Stokes Creek was a long and narrow inlet off the Ouachita River, running along the southern edge of the airfield I’d first flown in at. I could see houses spaced all around the U-shaped shoreline as I drove towards it, the opposite banks of the waterway no more than three hundred yards apart. I stopped at the general store at the eastern tip of the creek and asked for directions to Tucker’s brother’s place – a half-mile down the road it turned out.
The house was a sprawling wooden structure near the water’s edge, with flaking green shutters and a shady porch that ran the length of the bottom storey on the landward side of the property. There were four rocking chairs spaced along it, Clay Tucker sitting in one wearing a yellowing white shirt, and a man who looked like him sitting in another. I’d driven out there to grill Tucker’s brother on Clay’s whereabouts, assuming there was no chance he’d be hiding out from Coughlin somewhere so obvious, and yet there he was, bold as a Halloween lantern. It was another wrinkle that didn’t make sense.
I stopped the car out front, and as I did, I saw two pickup trucks parked on the far side of the house. The closer of the two looked like the one I’d chased outside the Mountain Motor Court that night.
Tucker saw me as soon I opened the car door. He jumped out of his chair, sending it rocking wildly. He bolted along the porch and disappeared around the side of the house. I ran after him. The second man darted towards me and tried to block me off, but I had the momentum and barged him out of the way, sprinting full pelt after Tucker.
I rounded the house and saw him in a small boat, ripping the starter cord on the outboard motor. I splashed into the shallows, water kicking up all around me, and shoved him over the side, nearly toppling myself as I did. He clawed his way up to all fours in the brown water, spluttering and panting.
‘Why’d you run, Tucker?’
The second man jogged down the bank but stopped short of the water. ‘Clay?’
Tucker turned his head, water dripping from his hair. ‘Go on inside. Get the shotgun.’
I shouted over to the brother, still pointing at Tucker. ‘You bring a gun out here and I’ll break it over your head. Stay there.’
The brother looked at me and must have seen a madman – knee-deep in the muddy water, suit trousers soaked through, balling my fist. There was doubt on his face and he didn’t move.
I waded around the boat so I was standing over Tucker. ‘The fire was no accident, was it?’
He pushed himself up so he was on his knees. His face was white as a sheet. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You’re in hock to Teddy Coughlin. Start there.’
He got to his feet and called out to his brother. ‘Leland, will you go inside and get the goddamn gun?’
‘DON’T MOVE.’ I turned back to Tucker. ‘Who started the fire, them or you?’
He started to make for the bank, but I stood in his way.
‘You don’t know the first damn thing, do you?’ he said.
‘So tell me.’
‘And wind up like your friend? No way.’
I stepped closer to him. ‘What does that mean?’
He was shaking and it spilled into a scared laugh. ‘It means talking to you’ll get me killed.’
‘Why? By who?’
He stumbled around me and out of the water and flopped down onto the mud. He hung his head. ‘Why’s this have to land on my doorstep? I ain’t never wanted nothing to do with this.’
‘Answer the question, goddamn you.’
‘I don’t know, already.’ He held his arms out. ‘Ain’t like no one sat me down and explained anything to me. The man calls me and says, “Get outta your bar or you’re gonna burn,” so I did. Next thing I know, I got two goons bouncing my head off the wall and telling me to keep my mouth shut. I tried to tell them, I can’t say nothing ’cause I don’t know nothing—’
My brain fritzed. He was warned in advance. He could have stopped it. ‘Who? Who called you?’
He shook his head. ‘Walk away, city boy. Get the hell out of here while you can.’
I jumped on top of him and had my hands at his throat before I knew what I was doing. ‘Why didn’t you warn him?’ I pressed him into the mud. ‘Why didn’t you tell—’
There was a shout behind me. I lifted my head and saw Leland advancing on us with a shotgun aimed from his hip. ‘I said, get off of him.’
I let go of his throat and staggered to my feet. Tucker reached for his neck, gasping.
‘You left Jimmy to burn. You could’ve saved him.’
Leland picked his way down the bank until he was standing close to Tucker.
