The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10)

The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10) Page 15

“The truth is I was going to leave your brother handcuffed in the back of the squad car with an irate deputy. I took him with me because of the money, because of the fifty thousand he promised.” I wagged a finger in Skarda’s direction. “Don’t think for a minute I’m not still annoyed about that.”

Josie nodded her head, yet the expression on her face suggested that she wasn’t satisfied with my answer.

“Ham and cheese okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said.

While she got out the sandwich fixings, Skarda disappeared through the doorway where Jill had first emerged. I took a look. The front part of the cabin consisted of one large room divided into a kitchen, dining room, and living room. The back had two bedrooms with a bathroom between them. Skarda had stepped into a bedroom with two sets of bunk beds and a large metal locker. The other bedroom had a queen-sized bed and a small dresser. Besides that, the living room area had two sofas that could also be used for sleeping, and I saw a couple of foam mattresses that were meant to be tossed on the floor for additional sleeping space. The cabin was small, yet apparently built by someone who expected a lot of overnight visitors.

Skarda stepped out of the bedroom wearing a pair of worn cowboy boots. He was carrying the county-issued sneakers in his hand. He dropped them on the floor and kicked them beneath a sofa.

“I need a shower,” he announced.

“That can wait,” Josie said. “Eat first.”

Skarda sat at the table. Josie slipped packaged ham, American cheese, lettuce, and tomato between two slices of white bread, set it on a paper plate, and slid it in front of him. She served me the same. Skarda ate as if he had just discovered food. Me, not so much.

“Coffee?” Josie asked.

“Thanks, sis,” Skarda said.

Josie poured a mug for both of us. It was so strong you could eat it with a fork. I told her it was excellent just the same. As I ate and drank, the old man moved between the refrigerator and the kitchen table. He opened the refrigerator and produced a can of cheap beer, which must have been tough to do because he was staring at me the entire time. He opened the beer and took a drink, then sat at the table across from me. He kept staring.

“Something I can do for you, Dad?” I asked.

“You look like a narc to me,” he said.

“You look like a district court judge.”

The remark caught him by surprise. It took him a few beats before he realized that I didn’t mean it. In the silence that followed, Josie drifted to Jimmy’s side and whispered in his ear. He gave me a quick glance and disappeared into a bedroom. After he emerged, he walked right out the front door without a word. He was carrying something in his right hand, but I couldn’t see what it was.

“You want a beer?” the old man asked.

“No, thank you.”

“I don’t trust a man who doesn’t drink. Seems like he’s hiding something.”

“I don’t trust a man who drinks too much. He doesn’t hide anything.”

He thought long and hard about that before replying. “Are you calling me a drunk?”

“Never crossed my mind.” I don’t think he believed me, possibly because I was speaking around a mouthful of ham and cheese at the time. “Tell me about this job of yours,” I said. “This great grocery store heist.”

“None of your business,” Roy said. He was sitting on a sofa in the living room. I had to turn in my chair to see him. His young wife was sitting directly across from him. Her hands were folded in her lap and she was staring straight ahead. Her remarkable eyes now had the blank look of someone who had been gazing at an iPod too long.

“I don’t know,” Skarda said. “Maybe he can help; give us some tips.”

“Us? You’re not going.”

Skarda turned in his chair and glared at Roy. “Who says?”

“The job was planned for five,” Josie said. “Besides, what if someone recognizes you?”

“In Silver Bay? No one’s gonna know me in Silver Bay.”

“We can’t take the risk.”

“Well, then, who’s going to be your inside man?”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?”

As if on cue, the young man entered the cabin. He was carrying a black box about the size of an old transistor radio with a collapsible antenna.

“Car’s clean,” he said.

Josie gestured toward me, and Jimmy stepped over and extended the antenna on his box.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s a frequency finder that I bought on Amazon. We use it to detect GPS trackers and other bugs, hidden cameras, phone taps, that sort of thing. We once found a GPS transmitter in a bag of money we stole.”

I stood without argument, spread my arms and legs wide, and let him move the antenna over me. At the same time, I glanced down at Skarda’s feet, noticing his boots again.

“Nothing,” Jimmy said at last.

“Good,” Josie said. “We don’t mean to offend you, Dyson, but—”

“Now do your cousin,” I said.

“What?” said Jimmy.

“Do Dave. Check him out, too.”

“C’mon,” Skarda said.

“It’ll only take a second,” Jimmy said.

Skarda stood, and Jimmy ran the antenna over him while watching the box’s black and gold face. When he finished, he said, “He’s clean, too.”