The reason for the girl's death.
After Mary had hidden the cash she'd walked back out around the bottom of the foundation, up the incline to the far end of the mill, and in through the open side where Sarah Burke had originally given Mary the little push to go on. The girl had walked between his drunken father and the greedy deputy busting in the front door, the two guys gunning for each other.
The last thing she would've heard was Teddy going, Oh shit. She'd have hugged him closer and maybe closed her eyes an instant before
Crease sat in the darkness, feverish. He wanted to kill somebody, but everyone who mattered was already dead.
It didn't take much to get you believing in fate.
Thinking your life was wrapped around somebody else's that you hardly even knew. For years the thread connecting you wouldn't be noticed, and then one day it started to tug and you got reeled in.
He pulled out the clumps of money and the shredded bills crumbled to pieces in his hands. He took off his jacket and threw the decaying paper in. The stacks were even smaller than he'd imagined they would be. A lot of the cash had been torn up and dragged off for nests. He knotted the sleeves together, threw the bundle over his shoulder, and climbed back up out of the hole into the mill. He went out the front door and got in the 'Stang and stomped the pedal, throwing mud everywhere.
Finding the cash wouldn't allow his old man or Mary to rest any easier. He couldn't even give it to Reb to show her how little it was. Finding the cash just didn't mean a damn thing.
He never should have come back to Hangtree. He should've marched down to the club where Tucco and Cruez were in the back getting lap dances, walked into the place and shot them both in the face. He would've got his medal and gone on from there.
Chapter Sixteen
But at least it was done.
He drove over to the sheriff's office, parked, walked in with the bundle, and saw Edwards at his desk in back. Edwards spotted him coming and started shouting orders to the deputies, who all looked terrified at getting yelled at. You could tell it wasn't that kind of police station. Nobody laid a hand on him.
Crease unknotted his jacket, threw the decaying cash on Edwards' desk, and said, "Here it is."
"Here what is?"
"Mary took it herself. Her own ransom. She was a smart kid. She knew what was going down. She hid it under the mill."
Edwards' expression went from joyful surprise to complete despair in half a second. "This isn't money."
"Yeah, it is."
He looked closer. "No it's not, it's some kind of clothing, isn't it? But-"
"Modern paper cash isn't so much paper as it is cloth. That's what's left of it. After rain and mudslides and rats and birds have been at it. You never searched the mill?"
"We searched all over it, the grounds, everyplace."
"But not under it?"
He sat and picked up some of the wads, trying to piece them together. "I don't remember. Yeah, we must've. Most of it. Some of it."
In other words, no. "You put in a call to the Sinclair Mayridge Home for the Needful?"
"Yeah. Sarah Burke died this morning. She'd swiped somebody else's medication. Turns out she was allergic. She must've been taking the wrong pills for a while. Weeks. That's the only thing that lets you off the hook, in case you were wondering."
Crease nodded. "The right meds wouldn't have helped anyway. It went down the way she wanted it to."
"You talk like nothing matters to you, you know that? That an act, or do you really not care?"
You had to let some things slide. "Make sure you tell Sam Burke. He needs to know about this soon, so he can find himself in the mirror again."
"What?"
"Just tell him."
"Sure. Of course. What's this about a mirror?"
"Forget it." Crease turned to go but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"What happened to Teddy?"
"Who the hell is Teddy?"
"The bear."
"What bear?"
"Mary's doll. The one she was holding when she got capped."
Edwards stared at Crease like he couldn't believe what he saw. "How the hell should I know? What are you talking about now?"
He wasn't sure. Out of everything, it was Teddy that had somehow gotten under his skin.
Sneering, Edwards threw down a handful of the clumped, dusty bills and a cloud rose around his head. "You still think this is all I cared about, don't you."
"It doesn't matter-" Crease said, and he realized Edwards was right. He really did go through the world like nothing mattered to him at all. How much worse off did that put him than the rest of the mooks?
"You think I shot her. That's what you've been back here for. You want me to admit I did it. But I didn't. It was your old man."
"I always thought it was."
"You want me to confess."
"Confess to who?"
He stared at Edwards trying to see the man and not see his father, but it was just too difficult keeping them separated now. This had been his father's office, his father's chair. That wet, round alcoholic face was looking more and more like his old man every minute. He wanted to crack him across the nose again or maybe just shake his hand, get it out of his damn system once and for all. He hated the sheriff with the same deep, relentless, meaningless fury he'd reserved for his father. He felt it swarming up inside him once more. Crease struggled to tamp it back down.
"You finish up with that big son of a bitch yet?"
"You heard him. Tomorrow."
"Good. Don't let me know where. Keep it out of town."
"Why don't you ask Reb to marry you again?"
"What?"
"You've got nothing to lose."
"You of all people is gonna say that to me? She nearly caved your head in for a bird's nest. She's crazy!"
Crease shrugged. "Maybe you two can work it out. You make a good couple. Really."
"You're crazy too," the sheriff said, his breath thick with wine. No longer golden or handsome, his hand trembling with the need for more drink. The women in his house were ready for him, his puzzle dog was waiting. "Now go on and get yourself shot. Do it close to a gutter so no one has to clean up after you."
~* ~
Crease thought it was a pretty good line. Close to the gutter. He didn't think Edwards had it in him, but anybody could fire off a lucky one. He found another motel and spent the night practicing with the knife, working out some kinks, getting his head as clear as he could. He settled into a deep, mostly dreamless sleep punctuated by Teddy giving him advice on the drug trade, telling him who he should wipe out next to widen his hold. You had to wonder when the bear was becoming your new best friend.
In the morning he called Morena's cell. "Where are you?"
"Driving around, looking at boys' schools."
"What road?"
"Who knows? I think we're lost. We've been searching for the llamas. That was some goddamn comment you made. You started him on this whole thing to find llamas. He's obsessed with it. Every morning, seven a.m., we leave the motel and go looking for the llamas all day. He's bought seven of those big bulky sweaters." Her voice shifted, grew very tight and hard. "He killed an old woman."
"What?"
"Because you told him not to. I think she was a teacher at one of the military academies. Maybe a nurse or just somebody's mother, I don't know. She was walking across the parking lot and Cruez pulled up slow. Tucco asked for directions to the llama farm. I thought he was serious. Then he pulled his knife and stuck it in her head, jabbed it through her temple. I didn't have any time to warn her."
A shard of ice worked against Crease's neck before turning to fire. The voice became even more ancient, like another ten thousand years had been piled into it. "Are you okay?"