Rodriguez didn’t make it back to the slimy motel where he was staying until almost four in the morning. There was no chance in hell he was going to sleep. He’d spent the last three hours riding in circles with Rudolph because Rudy was too paranoid to go through town. He swore he knew some back way out of Big Cove that topped out on the Blue Ridge Parkway, but if he did he never found the right road and they wound up driving out the same way they’d come in.
When that second explosion went off, the flames scorched a girl named Sheila. Rod knew that was her name because Jonah kept squawking, “Sheila’s on fire! Shitpot Sheila’s on fire!” at the top of his lungs like a parrot. From the looks of it she had second- and third-degree burns from the waist up. The worst of it was on her forearms and hands from how she’d shielded her face. She’d rolled around on the ground, kicking and flailing for a few seconds when it first happened. Someone ran out of one of the trailers and started whapping her with a doormat, but by the time they beat down the flames she’d blacked out from pain.
The garden hose coiled up by Jonah’s trailer wasn’t fit to rinse out a beer cooler. Besides that, the ground was too dry. By the time the fire reached the field grass, a wind coming off the mountain was pushing the flames toward the tree line. About that time, two boys carrying assault rifles came trotting up the driveway. Rod was just about to pull a pistol from an ankle holster when Rudolph grabbed him by the back of the shirt and led him to the car. The explosion would bring fire trucks and the fire trucks would bring patrol cars and Rudolph didn’t want to be anywhere close to Big Cove when the law started asking questions.
Rod tossed Rudolph the keys to let him drive, which looking back was one of the dumbest things he’d ever done. A week into a crank binge, Rudy was yanking back and forth on that steering wheel like he was driving an arcade machine. As they came around a sharp curve and the rear tires let loose, Rod was absolutely certain he was going to die.
Back at the hotel, he called twice before Holland picked up.
“You better be dead,” Holland said.
“We need to move on the Outlet Mall now.”
“Like right now? Like four-thirty in the goddamn morning now? Like this phone call couldn’t have waited a couple hours now?”
“There was an explosion there tonight and a woman got burned up bad. Fire got away and spread up the mountain. Two boys came running up with ARs and I don’t know what the fuck happened after that.”
“What kind of explosion?”
“Like ‘blew a fucking car sky-high’ kind of explosion.”
“But are we talking about explosives or a meth lab?”
“It didn’t smell like a lab.”
“Then what did it smell like, Rod? You’re a goddamn trained K9 all of a sudden . . .”
For the next five minutes Holland chewed Rodriguez up one side and down the other. After the first thirty seconds or so Rod just set the phone down in his lap. He was months undercover, rode hard and hung up wet. In all that time he hadn’t gotten so much as an attaboy. For whatever reason, the people who rose up the ranks always seemed to forget where they came from. It was like Holland hadn’t ever worked a street-level case in his life. Rodriguez was sick of it.
The mumbling from the receiver died off and he picked up the phone.
“You there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Rod said.
“Then answer me.”
“I didn’t catch that last part.”
“I said was anybody killed?”
“Not that I know of,” Rod said.
“Then work the case, Rodriguez, and let me do my fucking job. I’ll tell you when we move. We’re sitting on what could potentially be one of the biggest interstate cases we’ve had in years and the crux of that case is thanks to the work you’ve done. That said, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you shit all over it because you’re impatient.”
“It’s not a matter of patience, sir. It’s a matter of people getting hurt and us just standing by letting it happen. A week ago you were telling me to make something happen after those kids died in Madison County.”
“We move now and they’ll change channels and people will keep dropping dead with needles in their arms all over those mountains. The top players get away. Now, if you want to go chase low-level dope dealers, that’s fine. There’s a million police departments all over this country that would love to have somebody like you working for them. But that’s not what we do here. We take our time and we build top-tier cases. If you don’t agree with that, then I can find you another assignment. I can get this done with or without you, Rod. But I can’t make that decision for you.”
Rodriguez didn’t know what to say.
“Get some sleep,” Holland said, and the phone line went dead.