shirt and pulled down the hem of his double-breasted charcoal Armani jacket.
“How do I look?” he asked, knowing it was a rhetorical question.
“Like you stepped out from a page in
“Anything else on that incident out at Six Oaks?”
“Nothing yet. Albert’s still trying to find out more. It was a young black girl, is all I know.”
“If it were Pablo, that wouldn’t be the case, would it? He’s the best there is, right? Mistaking his target would be impossible,” he said sarcastically.
Tug nodded. “Big fuckup for a big professional.”
“Then,” Pierce said, “it must have been a hunting accident. Still this is definitely not a good thing.”
Pierce wasn’t yet fifty, and he was at the top of his game. Stepping into the mirrored cab, he was confident that he was going to make the resort happen on schedule. The alternative was unthinkable.
10
“I’m not going home without you,” Sean said with a finality Winter was all too familiar with. She was holding Olivia and standing in the RV’s master bedroom while he packed clean clothes into his canvas duffel. “Your problem is you have never learned to say no.”
“If it’s Styer,” Winter said, “I have to stop him. If it isn’t, I’d like to know who wants me to think it is. If Brad didn’t know who I was, I’d be a suspect under a bright light in some interrogation room.”
“Say it is Styer. Maybe if we go home, he’ll just leave,” she said. “Maybe he’s done here and he’ll move on.”
“And let me go? Not likely.”
“But why would he be after you?”
“Who knows? Maybe he’s had time to think about what happened in New Orleans and he regrets leaving a loose end. He knows I won’t ever forgive him for what he did to Hank and Millie. I’m his enemy. Maybe he figures to end our unfinished business with one of his little games.”
“You aren’t a killer. Are you prepared to kill him? You know he’s trying to kill you, and if anybody can, he can.”
“He may figure that killing innocent people is a good way to get me involved. The card and the toothpick mean I’d figure it was him. I have a feeling he’ll keep killing until it’s time to move on me, while he watches me from close by. It has to end here, and fast.”
“You can get those CIA cutouts to deal with him. They would, wouldn’t they? They’re still looking for him. Let those bastards handle their own kind.”
“I won’t go that route. Besides, if they tried and missed, I’d be in worse shape than I am now. I’ve thought this through, Sean.”
“How did he know you’d be out here in the middle of nowhere, and now?”
“I don’t think he’d harm you or the kids. But he might try something to get me to come after him.”
“I thought he underwent some sort of spiritual conversion in New Orleans when he walked away from his contract to kill you.”
“So did I. But I think there’s only one way to deal with Paulus Styer.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, which Winter gently wiped away.
“Massey, nobody ever sees him coming. You aren’t forgetting that you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t aware that he even existed then. That isn’t the case here. I don’t care how well he disguises himself. This time I’ll know him when I see him.”
“Daddy, gep me op!” Olivia said, reaching out her hands. Sean handed her to Winter and, taking her, he kissed his daughter on her cheek.
“I’ll check into a motel in Tunica and call you. Go turn in the RV and take the first flight back home tomorrow. Will you do that so I won’t have to worry?”
“I guess falling in love with a man who attracts violence is the downside of our otherwise perfect relationship,” she said, hugging him and her daughter. “Good thing the upside makes it all worthwhile.”
“I’m sorry, Sean,” Winter said. “You don’t know how sorry I am.”
Sean smiled. “Massey, it isn’t like I didn’t know what you were when I met you. You’ll do what you want to do.”
Thirty minutes later Winter put the venison tenderloins and the quarters of deer meat into the camp’s cooler, figuring he’d return in a day or two and take it to the processor in Batesville, or let Billy Lyons give it to somebody who would make use of it. Winter threw his duffel into the rear of the rented Jeep, turned the RV around, and Sean followed the RV ten miles to Interstate 55, where they switched vehicles. Sean and Winter honked enthusiastic see-you-soons for the half mile before they arrived at the turnoff to Tunica. Faith Ann and Rush waved and made comical faces from the RV’s rear window until it pulled away. And as Sean drove the motor home north toward Memphis, she carried the majority of Winter’s heart with her.
11
The Tunica County sheriff’s office was located within the jail facility, a building with all the architectural charm of a shoebox, just down the road from a decrepit cotton gin. Winter parked in the lot across from a pole flying the Mississippi State and United States flags, locked the rented Jeep wagon, and strode up the wide concrete walkway to the front doors, opening them for an elderly woman and a small boy wearing a hooded jacket and threadbare shoes. In the reception area, a line of chairs faced a reception nook where two clerks stood behind bulletproof glass. On the far wall was a row of framed black and white portraits of past sheriffs of Tunica County. Several of the early sheriffs looked like hard-faced lawmen from the Old West, with sweeping handlebar mustaches, strong jaws, and serious eyes sheltered by bushy brows. In the more recent photos, they looked less like gunslingers and more like businessmen who had taken the job for a change in routine. Winter wondered if the last photo was of the sheriff who had been arrested by the Feds for corruption.
Speaking through a slot in the window, Winter asked the clerk to let the sheriff know he was there.
After a couple of minutes, an attractive black woman dressed in a gray business suit came out into the reception area smiling at Winter.
“Mr. Massey,” she said, holding out her hand, which he shook. “I’m Bettye Barry, the sheriff’s assistant.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Sheriff Barnett is expecting you. I’ll take you back.”
Winter crossed through the metal-detector gate and set off the alarm, which the receptionist ignored. They went down a short hall and took a right at the first intersection, pausing at a steel door with a built-in glass panel. Bettye used her card to open the lock and showed him through, then opened the door to the sheriff’s office spaces. The reception area was small, but the sheriff’s office wasn’t.
Inside, Winter spotted Brad Barnett at his desk talking on the phone. As Winter entered, Brad hung up.
“That was the MBI,” Brad said.
“They coming in?” Winter asked.
“They aren’t overly enthusiastic about it. Said it looked like a county matter-a hunting accident I could solve. They’re going to review the evidence at the state lab, the crime-scene pictures, and the autopsy report when it comes back from the ME’s office in Jackson. They don’t see a likelihood of solving this if it isn’t an accident, a jilted boyfriend, or nobody confesses or strikes again. If this is a hate crime they’ll get involved, but it’s obvious they don’t want to jump in on a dead-ender. I think it’s more about a dead black girl from a poor family. They assume all county sheriffs here are crooked based on our department’s recent history. This guy you think committed the murder, who’s he on the run from? The FBI?”
“He’s not officially wanted by anyone in this country. If you’ll get the toothpick ready to ship, I can check it against a sample of his DNA I have.”
