Dead Man's Song

“We’ll kiss and make up later. For now I have a new condition to add to our arrangement.”

“Sure! Anything!” He said, meaning it.

“Here’s the deal, on Friday morning I’m going to go on a little field trip, and I want you to go with me. I’m going to go out to Ubel Griswold’s old farm, and I want you to go with me.”

“Sure,” Newton said at once, and then what Crow said caught up with him. “Did you say—?”

“Yeah. Sound like fun to you? Me neither, but you meet me outside my store at seven-thirty Friday morning. Dress for the woods and pack a lunch. We’re going to have to hike in. See you then,” he concluded and then hung up before Newton could reply.

Newton lay in bed and stared up at the shadows on the ceiling and wondered just what the hell he had agreed to.

(2)

“But he hasn’t been home for three days!”

Officer Jim Polk spread his hands, sighed and said, “Look, Andy, there’s not much we can do. Ritchie is over eighteen and you yourself said he took a lot of his stuff with him. Clothes and such.”

“Which means he’s run away!” stressed Andy McClintock, tapping his thick index finger firmly on Polk’s desk.

“But at eighteen he’s allowed to run away,” Polk said. “According to the law, at eighteen he’s old enough to leave home without parental permission, so there’s really nothing we can do. Hell, at eighteen I was in the Corps and carrying a gun. Eighteen is a lot different from fifteen, and that’s what you’re not seeing.”

“He didn’t even leave a note. Nothing, not a damned word. Just up and goes one night.” Andy McClintock was a big bear of a man, tall and stocky, tending toward fat but still strong from long hours working his dairy farm. He had callused hands and a permanently sunburned face. His eyes were filled with worry and it bubbled out of him as anger.

“I’m sure you’re scared, and pissed off, but listen to me, Andy, ’cause I don’t know how many more times I can say this—there isn’t anything I can do. If he was sixteen I’d have his name and description sent out to every agency in the tristate area, but I’m not even allowed to do that with an eighteen-year- old.”

Andy McClintock straightened himself to his full height of six feet and glared at the seated Polk. He opened his mouth to say something very biting, and Polk could all but smell the acid forming on Andy’s tongue, but the moment of anger passed and Andy’s shoulders sagged, his face looking both confused and helpless. “Jim…he’s my only kid….”

Polk rose, came around the desk, and put his hand on Andy’s beefy shoulder. “Look, I’ll ask around anyway, okay? Let a few of the other guys know, too, talk to some of my buddies in Black Marsh and Crestville. Unofficial. Maybe we’ll hear something from someone. If we do, I’ll let you know first thing.”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely. First thing. But,” he said as they stood in the open doorway, “just give the kid a little time. Let him blow off some steam, get laid, get drunk. He’ll get it out of his system and come crawling home. Hell, we all did that at least once.”

Andy nodded and shook Polk’s hand and left. Polk watched him get in his car and drive out of the lot, then he turned and pulled the door shut behind him. The office was empty except for Ginny, who dozed at her desk, a Danielle Steele novel open and resting against her bosom. Quietly, unhurriedly, Polk walked over to the farthest desk and lifted the handset of the phone. He punched in a number and waited until someone picked up.

“Shanahan’s Garage.”

“Let me speak to Vic,” Polk said. “Tell him it’s Jim Polk.”

“Minute.”

Polk waited for nearly three minutes, then a voice at the other end said, “What do you want? I’m in the middle of a valve job.”

“I just had Andy McClintock in my office, came to report him missing.”

There was a brief silence. “Yeah? And?”

“I told him what I told all the others.”

“How many’s that? How many have actually been into the office to make reports?”

“Six, so far. That’s a lot for just a few days, Vic.”

“How many of them does Gus know about?”

“Maybe two. I’ve been doing the day work, so I’ve been taking almost all of the reports, and the ones I don’t take usually come across my desk at some point. The only two I couldn’t intercept were filed with someone else when I was off shift, but I can get into the computer and fix those.”

“Has Gus said anything?”

“Nope. Far as he knows, it’s just a couple missing persons. I’ve been inputting vacation notices for some of them, too. That way our guys are even doing drive-bys to make sure no one breaks in while the residents are away. I got all of this nailed down. Gus never checks, and I mean never. It’s why he made me sergeant in the first place, because he knows I like to handle all the reports and shit. We’re building a nice smokescreen, and public panic is helping. At least a dozen families have left town anyway because of the manhunt, and a lot of people have pulled their kids out of school. That’s stuff that happened without us doing anything, so it’s working as a nice cover. We’re covered here, Vic, but if this thing goes on longer than a couple more weeks then it’s going to get hard to fudge it. For right now, though, no one knows shit and that goes double for Gus.”

“You’d better make sure you keep it that way, ’cause I don’t want him even getting so much as a whiff of this. Not until the Man says so.”

“No sweat. Gus ain’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.” He cleared his throat. “Even so, Vic, I think it would be a good idea to have Ritchie call his dad, maybe say that he’s down in Atlantic City, or up in New York. Someplace he’d go with his buddies. Better for Andy to hear from him than to start a fuss.”

There was a short silence before Vic said, “That’s a pretty smart idea, Jimmy-boy.”

“We should have some of, um, them, make some calls to relatives or friends—and especially to their jobs. Call in sick, or say they have to go out of town for some reason. Have Carby and the other parents write notes to the schools saying the family’s going to visit relatives somewhere. Y’know, settle things down, make it look normal, otherwise people are going to start talking, and then they’ll starting wondering…”

“I get it,” Vic said. “And you’re right, that’s a good plan. I’ll get some of the others to make calls, or send some e-mails. Good friggin’ call.”

“Great, that’ll help calm things down. Otherwise who knows who might start putting two and two together.” Polk paused and braced himself before heading off onto a new tack. “Look, Vic…this stuff you got me doing is pretty risky….”

“And you’re getting paid, so what’s your point?”

“That’s just it…I’m not sure I got paid enough for this sort of thing. This stuff can get me a federal rap, let alone state time. You have no idea the kind of risks I’m taking. I just think what you’re asking me to do is worth more than you’ve given me so far.”

Vic’s voice was soft and wintry. “Am I hearing this right? Are you putting the squeeze on me? Is that what I’m hearing? Maybe you’d like me to come over and deliver it personally. Kiss your ass, too, to show my respect since you’re doing such a stellar job.”

“Vic, I—”

“Maybe you want to bang my wife, too? Would you like that? A little roll in the hay with Lois just to show my appreciation for all your hard work? Maybe a tidy little thank you blow job. How ’bout that? Just my way of saying thanks for being supercop.”

“C’mon, Vic, I was just—”

“Or maybe,” Vic said, his voice becoming even colder, “maybe you’d like one of them to deliver it? How ’bout that? Would you like that? Hey…I can have Ritchie himself bring you your cash. Bring you your reward.”

Polk’s throat seized shut. Blood roared in his ears and he could feel his gut knotting like a fist.

“Maybe even Karl himself? How would that be? Would you like Karl to hand deliver your blood money? That way you could explain to Karl how valuable you’ve been to us. I’m sure he’d be very impressed. You know how