Liar's Harvest (The Emergent Earth) (14 page)

Flies buzzed around the corpse ceaselessly, drunkenly spinning away to bump into the walls and ceiling with loud clicks.

Owen pointed his service .38 at us with one hand and gestured with the other. “Outside, right now!”

We went gladly. The fresh air was sweet and intoxicating. I could feel the muscles in my neck and back unclenching as soon as the stink washed out of my lungs.

Chuck and Anne were already cuffed and standing by one wall, their weapons in plastic bags on the trunk of a cruiser. Deputy Ellis approached me while Owen kept his weapon trained on me and yanked Hunger from the sheath strapped to my leg. He hesitated for a moment before handing it to a deputy waiting with a bag, his lips thinning in distaste.

Touching Hunger is disturbing on a primal level, much like touching the Devourer’s altar pieces. To me it just feels warm, even a little comforting. I wondered if I held an altar piece now if I would still recoil like I used to.

Deputy Ellis dropped Hunger quickly into the bag and rubbed his hand on his pants.

Then he spun me around roughly and cuffed me. “Stand over there with the others.”

Everyone was against the wall except Henry, who was shaking his head at Owen. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but neither man looked happy.

Henry turned around and put his hands behind his back, and Owen gently put cuffs on him. We were all bundled into the back of different cruisers as the crime scene folks arrived, burdened with bulky cameras around their necks and carrying big plastic equipment cases in each hand.

We spent the next several hours being questioned individually, a process not unlike the intense debriefings that I had undergone in my youth after being relieved of some arcane trinket brought back from the field. I guess the main difference was that this time there wasn’t a squad of guys with flamethrowers outside ready to torch me if they thought I might have come back contaminated in some way. It’s the little things that you come to appreciate in your old age.

They eventually brought us into a conference room and gave us coffee. Except for Leon, who we were still waiting for when Owen entered the room. He put two things down on the table before taking a seat. The first was an artist’s sketch of Leon’s face, a little out of proportion, but still a pretty good match. The second was a clear plastic evidence bag with half of a brick in it. The corner of the brick was stained with blood.

“So,” he said, “I heard Leon had words with KC at Verna’s yesterday.”

I nodded. “He did. But KC did put his recently deceased cousin in the hospital last week, so I don’t know that I can blame the guy for throwing a few punches.”

“Let’s not do that. The 911 report shows that there were guns involved, and that your lady friend here drew first. Don’t make it out to be some kinda schoolyard dust-up.”

I spread my hands. “People were pretty angry. But contrary to your report, Anne drew second. She just drew a lot faster.”

“And that broke up the party, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“So, I guess you could say that Leon had some unfinished business at that point?”

“I don’t know about that. He seemed pretty done to me.”

Owen shrugged. “Never can tell when a man feels like he’s gotten all that he feels owed. Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that he wasn’t done. That maybe he went by KC’s place later on that day for a visit.”

He pushed the sketch into the center of the table. “I’m gonna say that’s pretty likely, considering that one of KC’s neighbors gave us this sketch. They claim that they saw this man leaving KC’s house at dusk. I’d say that’s a pretty good likeness, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t say anything, but the artist’s sketch was obviously of Leon.

Owen continued, pushing the brick forward. “And then there’s this. We found it on the floor under the KC’s kitchen table. Got his prints on it. The blood’s not his, though.”

He spun the bag around on the table with a thoughtful expression on his face, the plastic hissing as it rubbed against the smooth surface.

I wasn’t seeing the brick. I was seeing Leon at the lumber yard, blood running out of his hair. Hit by a brick, he’d said when I asked.

Owen pulled the brick back to his side of the table. “Not going to ask who the blood belongs to? I suppose not. You saw the wound on the side of Leon’s head, same as I did. The doc says it’s about a day old, which isn’t too far off from when KC perished with this same brick in his hand.”

“You know Leon,” said Henry. “And you know he doesn’t have it in him to pull out a man’s guts like that. If he was going to kill someone, it wouldn’t be that way.”

Owen nodded. “That’s what I’d think, personally. But this looks bad. The man’s a vet, and that counts with me, but it’s not a plus in court, if you know what I mean. Worse, the first killing happened not a mile from your house, where Leon was staying. And both victims called his cell phone.”

“Wouldn’t that be a point in his defense?” I asked. “I mean, why would they call the guy killing them? Makes no sense.”

