“So no people mover two-step. And not much traffic that time of night. I’d say thirty minutes tops to get home.”
“So say it took him fifteen minutes to get to his car and get out of the airport, plus the drive time, that would be 10:15. Round it to an hour to be safe, 10:30.”
“If the plane landed on time.”
“We’ll have to check that. But if it did, there’s thirty minutes that Tuck Dutton is unaccounted for if we believe him that he got home around 11:00.”
“Do you?”
“The blood was crusted on his face by the time we found him, so yeah, I do.”
“Wonder what the man was doing?”
CHAPTER 16
SAM QUARRY DROVE to a local UPS drop-off receptacle and mailed the box containing the labeled blood vials. They were being shipped to a lab in Chicago that he’d found using an online service at the local library. There was a prepaid return mailer packet inside.
After that he’d driven one hundred miles east, actually crossing over into Georgia. He pulled off the highway and into a truck stop. He had six packages with him but only one that mattered. He parked and walked across the truck stop to the U.S. mailbox. After making certain there were no surveillance cameras to record him doing so, he dropped all the boxes in the mailbox. The only package that mattered was being sent to an address in Maryland. In it were the bowl and spoon Willa had used, and the letter he’d typed earlier. He had no idea if the authorities could track exactly from where a parcel had been dropped off, but he had to assume they could. Thus the other boxes were just red herrings in case anyone was watching who could later talk to the police about someone dropping off one box here. Well, that wouldn’t be him. He’d simply look like a long-haul trucker sending multiple packages home.
He drove back to Alabama, stopping once to get a bite to eat before heading on. When he got to Atlee the only light on was in Gabriel’s room.
Quarry tapped on the door. “Gabriel?”
The little boy opened the door. “Yes, Mr. Sam?”
“What you doing up this late?”
“Reading.”
“Reading what?”
“Reading this.” Gabriel held up a book. Quarry took it and looked at the title. “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian?”
“It’s real good. Makes you want to laugh. And cry sometimes too. And it’s got some grown-up language in it, if you know what I mean. But I love it.”
“But you’re not an Indian.”
“That’s not all it’s about, Mr. Sam. It’s got stuff for everybody. Lady at the library told me about it. I wanta write a book one day.”
“Well, Lord knows you got enough words in your head, because they come out faster than I can listen to them sometimes.” Quarry handed the book back. “Your ma turned in?”
“About an hour ago. We wondered where you got to.”
“Had some business needed taking care of.” Quarry leaned against the doorjamb, struck a match against the wood, and lighted up a cigarette. “You seen Kurt’round lately?”
“No sir.”
He eyed Gabriel from under his thicket of eyebrows. “Think he might’ve moved on.”
Gabriel looked surprised. “Now why would he do that? Where’s he got to go to?”
Quarry tapped his cigarette against the door and ash drifted to the floor. “Everybody’s got somewhere to go. Just takes some folks longer to figure out where to.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Anybody asks, I guess that’s what we tell’em. Damndest thing, though. He was like family. Now don’t you go off like that without talking to me first, okay?”
Gabriel looked stunned by the very suggestion. “If I ever leave, Mr. Sam, you’ll be the first to know, right af