Switchback Ch20

Alex arrived back at the lodge not long after seven, inside she ordered two glasses of iced-lemonade and asked Agnes Peabody if she wouldn’t mind bringing them out to the porch. She then called Sammi on her cell and asked her to join her out there.

          Alex had been on the swing less than two minutes when the Cherokee she’d seen from the Evans’ bedroom window turned into the lot. The man in the sheriff’s uniform slid out, put his hat on, and walked past her with the envelope he’d taken from the house in one hand and a paper grocery bag clutched in the other, he gave her a casual nod and went inside just as her sister came out.

Sammi sat on the swing next to her. ‘So how did it go,’ she said, ‘the re-interviewing?’

          ‘Not bad, I managed to confirm a couple of important things. Did you take you meds?’

          She nodded. ‘Uh-huh. And I got the name of that guy for you.’

          ‘Which guy?’

          ‘The one at the bar; the one you thought you might know. I got talking to him after you left. His name’s Adam Harris. And don’t go on at me about stranger danger, I’m not six anymore and we weren’t alone.’

          If it wasn’t Adam Carter she was talking about she would have gone on at her. ‘And that’s the name he gave you?’

          ‘No, I heard him give his name when he booked a room, so do you know him?’

          She couldn’t lie about this; nor could she guarantee to stay out of Carter’s way, he was bound to notice her sooner or later, and would probably approach her. And she couldn’t afford Sammi to lose any trust in her. Not when trust will be the one thing she’s going to need from Sammi. She did have a plan B, but didn’t want to use it unless it was absolutely necessary.

          ‘I do,’ she said. ‘But not by that name. I know him as Adam Carter.’

          ‘Who is he? I mean…’

          ‘He’s a cop, a detective with the Richmond PD.’

          Sammi shrugged. ‘So why book in with a false name?’

          Why indeed? Thought Alex, and then recalled what Agnes Peabody had said when they were booking in, “I see you’ve stayed with us before, Miss Lord”, had also said, “I never forget a name”.

She never forgets a name.

          Her mother’s business trip eighteen years ago was in Baltimore. She’d driven rather than fly. On her way back she had been held up for four hours in traffic. Had said there was an accident near Woodbridge. Had said she was tired and booked herself into a small hotel for the night. Had said it was a quaint little place surrounded by Pines.

          Eight and a half months later Samantha Louise Lord had been born, the kid sister she’d always wanted ever since she was six years old. But Samantha wasn’t like Alex. Samantha had problems with her health, and Samantha’s problems were hereditary. The doctors had said it was type three Gaucher Disease. A condition passed-on by the male parent only, but Alex’s male parent had no history of the disease. Samantha Louise Lord would be lucky to reach adulthood, the doctors had also said.

          She’d told Otis about Karl Evans’ coloboma when she had seen his medical records because Foley had told her “The eyes don’t change”. What she didn’t tell him was that Evans had inherited the same disease from his own father. But his records had also told how the disease had been inexplicably non-existent after Evans had turned twenty-one, around seventeen years ago, after her mother had returned home. When she’d gone through his records she thought it mere coincidence, a chance happening, had not made the connection until Agnes Peabody had said she never forgets a name.

          ‘People have reasons for wanting to stay anonymous, Sammi.’

          ‘Yeah but cops have a specific reason for staying anonymous.’

          ‘I’ve just been thinking the same.’

          ‘Do you think he’s here undercover?’

          Alex nodded.

          Agnes Peabody brought out a tray with two glasses of lemonade on and each with a straw. She manoeuvred the tray onto a table at the side where Sammi was sitting, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass.

          ‘I’ve put it on your bill, dear,’ she said. ‘If you need a refill or anything else, just pop your head inside and say so and I’ll bring it out to you.’

          ‘Thank you,’ said Alex.

          Sammi handed one of the drinks over. ‘But what crime would require undercover work in this sleepy little town?’

          You could try three murders and one attempted murder, thought Alex, but why undercover? ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Maybe he’s up here for a break and doesn’t want anyone to know who he is.’

          ‘Why, is he famous or something?’

          Infamous came to mind, she shrugged. ‘Not particularly.’

          ‘So how do you know him?’

          The lemonade was dark, the homemade kind with small flecks of lemon pulp floating in it. Alex sucked on her straw, lowered her glass. ‘You were only twelve at the time, but do you remember how I got my break with CNN?’

          She nodded. ‘The car chase that killed that little boy and his mom. You filmed it’

          ‘Well that little boy and his mom were Carter’s son and wife.’

          ‘Wow, that was all over the news for what … a week?’

          ‘Only two days, actually, but it felt longer than a week.’

          ‘He’ll remember you, won’t he?’

          ‘Wouldn’t you?’