Owen nodded. “I said the same thing myself. I also told them that if Leon had pulled that guy apart, he’d be covered in blood and worse. The lab is going over him with a fine tooth comb, and some of my men are already at your house looking for discarded clothes and evidence in the drains. But right now that’s seems pretty insignificant compared to finding you all at both crime scenes, plus the rest of it.” He glanced at the brick and the eyewitness sketch.

Henry looked gray and exhausted. “So what happens now?”

“Leon stays here while we investigate. They wanted to keep the rest of you, but the only real connections we have to the crime, besides association, is with Leon. That means I get to decide what to do with you, and I’m letting you walk. As for Leon, he’ll have to spend a few nights here until we get him a court date. Then we’ll see. I’m sorry, Henry.”

“You did more than you needed to for us, and I appreciate it. That’s two I owe you now.”

Owen stood up and collected the brick and the sketch. “I ain’t counting. You all stick close. If I need to put my hands on you, it’d be best if you were at Henry’s place or in Halfway.”

I shook his hand. “That won’t be a problem. We’re not going anywhere.”

23

“Fucking Prime.” Chuck paced a tight circle in Henry’s kitchen, throwing his hands around for emphasis. “He planned this from the beginning. Right from the beginning.”

I ignored him, and continued building my sandwich. Nobody else wanted to eat, but these days I didn’t have a lot of say in the matter.

“We thought Paulie was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but no, that shit was on purpose. They say that most murder victims know their killer right? That’s the connection Prime wanted to make. And then deliberately getting seen at that crackhouse because it has Leon’s face? And then the brick? I mean, shit. That’s, like, premeditated or whatever.”

I coughed into my hand to keep from laughing. Chuck Benning, Attorney at Law. “All of that is true. The question is, why? What does putting Leon in jail do for Prime?”

Henry sat down at the table with a grunt. “My guess is that Prime and Leon think a lot more alike than Prime is comfortable with. If he’s planning something, then the person most likely to figure it out is Leon.”

Chuck shook his head. “Then why not just kill him?”

“Because Leon is also a hostage,” I said. “The last time Prime and I tangled, I proved that I was stronger than he was, or at least strong enough to be a threat. And I’m immune to his thorns. But Leon suffers anything that happens to Prime, so as long as Leon is alive, our hands are tied. Putting Leon in jail keeps him out of harm’s way so that he remains a hostage, plus keeps us from picking his brain about what’s going on.”

“Well, Leon wasn’t exactly full of ideas before this, but let’s say you’re right. What do we do now?” asked Anne. “We still have no idea what Prime’s real goal is and we can’t exactly wait around for a few days to see if a jury lets Leon go. People are in danger now. We need to do something before there are any more killings.”

“To be fair,” said Chuck, “most of the people Prime killed were scum.”

“Chuck!”

“I’m just saying.”

I put my empty plate in the sink. “We’ll come up with something. In the meantime, Anne has a point about Prime’s goals. He’s got something planned for the Halloween party in Halfway tonight. Whatever it is, we want to make sure to put a boot in it. And maybe capture Prime while we’re at it.”

“The party starts at five,” said Henry, “but they won’t light the bonfire until after dark. That’s when he’ll strike. The bonfire is what turns it into a good old fashioned harvest celebration.”

“We should probably be there for the whole party, just in case. You coming?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Sounds like it’s likely to get a little rowdy for me. That kind of thing is best left to the young. And you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it, old man.”

“I better grab a shotgun before we go,” said Chuck. “Shooting a random spot the size of a golf-ball on a moving target may be fine for Annie Oakley here, but I’m going to need some help to fight those things. If nothing else, maybe I can take off a leg and do some good that way. I’ll just leave it in the car in case things go to shit.”

“Good idea. Everybody gear up, we leave in ten.”

24

L
aughter, bluegrass music, and the sweet earthiness of smoked pork hung over Main street like a delightful fog. Hundreds of people stood with paper plates and plastic cups in their hands or danced carefree in front of the band’s tiny plywood stage. Both ends of the street were blocked with bright orange traffic cones that marked the edges of the swirling, noisy mass of happy people.

Kids in face paint or cheap plastic masks pushed up onto their foreheads darted through the crowd shrieking and clutching pillowcases for the candy that would be handed out later. Every few minutes they would collapse into tight groups under the picnic tables that covered the street, have a hurried conference about what to do next at the top of their lungs, and then charge back into the crowd like fun-seeking missiles.

Watching them made me smile. And wish I had a pillowcase.