It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.
While the pilot warmed up the helicopter, Rhodes stood by the car and looked at it. Cox had called it a Jet Ranger, but he had assured Rhodes that it wasn’t jet propelled. “Carries four people in comfort,” Cox said. “Comfort’s relative, of course. Anyway, it’s just right for the kind of jobs we do.” Even as far away as they stood, he had to raise his voice almost to a yell for Rhodes to hear him.
Then Malvin tugged at Rhodes’s arm and they went to get on board. They bent from the waist as they passed under the whickering blades. Rhodes wasn’t sure just how tall he was, or just how high the blades were, but he’d seen people on TV duck when they went under them, and he wasn’t going to take any chances.
There was hardly any wind at all, and the lift-off was smooth and effortless. Rhodes had carefully strapped himself in, but the open sides still gave him a distinct feeling of discomfort.
The feeling soon wore off, however, as Rhodes was caught up in the new view he had of Blacklin County. This was nothing like flying in a plane; they seemed so close to the ground that it was almost as if they could jump down.
“Give him the scenic route,” Malvin yelled to the pilot, and that’s what they got.
They went over the courthouse and jail, and Rhodes was even able to pick out his own house.
“You’d be surprised at how some people keep their back yards,” Malvin said in Rhodes’s ear, and it was true.
Protected from everyone’s eyes by wood fences, the back yards of some homes were littered with everything from old, rusting auto bodies to broken toilets. Some of the homes that had immaculate front yards might have a back yard that looked like a dog run, or was filled with piles of trash consisting of everything from bathtubs to oil drums. It all surprised Rhodes a little, but at least it made him feel better about his own back yard.
Then they were out of Eller’s Prairie. As they coasted past Bert Ramsey’s house, Rhodes noted the tops of the trees that formed the line at the back of the property. They gained a little altitude, and he could see where the trees had been cleared out. Then he could see into a clearing, where the marijuana plants were growing.
They circled around three times. After Rhodes had seen enough, they headed back to the National Guard Armory.
“You guys take cruises like that often?” Rhodes asked Malvin after they were back on the ground.
“Often enough,” Malvin said. “You’d be surprised at the stuff we find growing around in clearings just like that one at Ramsey’s place.”
Rhodes would have been surprised once, but not anymore. If dope was growing in Blacklin County, it could be anywhere. He thought about it all the way to the hospital.
The Clearview Hospital was small and old, but it had been kept up well and served the needs of the county. Most patients requiring any kind of specialized care or treatment went to Dallas or Houston, and the residents of Blacklin County felt lucky to have any kind of hospital at all. It wasn’t as hard now for Clearview to attract young doctors as it had been a few years earlier, so the hospital was more than adequately staffed.
It was not especially designed for security, but anyone entering one of its three wings had to pass by the front desk, unless he took the emergency room entrance or the service entrance. He would be noticed immediately in any case, and if he looked suspicious he would be in trouble. Rhodes figured that Rapper would look suspicious even if he tried a disguise.
Jayse and the other man were in adjoining rooms at the end of a hall. Ruth Grady sat on a chair between the two closed doors. She stood up when she saw Rhodes and the federal men coming. Rhodes made the introductions, all the time thinking about the smell. Hospitals all smelled the same, no matter whether they were small or large, and it was a smell that Rhodes always associated with unpleasant memories. He had done so even before the death of his wife, but now the smell would always remind him of death. He wondered how many people felt that way, and thought that it was no real surprise that so many people feared hospitals.
Ruth stayed in the hall while Rhodes and the federal men went into the room. Jayse lay in the bed, his leg in a cast. The county hadn’t sprung for a TV set, so he was looking vacantly at the ceiling. The room contained an uncomfortable-looking chrome chair with a vinyl-covered seat and back, a nightstand, and the inevitable shelf-on-wheels device that served as a table. The walls were a pale institutional green. Rhodes was glad he didn’t have to stay there, and he wondered if Jayse might not prefer the jail.
“Well, Jayse,” Rhodes said, “it looks like you’re in for some trouble.” He introduced Malvin and Cox. “These fellas can get you put away for a long time. Me, I’m just a small-town sheriff who can probably get you for murder. These guys are going to get you for the murder of a federal agent.”
“I didn’t kill nobody,” Jayse said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What federal agent?” Jayse was a bad liar. His voice quavered, and he refused to look at anyone in the room, keeping his eyes on the pale green ceiling.
“Look,” Malvin said, “we know it looks bad for you, you being found with the axe handle. It’s really too bad, but we know from the autopsy that Cullens was killed with blows from a blunt instrument. Some of the bruises match that axe handle exactly. But maybe you didn’t do it. Maybe you just picked up the handle. Maybe someone else did the dirty work.” Malvin was a much better liar that Jayse. They hadn’t even checked the autopsy report. But Malvin’s voice never wavered from the calm, matter-of-fact tone in which he began talking.
It was quite cool in the room. In fact, it was too cool.
Rhodes had never been in a hospital room that was warm, as far as he could remember. Still, Jayse was sweating. He wiped his upper lip. “I didn’t kill nobody,” he said. “You’re right about the handle. I just picked it up. We thought the sheriff here was the killer comin’ back, so I hid to get him.”
“Now that just won’t do, Jayse,” Rhodes said. “I called out before I came in. I even said Rapper’s name.”
Jayse shook his head. “Don’t matter. You didn’t say you were the law, did you?”
Rhodes wasn’t sure, but he didn’t recall identifying himself. “I don’t remember,” he said.
“Well, you didn’t,” Jayse said. “So we couldn’t be sure who you were. You might’ve been the killer, come back for us.”
“But you had the axe handle, Jayse,” Rhodes said. “What could I have killed you with?”
“How do I know? Maybe you had a rocket launcher.” Jayse was getting cocky now. Rhodes had seen it happen before. A man would try his story out, afraid of being caught in the lie. But when it couldn’t be contradicted, he’d relax and stick to it until hell froze over. Jayse was that way.
Malvin and Cox tried. Rhodes helped all he could. But Jayse just stuck to his story. Rhodes wondered if it would work with a jury. It might. It just might.
The other man, whose name turned out to be Ted Barrett, was sullen and withdrawn. He was, if anything, less helpful than Jayse, because he simply refused to talk at all. He answered only with grunts and head shakes-very small shakes, since he was still suffering from a concussion.
Back in the hall, Cox shook his head, too, more vehemently than Barrett had. “Damn! Those two are bound to know something. There’ve got to be better ways to get it out of them.”
“They’ll be a lot less comfortable when they get to the jail,” Malvin said. “How long will that be, Sheriff?”
“Whenever the doctor releases them,” Rhodes said. “That might be a while, though.” He turned to Ruth Grady. “Could you drop a word with that informant of yours?”
“I imagine so,” she said. “When?”
“The sooner the better,” Rhodes said. “Just mention that you’ve been guarding Jayse and Ted, and say that they’ve talked. You don’t have to be too specific. Just let the word get out that we’re satisfied with what we’ve heard. Stress the federal involvement.”