Eleventh Hour
Page 89
She tried the door. It was locked.
She tapped harder on the glass and jumped when she heard a querulous old voice mutter, “Who the hell wants in now? That you, Weldon? You want to finish the job on me, you little bastard?”
The curtains were jerked back and she was face-to-face with Captain DeLoach. He looked pale, sported a small white bandage around his head, but his old eyes were clear and focused.
He stared at her a moment, nodded to himself, and unlocked the doors. She watched him wheel his chair back before she opened the door and eased in. She relocked the door and drew the curtains.
She said, “I shouldn’t be here, Captain DeLoach, but I think you’re where all the action is, so consider me your bodyguard.”
“You’re a lot prettier than that idiot I kicked out of here last night. Overweight dolt, all he wanted to do was eat Carla’s doughnuts and she was getting pissed, which means that she’d carp at me. Did you see any of the cops they put around to protect me?”
“Not a soul, but I was really careful.”
“Yeah, yeah, I bet they’re all asleep. Hey, I recognize you. You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you? The gal with Agent Carver?”
“Yes, that’s right, I was with Agent Carver. I’m here to protect you. You don’t need those other cops. But you’ve got to keep my presence here quiet, okay?”
The old man ruminated on this for a good five seconds and then slowly nodded. “I haven’t had a girl around me without a needle in her hand in more years than I can remember.”
“Do you remember back for a lot of years?”
“Yep. Do I salute you?”
“Yes,” Nick said. Slowly, the old man saluted her and she saluted him back. She said, “Tell me about some of those years you remember, Captain.”
Captain DeLoach paused again, then said in a dreamy voice, more singsong than not, “You know, young lady, some of those years are so clear in my head that it’s like yesterday. I can feel what I felt then, the exhilaration, the excitement. I can see their faces as they were then, hear the yells, the screams, feel them score into me, deep, taste them, you know? I can feel all the joy and triumph, the pure sweetness of winning, and I loved that, you know?”
“No, sir, I don’t know what it is you’re talking about.”
He gave her the sweetest smile. “So many people I knew, liked, but now they’re mostly dead. All except me and mine, of course. Yep, just look who’s left. That’s a shame, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it’s a real shame. Why do you call Weldon a little bastard?”
“I remember it was like yesterday that he was just a little tyke, couldn’t even walk yet, and he was into everything. I was alone. What did I know about how to raise a baby?”
“I imagine it was very difficult, sir. What about Weldon?”
No answer this time. His head just fell forward. He seemed to be asleep. From one moment to the next, he was simply gone, someplace in the distant past when he’d known happiness. Poor old man. She wondered how it would feel to have your own son trying to kill you. She didn’t know what Captain DeLoach had meant with all that talk about the yells and screams. It made no sense.
She straightened, looked around the large room. It was nice and warm in there. She shrugged out of her parka, walked around a bit, getting acquainted with everything. It was like a junior suite in a hotel, only it was personalized with some photos on the end table—none of Weldon, but she and Dane had already remarked on that. Maybe she’d ask Captain DeLoach if he had any pictures of his only son stashed somewhere. Beside his bed were a few more photos—of a baby, and then that baby as a toddler. Weldon? She didn’t know. But wait—that couldn’t be. There was a car in the background, and the car wasn’t forty years old. It was around the mid-1980s. Okay, so it wasn’t Weldon. Another family member had a little kid, that had to be it.
Nick turned away from the photo, realized that Nurse Carla or anyone who worked there, for God’s sake, could come tromping through the door. Where could she hide?
There was a big walk-in closet six feet from the double bed. The wood doors were slatted so she could see Captain DeLoach clearly. She spread her parka on the carpeted floor and made herself comfortable.
She’d bought taco dip, a small box of Wheat Thins, and a Diet Dr Pepper—her favorites—in the small food market inside the filling station, using up four dollars and eight cents of her twelve dollars. Before she fell asleep, her stomach happy, she wondered how long it would take Dane to track her down.
