“It’s not us. We’ve determined that James would never do that.”
“What if it’s Daron Styles?”
Now I hadn’t thought of that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
T hey weren’t going to get two of us without a fight.
“We’re safe if we stick together.” I wasn’t at all sure that was true, but saying it made me feel better.
The first place I thought about was the big yellow tent. We walked in, trying to see anything in the cavernous canvas interior. It was almost two in the morning, the moon was behind a cloud, and there was no light inside that yellow monstrosity at all. He could have been there, but we wouldn’t have seen him. The second place I thought of was the little camper village. Crayer had a tent there, and Crayer was on guard duty. That might be a perfect place to hide someone.
There wasn’t much light there either, just the dark shadows of maybe twenty campers and tents set up along a row of trees. One of the campers had a dim lamp that set out an eerie glow, but that was it.
As we approached the area I heard a slow rumble, like a dog growling.
“Hold on,” I whispered softly, my voice raspy and my throat getting sore. The sound was coming from a small camper, the windows open. I listened carefully and there it was again, a low rumble. And again. And again. Maybe a guard dog.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go any farther.” I could feel sweat running down my chest.
“Oh, for crying out loud. It’s just somebody snoring.” She pulled me away and we walked down to Crayer’s tent.
We walked past four poles and a tarp where someone had piled some canned goods on a table, two more tiny aluminum pull-behind trailers that looked about the size of our bedroom in Carol City, and three brightly colored tents. Mint green, burgundy, and a powder blue.
As we got closer to Crayer’s tent, Em squeezed my hand tighter. “He’s out here somewhere.”
“James?”
“Your friend, Mr. Crayer.”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose he might find us.”
“We’re not breaking any laws.”
In her soft voice, whispering, she said, “That doesn’t seem to make any difference, does it?”
It was possible. The village was in an open area, the big revival tent back to our left, but in the dark, Crayer could come out of nowhere and I did remember that he carried a gun. I was constantly aware of that fact.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
C rayer’s tent was an ugly military green. It was medium sized compared to the other tents, and small compared to a couple of the larger camper/trailers. The flap was pulled down and tied off on the front. Not much of a lock, but I figured that the people in the village watched out for each other. There had to be some valuables in each abode, and the inhabitants probably kept a sharp eye out for anyone who looked suspicious. Hey, I sell security systems. I understand how it works.
“This is it?”
“This is it. I’ve watched him go back here several times.” My throat felt raw. I was anxious to speak in a normal voice again.
Em kept her hand in mine. While I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the situation we found ourselves in, I was pleased that she was keeping so close. There was something about being in a dangerous situation that seemed to foster intimacy.
“The flap is tied down.”
“Couldn’t be tied down from the outside if he was on the inside.”
Even in the dark I could see her smile. “Good point, kemo sabe.”
“But, that doesn’t mean that someone isn’t inside.”
I felt her grip tighten. “Daron? James?”
“Can you keep a look out while I check inside?”
“Yeah.”
“Em — ”
“What?”
“No falling asleep.”
She let go of my hand and punched my arm.
I leaned down and untied the two strips of canvas. Slowly I raised the flap. Behind it was a see-through mesh cover closed by a zipper. It was too dark to see beyond. I slowly unzipped the mesh and parted the halves.
“Do you see anything?” She spoke in a hoarse whisper.
“Too dark.”
“Let your eyes adjust.”
I did. There was a little moonlight and starlight from the outside, as well as a soft light coming from a trailer parked nearby. As I stared into the tent, my eyes started to adjust. Not great vision, but I could make out a cot and sleeping bag. They were empty.
I stepped inside. The tent was too small to stand up, and I could make out a couple of bags, probably containing clothing and personal effects. That was it. A cot and a couple of bags.
I stepped back out, zipping up the mesh.
“Big disappointment.”
“You were seriously hoping to find one of them?”
“Would have been nice.” I tied the canvas strips down, duplicating the knot that Crayer had used.
She grabbed my hand again. “So where do we go now?”
“Let’s try the truck one more time. I keep thinking that James would go there when he couldn’t find us.”
“If he’s capable.” I felt a tremor in her hand. “Oh, God, Skip. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even think things like that.”
We walked back toward the truck, keeping an eye out for any of the security guys.
“Skip, they could have taken James and Daron off the grounds.”
“Could have.”
“If they’re afraid of a backlash from Cashdollar’s congregation, they certainly wouldn’t do something to them here, would they?”
“Something?”
“I don’t know. Beat them up or — ”
“Or kill them?” As soon as I said it I felt her shudder.
“They wouldn’t. Not here.”
I thought about it. They had call girls visit the poker group. They played high-stakes games of chance, although I questioned whether there was much chance in those games, and Cashdollar preached against intolerance by being intolerant. But murdering someone on his own campus? Would they kill James or Styles?
“Forget I said it.” She tugged my arm, hurrying to get back to the truck.
“You know the story about my first revival meeting?”
“You’ve told me.”
“And the day after?”
“Something about the seventeen-year-old girl?”
“The something was they found her dead body in plain sight. Probably in this same area, so I don’t think they
