The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [20]
“We oughta eat somethin’,” DeWayne suggested. “How ‘bout we order a pizza?”
Leonard thought it over. It seemed reasonably safe. “Yeah, all right,” he said. He picked up the phone.
“And see if they’ll bring us some more beer,” DeWayne suggested. “I don’t feel like waitin’ two hours for Crystal to get back. I got a thirst.”
Leonard sighed. “They don’t do that, DeWayne,” he said. “You can’t get no one to deliver beer.”
“Shee-it, cuz,” DeWayne replied. “One thing I know, people’ll do damn near anything if the money’s right.”
Leonard picked up the phone.
Keller pulled over and parked halfway down the block on the dead-end street. He noticed a rusted pickup truck parked in front of the white house. The truck had not been there when he had checked the house out before. He didn’t recognize the truck or the license plate as any of the ones that Angela had supplied him with as being registered to DeWayne Puryear. The truck could have belonged to any resident of the street. Still, Keller felt his heart quicken. There was no logic to it, he knew, but some instinct made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He took a second to savor the anticipation. The takedown was just moments away. The adrenaline began to course through him, singing in his bloodstream. It was the reason he did the job. He reached for the cell phone. As he picked it up, it buzzed softly. He silently thanked the reflex that had caused him to turn the ringer off and set the phone to “vibrate.” The sudden quivering sensation, however, made the phone feel like some small and frightened animal in his hands.
“Keller,” he said softly into the phone.
“Where the hell have you been?” Angela’s voice demanded. Her voice sounded strained. There was none of the usual banter.
“Sorry,” he said, still almost whispering. “Turned the ringer off. And I had to run a few errands.” He looked at the truck. “I need you to run a plate for me.”
“In a minute,” Angela said. “You need to hear this. DeWayne Puryear’s parents have been killed.”
Keller tensed. “When?”
“A few hours ago. Both of them, shot in the back of the head. Execution style. It was on the radio.”
“They think he did it?”
“No.” her voice was shaky. “I know a couple of people on the Sheriff’s department down there, so I made some calls. I got a couple of details that weren’t on the news.” He heard her take a deep breath. “They think the father had been tortured. The fingers on his left hand were broken, like somebody bent them back till they snapped.”
Keller winced. “Any idea why?”
“There was some money stashed in a coffee can under the sink, so that’s not what they were looking for.”
Keller thought for a moment. “DeWayne? They think someone else is looking for him?”
“They know he’s on the run. And they know H & H made his bond.” She took a deep breath. “The person I talked to was real interested in where you were.”
“Wait a minute,” Keller said. “They think I had something to do with this?”
“They said they just wanted to talk to you. See if you knew anything.”
“I hope you told them that I wasn’t going to commit murder over a ten percent recovery fee for a fifty thousand dollar bond.”
“They never outright accused you. There was nothing for me to deny. Like I said, they claimed they only wanted to talk to you.”
“Damn it,” Keller said. “This I don’t need.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You tell then where I was?”
Her voice was hurt. “Of course not.” She paused. “Keller, something’s screwy here. There’s somebody else out there who wants to find DeWayne Puryear. Somebody willing to torture a seventy-year old man to find out where he is and then kill him. I want you off this job. Call the local cops and let them handle it. It’s not worth it.”
He looked back at the pickup truck. “It is to me.”
“You just said you weren’t going to kill someone over five grand. Now you’re telling me you want to die for it?”
“I took the job. I want to finish it.”
“What are you, the Mounties all of a sudden? You