Envy the Night

This time he couldn’t see anyone on the beach. They’d gone inside, maybe. Or he’d spooked them. In retrospect, this was a pretty stupid approach; if he wanted to watch them, he should just anchor somewhere and watch them, the way Ezra had yesterday. These continued passes were more likely to attract attention. His father would have pitched him overboard if he’d been here to witness it.

Enough with the half-assed surveillance attempt. They were gone, and he’d already made one pass too many. Better to continue on, leave those two to their own affairs and hope his didn’t coincide with them again. Nora Stafford had left his cabin with a measure of uncertainty, but he suspected what she planned to do now was simply get that Lexus off her property and leave the Mitsubishi in the woods. As he’d told her, there was a good chance it would still be there long after Vaughn left. If not, he’d pay for the rusted old heap himself. It was a better option than calling the police out to the Matteson place and attempting to repossess the vehicle. The less interaction Nora had with Devin Matteson’s associates, the better.

He found himself alone in North Bay, no other boat in sight, and cut the motor. The flowage would never seem busy, but during fishing season there would be plenty of other people out and about. Today, though, it was empty.

The sun was unhindered by cloud, and he pulled his shirt off so he could feel it on his skin, take in this moment and this place. They’d caught a lot of fish out here, shared a lot of laughs.

A harsh ringing spoiled the silent day then, sounding louder on the water than it ever would back on land. He couldn’t believe he got cell phone reception out here. That damn tower that had irked his father so much was doing its job. He took the phone out, saw the same number he’d dialed the previous night to leave his message for Nora. She was back at her body shop.

“Hello?”

Static and garbled words, Frank catching no meaning at all. He took the phone away from his ear, looked at the display again. Still connected, but showing just one bar, a weak signal. Okay, maybe the tower really wasn’t anything but an eyesore. He tried again.

“Nora? I can’t hear you. Nora?”

More garbled words, but this time he caught a few. Something about a tracking device. Fighting a surge of frustration, he asked her to slow down and repeat herself. Instead, the call was disconnected. Perfect.

He sat down in the boat and looked out across the water, then sighed and turned back to the motor, adjusted the choke and pulled the cord, brought it thundering to life. He didn’t have a clue what that call had been about, and until he did, anything pleasant about this morning was ruined. He’d go back to the cabin, call Nora, see what the hell was going on.

“Damn it.” Nora smacked the phone with her palm, turned it back on, tried again. This time it didn’t even ring, just rolled over to a message saying the mobile user was unavailable. She wondered if he’d caught any of what she said. No way to know. Okay, what now? She wasn’t ready to go the police with Jerry’s story, not until she’d had a chance to run all of this by Frank, hear his opinion. He knew more about these guys than she did. It would be great if she could get him to come into town, talk things through, but Frank’s source of transportation was sitting in the back of her tow lot, so he wouldn’t be making any more surprise appearances. It was a long drive out to his cabin, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“Jerry.” She walked out of the office and into the shop. He was standing over his toolbox, next to the Spraybake paint booth. Outside the day had to be warming, because it was growing stuffy in here despite the concrete block walls and corrugated metal ceiling that usually helped keep it cool.

“Yeah?” Jerry had kept his eyes away from hers ever since he’d told her about the man named AJ, and now he stared at the floor.

“I’m going to get Frank and bring him down here.”

“He the kid?”

“Yes.” Didn’t seem like any kid to her, but if that’s how Jerry recognized him, fine. “I want him to be down here when we talk to the police. Like I said, he’s got some ideas that they need to hear.”

Jerry frowned and spun a ratchet in his hand, the whirring clicks loud in the quiet room. “What sort of ideas has he got?”

“He thinks he might know something about who these guys are, and who they work with.”

“How?”

She lifted her hands. “I don’t know, Jerry. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. He also claims to know where the guy who drove that Lexus is staying. And now I’ve got to leave and pick him up so we can talk to the police.”

“All right. I’ll get this car put back together as much as I can, so they can tow it.”

“I’d rather you don’t.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t want anyone left alone in the shop.” She tried to put proper concern into her voice, but only a portion of it was for Jerry’s well-being.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Jerry, I’d really prefer—”

“You don’t think you can trust me.” He straightened and looked at her for the first time, defiant. “That’s what’s going on, isn’t it? Before I told you about the deal that guy cut me at the bar, you were ready to leave me here, go down to see Mowery. Told me that we needed this Lexus back in one piece fast, for the cops. Now why has that changed?”

They looked at each other for a long moment, and then his face softened and his shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry, Nora. You don’t even know. I can see where you wouldn’t think real well of me right now. You and I, we’ve had our problems. But I’ll tell you this—ain’t a man in this world I respect more than your daddy. Not a one. And the reason I’m still here is I know it’s what he’d want me to do. Help you out, keep things running till he gets back on his feet. It’s not just about the shop, it’s about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, too. Always did. So when you tell me about last night . . . about these bastards walking in here and treating you like that . . . maybe you don’t see how personal that is to me. Okay? And all I can say is, I’m sorry.”

Though Jerry asked about Bud’s condition constantly, Nora had never been entirely honest with him in her reports. One reason was that her father had absolutely no memory of Jerry, and she knew that would hurt him. Now she wished he could remember Jerry. Bud would have liked this story.

“I appreciate everything you just said, Jerry. And I know I haven’t been a real easy transition for you. Let’s not worry about it, okay? You get the Lexus put back together, and I’ll bring Frank Temple down, and then the three of us will talk things out and call the police.”

He tipped two fingers off his forehead in a little salute and turned back to the car. She crossed the shop, stepped out the side door, and pulled it shut behind her, making sure that it locked.

When she was gone, Jerry got to work. He started with the hood, which he’d removed completely since it was damaged beyond repair. A day earlier, he’d have just tried to jam the bent piece of metal into the backseat with as many other loose parts as possible, tell Nora that it didn’t matter what condition the car was in if they were just transferring possession to the police. After her story, though, no chance. He still knew how to bust ass, how to do a job right, and after hearing what had happened, he’d be doing a lot more of it. Wasn’t his fault, he understood that, but it didn’t do much to ease the guilt. Fact was, while he was drinking beers and cutting a deal to sell equipment that wasn’t his, Nora was back here with some bastard shoving her into a wall. If the kid hadn’t showed up when he did . . . Jerry didn’t like to think it through much beyond that point.

He wrestled the banged-up hood back into place on the car, fastened it as tight as it would go. The damage kept it from closing all the way, but it was attached and would stay on. By the time he was done with that, a good sweat was working its way across his scalp.

“Too damn hot,” he said aloud. He didn’t want the shop opened up like they kept it during the week, let people think they could stop by with a car, but having some fresh air wouldn’t hurt, either. A crack in the overhead door should do the trick. He crossed to the garage door opener and hit the button, let the big door rise about two feet off the floor, and hit the button again, freezing it there. Already he could feel a breeze shove through, sliding