“If they knew who they were looking for, we’d already be there, and why are you whispering? There’s nobody here but us,” Everett muttered.
“Right,” Freddie said.
As soon as the commercial ended, they went live to the site. The reporter was talking, and Everett was riveted with every word she uttered. And then they saw the sheriff descending the courthouse steps, and he held his breath as the man began to speak.
The more the sheriff said, the better Everett felt about everything. Kingston’s prognosis didn’t sound good, and there was no timeline on when he might be released. They didn’t have any leads or witnesses and were asking for thepublic’s help. And then the icing on the cake was hearing that the Tumbleweed Bar was closed until further notice.
“Did you hear that, Freddie? The bar is closed. Nobody is running it. It’s shut until further notice.”
“Guess we won’t be having any more beers from there then, will we?” Freddie said.
Everett turned his head and stared at his brother like he was looking at a stranger. He would like to believe Freddie was still suffering from the aftereffects of his Aya high, but the truth was, Freddie came this way, and nothing was ever going to change him. He sighed.
“You’re right. No more beers, but now we can go back and look for our inheritance without anyone bothering us. They won’t even know we’re there,” Everett said.
Freddie frowned. “I don’t want to go back, Everett. I don’t really want the money.”
“I need you to help. You’re stronger than me. And when we get it, I can take care of you real good for the rest of our lives,” Everett said.
“You take care of me just fine right now,” Freddie said.
“Yes, I do. But who’s taking care of me? We’re living off my disability and using it up before the end of the month every time.” Everett was frustrated and angry, and still felt like shit. “We’re going after that money tonight, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Understand?”
“I understand,” Freddie said. “Are we gonna be Joe and Darren again?”
“Damn it all to hell, Freddie. No. We’re gonna be us, and we’re gonna go find a treasure. We need to make a quick trip to the hardware store. We need a shovel and a pry bar to take with us.”
Freddie made a U-turn and left the room. Everett was yelling again. Freddie was resigned. Like it or not, they were going back to the Tumbleweed.
* * *
Bill Eldredge got the call from Asher just before noon, and without a word to Jacob Kingston, headed for his vehicle on the run. He drove straight to the address he’d been given, then began looking for the white Mustang from the photo.
It didn’t take long to locate it. Next step was finding a place to park among the other vehicles that would still give him a line of sight to the car. And when he did, he sent his twin a message about the change of plans and settled in to wait.
It was just before 1:00 p.m. when Eldredge saw two men exit the building who matched the men from the photos he’d been given. Then when they got into the same car, it verified their identities.
He waited until they were on the move, then slowly moved into traffic behind them, and followed them all the way to a hardware store. He parked when they parked, then waited for them to come back.
When they came out carrying a shovel and a pry bar and put it in the trunk of the car, he took photos from his phone, then followed them back to their apartment and guessed it was going to be a long wait.
He sent a text back to Asher, along with the photos.
Somebody’s going digging for something.
Phil will be on stakeout after 6:00 p.m.
He knows the score.
* * *
The for sale sign at the Borden house was a little shocking. Ash couldn’t begin to guess how this made her feel. And, ashe was pulling up into the driveway, the obvious absence of her car made him wonder where she might be, then let it go as he locked up the SUV and headed down the street and into the alley.
The temps were in the high thirties. Not quite freezing weather, but in a land with few windbreaks, it felt much colder. He was walking with his hands in his coat pockets and his shoulders hunched against the cold, with all manner of scenarios tumbling through his thoughts. He came out of the alley at the gas station, then headed toward the Tumbleweed and jogged all the way to the back door of the house. He paused before going in to gauge the appearance of the house.
The shades were down. The curtains had been pulled shut at every window. His dad’s truck was parked on the east side of the house, out of sight for anyone coming from the west. If he hadn’t known better, he would have assumed no one was home.
Satisfied, he let himself in, locking the door behind him, and then went to his room to hang up his coat. The clip in his gun was full, and his handcuffs were on the bed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice.
