By the looks of things, Peanut figured there wouldn’t be much left of anybody that had been in the structures. Buck might have caused the fire and run off, knowing he’d catch almighty hell for it. Might have done it because he was pissed off. Peanut regretted he hadn’t let Buck have his fun with the Dockery woman, because at least this wouldn’t have happened.
He decided it would be best not to tell anybody about Dixie and Buck being here right off. Except for the insurance policies he had on them, he couldn’t see why anybody needed to know anything right off. He’d discuss how to get the policies claimed with Mr. Laughlin before he decided. Nobody he could think of would miss Buck enough to ask after him. The people from Dixie’s church would wonder about her, but he could say she moved to California or some happy crap. Wasn’t one in the whole congregation could out-think a rock.
Peanut saw the steel door frame was still in place, though the metal skin had been blown off. The padlock was still there. When his heel sank into something, he looked down and realized it was a blackened hand and forearm.
Peanut squatted down and lifted it up by the thumb to get a better look. Buck’s Jolly Roger tattoo that he’d gotten put on his forearm before going into the Marine Corps was easy to make out. Born 2 Kill, read the words in the banner under it. On Buck’s other arm he’d had a funny cartoon of a bulldog dry-humping a skull that read, Devil Dog Sex.
Peanut held the limb up to let the twins get a good look at it.
“Holy crap!” Burt said.
“Daw-gone,” Curt muttered.
“Boys. It’d be best if you didn’t mention this to your mother. No point upsetting her.”
In the same manner a man would throw a piece of wood, Peanut slung the last of Buck off into the hottest part of the fire. For a few seconds he watched the fire and contemplated his two dead children. More than most, his kids knew how dangerous life was. It was a shame to die violent deaths, but he reckoned that it was all spoiled milk under a bridge. And the Dockerys were supposed to be killed anyhow, and it didn’t pay to worry about things that didn’t matter.
“Boys, y’all can remember that your brother and sister did their duty to the family. Want y’all to go on back up to the gate and tell anybody that thinks about coming in, that this is private property. Any those volunteer fire idiots show up, tell them our trailer and barn burned up and there ain’t crap to do about it but let the fire finish up. The woods are too wet to burn, and we Smoots handle our own troubles out here. Tell ’em if they try and come in, you’ll blow their damned heads off. Tell ’em if they don’t like it, to go screw a mule.”
“Walk all the way back there?” Burt said.
“You could have just left us there,” Curt added.
Peanut just glared.
As the twins turned away to go back to the gate, Peanut opened his cell phone and made a call to Max Randall. Max would want to know about this development. He’d wait until later to tell Mr. Laughlin, because the lawyer had taken his firm’s jet to Miami and wouldn’t get back until just before court on Monday.
“It’s a damn shame about the dogs,” Curt said as he took his shotgun out of the bed of the Dodge.
61
Clayton Able had his phone to his ear. Major Antonia Keen was pacing the floor in her suite, a phone to her ear as well.
“Yeah?” Clayton said. “You’re sure? Hold on.” He snapped his fingers. Holding the phone away from his mouth so he could read the screen, he saw who was trying to break in and said, “Keep me posted.” He brought the other caller up.
“Okay, shoot,” he said.
Antonia said, “I’ll get back to you when I know. You just be ready to scramble at a moment’s notice to where I need your team.” She closed her phone and turned to face Clayton.
Clayton listened to the second caller without interrupting. “Damn it,” he said. “Damnity, damn, damn it. Anything else Massey-related pops up on the radar, call me.”
“The team’s on standby,” Antonia told Clayton when he shut the cell phone. “What’s the deal on Massey?”
“A couple of things. His truck, with about a hundred bullet holes in it, has been found wrecked in a field about a half a mile from the building where he picked Click up. Cops reported an unidentified male belted inside his truck wearing a bathrobe. We can safely assume that was Mr. Ferny Ernest Smoot.”
“And Massey, too, right?”
“There were two additional unidentified corpses dressed in BDUs found just off the road, both head shots. There was no second vehicle.”
“Where’s Massey?”
“I presume he’s driving around somewhere in a Tahoe with a frightening amount of ordnance inside it.”
Antonia sat heavily on the bed and put her face in her open hands.
“I don’t have to tell you that Massey was your sister’s bright idea.”
“He nailed two of Randall’s team,” Antonia answered. “And stole their vehicle.”
“Three, if you count the one he ran over. He’s done this exact same thing before. Taken out professionals.”
“I thought his rep was exaggerated, he was overrated. . Maybe he’ll call Alexa.”
“I think we can safely assume Massey has three very good reasons not to contact your sister. Like maybe he’s suspicious because every time he starts off in a direction that looks promising, when he tells Alexa what he’s going to do, people try to kill him.”
Antonia nodded. “Been badly played.”
“I don’t think he fell asleep in the truck,” Clayton continued. “I expect he went to Laughlin’s, spotted the trap, and aborted. He told your sister he was coming back here after going by to check on Click, because he figured there was probably a bug in his truck and we’d know if he went somewhere other than where he told Alexa he was going.”
“Maybe he thinks somebody else bugged him and he’s not telling Alexa because he thinks their conversations are being picked up. He might come here,” Antonia Keen said, hopefully.
“That’s a long shot, but offers us a decent defense if he does show up with friends from high places. The more important question is, did Click tell him where the Dockerys are?”
Antonia shook her head. “Click didn’t know, remember? Randall said the only people in the Smoot crew who knew the location were on-site except for him and Peanut. Maybe Massey suspects Laughlin knows-we need to keep someone there in case Massey goes back. It’s the only avenue left to him and he doesn’t know Laughlin is out of town.”
The phone rang and Clayton pressed a button and put it to his ear. “Talk to me.”
Clayton listened and sat down on the bed, putting his other hand on his cheek and shaking his head. “Keep me posted.” He clicked the phone shut. “That was Randall. Peanut called him. Seems a few minutes ago the structure out in the country where the Dockerys were being held went up in flames.”
“A fire?”
“Peanut described it as an explosion that could be seen for miles. Seems the fire is still burning.”
“Massey,” Antonio murmured. “That goddamn Massey.”
“Major, Massey hasn’t had time to get there. The Smoot place is out in the middle of nowhere seventy miles into South Carolina.” He pointed to a box he’d drawn on a map and, after looking for a few seconds, marked the place where Winter had killed the team members.
“What about the Dockerys?”
“They were inside the structure, along with two of the Smoots.”
“He’s sure?”
“Smoot said a padlock was in place when the explosion happened. He’s sure nobody got out.”
“What exploded?”
“The place was also used to store combustibles,” Clayton said, lifting his pipe and sucking on it.
“Combustibles?”
“Gasoline. Blasting powder.”
“Call Randall,” Antonia said sharply. “Tell him to get out there now. We have to make sure Massey doesn’t get access to the place, or if he does, that he stays there permanently. I’ll get my team on the perimeter and we’ll shut down the area. National security alert or something intimidating. Nothing goes in or comes out. We sanitize everything to keep Fondren from getting wind of anything.”