was Grady thinking, trying to protect him?
It would help if he would answer the damn phone. One conversation, no matter how brief, would give Grady some guidance. Some sense of how to proceed. Finally, frustrated, he picked up the phone again and called Saul down in Miami. Maybe Jimmy would have insight by now, some new development.
Saul answered on the first ring, his voice tinged with irritation. “Shit, Grady, I was gonna call you tomorrow. Should have known you couldn’t wait on it till morning like a normal person.”
“Wait on what, Jimmy?”
“The hell do you think? Matteson.”
“You’ve heard about what’s going on up there?”
“Up there? What . . . look, Grady, why are you calling?”
Grady stood up, the office not feeling so warm anymore, and said, “Did Matteson die in the hospital?”
If he had, then it became murder. Not just attempted, but the real deal.
“Die? Uh, no, Grady. The boy is loose.”
“What?”
“Matteson bailed out of the hospital under his own power sometime this afternoon. Hasn’t been heard from since.”
“I thought he was in critical condition.”
“He had been initially. Like I told you yesterday, he was recovering unusually well, but not well enough to be out of the hospital. Doctors seem to think he just signed his own death sentence, and nobody down here has a clue what motivated him to go. He wasn’t facing charges for anything, so it doesn’t really make sense.”
Then Saul said, “Best bet is he’s looking for the wife,” and everything changed.
“The wife?” Grady said, the word leaving his mouth as if he’d never said it before, didn’t understand the meaning.
“Yeah, of course. Oh, wait, I hadn’t heard about her the last time we talked, had I? That news came in a little later. Remember when I said there weren’t any suspects?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s been blown out of the water. Nobody can find Matteson’s wife. Originally the cops thought it was no big deal, she was just MIA, but now their idea is that she took off. Ran. Which makes her—”
“The suspect,” Grady finished. Did this clear Frank? It had to, right?
“You got it,” Saul said. “Problem with that is there were no signs of a rift with Matteson, no indications of an affair. But, still, until she turns up, that’s what’ll occupy the focus. Could be she’s dead, too. Could be—”
“Devin left the hospital today,” Grady said, no longer interested in hearing the theories, suddenly sure he knew more than anyone in Miami did.
“That’s right. Nobody knows where he’s headed, either.”
“I do,” Grady said.
“What are you talking about?”
“I think I know where he’s headed. I could be wrong, but I doubt it.”
The irritation left Saul’s voice. “What’s going on up there, Grady?”
“I don’t know yet, but here’s my advice: If you want to find Matteson, you check on the ways out of Miami to Wisconsin. Check every flight that left there yesterday with any destination in Wisconsin. Could be he’s driving, but I doubt it. I think he’ll be in a hurry.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’ll fill you in soon. First I’ve got a question: Does the name Vaughn Duncan mean anything to you?”
“Nope.”
“Check him out,” Grady said. “He’s a prison guard from Coleman, and he’s up in Wisconsin, tangling with Frank Temple and a couple others. Check him out and get back to me.”
He hung up on Saul’s demands for more information.
The cabin was dark when they entered, and the memory of Jerry’s body sickened Nora as she followed Frank through the door. She’d felt so in control as they’d walked into the shop that afternoon. In charge, ready to take on the world. These guys had shown up and caused trouble, but now she was going to set them straight. It would be that simple. Then she’d gone through the door and seen the body and the blood, and everything she believed changed.
There was no blood here, nothing out of place in the cabin, no traces of unwanted visitors. Even so, she was nervous until he got all the lights on and showed her around the place. He was still wearing the gun, and she was troubled to realize that it comforted her. She’d never cared for guns before.
“I thought about taking you back to your house so you could get some things together,” he said, walking back into the living room, “but it wasn’t worth the risk. If they’re watching anyplace, it would probably be your house.”
“Right.”
“Ezra keeps the place stocked even though nobody’s here,” he said. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, soap and shampoo, should be everything you need. Well, I don’t know what you—”
“Don’t worry; I won’t require any feminine products.”
She’d been trying to make fun of him, get a laugh and reduce that tension he’d acquired. It didn’t work. He just nodded, still looking ill at ease.
“I was joking,” she said.
“Yeah. Look, you can take whatever bedroom you want.”
“What’s wrong?”
He frowned. “Nothing. Just telling you to make yourself at home.”
“You seem anything but comfortable with me right now. Maybe I should go to a hotel. Maybe that would be best.”
It was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I’m not like them. I need you to understand that. I’m not anything like them.”
She stared at him. “The guys who killed Jerry? Are you kidding me? Of course you’re not anything like them.”
He leaned against the wall, looked down to the gun, back up at her.
“I’m not like him, either.”
“Your father.”
He nodded.
“I don’t think otherwise.”
His eyes were so damn sad when he said, “You would have liked him.”
She had no idea how to answer that.
“Everybody did,” he said. “You would have, too.”
“Is that what scares you the most?”
“What?”
“That you loved him. That you thought he was good.”
He looked at her for a while without speaking, and then he walked to the door and went outside.
She found an open case of beer in the refrigerator, took two bottles, and went after him. He was sitting on the log wall that held the soil back from the beach. He didn’t look away from the water until she handed him the beer.
“Thanks.” He took the bottle and pointed at the lake with it. “I can see why Ezra never left.”
“It’s a gorgeous place.” The air was warm again tonight, but the sky was overcast, only a handful of stars showing. The wind that had blown so hard in the morning was almost gone now, nothing left but a few gentle puffs trying to catch up. It had been one of those weird warm weeks, each day feeling more like summer than spring, then settling down overnight until you woke to a cold sunrise.
“You don’t need to worry,” she said, “about anything I heard today. Nothing the cops told me was different
