[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
thought about someone sneaking in. The son was in there already.
We missed it, Amanda said.
We didn t, Dorothy said.
You two got a problem? the supervisor said, eyes darting between them for
clues.
Bucky Lanehart, he s a hunting guide at the lodge, Amanda said. I m betting
he d say anything if it helped Scott King. No one else saw those prints. They
conveniently melted.
Size thirteen, Dorothy said. Coder s size.
He says.
Footprints are a hunting guide s specialty, wouldn t you say?
Amanda saw the grins around the table. They were obviously happy it was her
instead of them who had to listen to Dorothy s junk.
We ve put time into Coder already, Amanda said. My gut tells me he s all
right. I don t know. If Coder were discredited in any way, Ben Evans would end
up running the company. If Evans is the dirty one here, I m sure the union
would prefer to have him running the company instead of Coder.
That set off a round of murmurs, everyone speculating, until Dorothy said,
Your gut sucks.
The room went quiet.
Their supervisor cleared his throat and said, Get the warrant. See what the
scanner says and we won t have to worry about anyone s gut. If it was Coder
there that night, then he s lying.
40
AT FIRST I THOUGHT the house might be burning. The sky over the trees was
thick with dark smoke aglow in the setting sun. When I drove through the
gates, I saw the house standing tall and clean. It was the lot next door where
the smoke came from and it wasn t a fire. Five big excavators belched black
diesel exhaust into the air. The earth was torn open. Dirt piled high. A
steady stream of dump trucks filled their beds and rumbled off up the dirt
lane to the main road, grinding their gears and disappearing into the dusk.
I pulled into the garage and walked around the outside of the house. A section
of fence had been removed, and there was a path beaten in the grass between
the lower level of the house and the work site. Through the sliding glass
Page 71
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
doors I saw a table set up on sawhorses that was covered with plans. Around
the table, wearing orange hard hats, stood Jessica and two construction men in
muddy boots.
I looked over at the work. The thundering machines shook the air and the fresh
scent of raw earth mingled with the exhaust. I realized now that the red steel
bore the Con Trac emblem. I took two steps toward the site, drawn by its
enormity, then retreated back toward the house, where the plans were being
laid.
What the hell? I said, before they could turn their heads.
Thane, Jessica said, easing my way and planting a kiss on my cheek. She had
on work boots too and a fleece-lined jeans jacket. We got started.
The house? I said, eyeing the crusty men in their Carhartt overalls.
Johnny said they had a couple machines that could dig the foundation in two
days, she said. It s not costing us a dime.
Oh, it s free, right? I said, raising my voice.
She checked me with her scowl. I motioned my head and we went upstairs.
Jessica closed the door quietly and turned to me, frowning.
I thought you d be happy.
To see a hole in the property? I said.
I m saving us almost a hundred thousand. Johnny said they could just come up
and dig it quick while they were between things on the project. I don t know
why you re doing this.
Johnny? I said, shaking my head, searching her face. When the hell did you
talk to him?
On the phone, she said. Her jaw was set, warning me.
You don t just dig a foundation like this on an off moment, I said. It
costs thirty thousand just to move those machines up here. You ve got ten
million dollars worth of equipment out there. Nothing s free.
Well, technically, she said, they re not here.
I threw my hands up and spun toward the big picture window, catching a glimpse
of the red monsters tearing into the ground with their steel-toothed buckets.
Great. That s great, I said, wheeling back to her. I m two weeks behind
schedule already and we ve got ten million dollars worth of equipment in the
backyard. You have no idea what you re doing.
Let me get you a drink, she said.
I don t want a drink. I want you to stop pushing.
Pushing got us here, she said, taking down a bottle of wine, driving the
screw into the cork and yanking it out. Think about if you d pushed the night
our baby died.
I stared at her, noticing the red rims of her eyes, the bitter sharpness of
their focus.
You gonna do that? I said, my voice cracking.
Want to play Xbox?
We both turned. Tommy had come downstairs wearing a backwards orange Syracuse
hat.
How about when we get home? I said. We re going to go out for dinner. Get
changed, okay, pal? Lose the hat.
He shrugged and went back upstairs. We stared at each other.
Are you taking those Vicodins? I asked her, lowering my voice.
Because I m saying what we both already know? she asked.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]