Edwin Kreiss, there was just one point of reality: He was determined to find out what had happened to his daughter. Those oily bastards from headquarters and the AG’s office knew that and were trying to leverage his personal tragedy.
She banged the steering wheel in frustration. She literally did not know what to do. Then she remembered Farnsworth’s instructions: “Any sign of somebody else in this little game, back out and call me.” When in doubt, why not do what the boss says? What a concept, she thought, as she reached for her purse and her building key card.
Jared got back to his trailer just before midnight and parked his pickup next to the telephone company repair van. He went in the back door, as usual. He washed his hands, grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, slugged it down, thought briefly of taking a quick shower and heading down to Boomers, a local gin mill, and then decided not to. The West Virginia motorcycle crowd usually arrived just about now, and unless some of his own Black Hat buddies were there, he’d probably end up in a
one-sided brawl over nothing. He checked his answering machine, and there—thank you, Lord—was a message from Terry Kay. Her husband was out of town until Tuesday and she wanted to know if he would like to come over and make some Saturday-night noises at her place. He grinned, erased the message, and got another beer.
Terry Kay was a thirty-something housewife whom he had met on a service call out on Broward Road. He’d been out there once before, and she’d called in a second service call. Her husband was on the faculty at Virginia Tech and traveled a lot. Terry Kay was about five two, with black hair, teasing brown eyes, and a delectably round body. She had met him at the door wearing a short skirt, a straining cashmere sweater, and a pouty little smile. She was Terry Kay Olson, she said. With an 0, rounding her lips to show him. The problem was in her husband’s study; she thought it might be in the floor jack under the desk. When he had knelt down in front of the desk kneehole to examine the floor jack, Terry Kay had slid into the desk chair on the other side in such a fashion as to reveal what her real problem was all about. They had been together a few times after that, always on the spur of the moment, and always with an element of the danger of being discovered involved. Terry Kay liked it hot, hard, and fast, and Jared was just the guy for that. He had no time for the talkers. The prospect of an entire Saturday night with Terry Kay instead of another endless duty night with his grandfather at the power plant, well, hell, no contest. Besides, he was ready for a break. He finished the beer and decided to have just one more.
He called his grandfather, who always turned his phones off late at night, to leave him an excuse message. To his surprise, Browne answered the phone. Jared swore silently.
“What?” Browne said.
“Uh, I didn’t tell you what I set up. In case he comes again and we’re not there.”
“Yes?”
“I did the Ditch. You know, those steel plates out on the main street? I set them one of them as a pit trap. Took out them center support bars.
Anyone walks on that steel, he’s goin’ down twenty feet into the Ditch.
That’s all concrete down there. Break his legs, prob’ly. Then we’ll have his ass.”
“Yeah, that should do it. Which panel?”
“Second up from the power plant. That way, comin’ in, he’ll walk on several of them, and feel safe. Uh —”
“What, Jared? It’s late.”
“Tomorrow? I’m gonna be runnin’ errands all day—laundry, grocery store, stuff like that? Then this lady friend called me. Wants to get together tomorrow night.”
“Jared, we’re almost finished with this thing. I need you there tomorrow night.”
“I haven’t had a night off in a long while,” Jared whined.
“I’m a young man. I’ve got my needs, for Chrissakes!” He winced, knowing what was coming next.
“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain, young man. This is your father we are avenging, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“He wasn’t my father for very long, was he?” Jared said, and again winced, waiting for the explosion. But the old man didn’t say anything.
That was almost worse.
“Look,” Jared said, rushing to fill that ominous silence.
“It’s just one night. Why don’t we leave it all alone, let the place cool off. Let my trap do its job. Go in on Sunday instead, during the day. Change the pattern, screw this guy up, whoever he is.”
“Because, for one thing, we’re close to finishing. There should be enough copper. The sooner the truck is pressurized, the sooner I can get out of there. And for another, I’ve got to feed our prisoner.”
Jared formed a quick image of Lynn’s taut body.
“Shit, she’s in pretty good shape. She’ll survive.”
“And how would you know that, Jared?”
“I just mean, one night ain’t gonna kill her,” Jared said quickly.
“Look, I promised this woman I’d go see her, all right? I’m a man, damn it. I’ve got needs.”
There was an angry silence on the line.
“You’ve got a short circuit between your brain and your dick is what you’ve got,” Browne said.
“Well, go on, you ungrateful pup. I’ll do this thing without you. Go hump your slut. I hope her husband comes home with a shotgun and catches the both of you.”
Browne slammed the phone in Jared’s ear. Jared put the handset back on up on the wall, sighed, and finished his beer. Hell with him, he thought.
He’ll get over it. He’ll want me back when we catch whoever the hell has been racking around out there. Old man is half-crazy anyway. He felt a surge of resentment. The old man loved the memory of dead William a whole lot more than he loved Jared. He wondered why. Must have something to do with the way everything turned to shit for him
after William left. The cancer. The closing of the arsenal. That shit with his pension. He shook his head. Screw it. It was almost over anyway.
He dropped down into the ratty old recliner and popped the television on. Three fat women in miniskirts were wrestling across a stage while a talk-show host watched with mock alarm and the audience screamed for blood. He smiled as he wondered what kinds of things might be down in that tunnel. The old man himself had probably sent thousands of gallons down there during all those years he’d been working there. Bet there’s some regular mutant shit down there by now.
He settled back to watch the fun, when the lights cut out and the television went black.
“What the fuck?” he muttered into the sudden silence, getting up out of his chair. Then he realized he could see, because the orange security light on the power pole was still on. That meant that the power company had not dropped the load. He squinted out the kitchen windows, but there was nothing moving out there in his yard. Or in the dog pen, he realized. He squinted harder but could see no sign of his dogs. Was that pen door shut? They might all three be in their igloos, but usually one was stretched out on the concrete. He tried a light switch in the kitchen, but nothing happened.
He went to the junk drawer by the sink, resurrected a flashlight, and went outside. He checked the power box, where the overhead wires came down to his meter. There was no sign of trouble. Then he called to his dogs, to see if they were stirring. There was no reaction, so he walked over to the pen and found the door slightly ajar. This time, he swore out loud: “How the hell did this happen?” He listened for the sound of baying and rooing in the distance, but the only dog he heard was that little yapper belonging to that crazy old deaf woman who lived a mile down the county road. He was sure he had latched up this gate after feeding them.
He was sure of it. Then he remembered the sounds he had heard the other night, and he hurried back into the trailer to get a gun. If somebody was out here fucking around, he wanted to be ready for the bastard.
He went back into the bedroom, got the .45 out of the bedside table, checked to make sure it was ready to go, and then went into the tiny utility closet to check the power panel. He cycled all the circuit breakers, but nothing happened; the trailer remained dark. Then he distinctly heard the sound of footsteps crunching outside. He backed carefully out of the utility closet, which was in the hallway leading from the living room-kitchen area back to the
