Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [92]
My cold heart didn’t melt at all when she began to sob.
Using a fireman’s hold, Bucket carried a kicking and screaming Nyla into the back door of the Hombres clubhouse. Evidently Big Mike had found help with our nefarious little scheme.
A tiny bit of guilt surfaced. “You’re not going to kill her, right?”
“Not on purpose.”
I sucked down the last drag and crushed my cigarette beneath my boot heel. “I fucking hate this shit. I want that fucker Jackal dead, but I don’t want to know how you get the information, all right?”
“You still can’t tell Martinez about this, Julie. Might be a couple of days until we get her to talk. Maybe it’d be best if you didn’t see him during that time.”
I studied Big Mike. He’d said that too quickly, too eagerly. “I guarantee if you suggest he and I take a break, Martinez will know something’s up.”
“You’re probably right.” He sighed. “You’re sure you didn’t see anything else in her room?”
327
“Positive. Why?”
“Just makin’ sure she didn’t leave behind nuthin’
that can be traced. Was the van still where she’d parked it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t drive past it.”
“We’ll check it out.”
“So my part in this is done?”
Big Mike nodded.
“I’m keeping the cell. You keep in touch with me and let me know what’s going on or I blow the fucking whistle, got it?”
“Jesus. You’re a hard-ass.”
“Like that’s a big surprise.”
Been a long time since I’d pulled an all-nighter. I needed a shower but had no desire to go home, so I headed for the office.
The message from Kevin said he’d be in Pierre through the weekend. Because Martinez’s shooting happened on a Thursday night, Kevin hadn’t missed me or my invaluable contribution to Wells/Collins Investigations. Even if he was here I couldn’t tell him I’d spent the weekend holed up at Bare Assets caring for my injured lover.
At 10:00 I opened for business and took my big 328
mug of steaming coffee into my office. No clue what I’d do since we didn’t have any pressing cases. Twenty minutes later the outer door opened.
Bud Linderman loped into my office. Alone. No cowboy posse. I couldn’t believe I was actually disappointed. I couldn’t believe I was actually nervous.
“Mr. Linderman.”
He removed his coat and hat and made his way to the chairs across from my desk. “Miz Collins. You look as good as I remembered.”
Couldn’t say the same for him. Bud had aged ten years since I’d last seen him. He’d dropped a good fifty pounds. His silver hair turned to cotton-white fluff and it needed a trim, as did his droopy mustache. His Western duds weren’t pressed to perfection. He looked like a sad, lost man.
Don’t feel sorry for him. Piece of shit threatened you. He threatened an innocent little girl. If he’s fallen on hard times, it’s no more than he deserves.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
Linderman nodded. “I know you don’t think too much of me; cain’t say as I blame you. In retrospect my behavior toward you was appallin’. I’d like to apologize for that.”
I shrugged.
“You prolly don’t care, but since we last crossed paths, I ain’t the same person. My life changed.”
If he confessed he’d accepted Jesus Christ as his personal Lord and Savior, I’d kick him to the fucking 329
curb, old man or not.
“My wife, Mary, died suddenly. We’d been married forty-seven years. High school sweethearts.”
“Look, Linderman, I’m sorry for your loss. But if I’m on your list of rights you have to wrong to ease your conscience, you’re barking up the wrong tree. The person you need to make amends to is Chloe Black Dog, not me.”
“I have. I started a scholarship fund for that little gal in her mother’s name. I ain’t gonna brag and tell you how much money I put in there, but it’s a pile. She won’t hafta worry ’bout how’s she’s gonna pay for her college education.”
That floored me. “Donovan knows?”
“Yep. And I apologized to him, too.” Linderman glanced up from twisting his gnarled hands in his lap.
“So, will you at least listen to me?”
Say no. “I guess.” I lit up, leaned back, and put my feet on the desk to keep my Skechers from getting dirty