“Which we can’t do unless you tell me where she is.”
Sheila looked anxiously back and forth between the two of them.
“It might be best if you gave her some space for a while,” Rose said.
“And she went with Tim, right? Is that part of the reason you don’t want to tell me?”
Rose didn’t answer. Sheila took advantage of the pause and said, “Are you sure you want to barrel into the middle of that?”
Rob sighed. “What if I told you there was a chance Tim could be behind the attacks on the bank.”
Sheila’s lips formed a small O.
“I don’t have proof or anything,” he said, “but I’ve heard some curious things about him over the last couple of days.”
Rose just looked at him with a steady, noncommittal gaze. The silence dragged on for several seconds.
“This was a bad idea,” Rob said, starting to get up. “If you’re talking to Lesley, you can tell her—”
“They went to Worcester,” Rose said. “Something about Tim’s uncle Martin having a hunting cabin.”
Rob dropped back onto the couch. “Lesley went to a hunting cabin?”
“Apparently,” Rose said.
“I’ve never known her to stay anywhere with less than three stars on the sign out front.”
“I guess she liked the idea of going someplace no one could find her.”
“Okay,” Rob said slowly. “I know where the cabin is. I’ve been there a few times.”
Rose nodded curtly and busied herself with lighting another cigarette.
“Thank you,” Rob said, standing up fully now.
Rose put down the lighter. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”
“Did you ever get a chance to call Stan?” Sheila said.
Rob shook his head. “I’ve been on the go all day.”
“He really wants to talk to you. Why don’t you call him before you leave. He’s still at the bank.”
“I should get going.”
Sheila gave him the look that only mothers and aunts know how to use to make young people feel guilty.
“You said you would call him,” she said.
Rob sighed. “Okay.”
Dysart picked up on the first ring.
“Hi Stan, it’s me.”
“Rob! I’ve been trying to track you down all day.”
“Yeah, Sheila said.”
“Where are you?”
“At your place.”
“Really?”
The surprise was evident in Dysart’s voice.
“Sorry I had to run off last night,” Rob said.
“No problem. Look, I’m on my way home soon. Can you wait there for me?”
Dysart’s friendly tone struck Rob as odd. It hadn’t been that long since Dysart was furious with him.
“I’m just on my way out, actually,” Rob said.
“Oh yeah? Where’re you headed?”
“I need to track down Tim Whitlock and … well, ask him a few questions.” There was no sense getting into details.
“So you’re, uh … meeting him somewhere?”
“What’s with the twenty questions, Stan?”
“Hey, it’s no big deal. You said some guy was trying to track you down. That just got me curious, you know? Maybe a little overprotective.”
“Well you don’t have to worry. Tim is at his uncle’s hunting cabin, out in the woods a few miles the other side of Worcester. I should be safe enough out there.”
“Sounds like it,” Dysart said. “This cabin must be … quite a ways out of town, is it?”
“I guess. Listen, how are things at the bank? Have the guys managed to fix all the account records yet?”
Dysart hesitated so long that Rob wasn’t sure he was going to answer. Finally Dysart said, “That’s probably not the most appropriate thing for us to be talking about.”
Rob sighed. “I’ve got to go, Stan.”
“Get moving,” Landry said as he jumped into Gourley’s car. “West, out to Newton.”
Gourley pulled a U-turn and raced to the stop sign at the end of the block. He barely slowed down as he checked for cars in both directions and then blew through the intersection.
“What’s going on?” Gourley said.
Landry’s eyes were glued to the tracking device.
“While you were taking your sweet old time getting over here,” he said, “Donovan’s car has been sitting still. He’s started moving again, though, away from us, to the west. If he gets much further away I won’t be able to track him with this thing.”
Landry took some slow, deep breaths as Gourley was forced to stop for a light. The tiny screen showed Rob was also making stop and go progress. There was still a mile or so to spare in terms of range. Landry began to think they might actually catch him. Then the distance on the screen started increasing more rapidly.
“He’s really moving,” Landry said. “Must be on the Mass Turnpike.”
Before long No Signal appeared on the screen.
“Shit,” Landry said. “We lost him.”
“Relax,” Gourley said. “We’ll cut over to the ’Pike and reel him in.”
“No we won’t. He’ll make it to I-95 before we’re anywhere near him. From there he could go in any direction and we wouldn’t know which way to go to try to pick up his signal.”
“So he’s gone?”
“Not quite,” Landry said. “Let’s head for the spot where he stopped for a while. Someone there might know where he’s headed.”
Gourley followed Landry’s directions as they used the device to close in on the proper coordinates.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Landry said as they drew near and he recognized where they were headed. “Hand me your phone, will you?”
Landry dialed Dysart’s cell.
“Hello?” Dysart said.
“It’s me.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”
“My phone’s busted.”
“I was talking to our young friend a few minutes ago,” Dysart said. “He’s headed for some cabin in the woods outside Worcester.”
“You know where this cabin is exactly?”
“I tried to get it out of him, but he wouldn’t say.”
“No matter,” Landry said. “I’ve got a bug on his car. I should be able to find him.”
“He won’t be alone, though. He’s going to see a friend, the one I told you about, Tim.”
“Won’t be a problem for me, as long as it’s not for you.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning it tends to be unpleasant for whoever I end up talking to.”
“As long as you come up with that keyword, I don’t care who you have to go through to get it.”
“This could actually work out better,” Landry said. “Our young man turned out to be surprisingly tough. Sometimes people like that give up their precious secrets far more easily when they have to watch someone else take the beating.”
“This is more than I need to know.”
Landry snickered. “Whatever you say.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Leafy branches made scraping sounds on the sides of the Camaro as it jounced along the dirt track that led through the woods and eventually, or so Tim claimed, to the cabin. Tim grimaced every time the undercarriage of the car bottomed out on a rocky hump. Lesley came to the inescapable conclusion that the engineers who designed the Camaro had not been trying to create an off-road vehicle.
“Are we close?” she said. “My tummy says it’s definitely dinnertime.”
“Almost there,” Tim said.
Before long they turned into a small field surrounded on all sides by trees. The cabin sat near the middle of the field. Knee-length grass dominated the open areas of the field, except where sandy gravel had been spread to form a rough driveway and parking area directly in front of the cabin. The structure itself did not look to be expensively built. A number of gray cinder blocks served as the foundation. Still, the paint was fresh and the whole place gave the impression of being well looked after.