Chapter 75

CHAPTER 75

D EVINE WAS HIDING IN AN alley adjacent to the Cowboy Tavern’s rear parking lot. He watched as the waitress who had served the Odoms lunch, and whom Devine had spoken with earlier, came out of the restaurant around quarter to six. She had previously told Devine her work hours, which was why he had expected her to leave the place around this time.

She got into a dented and ancient Honda hatchback, took a moment to light a cigarette, and then put the car in gear and drove off.

Devine headed after her on the e-motorcycle with his headlights turned off as he followed the taillights in front of him.

Three miles later she pulled down a tree-lined dirt road and stopped in front of a ramshackle cottage a very few nails from falling down.

She got out, fumbled with her bag, pulled out the keys, lit another cigarette, and unlocked the door. She went inside and dumped her bag on top of a mountain of clutter by the front door. In the kitchen she grabbed a beer from the fridge, took off her shoes, rubbed her feet, and sat in a recliner by a woodstove that gave off a red glow from behind the safety glass, the occasional ember from the pellets inside firing off like a shooting star.

She took a swallow of the alcohol, leaned back, and closed her eyes, a deep, contented sigh leaving her lips.

“Long day?”

Her eyes shot open and she sat up so fast and agitated that she clenched the can of beer too hard and some of the liquid shot out like a geyser.

Devine was sitting across from her.

“Who in the hell are you?” she said fearfully.

He flashed his badge. “Travis Devine, Homeland Security. We spoke before, remember? And you’re Madeline Trumbull.”

“No, I’m Wendy Roman.”

“No, you’re not. You have quite the criminal record.”

“I told you I did some drugs.”

“I’m not talking about drugs.”

She sputtered, “Look, you scared the shit out of me. And… and you can’t just barge in here like this. I got rights.”

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought we could follow up our chat. And if you don’t want surprise visitors, you should lock your back door.”

“Follow up our chat?”

“The Odoms’ death?”

“I told you all I know ’bout that, mister.”

“You didn’t tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“ How you killed them.”

She stared across at him, unblinking. For a moment Devine thought she was going to hurl the beer can at him.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

“With the super-absorbent additive DMSO, it would be sucked right into their bloodstreams. Then the clock started ticking. Then they drove out of town, and died.”

She shook her head. “You better just get yourself outta here, mister, before I call the cops on your ass.” She pulled out her phone.

Devine took out his phone and pulled up a screen. “I took your picture the first time we met. I sent it to DC. They ran AI facial recognition on it and got a hit. You’re Dr. Madeline Trumbull. Board certified in endocrinology, with a PhD in chemistry from Johns Hopkins. You were on the faculty at Emory University and then Vanderbilt. And then you fell off the grid about five years ago. You resurfaced briefly in an investigation regarding a mass poisoning attempt involving a municipal water treatment plant near Akron, Ohio. Your name has also popped up in connection with two militia groups who have been named as terrorist organizations by both the FBI and DHS. But you vanished after a series of poisonings killed a federal prosecutor, a government witness, and a rabbi from Georgia. So you can stop with the hillbilly routine, Doc.”

She looked at him coolly. “You obviously know what happened to poor Dr. Coburn, since you were there and were very nearly blown into fragments yourself. Pity you weren’t. One less federal jackboot is always a sublime result.”

“Federal jackboot?” he said. “I can see you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid.”

“No, I’ve embraced the truth .” She paused and took a swallow of beer. “You know what you’re up against?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You should join us,” she said.

“In what exactly?”

“Taking our country back.”

“I wasn’t aware it had gone anywhere.”

She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Then you’re not paying attention.”

“Is this where you run me down a conspiracy rabbit hole filled with bullshit?”

Her features turned to stone. “Judgment Day is swiftly approaching.”

“For you , it is.”

“You have nothing on me,” snapped Trumbull.

“Well, I actually have four outstanding federal arrest warrants. I hope you agree to come quietly.” He took out his gun.

She stiffened and then wilted so quickly, it looked like she might be having a stroke.

“You can’t be serious. You’ll never get out of here alive.”

Devine said, “You tell me how you killed the Odoms and we might be able to work something out for our mutual benefit.”

She smiled at him. “This is so much bigger than you imagine. You don’t have a chance.”

Devine looked at her simpering, smirking face and he felt his temper swell. “I served my country in a lot of places where everyone told us we didn’t have a chance. In fact, since the Revolutionary War, people like you, meaning enemies of this country, have been telling us we don’t have a chance. And yet we’re still standing.”

When her smile deepened and she started to say something, he aimed and fired a round so close to her head that it blew off one of her dangling earrings.

She gasped, clapped her hand to her ear, and cried out, “You could have killed me.”

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. But the night’s still young.”

He rose and placed the muzzle of his gun against the center of her forehead and slid his finger to the trigger. “Like this, Trumbull.”

“You won’t pull the trigger,” she said shakily. “You’re with the law.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was with the law.”

“You’re Homeland Security,” she sputtered.

“And our mission is to protect the homeland against all threats, foreign and, like you, domestic. And I have the authority to use deadly force when threatened.”

“I’m not threatening you,” she moaned.

“You told me I didn’t stand a chance, and that I’d never get out of here alive. That is a direct and immediate threat to my personal safety, so extreme measures are justified. And you won’t be around to dispute it, will you?”

His finger edged to the trigger.

“Please, please don’t,” she whimpered.

“I can’t go away empty-handed, Trumbull. I came all this way. So either you talk, or at least I can tell my boss I removed one traitor from the mix. And you sure fit that bill.” When she said nothing, he pushed the muzzle deeper into her flesh and said, “Okay, bye-bye, Doc.”

She cried out, “W-wait. W-what do you want to know?”

He withdrew the pistol from her forehead.

“Tell me about 12/24/65. Eric and Mercedes King. Danny Glass. And how the Odoms died.”

“But—”

He held up his weapon. “Start talking or I will end you, right here, right now. You’re a traitor, and you and your kind have declared war on this country, and they execute traitors during wartime. And I have no problem being the executioner.”

And she started talking, laying everything out, as Devine asked pointed, detailed questions.

When she finished, he looked down at her.

“What happened to you?” asked Devine. “To make you follow this madness?”

“Go to hell.”

“We can still cut you a deal,” said Devine.

“You can’t prove anything I just told you.”

“We already have. You were just the cherry on top. And now you’ll need to come with me. There’s transport waiting to take you out of here and then to a federal facility.”

This seemed to strike Trumbull especially hard. “What sort of deal?”

“You testify, you go into WITSEC, no prison time. Otherwise, you’ll never see the sun rise or set again.”

She considered this. “I can’t stay here. And I’ll need to get some clothes.”

He followed her to her bedroom. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said as she pulled out some clothes. She reached inside the pocket of one and quickly clapped a hand to her mouth. Devine was a split second too late to stop her. She swallowed and looked triumphantly at him. “My own concoction. Even more lethal and fast acting than cyanide .”

She started convulsing, her breathing erratic, her pupils flipping out of sight. Trumbull dropped to the floor and started gyrating on the carpet, while Devine could only watch helplessly. Then she stopped moving.

And seconds later she stopped breathing.

Her pupils had rotated back into place. But they now stared unseeing up at him.

Devine looked over his shoulder. “Did you get it?”

Pru Jackson came out of the darkness holding her phone. “Eleven minutes and five seconds of crystal clear video. I did not film you threatening her with the gun or her offing herself,” she added.

“Good call.”