Jake Kempis turned off the fire alarm and sent the other two security guards away before asking Camel what’d happened.
“I came in and the guy who tossed the office was still here. I pulled the alarm to get rid of him.”
“Who was it, what was he looking for?”
Camel didn’t reply. His stomach was tender from being punched by McCleany, whenever he moved his right arm the bicep hurt from where the golf ball had struck him, he was tired, he wanted to see Annie … Camel didn’t think he owed Kempis an explanation. “Listen Jake if you got to write a report or whatever about the alarm, go ahead and do it but I have to meet some people so I’m leaving.”
“You’re not going to brush me off like that. Sit down, I have to make a call.”
“Yeah you make your call, meanwhile I’m—”
Kempis took out a canister of pepper spray. “Sit down Teddy, I’m calling the state police, where’s your phone?”
“What is this shit?” Camel asked coldly.
“Come on, you should’ve known better than to come here after escaping jail, now where’s the—”
“Escaping? Jake, use your head … I’m out on bail.”
“You know anyone else at the state police beside Gray?”
“Yeah, couple guys I been working with on that appointment.”
“Gray’s not going to get you any appointments, he’s going to get your ass in trouble is what he’s going to get you. Give those other guys you know a call, ask ’em to check if I’m not out on bail.”
Kempis wasn’t sure about it but followed Camel into the other office, to where the phone had been knocked on the floor. “Go on,” Camel told him, “do yourself a favor, make the call.”
Kempis did, was put on hold, got through, talked to someone for less than a minute … then told Camel, “Gray’s been suspended.”
“Bingo.”
“Okay I’ll ask you straight out, what’s this all about?”
“I still don’t know all the details except I know Parker Gray and his former partner Gerald McCleany screwed up a homicide investigation seven years ago.”
“Screwed up as in …?”
“As in framing a man for the murder, protecting the real killer, I don’t know … but it’s all coming down on their heads now and they’re both scrambling to keep out from under it.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Jake I don’t either, I’m still trying to put the pieces together. Gray lied to you about me escaping, his partner McCleany is the one who tossed this place … you don’t want to be involved with them believe me.”
Kempis put the pepper spray back on his utility belt.
“You want to hear how you can get that appointment to the academy all on your own?” Camel asked.
“I’m listening.”
“Three bodies have been found today, murder victims, decapitations—”
“Who? Where?”
“You said you were listening.”
Kempis nodded.
“I’m going to tell you who killed those people. You take this information to the jurisdictions handling the investigations, be a hero.”
“And your angle?”
“I want you to give me a couple hours, an hour … I have to get to a judge and explain how I happened to find the bodies. I already got that manslaughter charge against me and I can’t afford—”
“That charge has been dropped.”
Camel was surprised to hear it.
“The guy I just talked to, who told me Gray was suspended? When I asked if you were really out on bail he said you didn’t need bail ’cause the charges against you were dropped.”
“Okay, good, now let me tell you what I know about these killings—”
“Oh shit.”
He waited to hear whatever bad news Kempis had just remembered.
“Friend of yours, Annie Milton?”
Camel went cold in the belly.
“She was assaulted this afternoon and came here trying to—”
He pointed a finger at Kempis’s face so he would concentrate on the two questions Camel wanted answered before anything else was said, “Where is she now, what’s her condition?”
“She’s okay, I turned her over to Parker Gray.” Kempis watched Camel’s face for a reaction.
“Come on, talk to me Jake.”
“Parker and McCleany came to see me, said they could grease me an appointment to the academy if I did a little work for them … keep an eye on you, report whatever happens around here involving you, so when Mrs. Milton got in that wreck I called Gray and he came and got her.”
“Where’d he take her, he wouldn’t use a state police facility if he’s been suspended.”
“Teddy I didn’t know he’d been—”
Camel had already turned away from Kempis to search through the debris around his desk until he found the sheet of paper on which Annie had written the phone number at Cul-De-Sac, directions how to get there … these were for Camel when he was still planning to go get Annie’s husband and bring him back here to thrash out the truth.
