Flash and Bones - Kathy Reichs [47]
“What’s your name?” Galimore demanded.
“Eugene Fries.” The old man’s Adam’s apple seemed ready to pop out of his throat. “This is my place. You got no right to bully me.”
“You were pointing a shotgun at the lady’s heart.”
“I weren’t gonna shoot no one.”
“You had me fooled. Her, too.”
No shit. The lady’s heart was still hammering against her ribs.
The old man leaned over and hawked an impressive gob.
Galimore cracked open the Winchester. Seeing it was unloaded, he snatched up the hunting cap and smacked it back and forth against one thigh.
“Got a couple of questions for you, Mr. Fries.” Galimore parked the cap on the bald old head. “Then we’re on our way.”
Fries said nothing as Galimore urged him in my direction, staying carefully outside the reach of the dogs.
Fries’s eyes rolled to me, then refocused on Galimore. Still on edge from the dogs and the gun, I let Galimore do the talking.
“We’re interested in two kids who went missing from the Charlotte Motor Speedway back in ’ninety-eight. Cale Lovette and Cindi Gamble. You know who I’m talking about?”
“I know what you’re talking about. Never knew either one of ’em.”
“You stated that you served Gamble and Lovette at a concession stand around eight p.m. the night they disappeared. Is that correct?”
Fries nodded.
“How did you know it was them?”
“The cops showed me pictures. Lovette was easy to remember because of the tats.”
“A lot of guys get inked.”
“OK. I knew of Lovette by reputation.”
“How’s that?”
“He was tight with a bunch of militia types. Word was they were real bad actors.”
Galimore thought about that. Then, “You know Grady Winge?”
“He’s an idiot.”
“According to Winge, Gamble and Lovette left the Speedway around six that night.”
“Like I said, Winge’s an idiot.”
“How could you be so certain about the time?”
“I was checking the clock.”
“Why was that?”
“A certain lady was coming to see me at nine.”
“She show up?”
“No. Look, I told all this to the cops back then. Nearly got my ass killed.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means I nearly got my ass killed.”
Galimore drilled Fries with a look.
“Right after I talk to the cops, I get a call. Guy says my life turns to shit if I don’t change my story.”
“Who was it?”
“If I’d known that, the prick would be fertilizing a patch of forest.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him to fuck off. A couple days later, my dog turned up dead on my porch.”
“Maybe it just died.”
“She sure as hell did. From a slug in her brain. Two days after that, my house burned down.”
“You think the caller actually followed through on his threats?” I was shocked.
“No.” Fries turned to me, contempt drawing his thin, flaky lips into a downward U. “It was Al Qaeda recruiting me to the cause.”
“Then what did you do?” Galimore asked.
“What the hell would you do? I quit my job and headed west. Few years back, my brother offered me this trailer. I figured enough time had passed, so I come home.”
“You’ve had years to think about it,” Galimore said. “You must have your suspicions.”
Fries didn’t answer for a very long time. When he did, his scraggly white brows were drawn low over his lids. “All’s I’ll say’s this. Word on the street was Lovette and his pals were trouble.”
“You’re talking about the Patriot Posse?”
Fries nodded. “Why would they threaten you?” I asked.
“What?” The brows shot up. “I look like a cop? How the hell would I know?”
I asked the same question I’d asked of the others.
“Mr. Fries, what do you think happened to Cindi Gamble and Cale Lovette?”
“I think Lovette and his asshole buddies either killed someone or blew something up. Then he and his girlie split.”
“Where the hell were you?” Buckling my seat belt, adrenaline still pumping through me.
“Checking a path behind the trailer. I didn’t want Fries coming up on us from the woods.”
“Good job.”
I spent the first few miles concentrating on the road. And my nerves.
Galimore seemed to understand. Or was focused on thoughts of his own.
We were on I-485 when I finally felt calm enough for conversation. Exhilarated, almost. Being