Chill Factor (33 page)

"Will you shut the hell up?" Wes took hold of her arm and
yanked her
around to face him. "Are you
crazy}
He's not
involved in
that. Or illegal drugs. Or anything else except being a typical
eighteen-year-old."

"Let go of me." She pulled her arm free. "Something is wrong
with my
son, and I want to know what it is before the FBI get here and I learn
it from them. What is going on?"

"Nothing."

"
Something
, Wes," she shouted. "Our son
is not the same
person he was last year. Don't tell me there's nothing wrong! I'm not
blind and I'm not stupid, although you seem to think so. I have a right
to know what's happening to my son."

He thrust his face close to hers. "You want to know?"

"Dad, no!"

"You want to know, Dora?"

"Dad!"

Wes stuck his hand in his coat pocket and withdrew a box of
disposable syringes and several vials. She recoiled from his extended
hand. "What
is
that?"

"Steroids."

She stared at him, agape, then turned to Scott. "You've been
giving
yourself steroid shots?"

His gaze flickered to Wes, then back to her. "Not me. Mr.
Ritt."

In the silence of her stunned disbelief, someone knocked
loudly on
the front door.

"That will be our company." Wes calmly replaced the
paraphernalia in
his coat pocket, then removed his coat and hung it on the peg near the
back door. "Scott, answer the door and invite them in. Don't be
nervous. Dutch will be with them. Offer them a seat and tell them we'll
be right there."

Scott remained where he was, looking at his mother ogy and
shame.

"Did you hear me, Scott?" Wes's voice was soft but imperious.

Scott turned and went into the living room to answer the
second
knock.

Wes moved close to Dora. His breath was hot on her face. "You
are to
act like everything in this household is hunky-dory, do you understand?
This is a private matter. It stays in our family."

She glared at him. "How could you do that to your own son?
Those
things are poison."

"An exaggeration, typical of you."

"Have you even considered the side effects, Wes?"

"They're a small price to pay for the difference they can make
in
his—"

"I don't give a damn about his athletic ability!" she
exclaimed in a
stage whisper, aware of the men in the next room. "I don't care how
strong he is or how much stamina he has on a goddamn football field. I
care about his
life
." She felt her control
unraveling. Now
wasn't the time to lose it. She took several breaths to calm herself,
but with fury still humming inside her, she continued. "Can't you see
how those things have changed him?"

"Okay, he's a little moody. That can be a side effect."

"So can aggression."

He shrugged indifferently. "More aggressiveness would be a
benefit,
not a drawback."

Even after all her husband's other absurd rationalizations,
that
statement appalled her. "You are a monster."

He snuffled a laugh. "What? I'd thought you'd be relieved,
happy to
learn that the changes you see in Scott are from the steroids and don't
have anything to do with that manipulating bitch. And that's what she
was, you know."

"
Was
? Why are you referring to Millicent
in the past tense?"

Wes leaned in until he was towering over her. "Because as far
as the
Hamer family is concerned, she's history."

Now Dora wasn't only appalled, she was afraid. "What are you
saying?"

"You want to know the scoop on why Scott and Millicent broke
up?
Here it is, and remember you asked for it. She was interfering with his
training, calling him all the time, hanging around every practice until
he was finished, giving him all the pussy he wanted. He wasn't thinking
about anything else. I wasn't going to let that skinny cunt ruin all my
plans for him. To get his head back into his game, I had to intervene.
You want to know the big mystery behind their breakup? You're looking
at him."

"What did you do?"

"Doesn't matter. The important thing is that I
ended—for good—their
hot little romance." He poked her hard in the sternum. "That's
something else that stays in the family."

Then he turned and left her alone, amid everything familiar
yet
feeling like an alien in her own house, bewildered by how she had
arrived at this place in her life.

She could hear Wes in the other room, being his gregarious
self,
welcoming into their home FBI agents who had come to question their son
about Millicent Gunn's disappearance.

