Blessing stared at Cork, then his eyes moved across all the other men who were present. “It would get ugly.”
LeDuc said, “It’s already ugly.”
He reached to his belt and drew out a hunting knife that was sheathed there. He walked to Blessing and held the blade up. Sunlight skated along the edge. He reached out and cut the bonds that held Blessing to the Silverado’s grill. Blessing shot his right hand toward the place where Neadeau’s torch had burned him, but stopped short of touching the wound. He stood tall before the others.
LeDuc said, “We’re all one people, Waubishash, and our enemy is the same. We should fight together, don’t you think?”
Blessing held still, caught in the intensity of LeDuc’s eyes. Then he nodded and said, “I’ll make sure the sons of bitches come.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Will came home in the late afternoon. He walked in the door without a word about where he’d been, hung his jacket in the closet, and spoke with his back to Lucinda, who was on the floor entertaining Misty with a rubber pig that squeaked. “Where’s Ulysses? He was supposed to wash your car, but it’s still covered with dust.”
“He’s at Darrell Gallagher’s house. They’re playing some kind of video game. He said he might be there until late.”
Will left the closet and headed toward the kitchen. He would not look at Lucinda. “Gallagher,” he said. “I don’t like the feel I get from that kid.”
“Uly says he writes poetry.”
“Hitler wrote poetry.”
“Uly says he feels sorry for him. The boy is lonely. He has no friends except for Uly.”
“There’s usually a good reason someone has no friends.”
She watched him walk away from her. “Will, I know what you did.”
That stopped him. In the doorway to the kitchen, he turned and stared at her.
“I know you killed Buck Reinhardt,” she said.
“Reinhardt’s dead?”
His surprise seemed so genuine that Lucinda suddenly doubted all the horrible conclusions she’d come to.
“Two nights ago, the night you left,” she told him. “He was shot with a rifle from a distance.”
“A night shot?”
“Yes.”
“And you think I did this?”
“I went to your shop yesterday morning. You weren’t there, and the Dragunov was missing.”
“The Dragunov? Jesus.” He quickly returned to the closet and grabbed his jacket.
“Will?”
“Not now, Luci.”
He hurried out the door and was gone again.
The baby smiled and reached for the pig, but Lucinda barely noticed. She was thinking about Will and his surprise at the news about Reinhardt. Perhaps he did not kill the man. She was so ready to feel relief. She didn’t know for sure where he’d been, but that was not unusual. As always, she had her suspicions.
The Blue Jays won the regional playoff game in a dramatic finish. One run down, bottom of the seventh and final inning, Cara Haines hit a double to right field that brought two Blue Jays across home plate. Stevie sat with Cork in the stands, and they both went crazy, along with the rest of the home crowd. They waited for Annie behind the bleachers, and she came with her teammates, who were headed to the locker room. She said a bunch of the girls were going out to celebrate; she’d probably be home late. Cork told her to have a good time.
It was almost six thirty when Cork and Stevie walked back to the Bronco in the school parking lot. “We could go home and I could fix up something to eat, or we could go to the Broiler and have some fried chicken. What do you say, buddy?”
Stevie grinned. “No-brainer, Dad.”
“Let’s call your mom, see if she’ll join us.”
He tried her work number, but the line was busy. He tried again when they pulled into the Broiler parking lot. This time she answered.
“I was on the phone with Lucinda Kingbird,” she explained. “Will’s being held in the jail.”
“What for?”
“He confessed to the murder of Buck Reinhardt. I’m on my way over to the sheriff’s office now.”
“Do you want me there?”
“I can’t imagine what for, but I’ll want to talk to you later, I’m sure. Don’t go out of cell phone range, okay?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Oh, Cork? How’d they do? The Blue Jays?”
“Just a second.” He handed the phone to Stevie. “Your mom wants to know how your sister’s team did.”
Stevie took the phone. “Kicked butt,” he told her.
Will looked so tired Lucinda wanted to weep. Hold him and weep.
“Thanks, Cy,” Jo O’Connor said to the deputy who’d brought Will in.
“Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” The deputy tapped the buzzer on the wall next to the door to make sure she knew how to summon him, then he stepped outside.
“Oh, Will.” Lucinda reached across the table, but he pulled his hands away and dropped them into his lap.
“What are you doing here?” he said to Jo.
“Lucinda asked me. She’d like me to represent you. I told her I would, if you agreed.”
“Nothing to represent. Open-and-shut case. I killed the son of a bitch who killed my son. That’s all there is to it.”
“Why not let the sheriff’s people handle it?”
“They were doing nothing. I got tired of waiting.”
“How did you do it, Will?”
“I shot him.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“I knew he liked to drink at the Buzz Saw. I took up a position on a rise across the road where there was cover and a good field of vision. When he came out, I shot him.”
“What did you use?”
“My Dragunov. It was an easy shot.”
“Easy shot? That’s not what the sheriff’s people think.”
“For a trained sniper, it was a cakewalk, believe me.”
“Where’s the Dragunov?”
“I got rid of it. Threw it in a lake.”
“What lake?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking too clearly.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“Drove, just drove.”
“Drove? Where were you parked when you shot Reinhardt?”
“Down the road.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“About half a mile north, where Lowell Lake Road comes in.”
“Okay, where did you drive to?”
