“Remind me not to play chess with you.”
“I’m the least of your worries if those two are on the loose — or worse, if they told someone and it’s a new player.”
“Why? Why would new players be bad?” Drake asked.
“Better the evil you know. And I know these two. Again, if you can cut the learning curve down and understand what you’re dealing with early, you have an advantage. Anyway, I’ll be back in a few. Might want to touch base with your boss to see if anyone’s been looking for you — suspicious calls, that sort of thing. Tell him to get in touch with you if anything weird happens.”
“Weird.”
“Right.”
Jack trundled back to his bedroom and Drake went into the kitchen. Allie stared at him without expression as he set his cup in the sink.
“I heard some of that. Are you really thinking about trying to find the treasure?”
“There’s a big difference between thinking and doing.”
Her high-wattage blue eyes seemed to bore holes through him. “That sounds like it would be incredible. Really cool. I mean, it’s what I dream of doing, you know? Hell, it’s what I studied to do.”
“It sounds like your dad doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You let other people make your decisions for you a lot?” she asked.
He eyed her. “So you think I should do it?”
She gave him a smirk. “You’re a big boy. If you’re afraid to try on Dad’s shoes, I don’t blame you. Bail skips sound a lot more interesting than treasure hunting for billions.”
Drake bristled at her tone. “I’m not afraid.”
“Right. Obviously.”
“Don’t hold back if you have an opinion.”
“What do I know? I’m just a disinterested bystander. The kitchen help. That’s all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time to mop the floors. Then I’ll go milk the cows and sew some shirts. You know what they say — woman’s work and all…”
“I’m not saying you don’t have a point.”
“I’m sorry. Would you like anything else to eat or drink? Or maybe your clothes washed?”
Drake held up his hands. “Can we call a truce? I don’t know why you’re upset, but whatever I said or did, I’m sorry.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Her ample chest, he noted, the buttons of her flannel shirt straining to contain the swell of her breasts. “I’m sorry too. It’s just that nothing like this ever happens to me, and here you are, with no training or education, with the opportunity of a lifetime dropped in your lap, and you’re waffling. If it was me, I’d have been packing my bags at first light. But hey. It’s not my choice. It’s yours. I accept that.”
“Thank you.” He offered her a smile.
“You’re welcome.” She turned away and opened the pantry, muttering, almost inaudibly, “Even if you’re being a pussy.”
Drake elected not to push it. He sensed that whatever was bugging Allie was bigger than her opinions about how he should handle the journal, and he didn’t want to get in the middle of it. He decided on a graceful retreat to the living room, and pretended he hadn’t heard her.
Thinking through Jack’s concerns, he retrieved his phone and called Harry. Betty answered on the second ring.
“New Start Bail Bonds,” she chirped.
“Betty, it’s Drake. Can I speak to Harry?”
“Sure, hon. Just a sec.”
Harry’s voice boomed from the tinny phone speaker. “Well, if it isn’t the prodigal. How’s it hanging, my man?”
“Going well. Day two in the land of big. How about you?”
“More crooks need another shot at life than usual. Thank goodness. And they’re all innocent! I’m the luckiest guy on earth — every single one of ’em’s as free of guilt as a newborn. They tell me so. And I believe them. The system’s just keeping them down. Oppressing them, and all.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad business is good. Listen, has anyone asked about me?”
“What, you feeling unimportant? Like who?”
“I don’t know. Have there been any calls asking for me? Trying to get info?”
Harry turned serious. “This have anything to do with why you got out of town?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
Harry paused. “You sure, kid? You can tell me.”
“Nah. I just wanted to know if anyone’s sniffing around. I can’t say why, but it’s nothing illegal. I promise.”
“You and every other derelict that walks through my doors.”
“Harry…”
“I’m just busting your chops. No, everything’s copasetic. Nobody’s asking about you. Remember, you’re not an employee, so you don’t show up on most records.”
“I know. Hey, if anything weird happens with the computers, or if anyone noses around, would you try to get as much info as possible and call me?”
Harry didn’t say anything for a long beat. “Now you got me worried. What are you into here, Drake? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. I swear.”
“That’s your story…”
“…and I’m sticking to it,” Drake said, finishing his sentence for him.
“Then I’m cool with that. Will do on calling you. Meanwhile, go get some of that Texas hospitality. Austin’s a college town. Lots of coeds.” The leer in Harry’s voice was exaggerated. Even though he’d been happily married for fifteen years, he liked to live vicariously through Drake.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Take care, kid.”
“You too, Harry. And thanks.”
Relieved, and reconsidering Jack’s alarm, he wondered whether maybe the old man had been in one too many firefights and was seeing danger behind every tumbleweed. Sitting in the living room, miles from anything, with the biggest threat to him noisily cleaning the kitchen, it all seemed a little…overblown.
Of course, there was the open question about Patricia’s accident, but he suspected that was unanswerable. He’d never met the woman, so how could he possibly know what demons she was battling? Maybe she’d grown tired of waking up every day and drawing breath. It happened, he knew. Each morning some people decided they can’t go on, and while most would find a reason to continue, there would be a few who felt the struggle just wasn’t worth it. Perhaps Patricia had been one of those, where the future was more frightening than eternal nothingness.
By the time Jack returned, Drake had just about convinced himself that this was all drama created by a bored man with time on his hands. One look at Jack’s face told Drake that he’d gotten that badly wrong. Jack sat down and tossed a single piece of paper onto the coffee table.
“That your boy?” he asked gruffly.
Drake picked up the paper and began reading the article Jack had printed out. As he did, the color drained from his face, and for a moment he thought he was going to black out.
Chapter Twelve
When he was finished skimming the article, he placed the paper back on the table and took several deep breaths. Jack raised one eyebrow and said nothing, waiting for Drake to comment. Eventually Drake regained his composure and did.
“Yes, that’s him.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. That’s the Russians’ style. Brutal, obvious, and completely unconcerned about the law. Unless you think a torture-murder, as the papers are calling it, is unrelated.”