“When’s the last time you saw Ted Brand?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen Ted Brand. Like I said, we only talked over the phone.”
Without looking at him the cop answered, “Uh-huh.”
“You don’t believe me?”
For a moment, the sheriff seemed about to say something. Then, he put a large hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“Let’s walk.”
Through his swollen eyes he could see the basement growing brighter. If Linda hadn’t started checking around about him yet, she soon would. That would lead them to Shadeland, to the Carver House.
Whether that would lead them here was another story.
If the police in this godforsaken little burg weren’t halfwits—a proposition in which Ted had little confidence —they’d be going door to door before nightfall, which meant he only need stay alive until someone came knocking. Julia had evidently gone to work, which said a lot about her mental state. By leaving him here she was doing all she could to avoid the problem.
To avoid the man tied up in her basement.
Fucking whore.
If she worked normal hours she’d return home at about five o’clock, which was the same time Ted would be declared missing. If she worked late, an officer might come by before she got home.
Ted’s breath caught as he remembered her lack of transportation. She worked at the library, he remembered. She had to walk home. Hell, last night she hadn’t gotten halfway home before he met her, and that was six-thirty. It was entirely possible that she wouldn’t even get back before seven, which gave the cops a full two hours to search for him.
He wondered if his car were still here.
Surely not. Surely she wouldn’t have been that stupid.
She was stupid enough to leave you down here in a swarm of ants, wasn’t she? Or maybe that had been intentional.
Damn right it had been intentional. Her little act upon finding him had been convincing enough, but hadn’t she been acting since the very first? Pretending she had no idea what he wanted from her. Acting like a coy little schoolgirl as they toured the Carver House. Feigning shock when he made his move.
The slut. She knew exactly what she was doing all along. The pick-up, the assault. She lured him here and knocked him out and tethered him and let those bastard ants crawl all over his face.
Ted’s fists clenched. If he got his hands on her. If he got a sliver of an opening he’d take it. He’d tie her up. He’d take what she damn well should have given him last night.
Then he’d make her regret ever fucking with him.
Alone in the silent basement, Ted Brand began to laugh.
Chapter Six
As they walked along the lane Sam sized him up. Paul Carver was taller than his Uncle Myles, but softer, less sure of himself. The guy didn’t look like a murderer, but not all murderers did.
Too much of this didn’t make sense. If Carver had nothing to do with it, how was it he never spotted Brand’s car on the way to the house? Grogginess was one thing. Passing by a shiny new BMW, the only car parked beside a narrow forest lane, without noticing it was just too improbable.
But that was how Carver had told it as they moved down the lane, and that was more than Sam thought he’d get out of him. He rarely had a suspect go this long without asking for a lawyer. He had to keep him talking.
“So you left for Shadeland when?”
“Five thirty yesterday afternoon.”
“Memphis on the same time as us?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
Carver sighed. “As I said, I stopped at a gas station—”
“But you don’t remember which one?”
“No, I don’t.”
Sam led them farther down the lane, half a mile now from their vehicles.
“Aren’t we going back?” Carver asked.
“Soon. For now I’d like to walk.”
Pretty soon, the guy caught up. They walked to County Road 500 and back, Sam’s shoes scuffing dust and the occasional stone. He could hear Carver’s breathing as they moved around the final turn toward the cars, the guy puffing
“I’ve never seen Ted Brand. Like I said, we only talked over the phone.”
Without looking at him the cop answered, “Uh-huh.”
“You don’t believe me?”
For a moment, the sheriff seemed about to say something. Then, he put a large hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“Let’s walk.”
Through his swollen eyes he could see the basement growing brighter. If Linda hadn’t started checking around about him yet, she soon would. That would lead them to Shadeland, to the Carver House.
Whether that would lead them here was another story.
If the police in this godforsaken little burg weren’t halfwits—a proposition in which Ted had little confidence —they’d be going door to door before nightfall, which meant he only need stay alive until someone came knocking. Julia had evidently gone to work, which said a lot about her mental state. By leaving him here she was doing all she could to avoid the problem.
To avoid the man tied up in her basement.
Fucking whore.
If she worked normal hours she’d return home at about five o’clock, which was the same time Ted would be declared missing. If she worked late, an officer might come by before she got home.
Ted’s breath caught as he remembered her lack of transportation. She worked at the library, he remembered. She had to walk home. Hell, last night she hadn’t gotten halfway home before he met her, and that was six-thirty. It was entirely possible that she wouldn’t even get back before seven, which gave the cops a full two hours to search for him.
He wondered if his car were still here.
Surely not. Surely she wouldn’t have been that stupid.
She was stupid enough to leave you down here in a swarm of ants, wasn’t she? Or maybe that had been intentional.
Damn right it had been intentional. Her little act upon finding him had been convincing enough, but hadn’t she been acting since the very first? Pretending she had no idea what he wanted from her. Acting like a coy little schoolgirl as they toured the Carver House. Feigning shock when he made his move.
The slut. She knew exactly what she was doing all along. The pick-up, the assault. She lured him here and knocked him out and tethered him and let those bastard ants crawl all over his face.
Ted’s fists clenched. If he got his hands on her. If he got a sliver of an opening he’d take it. He’d tie her up. He’d take what she damn well should have given him last night.
Then he’d make her regret ever fucking with him.
Alone in the silent basement, Ted Brand began to laugh.
Chapter Six
As they walked along the lane Sam sized him up. Paul Carver was taller than his Uncle Myles, but softer, less sure of himself. The guy didn’t look like a murderer, but not all murderers did.
Too much of this didn’t make sense. If Carver had nothing to do with it, how was it he never spotted Brand’s car on the way to the house? Grogginess was one thing. Passing by a shiny new BMW, the only car parked beside a narrow forest lane, without noticing it was just too improbable.
But that was how Carver had told it as they moved down the lane, and that was more than Sam thought he’d get out of him. He rarely had a suspect go this long without asking for a lawyer. He had to keep him talking.
“So you left for Shadeland when?”
“Five thirty yesterday afternoon.”
“Memphis on the same time as us?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
Carver sighed. “As I said, I stopped at a gas station—”
“But you don’t remember which one?”
“No, I don’t.”
Sam led them farther down the lane, half a mile now from their vehicles.
“Aren’t we going back?” Carver asked.
“Soon. For now I’d like to walk.”
Pretty soon, the guy caught up. They walked to County Road 500 and back, Sam’s shoes scuffing dust and the occasional stone. He could hear Carver’s breathing as they moved around the final turn toward the cars, the guy puffing
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