Pendergast released the handle and walked quickly past the house, along the road. Within a hundred yards he came to a dirt road leading into the corn.
Two minutes later he was standing beside Corrie’s car.
Now he turned and strode briskly back toward the road. But even as he did so, a row of headlights appeared in the distance, approaching through the murk at high speed. As the cars blasted past and their brake lights went on as they turned into the Kaverns parking lot, growing concern became conviction, and he realized that the unthinkable had happened.
By a terrible, ironic twist of fate, it seemed that all of them—first he, then Corrie, and now Hazen—had come to the same conclusion: that the killer was hiding in the cave.
Pendergast quickly cut back through the corn, making directly for the opening to the cave. If he could manage to get inside before . . .
He was one minute too late. As he emerged from the corn, Hazen, standing before the cut leading down into the cave, saw him and turned back, a dark expression on his face.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Special Agent Pendergast. And here I thought you’d left town.”
Fifty-Six
He advanced toward the thin figure, managing a smile. “Pendergast, what a surprise.”
The agent halted. His black suit was almost invisible in the stormy half-light, and his face seemed to float, pale and ghostlike. “What are you doing here, Sheriff?” He spoke quietly, but his voice carried an edge that Hazen hadn’t heard before.
“It’s my recollection you were served with a C-and-D this morning. You are in violation. I could have you arrested.”
“You’re going in after the killer,” said Pendergast. “You’ve deduced he’s in the cave.”
Hazen shifted uneasily. Pendergast must be guessing. There’s no way he could have heard; not yet.
The agent went on. “You have absolutely no idea of what you’re getting into, Sheriff—neither in terms of the adversary you’re facing, nor the setting.”
This was too much. “Pendergast, that’s it.”
“You’re at the edge of the abyss, Sheriff.”
“You’re the one on the edge.”
“The killer’s got a hostage.”
“Pendergast, you’re just blowing smoke out your ass.”
“If you blunder in there, Sheriff, you’re going to cause the death of that hostage.”
Despite himself, Hazen felt a chill. It was every cop’s nightmare. “Yeah? And just who is this hostage?”
“Corrie Swanson.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s been missing all day. And I just found her car, hidden in the corn a hundred yards to the west.”
There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then Hazen shook his head in disgust. “Right from the beginning, Pendergast, you’ve done nothing but throw the investigation off track with your theories. We would already have this man in the bag if it weren’t for you. So Swanson’s car is parked in the corn. She’s probably out in the cornfield with some guy.”
“She went into the cave.”
“Now there’s a brilliant deduction for you. The cave door is solid iron. How did she get in? Pick the lock?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
Hazen looked in the direction Pendergast was indicating, down along the cut in the ground. The iron door wasn’t locked after all: a padlock lay at the bottom of the doorframe, half concealed in the dust and leaves.
“If you think Corrie Swanson sprung that lock, Pendergast, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought. That’s not the work of a kid; it’s the work of a hardened felon. The man we’re after, in fact. And that’s more than you need to know about it.”
“As I recall, Sheriff, you were the one to accuse Miss Swanson of—”
Hazen shook his head. “I’ve listened enough. Pendergast, turn over your piece. You’re under arrest. Cole, cuff him.”
Cole stepped forward. “Sheriff?”
“He’s willfully disobeyed a standing cease-and-desist. He’s hindering a police investigation. He’s trespassing on private property. I’ll take full responsibility. Just get him the hell
Cole advanced toward Pendergast. In the next instant, Cole was lying on the ground, desperately trying to breathe, and Pendergast had vanished.