Tucker screwed his face up. ‘Jimmy’s the one they wanted. I try to warn him and they’d have killed us both. It was him or me. I never wished no harm upon him, but I got kids, I got a wife.’
‘So you saved yourself.’
He looked along the water, squinting.
I eyed Leland and his shotgun, no inkling how close he was to pulling the trigger or not. ‘Who killed him, Clay? Give me that and I’ll take my leave.’
He fixed me with a look now. ‘I swear to you, I ain’t know what’s going on.’
‘Who warned you?’
He shook his head, drops of water shaking loose from his hair.
I knelt down so I was at eyeball level with him. Leland tracked me with the gun barrel. ‘I know you’re afraid. I can help you. Give me the name.’
He scoffed. ‘How you gonna help me? You got an army behind you I don’t see?’
‘Samuel Masters is looking for ways to get at Teddy Coughlin. If you tell him what you know—’
He slapped the mud with the flat of his hand. ‘Fink on Big Teddy? Y’all dumber than you look. Masters is a flash in the pan, Teddy ain’t never going away. Everyone knows it too, and that’s why ain’t no one gonna open the book on him.’
‘Don’t be naïve. There’s always a weak link. Always. Someone’ll be desperate enough to talk, and he’s the only one going to get a pass. This is your chance to—’
‘No one ever crossed Teddy and walked away.’ He pushed a strand of wet hair from his temple. ‘No one.’ He reached up without taking his eyes off me, gripped the shotgun’s barrel and pointed it at his own head. ‘I’ll make Leland pull the damn trigger before I rat Teddy out. It’s the same damn thing.’
I looked away over the water, the fear on his face contagious.
‘Anyway, I done told you I don’t know nothing. I don’t know what Jimmy done to end up like that.’
‘Who called to warn you? I’m not going away until you spill on that.’
‘Are you confused about who’s side Leland’s on?’
I looked at Leland, saw his finger wasn’t touching the trigger. I took a swing in the dark. ‘Leland’s not a killer, he’s not firing that gun. Neither of you are.’ My heartbeat ran triple-time. ‘Tell me.’
‘I can’t, goddammit.’ His eyes welled up. ‘I never wanted this. I never wanted none of this.’
‘You want money?’ I took my wallet out. ‘You owe Coughlin, right? How much?’
‘More than you got.’
I drew my sleeve across my face, taking the sweat from my forehead and leaving creek water in its place. ‘Try this then: I’ll go have a talk with your insurance adjuster; figure he’ll be interested to hear how you knew about the fire and let it happen.’
He was still then.
‘Think I won’t?’ I said.
‘Goddammit, leave me out of this, can’t you? You gonna get us all killed.’
‘You left an innocent man to die. Don’t try me for sympathy.’
He looked at his brother, uncertainty writ across his face. ‘Son of a bitch.’ Then he closed his eyes. ‘Cole Barrett.’
It shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear his name, and still it shocked me. I rose up slowly, feeling water seeping up my trouser legs like a creeping panic. Barrett set the fire – so whatever Robinson had on him was serious enough to kill for. ‘Did Coughlin order it?’
‘That’s what I’m telling you, I ain’t have a clue what was behind it. On our mother’s grave.’ His eyes were wide, pleading. Afraid.
Leland had let the gun sag below his paunch, his fight all but gone. They would have been pitiful in other circumstances.
‘That was you at my motel room window the other night, wasn’t it? Your pickup truck.’
Tucker offered no denial.
‘What were you doing there?’
He let his head loll back, his arms still wrapped around his knees. ‘See what all you was up to. You come around asking all them questions . . . made me nervous as hell.’
I stared at him, deciding what my next move was.
Tucker must have sensed as much. ‘You can’t go to the cops and you can’t go after Barrett,’ he said. ‘Do like I told you and walk away. For all our sakes.’
I tried to marshal my thoughts. I thought about Robinson’s notes sitting back in my room, wondered if the truth about Barrett was in there somewhere. And what he’d do to me if he knew they existed. ‘Never.’