Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [133]
‘‘Sally did have a good point, though,’’ said Hester. ‘‘Get rid of some of your worst mistakes by divorcing them. Or, at least, strongly considering it.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘And in walks the brave knight . . .’’
‘‘And,’’ I said, ‘‘that explains why Gabriel also acted so promptly to get rid of Herman.’’
‘‘It also explains,’’ said Volont, ‘‘why he responded to the e-mail so promptly.’’
‘‘Right!’’ I said.
‘‘And,’’ said Volont, ‘‘you told him you’d sent the messages that caused him to do this.’’
‘‘Right!’’ I said. ‘‘Threw him for a little loop.’’
‘‘What you’ve done,’’ said Volont, ‘‘is piss him off.’’ He looked at me very strangely. ‘‘That may not have been the best thing for you to do.’’
‘‘Not necessarily,’’ I said. ‘‘I mean, what’s he going to do? He won’t be taking hostages, that’s for sure. Kill a member of my family? Only get even with me. Won’t get Nola released in a million years. Kill me? Just make him feel better. Nola stays in jail.’’
Volont chuckled. ‘‘Don’t underestimate the pleasure of revenge.’’
‘‘I won’t,’’ I said. ‘‘But for the revenge to be sweet, he doesn’t want to ride off into the sunset alone. He wants his gal on his horse behind him. Don’t underestimate the power of love.’’
Volont drummed his fingers on the desktop. ‘‘All right, we’ll go with it.’’
‘‘Yes!’’ said George.
‘‘You know what?’’ I said. ‘‘The tables are turned. We have the hostage. He’s got to get her out.’’
‘‘No,’’ said Volont flatly. ‘‘He won’t try to get her out of Linn County. He can’t. He could try to kill Herman, that was another matter. But to get her out? No. Not possible.’’
I looked at him. ‘‘He wouldn’t even try that, would he?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘Well,’’ I said, ‘‘it looks to me like there’s only one thing to do.’’
‘‘I’m not sure I want to know,’’ said Volont.
‘‘Sure you do.’’ My turn to grin. ‘‘Transfer her back up here.’’
Twenty-five
NANCY AND HER ENTOURAGE arrived just about then. Good timing. We could see them coming up the drive on the little knoll the Sheriff’s Department and the Nation County jail occupy in Maitland.
‘‘Think about it for a minute,’’ I said, mostly to Volont. ‘‘I really think we better talk to Nancy . . .’’
Nancy, in a word, was a wreck. As one of her trooper escorts told Hester, she had driven all over the road most of the way.
Our favorite reporter collapsed into a chair in the investigator’s office. She looked up at all of us, not recognizing Volont.
‘‘I hope you appreciate this . . .’’
We got her some coffee, sent out for some lunch, and tried to get her to unwind in a controlled sort of fashion. She was very tired, not having slept most of the night. She’d been afraid to stay at a motel, so she’d pulled over at one rest stop, set her wristwatch alarm for half an hour, and tried to sleep. She’d done that three times. The third time, the alarm didn’t wake her, and she’d gotten about two hours’ sleep. In her car, with the windows up except for a crack. It had been about eighty-five degrees last night. And humid as hell.
‘‘I must look like shit,’’ she said. A remark that produced a polite silence.
‘‘You have a change of clothes in your car?’’ asked Hester. ‘‘If you do, why don’t you take a shower in the women’s section of the jail. Freshen up.’’
We called Sally, and she agreed to come right up.
‘‘Who threatened you in your motel?’’ I asked. ‘‘Do you know him?’’
‘‘No, I don’t know him. Introductions didn’t seem to be in order,’’ she said, a little testily.
Volont introduced himself. She’d never heard of him either, but he gave off an aura. Nancy was charmed.
‘‘Could you describe him, or her, or them?’’ he asked.
‘‘It was a him,’’ she said. ‘‘He was in running shorts, with a towel around his neck, and tennis shoes, and a Walkman, and an Army-colored tee shirt that said something about killing from a helicopter.’’
‘‘ ‘Death from Above?’ ’’ asked Volont.
‘‘Yeah, I think that’s it,’’ she said.
‘‘Hmm. How tall was he?’’
‘‘About five eight, just about my exact size,’’ she said. ‘‘Built like a swimmer more than a runner . . . smooth, you know?’’
‘‘Sure,