The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [92]
“You want to guess what else?” asked Lamar.
“What else?”
“He’s got Art with him.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me … he’s briefed Art?”
“Yep. I guess he feels that with Art with DCI now, he don’t need us to help him get around the county.”
“Great. Just fuckin’ great. Art ain’t ready for this.” I just shook my head. “Christ.” Saying “Christ” brought the image of Art following Volont to the gates of hell. “Volont just got a disciple,” I said. “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Art.”
Lamar chuckled. “That’s funny.”
“You think he’s really gonna hit five banks at the same time?” I looked at the map of the county on the wall behind him. “Doesn’t make sense to me.”
It really didn’t. With the wormy roads, the small banks, the smaller take … it was folly to try that. With a “team” he’d put together from locals, it was worse than that. Three of the banks had large vaults with time locks. Unless you were pretty good at cracking safes, you’d have to hit the bank during business hours if you wanted to get anything to speak of. Even then … $10,000.00 wasn’t much, for the effort, the risk, even the equipment.
“Cletus escaped yet?”
“What?” I’d caught him thinking about something else.
“Cletus ain’t busy, is he?” I laughed.
He wasn’t, but his attorney had spent the night at the local motel, and had already convinced the judge that Cletus needed a bond reduction hearing. Lamar was to have Cletus in court in about fifteen minutes.
“I’d sure like to talk to Cletus about those little ‘training sessions’ Gabriel’s been giving.” I looked out the window. I couldn’t talk to Cletus, naturally, without his attorney being present. No real problem. It gave me time for a long coffee break.
I grabbed a cup, and stood at the window overlooking the parking lot and the town below. The sky was bright blue, and it looked almost like spring. It was still below freezing, but relief was on the way. In a few days, we’d be back in the deep freeze. All the warm interlude would have accomplished was to make the gravel roads a little harder to drive, with the mud tracks becoming hard as iron when they refroze. But it was nice, anyway.
Lamar and Cletus came down the hall from the cell block, Cletus in his orange coverall and handcuffed in front. Lamar was limping a little more than usual. Changes in the weather really did affect his leg.
I went out to my car, unlocked it, and started the engine. We’d transport Cletus in my car, and I wanted it warmed up. I left the engine running, and came back in to grab my vest. I met Lamar and Cletus at the door. “I’ll be right with you,” I said, walking into the secretaries’ office to get my vest off the hangers.
I got it, and as I turned, I saw them descending the wooden steps toward the parking lot. Lamar in the middle of the steps, Cletus on the right, near the rail. That way, handcuffed as he was, Cletus was supported on both sides if he started to slip. Suddenly, Lamar froze, and Cletus turned to his left, and just about knocked Lamar over as he stumbled into him. Then I saw one of the wooden posts supporting the porch roof just split in half. No noise. Just splintered and split. It was like slow motion.
Lamar hollered, “Carl!” and tried to grab Cletus and haul him back up the stairs. Cletus, with his balance already thrown off, wasn’t able to use his hands well enough to grab the railing, lost his footing, and started to tumble down the steps. Lamar reached down for him, and the porch floor behind him erupted in splinters.
Bullets. Those were bullets. I tried to get my coffee cup on the counter as I hurried by, missed, and drenched the