“You’re right, I’m not. So guess what, I can go ahead and beat the hell out of you right here.”
“How do you figure on doing that?”
“You’re making this real easy,” I said, taking my coat off. “I’ve been waiting a while for this, believe me.”
He turned away from me, shaking his head. He put the camera down on the ground, carefully. Then he grabbed the tripod and collapsed it into a long rod.
“I’ve been waiting, too,” he said, holding the tripod out in front of him like some kind of samurai sword.
“Put that down,” I said. “You’re gonna break it.”
“I’m gonna break something all right.”
He took a swing at me as I backed away. He took another swing. This one was hard enough to make a loud whoosh as it passed a few inches from my face.
“This isn’t a fair fight,” I said, taking another step backward. “Give me my own stick and we’ll have something.”
He was done talking for a while. He took another swing and I had to step back to avoid a tree. As long as he was taking big swings, I thought I’d probably be able to time my move, but now he was lining me up with one jab after another.
I tried to give him a head fake. He jabbed and just missed. Another fake and he caught me right in my bad shoulder. He smiled as he saw me wince in pain.
I tried to catch the next jab. I managed to knock the tip away but I couldn’t grab it. I took a quick look behind me. I had about ten more feet until I’d hit a patch of mud and probably lose my footing.
Another jab, so close to my mouth I could practically taste the metal. Then another and I knew I’d have to try something soon while I still had the chance.
I’ve got to time this just right, I thought. Jab, miss, jab, miss. And go.
Just before he backed me up to the edge of the mud, on that very last jab I leaned one way, then spun back the other. He caught me in the bad shoulder again, making everything go dizzy for a second but it was too late now. I completed my little spin move and lashed out with my left hand, knocking the pole hard with my wrist. I kept moving forward as he tried to recover, but it was too late for him. It was too late and I was too pissed off and my shoulder hurt like hell and I had driven way too far to have this clown jabbing at me with a stick in the first place. I tackled him and drove him backward, across the rough ground until he lost his balance and went tumbling onto his back with me right on top of him. I twisted the stupid tripod out of his hands and brought it down against his neck. After all the waiting and watching and talking and driving myself crazy thinking about who’d be killed next, I admit it felt good to finally be doing something about it, to be pressing that cold metal against his skin.
“I should strangle you right here,” I said. He had his hands on the tripod in a futile effort to push it away from his neck. I had all the leverage and I could have choked him right out with twenty seconds of even pressure.
“Get off me,” he said, spraying my face with his spittle. “I swear, I’ll kill you.”
“How are you gonna do that?”
“I’ll hunt you down like an animal. I swear.”
“I don’t think so. You’re only one-quarter crazy, remember?”
I took the tripod away from his neck and tossed it aside. It landed next to the camera, knocking it over into the dirt.
“Watch it!” he said. “Do you know how much that thing cost?”
He started to get up, but I put one hand on his chest. “Do not move,” I said.
“I’m getting all wet here.”
He tried to get up again, so I really gave him a good shove this time. He was reaching for something else to swing at me. I grabbed him by the coat and put my face close to his.
“Your son is gone,” I said.
“He was close to his grandfather. He’s been taking it hard, so I told him to stay at home for a while.”
“No, you don’t get it. Your son is gone.”
“What are you talking about? The agents were at his apartment this morning. He was there.”
“And then he left. His girlfriend has no idea where he was going.”
That finally got to him. I let him sit up.
“Sean is gone?” he said. “I don’t get it. Where would he go?”
“That’s what we need to figure out. He left right after the agents talked to him. Apparently he got a phone call, and Sean promised this person, whoever it was, that he’d meet him somewhere and that he’d bring something for him.”
“Bring what?”
“I understand somebody broke into the lake house this morning,” I said. “They tore up the basement.”
“That’s what the agents said, yeah. I haven’t seen it myself. They won’t let me go near the place.”
“Whoever it was, he was probably looking for the film. It was his film, not your father’s…”
“Wait, hold on.” He took out his cell phone and dialed. I knew he was calling his son. He held up his hand to me while it rang and rang. Eventually, he closed it.
“Tell me who else could have gotten into that basement,” I said. “Not just today, but I’m assuming this goes back a while. Probably the last three months.”
“That’s what the agents wanted to know,” he said. “We spent the whole morning making up a list.”
“How big a list are we talking about?”
“Anybody who’s ever worked for Grindstone knows how to get into that house. Hell, anybody who’s even been there. It’s like the resident party house for anybody in Bad Axe who knew my father.”
I flashed back to Connie taking me into the house that day, and how he took the key off that hook under the front porch.
“So how many people did you come up with?” I said.
“It was like forty, fifty people? Those were just the ones I could think of. The agents said they were going to start working through them today.”
“While you kept working on your little project here.” I pulled the rope down from the tree and threw it aside.
“They told me to stay out of the way, so I am. Now where the hell is my son?”
“You’re probably the only one who can figure this out,” I said, “so keep thinking. Out of all those people on the list, who is he closest to?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think. My mind is just going around in circles here.”
I ran back the scene in the apartment, trying to remember everything his girlfriend had said. I had a gut feeling that there was one more question I should have asked her. Meanwhile, Connie was running through every name he could think of.
“Brian, no. Craig, no way. Zack, no. Wait, Zack? No.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Whoever this is, he had to have access to a camera, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He went back to the list in his head.
“Like that Bolex in your son’s apartment. Delaney said he never let anybody touch it. Is that right? Nobody else could have used it?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“So did this person take a camera from the basement?”
“Maybe,” he said, waving his hand at me like I was a pesky fly. “I’m trying to think here, okay? No, to answer your question. I don’t think so. My father would have noticed that. He would have freaked out, probably, if one of his beloved cameras was gone.”
“Unless he gave one to somebody.”
“That didn’t happen very often, believe me. He’d give you a bag of weed or a thousand dollars cash if you needed it. But one of his old cameras?”
“He gave one to Sean, right? And he gave one to you…”
“No,” he said. “Will you let me think, for God’s sake? He never gave me a camera.”
“Wait a minute, Sean told me a Wiley kid gets a camera as soon as he’s old enough to hold one.”
“My father wasn’t even around when I was a kid, remember? I never got to do any of that stuff with him.”
“So who else is Sean talking about?” I said. “If it was just him, he wouldn’t say it that way.”
I thought back on it. Sitting in that sandwich shop, the first time I had met him. Yes, that’s what he said. A Wiley kid gets a camera as soon as he’s old enough to hold one.