KYLE WAS STAGGERING to his feet when I last saw him in the rearview. I had a last-minute thought that I should go back and rid the world of him, like I would a rattlesnake in a kid’s playground, but the Silverado blocked my view, the moment passed, and he was gone.
Lucy leaned back and closed her eyes. “You are my all-time hero,” she said softly.
“All-time, huh?”
“Now, yeah. When I was in high school it was Justin Timberlake—not sure why, but you’re in the lead now.”
“Cool beans.”
Lucy turned slightly in her seat. “She’s sort of in love with you, you know.”
“Timberlake? He’s a she? Since when?”
“Harper, silly.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like the kind of trap I could escape only by gnawing off my foot.
“Just saying,” Lucy said, throwing me a life preserver. “It’s not a surprise. I was smitten with you the moment I first saw you, so I get it.”
“Smitten, huh?”
She smiled. “I’m still quite fond of you. You’re sort of a likeable guy. I just wish you weren’t into piercing yourself. I’ve never found that attractive. Also, I’ve never heard of anyone using an ice pick before. That’s pretty extreme.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Please do.” She was quiet for a moment, then, “You didn’t kill him back there. Kyle.”
“I’ve had enough of that, Luce.”
“You’re referring to that woman, what’s-her-name? In Paris.”
“Julia. She filled my quota for this lifetime.”
Lucy bit her upper lip. “What happened with Jake? He makes me nervous. You said he’s not dead.”
“You really want to know?”
She let out a heavy breath. “Yes and no. But he is still alive, isn’t he?”
“Technically. He’s breathing, but that’s about all.”
She thought about that, then left it alone. “What about Kyle’s arm? How’d you do that?”
I reminded her of the shaped charge I’d found and left at the side of the road. Then I told her about the drive last night to Wells and back, the soldering gun and wire I used to reconnect the wires I’d clipped to deactivate the charge, hoping like hell it would still work, sewing it into the toy alligator, telling Kyle that Jake bought the gator for a girl named Katie, their niece in Sioux City, tossing it to Kyle, blowing off his left hand and part of his arm.
When I was finished, she was quiet for a moment. “He got what he deserved,” she said at last. “It would’ve been better if he’d caught it in his teeth, then I wouldn’t still be worried. I think you should’ve killed him.”
“He’s not going to be a problem, Luce.”
“Even so.”
The trail down was a washboard of ruts and rocks that wanted to flatten tires, break axles. Deep grooves in the track caused the Sequoia to bottom out in places. We took it slow. I kept an eye on Harper in the Silverado. I imagined Kyle hiking downhill behind us, dehydrated and weak from blood loss, hurting. Strong guy, but I gave him no better than a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the trip. He was truly in God’s hands. I hoped God wanted him.
Two and a half hours of careful driving got us down to the Silver Peak road. I was beat. Once we were on paved road, I could barely keep my eyes open. Adrenaline only lasts so long and the trip last night to Wells and back had finally caught up to me. Kyle had taken the girls up to the cabin after he called me when I was in Goldfield. Lucy and Harper had slept much of the night in the back room of the cabin. She wasn’t tired, so she and I traded places.
She drove the seventy-some miles back to Goldfield where Kyle had left her Mustang and Harper’s Corolla. We arrived at the inn at 5:15 that afternoon. Their cars were still there. I told Harper to park the Silverado well off to one side. We unloaded it, put everything in the back of the Sequoia. I decided to keep the tomahawk, maybe mount it on a wall in my den as a souvenir, like the bear trap Dustin Hoffman had on the wall in Straw Dogs.
The Silverado was a rental. Papers in the glove box showed it was rented by George Crowley using the fake ID I’d seen in Kyle’s wallet. I’d left his wallet in the cabin. If he didn’t make it out of the hills, his body—or skeleton—would be easier to identify if he had the wallet with him. It might save a county sheriff’s department a day or two of grunt work, trying to run it down, but they would have to figure out which of the two he was: Anza or Crowley. But dead is dead, so that was mostly a matter of dotting i’s and crossing t’s, notifying next of kin. He still had teeth, and fingerprints on one hand. That should do it.
From Goldfield we caravanned north to Tonopah, I in the Sequoia, Lucy in her Mustang, Harper in her Toyota. Before we left Goldfield, Harper said, “I feel like I’m sort of a fifth wheel now. I should probably go back to Vegas.”
“Don’t,” Lucy said. “We don’t know if it’s safe yet. We got Jake and Kyle, but Sylvia Haas is still out there and we don’t know what that psycho bitch might be up to.”
“Sylvia Haas?” Harper asked.
I’d told Lucy about the lieutenant governor on the way down the mountain, but Harper hadn’t heard that part of the story yet. I filled her in, which took a few minutes.
“So,” Lucy said when I was finished. “Don’t go back to Vegas, okay? You should stay with Mort and me. We’ve got a spare room in our house.”
I didn’t know if hanging around Lucy and me would be safer, but I didn’t say anything. Being the one with the testosterone, I thought I’d better let the gals work out the visiting arrangements and the shower schedule.
Harper looked at me. “What do you think?”
Well, shit. So much for them working it out. “I’m with Lucy,” I said. That oughta be safe.
Evidently it was. We arrived in Tonopah at 5:50, and parked our vehicles in the back lot at the Mizpah Hotel, got two rooms on the third floor, and settled in.
I called Ma on a burner, put her on speaker.
“Hola, Ma,” I said.
“Hola, yourself. Where the fuck are you? I been trying to reach you all fuckin’ day after that fuckin’ call you made last night. You said you’d be back in Reno today.”
“Good work, Ma. You used the f-word three times.”
“Damn straight, boyo, now answer the question.”
“Been traveling. I couldn’t get a signal on my phone. Lucy and Harper are with me. We’re fine, except we could use showers, clean clothes, delousing, that sort of thing.”
“Well, thank goodness, except for that last item. And why do you need any of that? What’ve you been up to?”
“We dispatched Jake’s brother, Kyle. Sort of.”
“Dispatched? Sort of? How? What’s that mean? And where the hell are you, if it’s not a military secret?”
“Tonopah. Mizpah Hotel. Lucy and I have room 301, and Harper’s in 303 across the hall.”
“And Kyle, boyo?”
“Dunno. God’s in charge now.”
“Shit. Talkin’ with you is like talkin’ with a teenager on cough medicine.”
“Ouch, Ma.” I smiled at Lucy. “We’re about to upload a video to your special email, not the business one.”
“What’s on it?”
“Kyle’s confession. He names names. It’s kinda long so it’ll take a while. Lucy will get it going.” I nodded to her and she punched buttons to start the upload.
“What’ll I do with it?” Ma asked.
“Whatever you think is right after you see it. It might go to RPD or the FBI. Not sure about a TV affiliate yet. You might want to run that past a lawyer. It’d also be amusing to send it to Sylvia Haas—if you can find a way to do that without her knowing who sent it. See if your hacker can route it through Botswana or Muskogee, either one.”
“Sylvia Haas. Oh, Lord. From what it sounds like you got, that’ll set off fireworks.”
“Hope so. Anyway, we’re safe, grungy, and hungry. If you need us, call me on this burner.”
“Take care, Mort.”
She sounded sincere. And worried, which I took to be a crack in her armor. Scary. “Will do, Ma. I’ll tell you about Kyle later, but he’s no longer a problem.”
I ended the call. A minute later I was in a shower and I wasn’t alone because water is a valuable resource, not to be wasted, especially in the desert.
The video continued to upload.