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Albert checked his Chuck Noland Facebook account at six o’clock. Sylvia had not accepted his friend request.
He checked again an hour later. Still nothing.
Maybe she didn’t recognize the name and dismissed the request because he had no friends. So he went to her profile to see if her list of friends was visible, or whether she had tightened her privacy settings to keep the list hidden. Nope. He could see her friends. So he sent friend requests to a dozen people on the list. Then he surfed Facebook and sent friend requests to a dozen random strangers.
At eight o’clock, two of Sylvia’s friends and four of the random strangers had accepted his request. But she had not.
What were the odds she would even be checking Facebook at a time like this, just hours after granting an interview about her long-lost lover, who’d gone on the run to avoid getting murdered by her jealous husband? After all, Sylvia thought there was a chance Albert was dead all this time. But now she knew better, so her mind would be racing. She’d be talking to her closest friends on the phone. She’d be pacing the hallways of her home, wondering where Albert was at this very moment, and what he was doing, and where he had been all these years. Wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t be checking Facebook, and considering accepting a friend request from a person presenting himself as Chuck Noland.
But then, at nine o’clock, Albert checked Facebook again.
Still nothing.
“I just want to see your gun, is all,” Red said.
“You think I’m a liar?” Garrett asked, standing up.
“Never said that.”
“Then what’s your fixation on the gun in my backpack?”
“Well,” Red said, “it’s not so much the gun as it is the fact you said you found it near San Antonio, and supposedly, you’d never been down that way.”
“I got confused.”
“Weird thing to be confused about,” Red said. “Just like not knowing what brand the gun is.”
“I’m not a detail person. Besides, what would it matter if I’d been down near San Antonio? I don’t understand why you’re so focused on that.”
“So you have been down there?” Red asked.
“No!” Garrett said, plainly getting worked up now. “I told you that already. But it’s like you have some weird point to make, except I don’t understand what the point is.”
“Everybody settle down,” Billy Don said.
“A lot of stuff you’ve told us doesn’t seem to match up,” Red said.
Garrett moved forward a step. “So you do think I’m a liar. Just go ahead and say it.”
“I don’t know if you’re a liar or not,” Red said. “But if you make me get up out of this chair, we’re gonna have a problem.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You getting your chest all puffed out like that,” Red said. “This is my house. You need to remember that.”
“So I’m supposed to let you call me a liar?”
“But I never did.”
“You sure as hell implied it,” Garrett said.
“Don’t be such a snowflake,” Red said.
“That’s what assholes say so they can pretend they’re not really assholes,” Garrett said.
“If you’re calling me an asshole, you’re about to cross a line.”
“I don’t know if you’re an asshole or not,” Garrett said, parroting Red’s words back at him.
“Who needs a beer?” Billy Don said.
“You know what?” Garrett said. “I’m gonna take off now, so you don’t have to worry about whether I’m a liar or not.” He looked at Billy Don and gave him a wave. “You’re a good man. Don’t let him rub off on you.”
“You don’t have to go,” Billy Don said. “He’s just bein’ on’ry. Ignore it like I do.”
“No, I’m going. Time for me to move on.”
He turned and went inside.
“That was some damn good advice,” Billy Don said. “You know, about not letting you rub off on me.”
“Don’t you start,” Red said. “I was about to have to kick his ass. Calling me an asshole on my own back porch?”
“You was pushing him pretty hard. And calling him a liar.”
“That’s ’cause his story don’t hold together. Too many contradictancies. On the other hand...”
“What?”
Red kept his voice low.
“I gotta be honest, I have no idea whether he killed that guy outside the zoo. He’s not acting guilty in that kind of way. But he ain’t innocent, neither, though. What I’m thinking is that he prob’ly stole that gun from somewhere, which is why he never mentioned it, and why he don’t want to bring it out. That’s why he’s been acting kinda weird all along. And it explains why he didn’t want to admit he’d been down that way.”
Red was proud of himself for figuring all this out.
“I disagree,” Billy Don said.
“You disagree with what? You don’t think he stole the gun?”
“No, I think he did kill that guy.”
That was the last thing Red expected to hear.
“You jerking me around?” he asked.
“Nope.”
Red heard the front door of the trailer slam shut. Garrett would have to walk for several miles to hitch a ride, which would be even more difficult at night, but Red didn’t care. Screw him.
“I was telling you that all along, but you didn’t believe me,” Red said.
“Sure didn’t.”
“And now that I’ve changed my mind, you’re changing yours?” Red said.
“Yep.”
“You’re driving me nuts!”
“You was already nuts.”
“Why do you suddenly think he did it?”
“It just seems like he—”
Boom! Boom!
Both men jumped as two quick shots sounded from the other side of the trailer.
“What did that idiot just do?” Red said, standing and cradling the rifle in his arms. It didn’t seem like much of a gun at the moment.
“Hell if I know,” Billy Don said. “But that shit’s way out of line.”
