Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [1]
“We’re going to ask you to step into the room next door,” the deputy announced.
Through the doorway, Lowell could see into the hall, where the second deputy stood, his hand on his gun in a casual, almost unconscious gesture. Puzzled, Lowell stood as the cuff that secured him to his chair was released, and he shuffled toward the open door.
“Why?” Archer asked.
“Just come with me now.” The deputy gestured with his left hand, his right still resting atop his holster.
“What about my lawyer?” Archer stood uncertainly. “He’s going to be here any minute.”
“When he gets here, we’ll let him know where to find you.” The deputy stepped aside and waited for Lowell to move into the room next door.
The hall was crawling with law enforcement types, local uniforms as well as state police and the ever present county deputy sheriffs. Some were running, some gathering in small excited groups. Lowell looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge what could create such a buzz, but he was shoved forward before he could get a handle on what was going on.
The new room was wider than the one he’d just left, with two long windows and eight or ten chairs, one of which was occupied by another of the prisoners who’d shared the ride in from the prison that morning. His was the only face that had looked even vaguely familiar to Lowell, though Archer couldn’t quite place him. The man was stocky, like a prizefighter, his arms and face freckled, and his eyes golden brown. His red hair—faded a bit with age, but red nonetheless—came as a surprise.
Where had Lowell seen him before? He didn’t recall having seen him out at High Meadow, but there was something about him. . . .
The sound of running feet in the hallway broke his concentration. There was a bit of shouting, and by craning his neck, Lowell could see that activity just outside the door was increasing.
“What do you think is going on out there?” he asked his companion.
“What is going on out there?” the man asked, and Lowell realized that from his seat, his companion was unable to see the glass window in the door.
“Lots of cops. Lots of cops. Several different departments and some state police. People running every which way.” Lowell stretched his neck farther to get a better look.
“My guess is that someone might have escaped from custody.”
“Really? You think someone’s on the run?” Lowell felt a thrill of excitement. “Someone from High Meadow?”
“You were in the van from High Meadow this morning,” the red-haired man noted.
Lowell nodded, more interested in what was going on outside.
“Me, too,” the man continued, “me and Waldo, the guy who, I suspect, is on the fly out there. There was a rumor he might decide to take off.”
Lowell stared at the man who sat, shackled, at the opposite side of the room.
The man smiled, a don’t-mess-with-me-smile that Lowell knew instinctively had nothing to do with wanting to reassure him.
Lowell cleared his throat and pretended that he was not intimidated. “You think he’ll get away with it?”
Before he could answer, the door opened to allow another prisoner to join them. He, too, had been in the van that morning. He was tall and thin, and he moved in a way that made Lowell think the man was more muscle than one might immediately suspect. His hair was short, light brown, and his eyes were deep set and murky gray.
For reasons that Lowell could not explain, he recoiled slightly. The man had an air of the sinister about him, though from outward appearances, he gave the impression of being more amused than deadly.
The deputy took a moment to remind his prisoners that there was a guard right outside the door, “armed, and he won’t hesitate for one minute to bring you down if you so much as move.”
“A bit heavy-handed, wouldn’t you say?” The new man grinned slightly and looked directly at Lowell.
“He’s just trying to scare us.” The red-haired man shrugged. “They ain’t really that good.”
“What d’ya suppose they’re doing out there?” Lowell squirmed in his seat. Something about this new guy made him nervous.
“They’re playing ‘Where’s Waldo.’ Waldo Scott.” The redhead