 
*
 
* 
*

William and Marilee left the drugstore together. Without
electricity
there was no point to staying open. He couldn't operate his cash
register, or the computer that stored all the data on his customers and
their prescriptions. Not that it mattered, because no one had come into
the store since Wes had left with the sandwiches bound for police
headquarters.

Marilee took food from the soda fountain's refrigerator for
them to
eat at home later, knowing that it would ruin before the store reopened
and Linda returned.

They decided to leave her car there and go home in William's.
"No
sense in both of us trying to navigate these roads," he said. As he
locked up, he left a note on the front door, notifying any customer
with an emergency that he could be found at home.

Once they were in his car and on their way, Marilee said
through
chattering teeth, "If anyone ever finds out that you keep a dispensary
of prescription drugs in the house, you'll lose your license."

"I only keep them for emergencies, and only for customers that
I
know won't abuse the privilege. Besides, the drugs I give out can be
bought over the counter everywhere except the United States." He took a
corner slowly, then leaned closer to the windshield and peered through
the fogged glass. "I wonder what that's about."

They were on the street where the Hamers lived. Parked in
front of
their house were a nondescript sedan and Dutch Burton's Bronco.

"Isn't that the car the FBI agents were driving?" Marilee
asked.

"I believe it is. That Begley was one of the rudest people
I've ever
met."

"I don't think he was intentionally rude. He's just efficient
and
accustomed to exercising his authority."

"I'm efficient, and I have authority, but I don't talk down to
people."

Managing a drugstore with only one employee was hardly
comparable to
directing an office of the FBI, but Marilee decided to keep that
observation to herself. She didn't want to bicker with William,
although he'd been baiting her at every turn today.

When they came even with the Hamers' house, he said, "I'm not
surprised to see Dutch here, but what business would the FBI have with
them?"

"Maybe they're talking to Wes about what he slipped into his
coat
pocket when I surprised the two of you in the stockroom." She tossed it
out casually to see how her brother would react.

He gave her his rote reply. "Something for Dora's headaches."

"You're lying."

"While you, sister, never lie, either by word or by deed."
Cutting
his eyes to her, he added slyly, "Or do you?" He chuckled at her
attempted impassivity. "Scratch the surface of even the most
circumspect life, Marilee, and you'll find duplicity. Even yours."

She turned her head away from him and looked through the
passenger
window. "I only wish you were right, William. I would love to harbor a
dark secret."

"Perhaps the Hamers have been harboring one that the FBI
uncovered.
My money is on Scott."

"Why Scott?"

"Surely by now these federal geniuses have linked him to
Millicent."

"They were sweethearts for a time. So what?"

"Sweethearts," he said with a snicker. "What a quaint and
outmoded
term for their relationship. She was on birth control pills."

"Most girls are."

"How well I know. It's a good part of my business. But did you
know
that Millicent went off them?"

"When?"

"Early last spring. She complained that they were making her
retain
fluid, adding weight. When she and Scott broke up, it occurred to me
that perhaps they'd had a little accident."

"You mean that she got pregnant?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Despite her anorexia?"

"It could happen."

"I'm sure you're wrong, William."

"From my observation point in the store, I see a lot and
retain
everything I see. One day Scott and Millicent were in a booth at the
soda fountain, all over each other. Her hand was in his lap. Need I get
more explicit?"

"No."

"I was about to tell them that if they couldn't control their
impulses, they'd have to leave. They must have come to the same
conclusion. They couldn't get out of there fast enough. He even forgot
to pay the bill."

"And your point is… ?"

"The next time they were in the store at the same time, no
more than
a week later, he wouldn't even look at her. Something happened in the
interim. Something huge. My guess would be a late period."

Marilee shook her head decisively. "I still think you're
wrong. If
Millicent was pregnant, Scott would have accepted his responsibility.
Even if he'd been disinclined, his parents would have seen to it."

