“They talked?”
“Oh, yes. Rye felt responsible for what happened. He promised to take Brady flying when he’s well. Brynn was equally sweet. I hoped to say goodbye to her, but she was already leaving when I returned with the key. Rye was watching her through—”
“Excuse me,” Rawlins said. “What key?”
“The key to my car. I loaned it to him.”
The two deputies looked at each other before going back to her. Rawlins said, “You loaned your car to him?”
She explained how that had come about. “He was reluctant to take it, but I insisted. He was going out to the crash site. I told him to keep the car for as long as he needed it.”
“Has he brought it back yet?” Wilson asked.
“No, and he was very apologetic over having to leave it.”
Wilson held up a hand. “Leave it?”
“He called…oh, maybe a half hour ago. I’ve lost track of time.”
“What about the car?” Rawlins said, prodding.
“He said he had to get to Atlanta. A spur-of-the-moment thing. He wouldn’t be coming back through town.”
With a renewed sense of urgency, Wilson asked, “He left your car near the crash site?”
“No.”
She gave them the name of a seedy motor court about five miles outside of town on a two-lane state road that wasn’t heavily traveled.
“I told him that it was no problem at all for me to send someone out there to pick it up. My brother and nephew have already volunteered to go. I suggested Rye leave the key with the desk clerk, but he said he didn’t trust him. He told me where he’d left it hidden.”
2:41 p.m.
When Wilson and Rawlins walked into the cabin rental office, they understood why Mallett might be mistrustful of the attendant. He was stoned. His lazy grin was comprised of crooked and rotting teeth. “Which one of you is her old man?”
“Neither.”
The deputies produced their badges.
“Awww, ssssshit.” The clerk threw a nervous glance over his shoulder toward an open door, through which could be seen a messy office.
Rawlins said, “We’ll forget that it reeks of weed in here if you tell us whose old man you thought we might be.”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
“I never saw her. Only the dude came in.”
“What did the dude look like?” Rawlins asked.
“Tall, blond hair, leather jacket. Sunglasses.” He looked out the window at the fog. “Can’t figure why.”
“What time did he check in?”
“What time?” In thought, he scratched his pimply cheek. “Before nine?” He put it in the form of a question, as though it were the guessed-at answer on a pop quiz.
“What name did he register under?” Wilson asked.
“Didn’t. Paid cash and asked we keep it just between us.”
“Hmm,” Wilson said. “Smoking dope and cheating your employer out of a cabin rental. You’ve had a busy day.”
The allegations made the clerk considerably more helpful. “He said they ran out on the Thanksgiving get-together to have a shagfest, and that if anybody came in asking had somebody rented a cabin in the last hour or so, I was to play dumb.”
“That would be a stretch,” Rawlins deadpanned.
The clerk divided an avid look between the two deputies. He licked his crooked front teeth. “He looked like a dude that’s been around. What did they do?”
“We can’t disclose that.”
“Well, whatever, wasn’t much of a shagfest. They’ve already vacated.”
“Their car is still here.”
When pulling into the compound, they’d spotted the blue Honda parked outside the cabin farthest from the office and the road.
“So how’d they leave?” Rawlins asked.
“With the two guys.”
Rawlins and Wilson shared another look of misapprehension. “What two guys?” Wilson asked.
The clerk began to look uneasy. He raised both skinny arms in surrender. “This ain’t none of my doin’, and I want no part of it. I’ll give the owner the money for the cabin. Swear.”
“What two guys?” Wilson repeated.
“All’s I know, they drove in here in a black car. Didn’t stop at the office. Went directly to the cabin. A few minutes later, they drove out again. The dude was in the back seat on the driver’s side. Woman with long hair was on the other side of the back seat. Never saw her face. Just the back of her head through the rear window.”
“Which direction did they go?”
“To the right.”
“South.”
He blinked. “I guess.”
Rawlins persisted. “What kind of black car?”
“Didn’t notice the make, but it was new. Wheels were shiny chrome. Flashy.”
“Mercedes sedan,” Wilson announced, surprising Rawlins, who turned to him for elaboration.
“They were at the café,” Wilson said. “Got there shortly after the doctor and me. They parked across the street, but I noticed the car.” He gave Rawlins a description of the two men. “I remember thinking the car had to belong to the big guy. Clothes were wrinkled, but quality.”
“What about the other one?”
“He was dressed in a dark suit, too, but he’d have looked more at home in a gangsta hoodie.”
“What did they do when they came in?”
“Took a booth. Ate breakfast. Didn’t talk much or show any interest in her or me.”
“What about her? Did she react when she saw them?”
“No. In fact, her back was to them till we went to the door and said goodbye.”
“But that’s where and when she brushed you off,” Rawlins said.
Wilson extended his hand to the desk clerk. “Give me the key to that cabin.”
The attendant fished around in a cluttered drawer and produced a key with a cardboard tag that had the number ten on it. Wilson took it from him. He and Rawlins headed for the door.
“Can I come?”
“No,” the deputies chorused.
The towels in the bathroom were still damp. The bed and pillows had been lain on. Other than that, there was nothing in the cabin cluing them to where Brynn O’Neal and Rye Mallett had gone, nothing identifying the two men they’d left with.
“I don’t suppose you got that Mercedes’s license plate number.”
Wilson shook his head with chagrin. “Not even a partial.”
Rawlins headed for the open cabin door. “Well, lucky for us the café got burglarized last spring.”
Wilson caught his chain of thought and hurried to catch up. “The café has a security camera.”
“Installed the week after the break-in.” Rawlins walked toward his SUV.
Wilson slowed down only long enough to retrieve Marlene White’s key fob from under the rock where Mallett had told her it would be. Wilson had offered to drive the car back for her and park it in the hospital lot. “I’ll leave the key for her at the admissions desk,” he told Rawlins. “Pick me up out front.”
“On the way, I’ll call the owner of the café and tell him to meet us there. I want to see his security camera video.”
“He won’t like it. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t care if it’s the Second Coming. Brady is still in ICU, condition guarded. Rye Mallett and Dr. O’Neal might have made nice with Marlene, but they still have a lot to answer for.”
3:03 p.m.
“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted her to go alone,” Delores said. “I told Nate as much. This proves my instinct was right.” She reached for the crystal stem at her place setting and raised the glass of wine to Richard.
They toasted and drank.
The traditional Thanksgiving meal was being served to them in their formal dining room. They were having it midday in anticipation of the eventful evening. The senator sat at the head of the long table, Delores adjacent to him on his right. They had dressed for the occasion to keep up appearances of normalcy, if only for their housekeeper-cook.
Minutes before they were due in the dining room, they had received the call from Goliad that they had been nervously awaiting. For the most part, the news had been good. Dr. O’Neal had been located.
However, the circumstances in which she’d been found had sent Delores into orbit. She was still circling.
“What could possibly have induced her to have a rendezvous while the clock is ticking down?” She punctuated the words by stabbing her fork into a slice of turkey breast meat.