She said, “Linda, maybe. But Melody’s like one of Pilate’s main women.”
That struck Lucas as odd; backward from what he believed. They talked to her for another ten minutes, and then Frisell took a camera out of his backpack and made a video of her having her rights read to her, and then saying that she understood that she could have a lawyer but wanted to cooperate, and then they asked her all the questions over again.
When they were done, Laurent asked, “So we wait until eight o’clock? And then make up some bullshit story?”
“Let’s see what Bland has to say, and then if he’ll cooperate, we can probably nail Pilate down,” Lucas said.
“If he won’t, we could have Alice call him, tell him that Bland couldn’t call for some reason, and have her talk to him.”
“We could give it a try,” Lucas said. He turned back to Alice: “Do you know which of the numbers is Pilate’s?”
“Yes, sir . . . I can show you.”
? ? ?
BLAND WOULDN’T EVEN SPEAK to them, other than to say, “Lawyer.”
Turner had him hauled into Winter to be locked in the town holding cell, and the whole posse tracked back into Winter to wait until eight o’clock. The out-of-county deputies agreed to hang around until they knew whether they’d be needed again, and Lucas called the BCA and told them to step up the pinging on all the phone numbers they had.
McCarthy identified the number of the phone Pilate was now carrying—the numbers listed as “Pilate” were for a phone he used in California as his main number, and didn’t take on the trip, and the P, she said, was the phone he’d given to Kelly to use as a switchboard.
“He gave us this bullshit excuse, you know, about how everybody was used to calling that phone, so we should use it so there wouldn’t be any confusion. He was setting us up to see what would happen.”
At five minutes after eight o’clock exactly, prepped to give Pilate and the disciples a credible story, Alice made the first call, to disciples she said should be camping near Lake Superior. Lucas’s ear was next to hers as a man answered.
“Where’s Kelly?” the man asked.
“He’s in this store, in Winter. We’re getting gas. He was supposed to be back out by now. You know how unreliable he is. He must’ve gotten stuck at the checkout.”
“Okay. Everything straight there?”
“Everything is with us, and the guys at the Gathering say everything’s cool. If everything’s cool with you, I’ll call Pilate.”
The man said, “Everything’s clear here. We’re with Chet, so you don’t need to call him. See you at the Gathering.”
She hung up and asked, “Was that okay?”
“That was fine,” Lucas said. He cocked his head. “You’re not fucking with us, are you?”
“What?” She shook her head. “I’m cooperating, I’m cooperating.”
He peered at her, uncertain. Then, “Okay. Let’s call Pilate.”
She called and Pilate answered on the third ring: “Yeah.”
“This is Alice. Jase just called, everything’s good at the Gathering. And Richie says everything’s good with those guys.”
“Where’s Kelly?” Pilate had a rusty-gate voice, a guy who’d smoked too much dope.
“We’re in Winter, getting gas. He’s stuck in the store, there’s a line of people here, and after Richie called, I thought I’d better call right through to you. You know how unreliable Kelly is.”
“All right,” Pilate said. Pause. “See you at the Gathering, then.”
He was gone.
? ? ?
BAD VIBE FROM the phone call. Alice looked up at Lucas, and it seemed to him that she was smothering a look of triumph. What had she done? Or maybe he was reading too much into her eyes . . .
? ? ?
LUCAS GOT A CALL from the BCA a minute later, from the tech support guy: the Lake Superior group was at Munising and Pilate was close to the town of Brownsville, twenty miles west of Winter, in Hale County. There were two Hale County deputies with them, and Lucas quickly found one and got him to call the sheriff. The deputy called the sheriff’s cell, and handed his own to Lucas and said, “You’re talking to Sheriff Hugh Butcher.”
“Sheriff Butcher: we think they’re right in your town, or close by, probably four to six people, two or three vehicles, one of them an RV,” Lucas said. “The RV may have Wisconsin plates, the others, probably California. Don’t approach them, they’ve all been armed, so far. Just try to track them. We’re coming with the posse.”
“Come ahead . . . we’ll go looking.”
? ? ?
MCCARTHY AND BLAND were left with Turner in Winter. The rest of the posse hustled back to their cars, led by Lucas. Frisell had ridden to Winter with Laurent and Lucas asked to borrow him for the ride to Brownsville: “I need to make a lot of phone calls and it’d be good if he could drive.”
“Take him,” Laurent said. “He doesn’t have his gun, though, we thought it’d be better if he didn’t, after yesterday. He’s sort of along for the ride.”
“That’s fine. Listen, could you get me a number for wherever Melody Walker is up in the Sault jail? I need to talk to her, quick as I can.”
“I’ll get it as soon as we’re moving, and call you.”
? ? ?
A MINUTE LATER, they were on the highway headed west, a line of cop cars, pickups, and civilian SUVs led by Lucas and Frisell. Laurent called two minutes later and said, “I got that number for you in Sault. It goes to a mobile phone, they’re walking it down to the cell where they’re keeping Walker.”
Lucas took the number down, and a minute later, was talking to a deputy in Sault Ste. Marie on the car’s speakerphone. “We’re just coming up to her cell,” the deputy said. “Okay . . . Melody, Agent Davenport is calling you.”
Walker came on: “This is me.”