accomplished so far in their investigation was to find the bodies of an old couple from Wisconsin whose car Henderson had stolen when he had first escaped from prison . They ’d been found with their throats slit, buried in a shallow grave in a wooded area near Lancaster, Pennsylvania.
I spent endless hours trying to fathom how Henderson could remain at large while being the subject of such a massive manhunt . It didn’t make sense that, with all the resources available to them, the Feds couldn’t do better than they were. The only conclusion I could come to was that , like the press had contended, he had taken refuge somewhere in the wilderness . After all his years of living in a remote region of the Virginia mountains there was probably no one better equipped to remain undetected than Reuben Henderson. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed a feasible explanation .
But where in the mountains ? That was the million dollar question.
* * *
Be ing a bachelor for so many years should have made a decent cook of me , but it hadn’t. My idea of a good, home-cooked meal was a charred steak, a baked potato, and a cold beer. Such was my plan one sultry evening when being out doors seemed infinitely more inviting than remaining cooped up in my increasingly claustrophobic house . But a s I went to the freezer and reached for a steak I was struck by a sudden and severe aversion to the thought of eating another meal alone. I c l osed the freezer door , then dropped into a chair at the kitchen table where I sat with my head tilted in to the palms of my hands. Thoughts of putting an end to my anguish were not new to me. They had, in fact, been occurring with increasing frequen cy . I was not thinking clearly but I was lucid enough to know that if I didn’t do something soon to change the course my life was taking there were going to be drastic consequences. I forced myself to stand, then went to the phone and dial ed a number I found on a piece of paper tacked to the wall .
The phone rang seven times before Con answered. “Halloo.”
“Con, it’s your neighbor, Jack,” I said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, not at all . I was just having a drink out on the porch. Took me a minute ta find the phone.”
“Ah. I was just wondering if you’ d be interested in joining me for supper. I could barbeque a couple steaks … ”
“Make mine rare,” he said. “I’ll bring the sour mash.”
Part 3
The Alliance
1 3
If Con Eldridge was anything he was easy company. He was quite content with long silences and only offered up a rare tidbit of advice if it was the kind that might actually do you some good. He looked to be in his mid forties , wore his graying hair long and shaggy , and his beard untrimmed. He was average in height but big-boned with a solid frame that gave him a look of toughness. Not the kind of guy you’d want to mess with. He had a few tats on each of his thick, hairy arms that looked military .
By the time we’d finished our steaks and Con had poured two
I spent endless hours trying to fathom how Henderson could remain at large while being the subject of such a massive manhunt . It didn’t make sense that, with all the resources available to them, the Feds couldn’t do better than they were. The only conclusion I could come to was that , like the press had contended, he had taken refuge somewhere in the wilderness . After all his years of living in a remote region of the Virginia mountains there was probably no one better equipped to remain undetected than Reuben Henderson. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed a feasible explanation .
But where in the mountains ? That was the million dollar question.
* * *
Be ing a bachelor for so many years should have made a decent cook of me , but it hadn’t. My idea of a good, home-cooked meal was a charred steak, a baked potato, and a cold beer. Such was my plan one sultry evening when being out doors seemed infinitely more inviting than remaining cooped up in my increasingly claustrophobic house . But a s I went to the freezer and reached for a steak I was struck by a sudden and severe aversion to the thought of eating another meal alone. I c l osed the freezer door , then dropped into a chair at the kitchen table where I sat with my head tilted in to the palms of my hands. Thoughts of putting an end to my anguish were not new to me. They had, in fact, been occurring with increasing frequen cy . I was not thinking clearly but I was lucid enough to know that if I didn’t do something soon to change the course my life was taking there were going to be drastic consequences. I forced myself to stand, then went to the phone and dial ed a number I found on a piece of paper tacked to the wall .
The phone rang seven times before Con answered. “Halloo.”
“Con, it’s your neighbor, Jack,” I said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, not at all . I was just having a drink out on the porch. Took me a minute ta find the phone.”
“Ah. I was just wondering if you’ d be interested in joining me for supper. I could barbeque a couple steaks … ”
“Make mine rare,” he said. “I’ll bring the sour mash.”
Part 3
The Alliance
1 3
If Con Eldridge was anything he was easy company. He was quite content with long silences and only offered up a rare tidbit of advice if it was the kind that might actually do you some good. He looked to be in his mid forties , wore his graying hair long and shaggy , and his beard untrimmed. He was average in height but big-boned with a solid frame that gave him a look of toughness. Not the kind of guy you’d want to mess with. He had a few tats on each of his thick, hairy arms that looked military .
By the time we’d finished our steaks and Con had poured two
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