Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

I walked down State Street, knowing what I had to do and hating it, a lot more on alert now, looking carefully inside each shop window. Fortunately, there were no more bodies. If this was a one-off, I wasn't okay with it, but I wasn't as concerned as I would have been if it had been part of a pattern. Who knew what skeletons Melissa Merriweather had in her past?

Actually, Herc knew.

I'd grabbed my satphone out of my ruck. I'd charged it yesterday in preparation for leaving, grateful there were no messages from Herc. He'd disappeared with Serena's corpse, and the hope was he'd stay away. He'd been running a secret section of the CIA for decades; one that contracted out particularly sensitive jobs to freelancers. The people who'd established him in power were long ago turned to dust and nobody else was talking because nobody wanted to cross him. He made J. Edgar Hoover look like a boy scout.

How powerful was he? Twenty years ago, Rose's lawyer friend, Lian, had worked for him drawing up the encrypted contracts, but when he'd gotten her pregnant, he'd kicked her out and sent her here to Rocky Start, set her up with a law office, and told her never to leave. Herc was an asshole but a very, very smart, powerful, dangerous one. How dangerous? Lian, nobody's fool with plenty of backbone, had never left Rocky Start. It was a pretty place, but a prison nonetheless for her.

And I'd asked Pike once if he was worried about immigration coming for the Weed brothers, and he'd said, "They're citizens. Herc fixed it."

Yeah, the guy was nobody to cross. And now I had to call him.

Most of the water was out of my boots by now, but the new socks were damp and my feet were freezing. I tried to ignore it, because I am a manly man, but age frays away at the ability to ignore discomfort. At least the satphone was dry since it had been inside another waterproof pouch inside the waterproof bag.

The phone felt heavy in my thigh pocket. I had not wanted to have this conversation in Oddities.

I turned toward my new nemesis, the river. The small park overlooking it was empty, so the Cybertruck driver must have moved on. There was an ancient picnic table there but no benches. Because Rocky Start didn't want people hanging around. Just keep moving folks, nothing to see here.

The wood table was old and looked like it was from the days when Rocky Start was a hub for the lumber industry that had been hard at work deforesting the mountains. I sat on the table and noticed, among the initials and obscenities decorating the top, a faded heart carved in the wood with the initials GN and RM inside of it. I hoped that had turned out all right, but given it was Rocky Start, one had probably offed the other.

The leaves had started turning weeks ago and the surrounding mountains were bursting with color, which indicated the days of the lumber industry were long gone. There was about one good week of color left and I wasn't going to be on the Trail to enjoy it. I pulled the satphone out and punched in the number I had memorized a long time ago. If Herc was a normal person, one might hope it would go to voicemail, but he had his phone with him all the time and always answered, no matter what time of day or year it was.

"Still enjoying Rocky Start?" Herc began. "Or are you back on the Trail?"

"I got a feeling you know exactly where I am."

"Good old Max," he said. "Always paranoid. You know I'm not happy with you."

"I don't care."

"Who took my film?"

"Rose." There was no point lying about it; she'd picked his pocket clean.

"Why?"

"So we're back in balance."

"Are we?"

"It's been over a week. You'd have taken action if we weren't."

"You're still breathing," Herc said, which I took as a yes. "Why are you calling?"

"Melissa Merriweather was killed." With Herc, it was always good to put the headline first.

"Nefariously?"

"Obviously, that's what ‘killed' means," I said.

"Not necessarily," Herc said. "There are acts of God, such as lightning strikes, plagues, locusts, droughts, wildfires and such. In fact, I believe acts of God kill more than any other. One might consider old age an act of God. All powerful and all that. Big killer, that guy."

"It wasn't locusts."

"Max, Max, Max, always the wise guy."

"Someone posed her with an urn in a casket in her window. Was it you?"

"I won't dignify that with an answer."

"You know all the former players in this town. You were their handler. Is there anyone here who would wish Merriweather dead?"

"There is always a large gap between wish and action," Herc pointed out. "But, off the top of my head, no."

"What about the Cauldron?" I asked, referring to the late Serena Stafford's international mercenary outfit. "Some of them might not be happy she was taken out, and Melissa helped with that."

"On the contrary," Herc said, "everyone takes a step up. There's a new guy running it, her former number two. I had to provide him proof of her death. He's grateful she's gone. It's a dog-eat-dog world with them. Pun intended. You have no problems there."

"And her son, Junior?" I asked.

"Not my concern. And really. A man who goes by Junior? Why are you calling me?"

"I have to find out who took out Merriweather."

"Why?"

I blinked. "We've got a murderer in town." But I already knew where this was going.

"Lots of killers in Rocky Start, Max. You among them. Pretty recently too, given the body I have in storage."

"You finished Serena off," I said.

"True. Surprised you only wounded her. You're getting sloppy in your old age. Nevertheless, you ever want to pick up some work, give me a buzz. But don't waste my time on crap like this. Either stay retired or get back in the game." He said the last bit with some edge, indicating his patience was wearing thin.

"Who's your spy in town?" I asked, not that I expected him to blurt it out.

"Having a spy would insinuate I need one," Herc said. "Why are you calling me about Melissa Merriweather? Why do you care?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "Did Pike give you a tin star, like the one Oz had? Does he still quote old westerns?" He laughed. "Such sentimentality."

"It's a necessity," I said, surprising myself. "Someone has to maintain law and order. There are good people here who?—"

"Oh, Max. You've changed. Not for the better."

"So you're not going to help." I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. "If there's nothing in it for you, why bother? Well, there's something in it for you. This is the place you dump your retirees, the people too dangerous to be let loose, the people who know too much. So it's in your best interest to help?—"

"I don't think you need help, Max. I don't think you have a real problem. I don't think Rocky Start has a problem. You're getting soft, all this whining about good people. You need to hit the Trail again. You're not done until you reach that mountaintop in Georgia, Max. It's not like you to not finish what you started. That was one of your most admirable traits. You could always be counted on to finish, no matter what. Nothing could deter you."

"I'll finish. Thanks for nothing."

"I gave you something, Max," Herc said. "Advice. And here's some more. You've got new boots. Use them. Get back on the Trail. Leave Rocky Start behind. There's nothing good for you there."

The phone clicked off.

I looked down at my new boots. Which were wet.

I'd argued with Herc before but not like that, letting him know he was wrong, that he was an asshole. Was he done with me? Enough to have someone cut a rope bridge? No, that was a dumbfuck way to kill somebody. Anybody Herc wanted dead was dead, period.

But there was something else that struck me as odd about that last bit. Herc had pushed me into Rocky Start by sending my resupply of boots here so I could talk to his kid for him. Now I was here, he wanted me gone. Why?

And he hadn't asked about that daughter, Mei.

I closed my eyes tightly, as if doing so could push away my massive headache.

After a minute, I put the satphone back in my pocket and headed back. I wanted to go find Rose and make sure Poppy was okay, but I headed for Quill's Pharmacy first because I needed to know how Melissa had died, and that meant our local pharmacist/coroner.

Plus, I needed Tylenol for this headache.