Chat - Archer Mayor [89]
Joe didn’t respond. He was too busy both processing and stifling a collection of mental outbursts.
“Oh,” Sammie continued, either oblivious or, more likely, nervous for her partner, “Willy’s fine. Bellows Falls PD was there with him—at the end—so it looks pretty up-and-up.”
“Willy’s solid on Nugent being the right guy?”
“Absolutely, boss.” Sam’s emphasis betrayed her own initial misgivings. “E. T. gave it up first, a few days ago, and Willy really checked it out. I mean, nobody saw Nugent do it, of course—except Andy—but he was at the right place at the right time, has a history of doing that shit, to men and women both, and, finally, even bragged about it to some of his buddies. Willy got it all down—sworn statements, the works. That’s why he made the approach. He was going to bust him.”
Joe checked the glowing clock on the night table. It was four a.m. “When did this happen?”
“About ninety minutes ago. It’s been kind of a mess to sort out.” Sam suddenly stopped before adding in a guiltier tone, “I tried calling your home phone earlier. When you didn’t answer, I didn’t want to disturb . . . Well, you know, you’ve got a bunch of things going on. I didn’t want to . . .”
Jesus, he thought, this’ll make the rounds. “That’s fine, Sam. Don’t worry about it. You still in BF?”
“Yeah. We got VSP doing the investigation. We’re all hanging out at the PD.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” he asked.
“Nope—just Nugent. The gas station is half toast, but the owner says he’s insured. Nothing else caught fire, and the fire department had a blast putting it out—big-time war story material.”
Joe shook his head slightly—the circles he traveled in. “Okay, Sam. I’ll be heading up soon.”
He snapped the phone shut and rested his head against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
“That didn’t sound good,” Lyn said quietly.
“Could you hear both sides?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Well, it could’ve been worse—if it turns out the way Sam just said. People bolt all the time when we get too close, and get into deeper trouble because of it. Let’s just hope there’s no surprise hiding in the bushes.”
“Like what?”
He immediately thought of Willy. “You know how it is,” he answered vaguely. “Just something you don’t expect.”
He sighed and slipped his arm back where it had been, enjoying the way she slipped her thigh up over his leg and placed her warm hand on his stomach.
“Mostly, I just hate to go,” he admitted. “Not the way I figured tonight would wrap up.”
She kissed his neck. “Exactly how much time do you think you do have?” she asked, biting his earlobe lightly.
He laughed. “A few more minutes than I thought I had?”
She slid her hand down farther. “Good.”
He only got to drop by in Bellows Falls, long enough to show a command presence to both the state police investigators and his own people. During the half-hour drive up the interstate from Brattleboro, he’d received a second phone call, this one from his mother, who told him that the hospital had called.
His heart had dropped at the news. Given his profession and the surprises it often bore, he’d been dreading this call while expecting it, too.
“It’s good, Joey,” she’d told him, however, falling back to a nickname she rarely used. “He’s coming out of it, just like the doctor said he might.”
“I’m already heading your way, Mom,” he’d told her. “I’ll be there in under an hour.”
Karl Weisenbeck looked as fresh at 5:15 in the morning as he always did—affable, neat, and completely focused on his patient’s mother.
He was also overflowing with enthusiasm. “In a nutshell, Mrs. G.,” he said, crouching down to her level. “We hurt your son and he said ‘ouch.’ Best news in the world.”
He laughed at