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“See you later, Gary. I’ve put in a sixteen-hour shift today. Time to hit the sack.” Lucas stretched and yawned. Got in behind the wheel.
“Me, too. We’ll catch the bastard tomorrow.”
Lucas put down the window on the passenger side. “We’ll meet at the office in the morning. Don’t forget, it’s your turn to bring coffee and beignets.”
Gary nodded. Standing by the driver’s side of the sedan he had swapped his Mustang for, he squatted down and pretended to tie a shoelace. Hoped Lucas didn’t notice he’d worn loafers.
The rear end of Cantin’s car disappeared around the farmhouse. Gary ran to the road, and continued watching until the car lights were no longer visible.
Everyone was gone. He finally had a minute alone with his thoughts.
Gary wanted Wentzel all to himself.
Cupping his hands around the lighter, he lit another cigarette. Hiked his collar up on his neck to ward off the chill caused by a cold front that had descended on the city at the tail end of the severe thunderstorm.
He put a foot on the rear bumper of his car, rested his arm on his bent knee, and finished smoking. Flicked the butt into a mud puddle without thinking. He also wasn’t thinking about his car. He needed to hide it.
“Damn.”
He drove into the barn and around a pegboard wall. Switched everything off.
The tow truck driver had turned in Wentzel’s cell phone left on the dashboard of the patrol car. Gary had a sneaking suspicion Wentzel would do the same thing he’d do, if their roles were reversed. Walk to the nearby grocery store, and ask to use their phone. Call for a cab to come and pick him up. Leave town without going home first.
Wentzel had to know they were on to him. He’d know his downtown apartment’s being staked out. More than that, he knew Wentzel would want to see, before leaving the city for good, if Renee Yeager’s body had been discovered. He’d stand over her grave and reminiscence about putting her down there, just like any other murderer.
About to light the oil lantern on a work bench by his car, he quickly backed off. Too much hay. Too little time to get the fire fighters out here.
Gary hurried to the other side of the barn to the middle of a two-tier railing on the loft. Placed his flashlight on the floor and angled it at the hayloft ladder, hoping it’ll appear as if it had been accidentally dropped in the confusion. Shut the doors on his way out.
He started to hide at the elm by the barn. Too easy. He jogged to the tree Wentzel had crashed into. Ducked down. Damn, this idea’s worse than the other. He can see me from every angle. The woods on the other side of the road might pose a problem if there were any nocturnal creatures out and about. He ran toward the barn, but at the last second steered cleared of it. Crouched by a tree that wasn’t as wide as the other two, but would be sufficient.
Gary refrained from smoking so as not to reveal his hiding place. Admonished himself for even taking up the habit again. In all the years he’d been a cop he’d never had a personal connection to any of the cases he worked on. Had no idea what one had to do with the other.
His plan was simple. Attracted by the light in the barn, Wentzel would sneak in there, pick up the flashlight, and see the car. He’d then run to the well to view Yeager’s body for the last time. Afterward, he’d run back to the barn, and attempt to make his escape in the sedan.
Gary and his Glock would be there to stop him.
“And that’s only if he’s still around.”
That was the only reason he didn’t want to lay in wait by the well. If Wentzel went to the barn first and saw the getaway car, there’s a good possibility he’d change his mind about Yeager.
Sitting on his haunches, his hands gripping both sides of the tree to maintain his balance, he hoped he didn’t have to wait long. The leg he’d injured, after a blackbird landed on the hood of his car one night, had already begun to cramp. He was interested in finding out if that bird was the same bird at the Caulfield house, since everything about it was unusual.
A slight noise. He held his breath.
An animal?
He cursed the brightness of the full moon, the same brightness he appreciated when he needed it. The sound of a person trudging down the road in his direction, his or her shoes making a faint suction noise in the thick mud, was growing louder.
A dense cloud drifted across the moon. Gary scrunched down lower to better blend in with the darkness. Although grateful he’d chosen to wear his black overcoat, he was even more grateful the rain had ended earlier and the wind had died down. Otherwise, he doubted he would’ve heard the walker in the storm.
The walker in the storm. Huh, that’d make a great title for my noir detective novel.
He poked his head out from behind the tree. Frowned.
What happened to the odd noise? Had the person changed direction? Gotten off the road and onto the grass? Had he, or she, sneaked into the house through the front door? The house he had planned to investigate for himself after Lucas departed? He believed he must’ve distracted himself with the realization that he needed to hide his car.
That’s what happens when I’m overwhelmed with all the stuff I need to get done.
“It’s not too late to do it now, I don’t think,” he murmured.
About to stand up, Gary’s cramped leg made a popping sound equivalent to a finger snap. He grunted in pain. Stretched his leg out for a quick rubdown. A swift blow to the back of his head put him out of his misery.