everyone at the cabin, he did see flashlight beams bouncing around.
“This isn’t an accident, whatever the sheriff or Skeeter tells you. It’s a murder.”
“Jesus.”
“And whoever did it tried to cover his tracks by burning the place down. The victim was a great man named Hank Winters, and we’re gonna find who did it.”
She shook her head. “Why would the sheriff or Skeeter want to cover that up? I don’t understand.”
He whispered conspiratorially, “Because it’s important to them not to call it a murder. It’s political, and it’s big. Bigger than hell. This could be the story that gets you on the map if you play it right.”
“Oh, Cody,” she said, reaching out of her window and touching his arm. Her eyes glistened in the reflection of the flashlights at the scene.
“Look,” he said. “The murderer left a clue to his identity. I can’t tell you what it was but we’re going to follow it to the killer once we get some outside experts up here with some special equipment. And we will get him. He’s on borrowed time until the analysis comes back.”
“What kind of analysis?”
“That I can’t tell you yet.”
With that, Cody stood and patted her hand back. “Remember,” he said, “you didn’t hear this from me.”
After a beat, she said, “Thank you, Cody. I owe you.”
“Just no scratching this time,” he said as he turned to walk away.
As he passed under the crime-scene tape he nearly ran into Larry, who stood in the dark with his flashlight off. Cody felt the familiar grip of guilt that came with secret drinking.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Larry said in an urgent whisper. “I heard what you told her, you son of a bitch.”
Cody reached out for Larry but Larry backed away. Cody said, “I’m baiting the trap.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? What was that about special equipment and analysis?”
Cody found himself grinning maniacally, and couldn’t douse it out. He held out his hand to Larry, and said, “I’m pretty sure she bought it.”
Larry stared at him, unmoving. They faced off for over a minute with no words.
Finally, Larry said, “You found a bottle, didn’t you?”
“Yup.”
“And now you’re going to self-destruct and try to take me with you.”
Cody shrugged. “You don’t have to come, Larry.”
“You asshole. You stupid jerk.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot tonight.”
Larry said, “What am I going to do with you?”
Cody suddenly felt sober. It happened at the weirdest times, he thought. He said, “Help me find the guy who killed Hank. I’ll take it from there.”
Larry moaned.
Cody stepped close to Larry and said, “Larry, I’m a drunk but I’m not a joke. You’ve never seen me unleashed before and believe me, it’s a sight to behold. I’ll go after this guy like nothing you’ve ever experienced. And when I find him I’ll kill his ass a million times over.”
Larry stepped back. “Man, are you okay?”
Cody said, “I’ve never been okay. But now I’ve got a purpose. ” He spat the last word.
Larry’s eyes got wide and he shook his head slowly. “You’re out of control,” Larry whispered.
“Maybe.” Cody winked and walked back to his Ford for the bottle. The rest of the night he functioned in a blackout. And he woke up the next morning in his apartment covered with blood. Not his.
5
On the night he shot the coroner, Cody Hoyt was back at Hank Winters’s cabin, hiding in a copse of pine trees in the dark. Waiting.
The last twenty hours had been a dense, almost impenetrable fog. He’d called on his reserves to simply stay upright for most of it. As he sipped from the pint bottle of Evan Williams bourbon he’d brought with him to Vigilante Campground, certain disconnected scenes came up to the surface as if for air and he recalled them before they sunk again to be replaced by another. Whack-a-mole memories! he thought. Just like the bad old days.
He tried to put them in
“This isn’t an accident, whatever the sheriff or Skeeter tells you. It’s a murder.”
“Jesus.”
“And whoever did it tried to cover his tracks by burning the place down. The victim was a great man named Hank Winters, and we’re gonna find who did it.”
She shook her head. “Why would the sheriff or Skeeter want to cover that up? I don’t understand.”
He whispered conspiratorially, “Because it’s important to them not to call it a murder. It’s political, and it’s big. Bigger than hell. This could be the story that gets you on the map if you play it right.”
“Oh, Cody,” she said, reaching out of her window and touching his arm. Her eyes glistened in the reflection of the flashlights at the scene.
“Look,” he said. “The murderer left a clue to his identity. I can’t tell you what it was but we’re going to follow it to the killer once we get some outside experts up here with some special equipment. And we will get him. He’s on borrowed time until the analysis comes back.”
“What kind of analysis?”
“That I can’t tell you yet.”
With that, Cody stood and patted her hand back. “Remember,” he said, “you didn’t hear this from me.”
After a beat, she said, “Thank you, Cody. I owe you.”
“Just no scratching this time,” he said as he turned to walk away.
As he passed under the crime-scene tape he nearly ran into Larry, who stood in the dark with his flashlight off. Cody felt the familiar grip of guilt that came with secret drinking.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Larry said in an urgent whisper. “I heard what you told her, you son of a bitch.”
Cody reached out for Larry but Larry backed away. Cody said, “I’m baiting the trap.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? What was that about special equipment and analysis?”
Cody found himself grinning maniacally, and couldn’t douse it out. He held out his hand to Larry, and said, “I’m pretty sure she bought it.”
Larry stared at him, unmoving. They faced off for over a minute with no words.
Finally, Larry said, “You found a bottle, didn’t you?”
“Yup.”
“And now you’re going to self-destruct and try to take me with you.”
Cody shrugged. “You don’t have to come, Larry.”
“You asshole. You stupid jerk.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot tonight.”
Larry said, “What am I going to do with you?”
Cody suddenly felt sober. It happened at the weirdest times, he thought. He said, “Help me find the guy who killed Hank. I’ll take it from there.”
Larry moaned.
Cody stepped close to Larry and said, “Larry, I’m a drunk but I’m not a joke. You’ve never seen me unleashed before and believe me, it’s a sight to behold. I’ll go after this guy like nothing you’ve ever experienced. And when I find him I’ll kill his ass a million times over.”
Larry stepped back. “Man, are you okay?”
Cody said, “I’ve never been okay. But now I’ve got a purpose. ” He spat the last word.
Larry’s eyes got wide and he shook his head slowly. “You’re out of control,” Larry whispered.
“Maybe.” Cody winked and walked back to his Ford for the bottle. The rest of the night he functioned in a blackout. And he woke up the next morning in his apartment covered with blood. Not his.
5
On the night he shot the coroner, Cody Hoyt was back at Hank Winters’s cabin, hiding in a copse of pine trees in the dark. Waiting.
The last twenty hours had been a dense, almost impenetrable fog. He’d called on his reserves to simply stay upright for most of it. As he sipped from the pint bottle of Evan Williams bourbon he’d brought with him to Vigilante Campground, certain disconnected scenes came up to the surface as if for air and he recalled them before they sunk again to be replaced by another. Whack-a-mole memories! he thought. Just like the bad old days.
He tried to put them in
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