The Guilty - Jason Pinter [95]
for you to stir your cream and sugar."
"You arrogant prick," Waverly spat. "Just who do you
think you are? Do you have any idea who we are, what this
town is? We have a thousand residents. You live in a city
of millions, where nobody gives a shit about anybody else.
Do you have any idea what something like this could do to
our county?"
"Without the legend of Brushy Bill Roberts, your town
dies," I said. "That's a fact. And by covering up a murder investigation, it will do the same thing."
"Who said anything about murder?" Waverly said. There
was concern in his voice. It was trembling. He knew something.
"Whose remains were never found?"
"I don't have to talk to you?"
"Whose, Justice?"
"The son," he gushed. "William Henry. We found a piece
of femur we believe was his, but..."
"But what?" I said.
"But we weren't sure. So we buried it."
"You buried an empty coffin?"
"It wasn't empty!" Waverly said. "There was a femur bone
inside! Besides, the boy's body was nowhere. Either he died
in that fire or he disappeared off the face of the earth. We
figured his remains being too burnt up to find was a more
likely scenario."
"Only those remains turned up alive in New York, pulling
the trigger of a Winchester rifle four times, killing four people."
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"Listen, Parker," Waverly said. "You don't know what it's
like here. You don't know what this would mean to our
township and its residents."
There had to be something else going on. Hico stood to
prosper hugely if it was revealed Brushy Bill Roberts was, in
fact, Billy the Kid. Waverly was hiding something else.
"What was Pastor Rheingold doing in that fire?" I asked.
"Strange that he just happened to be at the Roberts home the
night it goes up in flames."
"Enough!" Waverly said. "You got your damn story.
Rheingold has nothing to do with it. Goodbye, Mr. Parker. I
hope you sleep well tonight."
Waverly hung up. Sleep was the last thing I would find
that night.
43
Mya stirred. Not because her body awoke naturally. Not
because sunlight from the outside had forced it, or because
she had to pee, or any other number of reasons why nature
might interrupt one's slumber.
No, Mya awoke because of the knife point she felt digging
into her side.
"Wake up, Mya," he said. She opened her eyes, the lids dry
and crusty. Her hands were still bound, her wrists hurt like
hell. She hadn't been able to wipe the moisture or makeup
away. The last thing she remembered was following this man
back to his hotel room, having a drink, feeling his lips on hers,
and then nothing. There was no other pain, and besides her
bonds she was otherwise unharmed.
She was lying on the floor of some dingy hotel room. The
bed was unmade. Ugly orange curtains dangled above her.
The rusty air conditioner rattled, spewing a warm breeze.
Under the bed she could see a small blue duffel bag, underwear and socks spilling out of it.
By the foot of the bed, Mya saw what appeared to be a
gun. Not like the kind she saw in the movies. This one was
long. The barrel seemed to have some kind of wood finish.
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277
The boy noticed her staring and said, agreeing, "She's a true
thing of beauty."
Mya tried to squirm but it was no use. Her energy was
gone. And a blade was ticking her ribs. If she bucked in the
wrong direction, it could...
"How you feeling?" he asked. Mya blinked. What was his
name? He'd told it to her at the bar. Where he'd been
charming, funny, handsome and sweet. Of course all of this
was before he kidnapped her. "Nod once for okay, nod twice
for not okay."
Mya nodded twice, vigorously. She remembered his hands
on her, her whole body tingling, feeling alive. She remembered his hands, strong and gentle, but then all of a sudden
perfunctory, like they were only waiting to...
And here she was.
"You're not getting me, Miss Loverne. Nod once if you're
okay, as in not hurt. Nod twice if you are hurt. Forget about
your hands. Can you walk?" Mya felt the blade dig in. She
tried to cry out, but the tape prevented her from emitting
anything