William blurted a laugh. "Wes would not allow anything to
jeopardize
his plans for Scott's future. Nothing. Not even the wild sowing of his
own seed. And we all know how extremely proud Wes is of his seed."

His last remark annoyed her, which she believed was the
purpose
behind it. "I'm confident that not Scott, certainly not Dora, not even
Wes, would dismiss—"

"I didn't say they would dismiss an unwanted and inconvenient
pregnancy. Wes would simply do whatever was necessary to make the
problem disappear."

Uneasily Marilee conceded that William was right. Wes would.

"What the hell was going on in there?" Begley asked under his
breath
as he and Hoot carefully made their way down the icy front walkway of
the Hamers' home.

"I couldn't tell you, sir."

Once they were inside the bureau's sedan and Hoot had the
motor
going, Begley said, "But you sensed something, right? I wasn't
imagining those undercurrents?"

"Not at all. I felt like we were watching a play where
everybody was
carefully reciting his lines."

"Good analogy."

Begley took off his gloves and briskly rubbed his hands
together as
he watched Dutch and Wes say good-bye to each other at the Hamers'
front door. The police chief then walked to his Bronco and climbed in.

Looking back at the front of the house, Begley mused out loud.
"The
mother seemed on the verge of disintegrating. Wes Hamer was too loud,
too cooperative, and too jaunty by half. I didn't swallow a frigging
thing he said. Burton was playing both ends against the middle,
shielding his lifelong friend from us and not really giving a damn
about Millicent Gunn because he's preoccupied with his ex-wife. And the
kid was—"

"Lying."

"Through his teeth."

Hoot waited until the Bronco had pulled away, then steered the
sedan
behind it and followed at a safe distance.

Begley directed a heating vent toward him, although the air
coming
from it was still cold. "But what was he lying about, Hoot? What was
everybody but us dancing around? That's what I can't quite figure."

"I don't know, sir, but I don't think Burton was clued in
either."

"He appeared confounded, too, didn't he?"

After a moment of private reflection, Hoot said, "Even though
he and
Wes Hamer are supposedly best friends, I sense a friction between them.
An underlying… rivalry."

Begley turned in his seat and fired an imaginary pistol at
him.
"Dead on, Hoot. I get that from them, too. They say the right things,
go through the motions of being bosom buddies, but I don't know,
there's something under the surface."

"Resentment," Hoot said. "For all practical purposes, Hamer,
as city
councilman, is Burton's boss. Burton hates answering to him."

"Maybe that's it, Hoot. Maybe that's it." He wiped the
windshield
with his sleeve. "Still not much visibility, is there?"

"No, sir." Begley heard the beep at the same time Hoot did. He
checked the pager clipped to his belt. "Perkins."

Then for a time the only sounds in the car were the swish of
the
wipers, the purr of air coming through the vents, and the crunch of
tires on snow. Finally Begley said, "The kid got particularly jittery
when you asked him the cause of his breakup with Millicent. Both
parents perked up and seemed awfully interested in the answer to that
question, too."

"Especially Mrs. Hamer."

"Because I don't think she believes that 'got tired of each
other'
crock of crap any more than we do."

"What about Mr. Hamer?"

"I'm still mulling that over, Hoot. But my gut instinct is
telling
me that the coach knows a whopping lot more than he lets on."

"About their breakup?"

"About everything. Unless you're a movie star, a used-car
salesman,
or a pimp, you've got no use for a smile like his."

Hoot pulled into the slot beside the Bronco outside police
headquarters. They tramped into the building seconds behind Dutch
Burton. The interior smelled like scorched coffee, wet wool, and men
who hadn't showered in a while, but at least it was warm.

The dispatcher said to Hoot, "You're supposed to call Perkins
in
Charlotte soon as you come in."

"Yes. May I use your phone again?"

The dispatcher motioned him toward an unoccupied desk.

Begley, forced to wait to hear what Hoot would learn, if
anything,
joined Burton, who was pouring himself a cup of coffee. "What do you
make of our visit with the Hamers?"