Red opened the back door and turned the porch light off. It was good and dark now.
“Don’t shoot him,” Billy Don said. “Unless you have to.”
“Long as he don’t shoot at me first,” Red said. “But I’m damn sure gonna scare the shit out of him.”
Red descended the porch steps and began to move along the rear of the trailer. He knew every inch of this ground and could move quickly and quietly, even without light.
“Better haul ass, Garrett!” Billy Don yelled, laughing. “Hooooeeeeeee! Red’s coming!”
Red was at the rear corner of the trailer, and now he fired a single shot into the ground several feet away.
“Yeeeeehaaaaaw!” Billy Don hollered.
The .22 wasn’t as loud and deep as Garrett’s .380, but the sound carried a good ways. It would be plenty to scare a kid like Garrett.
Red moved to the front corner of the trailer, and he fired another shot into the ground. Then he stood still and listened—and he heard clumsy footsteps as Garrett hustled down the caliche driveway toward the county road.
“Get ready, Garrett!” Red yelled.
As tempting as it was to fire several shots in Garrett’s general direction, Red knew that would place him on shaky ground, legally speaking, if he happened to hit him, and the liberals would love to throw him into jail for it. Plus, there were too many damn cedar trees in the way, so a bullet would stand very little chance of making it through. Instead, he fired several more rounds into the ground in quick succession, and it made him giggle to imagine Garrett flinching and ducking with each shot. He was pretty sure he heard Garrett stumble and then get back on his feet.
Red waited a few seconds, then rounded the corner and walked in front of the trailer, where the area was illuminated by the front porch light, but he wasn’t concerned about being seen at this point. With the downhill slope of the driveway, even if Garrett did fire again, the angle would prevent it from hitting Red.
“Billy Don, go get the shotgun!” Red yelled.
“Already got it!” Billy Don called back.
Red fired two more rounds into the ground, just for emphasis.
By now, Garrett would have reached the county road.
“I’m calling the sheriff!” Red yelled, although Garrett might see through that lie, given what Red and Billy Don had said about law enforcement over the course of the past 36 hours.
Red could hear movement in the trailer, and then Billy Don came out through the front door with two fresh Keystone tallboys in his hand, one of which he placed on the railing for Red.
“Well, that was a little extra excitement on a Thursday night,” Billy Don said, laughing again. “Guess maybe our boy Garrett has a temper.” Then he added, “Oh, shit. Look what he done.”
Red looked at him, and Billy Don pointed at Red’s truck.
Even at this distance, there was enough light to see the two bullet holes in the windshield.
“That little son of a bitch,” Red said.
“Dang,” Billy Don said. “That was uncool.”
“Let’s go after him.”
“I don’t really think we need to—”
“Grab the shotgun!” Red barked. “For real, this time!”
“I don’t understand what we’re doing,” Caitlin said. “How long are we going to stay here?”
“I don’t know. I need to think.”
They were in a bedroom at the rear of the house. Trevor was on the bed, but Caitlin was sitting on the floor by the dresser, with her back against the wall. They were watching TV, but the choices were slim, because the house didn’t have satellite or cable. He hadn’t seen a single news report yet about him and Caitlin. He wished he could use his phone to check online, but that was out of the question, obviously.
Trevor had hung a thick blanket over the window so light would not leak out. Maybe that was overkill, but didn’t the cops use drones nowadays for searches? Seems like they would, because it would be fast and efficient. Wouldn’t take a drone more than a few seconds to dip down, fly around a house, and look for signs of activity. If they saw light in the window of a supposedly empty house...
“We should leave while we can,” Caitlin said. “The longer we stay here, the more likely they’ll find us.”
Was she coming around? Or was she trying to get him caught? He wasn’t sure.
“Why do you think that?” he asked.
“They’ll know we’re hiding somewhere,” she said. “So they’ll be checking all the houses.”
“They can’t check them all.”
“Do you know what’s involved in a manhunt, especially when you’ve abducted someone? They’ll be bringing in cops from everywhere.”
Abducted. What a terrible word.
“That’s not what happened,” he said.
“What?”
“I didn’t abduct you.”
“Seriously?” she said. “You came into work with a gun.”
“It wasn’t like I pointed it at you or threatened you.”
She shook her head, as if he just didn’t get it.
“You just want to leave now so they’ll find us,” he said.
“If you’re saying I’d rather be at home than here, you’re right. But I also don’t want you to get hurt. If they have to come into this house and get you, it won’t end well.”
He wanted to believe her. He really did. But she was lying. Trying to get him caught, even if he did get hurt. Right? There was a way to find out.
“Every cop in a hundred miles is looking for a blue Ranger by now,” he said.
“But that’s such a common truck,” she said. “And they can’t just stop you for no reason.”
“We could just take the Impala instead,” he said.
“What?” she said.
“They won’t be looking for an Impala,” he said.
The look on her face told him everything he needed to know.