Muckraker:>LET ME GET BACK TO YOU. I MAY HAVE A WAY TO GET ACCESS TO A FASTER CONNECTION.
Mystic:>TIME FRAME?
Muckraker:>DON’T KNOW. I’VE GOT TO DO A LOT OF CONVINCING BEFORE I CAN SELL THIS.
Reluctantly, Danielle closed the computer down and disconnected the sat phone. She took a couple deep breaths and thought about Sergeant Gander. Goose already knew about the CIA angle, but did he know it all? Would he want to know?
If things got dangerous, she also knew that the first sergeant was one of those guys who would stick till the bitter end of something. She’d already seen him doing that.
She blew out her breath. On the other hand, if this story was as risky as she believed it was, did she have any right endangering him by telling him everything Mystic had discovered?
Could she even trust Mystic?
Glumly, Danielle stared at her gray reflection in the foggy windshield. Mystic had been right about one thing: Paranoia was definitely addictive.
7
Shackleton Heights
Marbury, Alabama
Local Time 0928 Hours
“Area still look that familiar to you, Chaplain?”
“Aye. It does. Like it was just yesterday when I was here.” Delroy Harte sat in the passenger seat of the sheriff’s cruiser and peered out at the small, quiet neighborhood of Shackleton Heights. Usually Saturday mornings in that neighborhood were more active, filled with kids and noise and the sound of spring flower gardens being tilled. None of that was going on today. “You’d think after five years things would change.”
“Oh, now there’s probably been some changes. A few more folks with dish TV. Newer cars. But you’re right, of course; there probably ain’t been many changes.”
Deputy Walter Purcell drove, one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cup of take-out coffee in a Styrofoam container from Hazel’s Café. Today Walter had insisted on buying breakfast that morning before taking Delroy to the car-rental lot.
He’d also decided to take the long way there. The neighborhood tour through Shackleton Heights was part of the price of getting the taxicab service, he’d said. The car lot they were going to didn’t open till noon, and driving was better than cooling his heels waiting to make certain Delroy was safely on his way.
For his part, Delroy didn’t mind the side trip. After arriving at the Purcell home yesterday morning, he’d met Clarice, Walter’s wife, visited for a while, then sacked out in the back bedroom of the small house. If he could have remained conscious, the navy chaplain supposed he would have felt more than a little guilty about crashing the home as he had. But Walter Purcell was an insistent man and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Delroy had roused at dinnertime, called to the table by Walter, and spent an unbelievably enjoyable evening talking to Walter and Clarice, a quiet, reserved woman who at first didn’t seem to match up well with Walter. Walter came across as rough and gruff but was meek and mild around his wife, obviously loving her very much. Clarice and Walter had done the dinner dishes together, and it had reminded Delroy of evenings he’d spent at home with Glenda.
Not too surprisingly, the after-dinner talk drifted to the subject of the disappearances. Clarice had surprised Delroy by announcing that she felt certain the Rapture had occurred and that God had called His church home. Knowing he was a navy chaplain, she had asked Delroy his opinion on the matter. Delroy had quietly agreed with her but didn’t offer further elaboration because he hadn’t felt worthy enough to try to interpret God’s Word. He couldn’t do it with Walter sitting there, knowing the deputy had seen him digging up his own son’s grave, giving evidence of his own fears and doubts.
Later that evening, Delroy had made a phone call to a car dealer Walter had suggested, confirmed the existence of a rental—though the price was exorbitant—and secured it through his credit card. He’d also tried to contact the USS Wasp last night and this morning, but to no avail. He’d wanted to leave word with Captain Falkirk that he was heading to Norfolk, Virginia—Wasp’s homeport—and hoped to hook up with a ship or a plane headed to Turkey. Men and materials, as many as could be found, were being routed to the Mediterranean Sea to support the Turkish defense, but the military was feeding teams on several fronts as national defenses were shored up and martial law still ruled in some of the larger metropolitan areas around the country.
After watching the news, the three of them trying desperately to keep up on what was happening in the world, Clarice had treated Walter and Delroy to huge wedges of deep-dish apple pie with homemade ice cream out on the back veranda. They’d stayed up till 2 A.M.
Absolutely stuffed and feeling guilty, Delroy had bid the couple good night and returned to his borrowed bed. His dreams had been haunted all night by images of his father pounding at the pulpit as he preached to his congregation in the small church where Delroy had grown up.
“Depends on where you’re living,” Walter said in that straightforward way he had, still talking about the changing neighborhoods. “At least, that’s what I’ve always found out. Cities what’s got money to spend—or can put a hand in somebody else’s pocket and get money to spend—why, they do a lot of changing. Neighborhoods that get bought up by one outfit or another, they do a lot of changing. It’s ‘cause money’s being pumped into them areas, you see. But here in this part of Marbury, why, folks are pretty much set in their ways and mostly happy with what they’ve got. Or, leastways, not so unhappy that they’ll move on into the city proper.” He glanced around. “Though now and again one of ‘em will kill another, or steal from another, or do bodily harm to another.
