He turned onto the single-lane access road that ran along the forest line and eventually behind the Smiley property. He’d rarely seen anybody else drive this road. Still, he was careful. He saw the potholes were bigger since the last time he was here, the forest encroaching nearly to the asphalt. It was where he’d parked when he and Lissy had first come back for the bank robbery money, before they’d faced down Savich and Sherlock and he’d believed his life was over. Victor shook his head. He didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to think about what had happened that day, how his life had simply exploded. Only it hadn’t, not really. His life had become his again, with Lissy. Things would be different this time, and everything would turn out fine. He’d planned through each step since he’d escaped from that psych hospital. Well, there’d been some mistakes along the way, sure, but he was done with that.
Victor realized he no longer wanted vengeance against Savich. There were many more important things for him and Lissy now. It simply wasn’t worth taking the risk. But he also knew Lissy wouldn’t let him leave until she killed Buzz Riley. That was all right, he could live with that. It was so important to her to avenge her mama. But then that would be the end of it. They’d be on their way to Montana, a nice long road trip. Maybe they’d go to Big Sky, buy a small piece of land, and have enough money left over for a good start. He didn’t know what they’d do, but it didn’t matter, the dream of the future warmed him, centered him. But first he had to find the money, even if Lissy wouldn’t tell him where her mama had hidden it. He had to find that ledger, he knew to his gut it would give the hiding place.
He saw no one on the access road, not FBI, not any locals. He parked the Chrysler off the narrow road, maybe a mile from the Smiley house, and said quietly to Lissy, “I want you to stay here and keep quiet. I’m going to take a good look around, make sure everything’s safe for us.”
Take a gun, Victor. If you see anyone hanging around, you gotta shoot ’em before they get you. You’ve got to come back to me.
She didn’t realize he’d taken the gun from her when she was asleep. He wouldn’t tell her, either. He would be careful, but there’d be no shooting, not if he could help it. Lissy was the one who loved guns and killing. He didn’t mind, everyone loved something.
Before he got out of the car, he said, “Of course I’ll come back.” At least in Montana, she could shoot bears or whatever there was out there in the Wild West, and no one would care. He quietly closed the car door and stood perfectly still for a moment, letting the July heat seep into him, the endless summer humidity flood him like a shower. He heard birds, some scurrying forest animals, probably squirrels, maybe foxes.
He remembered Agent Porto at Lake Massey and shook his head at how lucky that man was to be alive. Of course Victor would have shot him if he’d had to. Sure, he would. Hadn’t he killed the bitch lawyer? Whacked her over the head, dumped her overboard? He didn’t feel much of anything about that now, except maybe relief it was over and he’d done it all himself, without Lissy hissing in his ear, trying to take over. He wouldn’t have gone out of his way to kill her if it hadn’t been worth it. All that money waved in his face. Of course he’d agreed. He’d told her the truth once they were in the boat and she was rowing him out onto the lake. He remembered the strange look she got on her face. Well, she was dead and gone now, no use thinking about it.
But he couldn’t forget Agent Porto. He hadn’t wanted to kill him. Let him wake up and find Octavia Ryan gone. What could he do? He didn’t know who Victor was, hadn’t seen his face. Victor had wanted to leave him in that cottage, but Lissy reminded him he couldn’t. Porto could wake up, and he knew too much. She kept at him, telling him over and over Savich would figure out it was him. It was her idea to leave him in that closet. Let the big guy suffer. Let him realize he’s going to die and there’s nothing he can do about it. She’d taken the agent’s gun from Victor once already, used it to try to kill Savich and Sherlock in Peterborough. When was that? Tuesday? Yesterday? Victor shook his head. He felt a moment of disorientation and panic. He stopped cold, squeezed his head between his hands. Where was he going? What was he doing? He felt a sharp slice of bitter pain, then everything righted. Had Lissy voodooed him? Now, there was a thought. If she could, he wouldn’t put it past her, to punish him for leaving her in the car, keeping her from having her fun.
Victor waited a few more minutes. Everything seemed quiet. He hadn’t heard or seen anyone. Lissy was snuggled back in the car, waiting for him, maybe asleep. He left the road and walked slowly and carefully across the spongy forest floor, grateful for the thick tree branches overhead. He stopped when he reached the back of the Smiley house. He’d thought he’d be pleased to see the place where he’d spent the happiest months of his life, but what he saw was dilapidated wood that needed painting, a trash-strewn yard, and a moldy tire hanging from the lower branch of an ancient oak tree. He remembered pushing Lissy in that tire, remembered her screaming at the top of her lungs, and her mother yelling at them, “Stop that hootin’ and hollerin’!” He remembered he and Lissy had stopped, and they’d wandered into the forest, only holding hands until they were sure her mom couldn’t see them, then made love in the cool shade of an oak tree, its branches canopied overhead, the air warm on their young bodies, a perfect afternoon. He sighed and kept his eyes open for any sign something wasn’t right. He looked into the kitchen window, saw no one there. The house was empty.
Then Victor saw something, a movement, a shadow.
He held perfectly still, barely breathing, something he’d learned in that hospital so the crazies, the bullies, the predators wouldn’t notice him. After a while they hadn’t, for the most part. He’d become an expert at stillness. He’d also learned not to speak to Lissy when any of them came around, only fade slowly into a wall.
He saw movement again in the kitchen window, then a man, a big man dressed in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, doing something at the sink.
Victor knew the man was an FBI agent. He also had no doubt Savich had sent this agent, probably two or three of them, to wait here for him to show up. How had Savich known Victor would drive on to the Smiley house, after the debacle in Winslow? Did he also guess he would come back for the money? He cursed himself for the big mistake he’d made with that waitress, that cute little Cindy, who turned out not to be a wimp but a ballbuster, literally. She’d given them away. Winslow was too close to her, too close to Fort Pessel. Yeah, he’d screwed up, wanting to make Lissy jealous so she’d appreciate him more, not rag on him so much, and look what had happened. If Lissy had killed her, that would have been okay. No one would have known it was them, but Cindy escaped. They’d taken off like bats out of hell, his heart yammering in his chest for a good fifty miles. As for Lissy, she’d bowed over with that kick to her belly. She’d cried at the pain and raged at her failure, blaming him, of course, because she was the one who’d had to shoot at Cindy and she’d hurt too badly to aim properly, and the girl had gotten away. He’d do things differently if he could, and wasn’t that always the problem with the past? You looked at it over your shoulder and knew you couldn’t change it.
How many agents were here? He kept his eyes on the man in the kitchen. He saw him turn and speak to someone else. So there were at least two agents? Did the local police chief have deputies doing drive-bys?
What to do?
Victor waited until it was dark, past nine o’clock, when the crickets were loud and steady. It was cooler, finally. No lights went on in the house, but Victor saw flickers, knew the agents were awake, watching, waiting.
It was time to get Lissy’s pain pills, then he’d decide what they’d do next. If she continued to refuse to tell him where the money was hidden, screw it, he’d drive away. He wouldn’t take her to kill Buzz Riley.
She said first thing when he opened the car door, You’ve been gone forever, Victor. Hours and hours. You’ve been watching the house, haven’t you? They’re here, aren’t they? The Feds are here, waiting for us?
“Yes, they’re here. Don’t worry about it, not yet. Now it’s finally dark and the pharmacy is closed. Remember, Lissy, you stay in the car when we get there. I’ll get the pills.”