Kempis came over. “I assumed Gray was taking her to a substation for—”
“No he took her back to Cul-De-Sac, some property Annie owns.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.” Camel grabbed the phone and punched in the number … busy. He tried it again, still busy, then got an operator and told her it was a police emergency she’d have to break in on the call. The operator referred the request to a supervisor who told Camel there was no call to break in on, the busy signal was a result of a malfunction on the line.
Phone ripped out. Camel went to where he’d stashed McCleany’s .38, Kempis trailing him and saying, “I’m coming with you Teddy.”
“Jake this isn’t your—”
“I gave them the key to your office.”
Camel looked at him. “That’s how McCleany got in to toss the place … McCleany also gave a copy of the key to Annie’s husband.”
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah you did.”
“So give me a chance to square it.”
“All right,” Camel said, moving to the door.
“You want to hear what Mrs. Milton told me about who assaulted her?”
Camel was already in the hallway. “Tell me walking.”
On the way to Cul-De-Sac, following Annie’s directions which Jake Kempis read for him, Camel drove the ’65 Fairlane faster than he should have … thunder road. They got lost, had to retrace the route, it was dead dark before they found the turnoff to Cul-De-Sac’s lane marked as Annie had indicated with two brick pillars, one of them looked like it’d been sideswiped. The graveled lane ran straight for half a mile into a little bowl of a valley, no other houses in sight. From over the treed hills walling this valley shined a dull glow of commerce that reflected onto the underside of the night sky, ruining all hope of ever seeing Orion.
Although once centerpiece of a 220-acre estate Cul-De-Sac now sat on only an acre’s land to call its own, the surrounding valley and hillsides remained unbuilt-upon because they were deeded to people rich enough to employ land as a buffer, keeping shopping centers and suburban sprawls (all that light from over the hills) away from their horse farms and fox hunts.
Camel doused his headlights and drove around to the side of the building, parking behind a car with its trunk open.
“That’s Gray’s,” Kempis said. “The one he took Mrs. Milton off in.”
Camel walked over and looked in the truck which was empty but smelled heavily of gasoline.
Kempis smelled it too. “He got a leak in his tank?”
Pointing to two round indentions in the trunk’s mat, Camel said, “Hauling cans of gas.”
“What’re we going to do, call the sheriff’s department?”
“I don’t know who else is in on this with Gray and McCleany, first thing we’re going to do is find Annie … then we’ll worry about who to notify.”
Camel and Kempis went to the side of Cul-De-Sac and tried two doors, both locked.
“What do you think?” Kempis asked.
“Find away in.”
“I wish I had more than a can of pepper spray.”
“Listen Jake you walk around the building that way, don’t use a flashlight, check for any door that might be unlocked but don’t open it, don’t go in. We’ll meet around back. You okay?”
Kempis said he was.
“All right, see you around back.”
Camel pulled McCleany’s little stainless steel revolver from his pocket, he had already familiarized himself with it … a Smith & Wesson Model 640, .38 Special, loaded with five hollow points. Walking around the back of the building, stopping frequently to listen, looking for signs of occupation, Camel spotted a window that was open.
Not waiting for Kempis he climbed in and threaded his way carefully through a storage room full of boxes and filing cabinets and broken chairs, Camel finally stepping out into a hallway lit by bulbs burning dimly like they weren’t getting enough juice, the smell of gasoline a lot stronger here in the corridor where a man with his back to Camel was holding a five-gallon container, pouring gas out on the floor.
“Parker,” Camel said quietly.
He stopped pouring and straightened up, the gas container still in his hand.
“Put the can down, turn around, keep your hands where I can see them … you know the drill.”
Gray did as he was told except on one crucial point … after placing the gas can on the floor he managed to sneak a hand inside his suit coat and, when he turned to face Camel, Gray was holding a 9mm semiautomatic.