          Sammi sucked on her straw, nodded.

          ‘Did you hear him say how long he was going to stay for?’

          ‘He booked his room for a week.’

          ‘And what did the two of you talk about?’

          ‘Nothing really, he asked about this place so I told him it was okay and then he gave me his newspaper.’

          ‘Why’d he do that?’

          ‘He caught me looking at it over his shoulder, said he’d finished with it and gave it to me.’

          ‘And that was it?’

          Sammi lifted her glass, took another straw full, ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Then I went straight to our room.’

          Alex had no idea where Carter had found her mom’s phone number, she wasn’t in the book but she guessed that didn’t matter, he was in the police force and they had a way around stuff like that. He’d called her the day after the accident at close to midnight and said he wanted her to stop the broadcasting of the footage she’d taken. He wasn’t drunk but she could tell he’d had some amount of alcohol. She told him she didn’t have the authority to do that, that it was up to the studio director not her. That Carter would need to speak to him in order to put a stop to it. At that point there was silence from Carter’s end, but not complete silence. She heard the sound of something spinning, knew straight away what it was. She said his name a couple of times but got no reply, and then she heard the hammer snap shut just before he cut the call. After that he never contacted her again.

          ‘So is that it, then?’ Sammi asked.

          ‘What do you mean?’

          ‘Are we done here?’

          ‘Well there was one person I really wanted to see but I was told she died in a fire at her home.’

          ‘I read that in the newspaper, Mrs Winkle wasn’t it?’

          ‘Yes.’

          ‘So are we done, then?’

          ‘Well I’ve paid for the three days, so how about we stay until then? Have you anywhere in mind you like to go?’

          ‘DC, I’ve always wanted to visit the White House and see the National Mall, and the Smithsonian.’

          Alex smiled. ‘Then DC it is.’

          They both finished their drinks and Alex gathered their empty glasses ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go freshen up and see if Agnes can recommend somewhere good for us to eat.’

 

Josh Spooner and Stu Malvern had returned from Putnam in an unmarked dark-green Prius and were parked-up one-hundred yards from the judge’s house. The view they had wasn’t ideal for observation, but there was nothing they could do about the eighty-year-old Oak tree on the sidewalk just outside the house. So the one-hundred yards would have to do. The Canon EOS 760D they’d brought back with them had a twelve-times zoom lens and a separate Astroscope night vision lens, which would put them close enough to get clear pictures of anyone coming or going, day or night.

          ‘Ya know what,’ said Malvern. ‘I can see right in that bedroom with this.’

           ‘That’s great, Stu, but d’ya think you could point it over this way, toward the judge’s house?’

          ‘Ain’t nothin’ happenin’ over there.’

          ‘All the same, that’s what we’re here to do.’

          ‘Fine,’ he said, and dropped the camera in Josh’s lap. ‘Who we s’posed to be watchin’ for, anyway?’

          ‘Pa said anyone who shows up.’

          ‘What, like the paperboy, or the postman?’

          ‘Do you know who the paperboy is?’

          ‘Nope.’

          ‘Know who the postman is?’

          ‘Nope.’

          ‘Then we photograph ‘em.’

          ‘And how long are we gonna be sittin’ out here?’

          ‘Well put it this way, these seats we’re sittin’ in are our beds and that tree over yonder is our latrine.’

          ‘So what we do for food, eat our shirts?’

          Josh turned to him. ‘Not twenty minutes ago you finished chompin’ your way through a whole family bucket with two gallons o’ cola. Are you tellin’ me ya still hungry?’

          ‘No, but come mornin’ I’m probably gonna want to eat you and your shirt.’

          ‘Stop flappin’, I’ll sort it with Pa; get him to bring us somethin’ over in the mornin’.’

          They were both quiet for a spell, then Josh became curious. ‘Tell me again what happened with those four guys.’

          ‘What four guys?’

          ‘Ha, s’what I thought. So who really put the hired-hands in doc?’

          ‘It was one guy.’

          ‘One guy?’

          ‘Yeah, but he was big, biggest black I ever seen.’

          ‘The three of you got ya butts kicked by one black guy? Ha, no wonder ya didn’t want Pa to know. Shit, ain’t that a doozy?’

          ‘Like I said, he was big, and those two were shit fighters.’

          ‘That don’t explain how you come out of it unscathed, though.’

          ‘Because I knew we was beat, but don’t let on to your old man, ain’t no good gonna come ‘o that.’

           Josh passed back the camera. ‘You’re takin’ first watch; if no one shows up don’t wake me for six hours. Then I’ll take over.’

          ‘How come I get first watch?’

          ‘Because you owe me.’

          ‘On account ‘o what?’

          ‘On account I don’t let your little secret slip out.’