He hurried back to his SUV and climbed in. The rain was now harder. He called Frankie Campanella again.
“Change of plans,” Dalton said.
“Tell me.”
“A cop. He saw me on the roadside making calls. I had to take care of him.”
“And?”
“His corpse is currently residing in his cruiser at the bottom of a ravine.”
“They can track cop cars.”
“Taken care of,” Dalton said.
“What’s your plan?”
“We have to move. Get the fuck back to Memphis.”
“Dennie okay to travel?”
Now he’s concerned?
“No choice,” Dalton said. “We’ll have to risk it. I need a couple of guys to transport Dennie.”
“Why not simply leave? Now?”
“There was apparently a witness to us taking the doc. She saw the SUV. They’re out looking for it. That’s why the cop stopped and asked questions. So, we’ll have to wait for night to run.”
“Why do I need to send other guys over?”
“I think we should take care of the witness. I also want to have a little chat with this Jason Epps guy. See if we can stay up and running over here or if dear old Jason’s another liability.”
“This is starting to slide downhill.”
As far as Dalton saw it, things were well down the hill and picking up speed. Case in point: the parallel depressions the cop’s car had mashed into the parking area’s grass perimeter, pointing toward the ravine where a dead cop now lay. A fucking cop. That ramped things up considerably and for sure made Frankie nervous. The last thing Dalton needed was to piss off Frankie. Worse, have him lose confidence. What should have been a simple hit had gone to shit because of Tommy Finley. A fucking gun in a sofa for Christ’s sake.
“It’s covered,” Dalton said. “I can’t drive this SUV around in daylight any longer. I’ve already attracted one cop. We’ll hunker down until nightfall and then we’ll be ready to move.”
“Okay.”
“Give me a safe number. Tell them I’ll call at nine.”
“Why not give me the address?”
“Don’t know it. I just know where the cabin is. I had to drive a couple of miles to get a signal. I’ll call at nine and hook up with them. Just have them hang somewhere near Tanner’s Crossroads.”
“Got it,” Frankie said.
“Not in town. Somewhere west of it. One of the guys can then run to Memphis with Dennie. Me, Jessie, and whoever you send can hang around and take care of things.”
“I’ll send your crew. Myrick, Harris, and Navarro.”
“Not sure I’ll need all of them.”
“Call it overkill. I don’t think you can have too many hands on deck. With the way this little adventure has played out so far, further complications aren’t exactly out of the question.”
Frankie was pissed. Never a good thing. “Okay,” Dalton said.
“What about the doc?” Frankie asked.
“Won’t need him any longer.”
“Might be wise to bring him along. In case something medical comes up with Dennie. We can take care of his disposal here.”
“Good idea.”
“I have one every now and again,” Frankie said, no attempt to hide his sarcasm.
CHAPTER 37
Dennie was restless. His fever had jumped to 102 and he appeared flushed, even through his anemic pallor. His lungs were clear and his breathing comfortable and unlabored. Buck continued to hope it was a simple post-op fever and not the early signs of an infection. Not that an infection would be a surprise given the slap-dash nature of the surgery he had performed.
What if Dennie slid into shock? Buck had no real way to handle that. He didn’t have the vasopressors or the steroids or the spectrum of antibiotics he would need to turn such a tide. A rampant infection, sepsis, would take Dennie out in short order.
Where would that leave Buck? The answer to that was clear. Dalton had all but said so to Jessie earlier. What were his words? “Take him down.” No ambiguity there.
Which meant that escape was his only option. The how and when were guesswork, and a matter of opportunity. Not to mention luck, lots of luck.
Buck had a plan. Not much of one, and it had a razor-thin margin for error. The first step was isolating Jessie. No doubt the weak link in the duo. But was he weak enough?
Buck gave Dennie another two milligrams of morphine to settle him and then walked into the kitchen. Jessie sat at the table, eating an apple.
“How’s he doing?” Jessie asked.
“Not bad, not good.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he needs to be in an ICU.”
“Yeah, well, that ain’t going to happen.” Jessie took the final bite off the apple, stood, and walked to the sink. He opened the cabinet beneath and tossed the core into the waste basket.
“Look, Jessie, I know he isn’t your brother, but I suspect he’s your friend. It’s up to you to help me help him.”
Jessie poured a cup of coffee and returned to his seat at the table. “That’s Dalton’s call.”
Of course it was. Everything was Dalton’s call. So common sense and decency wasn’t working. Time for another approach.
“How’d you guys get in this mess?” Buck asked.
Jessie stared at him over the rim of the cup he cradled. “Don’t matter. Why’re you asking?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Be curious about something else.”
“My feeling is that you got yourself into something more than you anticipated,” Buck said. “Like maybe you had a job to do and it all went wrong.”
Jessie nodded.
Well, that was something.
Buck continued, “Did anyone else get shot?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
Buck smiled. As friendly as he
