agent’s personal car, or the Feds had gotten more discreet in surveillance.
She called Bill as she neared her destination. “Hi, Bill. Can I borrow your truck? My Jeep isn’t starting. No, don’t pick me up, I’m already in a taxi. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Mitch and Steve didn’t find Lora at the Victorian house on the corner, but she was at the tackle shop on the main dock in Isleton.
She was a stick of a thing, with dyed blond hair and huge fake diamond earrings that made her lobes sag with their weight. She smiled when she saw them, but it wasn’t until she spoke that Mitch realized the man at the bar was right: Lora Lane was on the slow side.
She was making lures behind the counter. There were no customers in the shop, but Mitch saw several boats on the river through the windows behind the counter.
“Ms. Lane?”
She looked up, smiled, and said brightly, “Hi. Welcome to Isleton Bait and Tackle.”
They identified themselves and showed their badges. Mitch said, “I think you can help us in an ongoing investigation.”
“Sure!”
“We’re trying to trace the last steps of a law student who was found dead in the river near here. You might have heard about it. His body was found on Wednesday.”
She bobbed her head several times. “Everyone who comes in is talking about it.”
“We know that he was at the Rabbit Hole the night he disappeared. We were told that you’re a regular.” Mitch held up Maddox’s photograph. “Do you recognize this man?”
She stared at the picture and bit her lip. “I haven’t seen him recently. I’d remember, because he has nice glasses.”
“In January. It was a Sunday night and it was raining pretty badly.”
She brightened and nodded. “Oh, yes! I remember. I think.” She bit her lip again. “I think so. But it was a long time ago. But I have a good memory.”
“You think you might have seen this man in the bar?”
“Yes,” she said cautiously. “I think he came in late, after dark.”
That didn’t help-in January it was dark before six in the evening.
“Do you know if he met with anyone? Maybe had an argument?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I just remember what he looks like. I’m good with faces. And he was sitting in his car a long time after he left.”
“His car? Do you remember what kind of car?”
She shrugged. “Not really. Tip was walking me home. It was raining pretty hard and we were walking really fast. I thought maybe he didn’t want to drive in the rain.”
Steve asked, “Did Tip see the man in the car?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”
Mitch retraced the conversation. “This man came in after dark, and how long do you think he stayed in the bar?”
“I don’t know. Long enough to have a drink.”
“Did he seem nervous? Agitated? Angry?”
Lora Lane frowned, her eyes worried and confused. Mitch backtracked. “Did this man act strange?”
“I don’t remember.”
“But you remember him having a drink?”
She blinked in confusion. “I got to bring him his beer. Tip lets me do that sometimes, especially when it’s slow, and I like to help.”
“Were there any other strangers in the bar that night?”
She looked worried. “I don’t know. Should I know that?”
“No, not necessarily.”
“If you have a picture I might be able to remember. I’m very good with faces,” she repeated.
“You’ve been a big help already, Ms. Lane.”
“I have?”
“Yes. Thank you for your time.”
They left.
“Who did Maddox call at the Rabbit Hole?” Mitch asked. “Directions? And why the second call?”
“Maybe it was a mistake, a misdial,” Steve suggested.
“A rainy Sunday night. No other strangers. Barney has the only connection to Maddox through Frank Lowe. But why?”
“Maybe he followed Maddox out of town. Ran him off the road.”
“Maybe. But why was Maddox sitting in his car?”
“Waiting for Barney to leave, maybe. Want to go back and push him?”
“We need something else. Lora Lane is not a reliable witness. Something definitive, otherwise we’re just fishing and if he
“No pun intended,” Steve said as he unlocked the car.
Mitch rolled his eyes and slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s get the background check on Mr. Barney and see what we can find. We can always come back.”
“Great,” Steve said sarcastically as he turned onto River Road. “I hate driving this road.”
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“It could be dark and raining.”
Lora Lane liked pretty things.
Ribbons for her hair. Shiny jewelry for her fingers and ears. Manicures and pedicures and keeping her boring brown hair blond.
She didn’t like working in the dirty tackle shop, but she liked the money she earned every Friday. Her mama always said she was a pretty little girl without an ounce of common sense. Daddy let her live at home because she wasn’t very good with her money and he said people would take advantage of her.
She knew she wasn’t a smart girl, but she was smart enough to know that people thought she was a retard. She’d heard them talking. Her daddy shut them up right quick, but she heard them sometimes. She ran the tackle shop almost all by herself, knew the difference between a night crawler and a butterworm, and made the world’s finest lures. Her daddy said so himself, and everyone came into the shop to buy them because they worked.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew how to mind her mouth. She didn’t tell those nice men about her agreement, did she? No, she didn’t. She kept it to herself like she’d sworn on the grave of her grandmama that she would.
For two years, Lora had watched Tip Barney like she was told. Every night she went to the Rabbit Hole and watched him. She kind of liked him, he was nice to her and didn’t treat her like she was dumb. He talked to her like she had something important to say, even when she didn’t say anything. He was nice-looking, too. Had nice blue eyes and a pretty smile.
When the men came to her house, Daddy wasn’t home. He was working. He had an important job, just like she did. He was a policeman. The chief policeman in Isleton. At first she was scared, but then the pretty man smiled at her and she felt all fluttery inside.
She had a job. And it was as important as her daddy’s job. She was
She liked Tip, but he was a terrorist. As Agent Smith said, not all terrorists look like terrorists.
She was protecting her friends and neighbors from being killed like those poor people in New York. Lora was