She tapped harder on the glass and jumped when she heard a querulous old voice mutter, “Who the hell wants in now? That you, Weldon? You want to finish the job on me, you little bastard?”
The curtains were jerked back and she was face-to-face with Captain DeLoach. He looked pale, sported a small white bandage around his head, but his old eyes were clear and focused.
He stared at her a moment, nodded to himself, and unlocked the doors. She watched him wheel his chair back before she opened the door and eased in. She relocked the door and drew the curtains.
She said, “I shouldn’t be here, Captain DeLoach, but I think you’re where all the action is, so consider me your bodyguard.”
“You’re a lot prettier than that idiot I kicked out of here last night. Overweight dolt, all he wanted to do was eat Carla’s doughnuts and she was getting pissed, which means that she’d carp at me. Did you see any of the cops they put around to protect me?”
“Not a soul, but I was really careful.”
“Yeah, yeah, I bet they’re all asleep. Hey, I recognize you. You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you? The gal with Agent Carver?”
“Yes, that’s right, I was with Agent Carver. I’m here to protect you. You don’t need those other cops. But you’ve got to keep my presence here quiet, okay?”
The old man ruminated on this for a good five seconds and then slowly nodded. “I haven’t had a girl around me without a needle in her hand in more years than I can remember.”
“Do you remember back for a lot of years?”
“Yep. Do I salute you?”
“Yes,” Nick said. Slowly, the old man saluted her and she saluted him back. She said, “Tell me about some of those years you remember, Captain.”
Captain DeLoach paused again, then said in a dreamy voice, more singsong than not, “You know, young lady, some of those years are so clear in my head that it’s like yesterday. I can feel what I felt then, the exhilaration, the excitement. I can see their faces as they were then, hear the yells, the screams, feel them score into me, deep, taste them, you know? I can feel all the joy and triumph, the pure sweetness of winning, and I loved that, you know?”
“No, sir, I don’t know what it is you’re talking about.”
He gave her the sweetest smile. “So many people I knew, liked, but now they’re mostly dead. All except me and mine, of course. Yep, just look who’s left. That’s a shame, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it’s a real shame. Why do you call Weldon a little bastard?”
“I remember it was like yesterday that he was just a little tyke, couldn’t even walk yet, and he was into everything. I was alone. What did I know about how to raise a baby?”
“I imagine it was very difficult, sir. What about Weldon?”
No answer this time. His head just fell forward. He seemed to be asleep. From one moment to the next, he was simply gone, someplace in the distant past when he’d known happiness. Poor old man. She wondered how it would feel to have your own son trying to kill you. She didn’t know what Captain DeLoach had meant with all that talk about the yells and screams. It made no sense.
She straightened, looked around the large room. It was nice and warm in there. She shrugged out of her parka, walked around a bit, getting acquainted with everything. It was like a junior suite in a hotel, only it was personalized with some photos on the end table—none of Weldon, but she and Dane had already remarked on that. Maybe she’d ask Captain DeLoach if he had any pictures of his only son stashed somewhere. Beside his bed were a few more photos—of a baby, and then that baby as a toddler. Weldon? She didn’t know. But wait—that couldn’t be. There was a car in the background, and the car wasn’t forty years old. It was around the mid-1980s. Okay, so it wasn’t Weldon. Another family member had a little kid, that had to be it.
Nick turned away from the photo, realized that Nurse Carla or anyone who worked there, for God’s sake, could come tromping through the door. Where could she hide?
There was a big walk-in closet six feet from the double bed. The wood doors were slatted so she could see Captain DeLoach clearly. She spread her parka on the carpeted floor and made herself comfortable.
She’d bought taco dip, a small box of Wheat Thins, and a Diet Dr Pepper—her favorites—in the small food market inside the filling station, using up four dollars and eight cents of her twelve dollars. Before she fell asleep, her stomach happy, she wondered how long it would take Dane to track her down.
