The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 119

I slow the truck. We're on the main drag back to Betrug. Snow's making it hard to tell if we're even moving.

The line of trucks in pursuit fell out of sight a while ago. Doesn't mean they aren't close. Visibility is down to about six inches. Most of the drive's been by memory. Seems to be working better than before.

I hit the high beams. Try to cut open the flaky night. Just makes things worse.

"Should we pull over?" Red says.

It's the first thing anyone's said since we left.

"Who are you again?" Sam says.

She keeps the revolver pressed into Red's battered side.

"I'm a sheriff. Name's Red," he says.

"Where's your badge?" Sam says.

"Left it at home."

"What kind of sheriff are you?"

I don't get why Sam's being so tense with Red. Then again, why shouldn't she? Wouldn't anyone who's just cored out the inside of a dick with another dick be a little on edge?

"He's who he says he is. I know him," I say.

That gets an eyebrow from Sam.

"What are you two? Friends?" she says. "Didn't you tell me to shoot him if he tries anything?"

"I don't know. Are we friends, Wil?" Red says. Attempts a smile. Face is a little too bruised for that.

What a bastard, trying to game Sam. I let my silence do the talking.

"We're not pulling over, are we?" Sam says.

"Like hell we are," I say. "We're going back to my folks' place."

"What's there?" Sam says.

"Not much. But it's not here," I say. "Then we can sort out a little issue. My mother, Red and I are going to have a little talk."

Red frowns. Now it's his turn to go quiet.

"What issue?" Sam says. Pokes Red with an elbow.

I'm starting to notice how often she asks questions. Nothing wrong with that. Just an observation.

"You care if I tell her?" Red says to me.

I laugh. Should've shot him when I had the chance. Now he's just playing the martyr.

"How considerate, you asshole," I say. "Please, go right ahead."

Red sighs. Still avoids making eye contact with Sam.

"There's an oil company that wants the property. Needs to build a road. Very important," Red says. "They're willing to pay a shitload of money for the rights. But first Wil's mother needs to sign the contract."

Sam looks to me. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she says.

"Honestly, I needed Red to remind me. He showed up out of the blue. Told me all about it," I say. "Warned me even. The FBI is coming for me."

"For what?" Sam says.

"I took a shotgun to...," I start to say. Then change my mind. "...far. Too far. Let's leave it at that."

Sam's not satisfied.

"Actually, let's not. What's going on?" Sam says. "You remember that I'm the one with the gun, right?"

Red chimes in before I can respond.

"It's my fault. I got Wil into some trouble," he says.

Fuck it. No sense in hiding the truth. Not after everything at the Man Camp. It's not like we're a truckload of angels here.

"Yeah, it is your fault," I say. "But here's what happened."

Red and I take turns laying everything out. We don't hold anything back.

Sam hears how my parents fought over that contract. How Red and my mother had an affair, then conspired to kill my father in a grain bin "accident" in order to get the contract signed. How they said Joe had rented the grain bin to make Red look better when he moved in on my mother. How in a coincidence I wound up killing Joe and Elma. How I fled, coming back to reality at that bathroom where I met Sam.

Red fesses up to all this, as he should. Explains how he worked with Jane earlier to put the pin on an eco-terrorist, likely Les. And how he called Jane to find me once he realized the FBI would take over my case. But Jane switched sides on him, working instead with two FBI agents.

"It's not enough to make up what I've done. But I wanted Wil to know that grain bin wasn't his fault. My conscious got the best of me. Wil won't believe me, but it did," Red says. "That's why I wanted to find him before the FBI. To tell him. So he wouldn't live his life thinking he caused his father's death."

The snow outside picks up. I turn the windshield defrosters up.

"And you didn't remember any of this?" Sam says to me.

"What was that word you used, Red? PDFT?" I say.

"PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Probably a result of watching your father die. Messed with your memory," Red says.

"Is that why you were pulling out your eyelashes?" Sam says.

My eyelid twitches. That anxiety in my gut is gone. Talking with Red did something to me. A bit of closure. No urge to pull an eyelash out now.

"Yeah, I guess it was. I didn't even realize it," I say.

I don't mention the shadow people. No sense in that. Just loose threads from my misfiring brain. I think.

"So what's the deal with this contract now?" Sam says.

"Mary, Wil's mother, never signed it after all. Had a harder time with everything than we thought," Red says.

"Couldn't Wil just sign it?" Sam says.

I shrug. Guess I hadn't thought of that before. Not a high priority for me in the grand scheme of things. Won't be talking to my mother after everything blows over anyway.

"Not as long as Mary is alive," Red says. Chews the words for a second. Shakes the feeling away.

I clear my throat. Turn the wipers on. The snow is getting wet. Clumpy. Like driving through cottage cheese.

I change the topic.

"Hopefully Les's guys lose us in this snow. We'll bug out at my folks' house. Then get the hell off the prairie," I say. Nod to Red. "Oh, and probably shoot this bastard."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam says. Elbows Red. "Sound like a plan to you, sheriff?"

Red chuckles. Tries to disarm the question. Not so set on dying anymore. Not like he was back at the Man Camp, all soaked in guilt. Damn. He got over that in a hurry.

"Think how that'll hurt your mother, Wil," Red says. "You two can take off. I won't turn you in to the FBI. Promise."

"Go to hell, Red," I say.

Thirty minutes later, I swing the truck into the driveway. The headlights reveal something I wasn't expecting.

Someone beat us here.

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