Storm Prey

microwave. Lucas said, “Ms. Brown? I know you’re upset, but listen, Lyle wasn’t killed by a heart attack. He was murdered, apparently after the bar closed. We need to know who you think might have been involved with Joe, and Lyle, these last few months.”
    She asked the dreaded question: “Should I have an attorney?”
    Jenkins jumped in, trying to kill the question: “We know Joe didn’t do it, because we talked to Joe, and he’s down in Kansas somewhere. We think he’s running for Mexico. Also, their father, Ike, was killed.”
    “Ike? They killed Ike? Oh my God, who are they?”
    “We were hoping you could give us some help,” Lucas said. “For one thing, it looks like they’re eliminating people who knew about the hospital robbery. We think they’ll try to get Joe, we think they’ll try to get the witness at the hospital. We’ve got to stop this, right now.”
    A little chip of flint appeared in her eyes, as she looked up at him: “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know if they were involved. I know they were scared of you. Listen, are you sure it was Lyle?”
    “I was looking at him a half hour ago,” Lucas said. “It was Lyle.”
    She stared into the middle distance for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, then said, “I don’t know if they were involved with this hospital thing—it sounds crazy to me—but I heard them talking a couple times about a guy they called the doc. Like doctor. But I don’t know if the doc was at the hospital, or was just a guy named Doc.”
    “Do you know anybody named Doc?” Jenkins asked.
    “You know, there’s about one in every bar. But there wasn’t one at Cherries, as far as I know,” she said. “How did they do it?”
    “Do what?”
    “Kill Lyle?”
    “He was shot to death,” Lucas said.
    She clouded up again, but after a moment, said, “Well, at least he probably didn’t feel anything. It was quick, huh?”
    She was looking right at his eyes and Lucas flinched, and she looked at Jenkins, and she said, looking back to Lucas, “Oh, no.” Then, “What did they do?”
     
     
    LUCAS FUDGED, but she got the gist of it, and began sobbing again. They waited until she was rained out, and Jenkins brought up the coffee, still hot, and she warmed her hands around the cup.
    Lucas asked, “Joe’s running, in a car. Or a truck, or something—he’s down I-35. You know where he would have gotten a car? We saw him selling his van, and we can’t find another car registered under his name. We find a couple bikes, but they’re both at his apartment ...”
    “Don’t know,” she said. “But he’s a member of the Seed. So I suppose ... he wouldn’t have any trouble getting a ride, if he wanted to pay for it.”
    Lucas nodded: that made sense. “Okay. So we’ve got to get you out of here. Can you arrange for somebody to feed the horses?”
    “I suppose ... for a couple days. There’s a handyman in town who does that, but I have to find him.”
    “Give him a ring.”
    “You really think it’s necessary? I don’t have a lot of money for hiring people.”
    “Look, these guys, the killers—if they even suspect that you might give them away, that Lyle might have told you something... they’ll kill you. To them, they’ve already killed a bunch of people, one more won’t make any difference.”
    “I don’t have any place to go,” she said.
    “Holiday Inn,” Lucas said. “State’ll pick it up for however long it takes to break this. We should have it in a week or so ... it’s too crazy to keep going.”
     
     
    SHE GOT THE HANDYMAN, and he agreed to take care of the horses for thirty dollars a day. As she was packing up some clothes and personal-care stuff, Lucas asked, “Do you have a phone number for Joe?”
    “No, I ... You know who did? Lyle. He had a special phone. They both did.”
    “We’ve got that. Do you have a cell?”
    “Well, sure.”
    “Okay—we may want you to call Joe on it,” Lucas said. “We may need you to vouch for our story—that Lyle was killed. I’m not sure Joe believed us.”
    She stopped: “Why should I believe you? This could be like that moon-landing stuff. A big pack of lies.” She looked at Jenkins. “You guys aren’t lying to me, are you?”
    “Honey Bee, Lyle’s still at the bar. We can stop and look, if you want.”
    Pause. Then, “I’ll think about it.”
    “The thing is,” Lucas continued, “we know that Joe didn’t kill the woman in the van. The Jill MacBride lady.