paid through the nose.
"So you're a fan of Shakespeare?" Stone said.
"I read his plays in high school. I could never relate to them before."
"And now you can?"
"Maybe. He's got all of what life has to offer, especially the negatives, but I've lived the real thing too much to be impressed anymore by a fiction of it."
Danny came in halfway through the meal, took one look at Stone and his mother in the dining room with their linen napkins and fancy plates, and turned back around without a word. Then a door slammed. Loudly.
Stone glanced after him and then turned back to Abby. "I'm sure he keeps you busy."
"That's one way of putting it. You have children?"
"I did. She's not alive anymore."
"Sorry to hear that. Danny's used up about seven of his nine lives and I feel like he took mine right along with his."
"Were you against him going away? You said you cried a lot."
"What mother wouldn't with her only child saying good-bye?"
"Then you're glad he's back?"
"I wouldn't go that far. Besides, it's more likely than not that he'll be gone again before too many more suns come up. Won't break my heart again, at least I keep telling myself that."
"Has he left before?"
"Talked about it a lot, but never pulled the trigger. I guess I'd made up my mind it always would be talk. Then he threw me a curve." Her voice shook a little as she said this last part.
"Any particular reason he decided to do it this time?"
"It's hard to tell why Danny does anything. Bullheaded, just like his father."
"Danny said he died in the mines."
Abby took her time putting the last forkful of pie into her mouth. "He did. You said you lost a child. How about your wife?"
"Died too. Long time ago."
"What've you been doing with yourself since?"
"This and that. Never stayed in one place too long."
"Did you get out of the army right after Nam?"
"I hung around for a while. Nothing too exciting."
"No pension from Uncle Sam?"
"Didn't stay long enough."
Their conversation trailed off and a while later Stone took his leave, resisting her invitation to drive him back to town. There was sorrow in that house, despite the luxury and designer touches, for one simple reason: the source of the wealth was death.
"I guess you'll be heading on soon," she said as she stood by the front door.
"I'm a lot older than Danny and I still haven't made up my mind what to do with the rest of my life. So I think I better get to it."
"Thanks for helping my son."
"He seems like a good young man, Abby. Just needs a little direction."
"It would've been real good if the direction had taken him out of here and kept him there."