worry about any messes that need to be cleaned up later. For now, just deal with our wandering boy.”
Killing was what Stackhouse meant, and killing was what it would probably take. Ellis, and anyone who tried to get in their way. That sort of mess would mean calling the Zero Phone, but if she could assure the gentle, lisping voice on the other end that the crucial problem had been solved, she thought she might escape with her life. Possibly even her job, but she would settle for her life, if it came to that.
“I know what needs to be done, Trevor. Let me get to it.”
She ended the call and went inside. The air conditioning in the little waiting room hit her sweaty skin like a slap. Denny Williams was standing by.
“Are we set?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Ready to rock and roll. I’ll take over when you give me the word.”
Mrs. Sigsby had been busy with her iPad on the flight from Erie. “We’ll be making a brief stop at Exit 181. That’s where I’ll turn command of the operation over to you. Are you good with that?”
“Excellent with it.”
They found the others standing outside. There were no black SUVs with tinted windows, only three more mom vans in unobtrusive colors: blue, green, and gray. Orphan Annie would have been disappointed.
16
Exit 181 dumped the Gold team caravan off the turnpike and into your basic Nowheresville. There was a gas station and a Waffle House, and that was the whole deal. The nearest town, Latta, was twelve miles away. Five minutes past the Waffle House, Mrs. Sigsby, riding up front in the lead van, directed Denny to pull in behind a restaurant that looked as if it had gone broke around the time Obama became president. Even the sign reading OWNER WILL BUILD TO SUIT looked desolate.
The steel case Denny and Louis had carried off the Challenger was opened, and Gold team gunned up. The seven members of Ruby Red and Opal took Glock 37s, the weapon they carried on their extraction missions. Tony Fizzale was issued another, and Denny was glad to see him immediately rack the slide and make sure the chamber was empty.
“A holster would be nice,” Tony said. “I don’t really want to stuff it down my belt in back, like some MS-13 gangbanger.”
“For now, just stow it under the seat,” Denny said.
Mrs. Sigsby and Winona Briggs were issued Sig Sauer P238s, petite enough to fit in their purses. When Denny offered one to Evans, the doctor held up his hands and took a step back. Tom Jones of Opal bent to the portable armory and brought out one of two HK37 assault rifles. “How about this, Doc? Thirty-round clip, blow a cow through the side of a barn. Got some flash-bangs, too.”
Evans shook his head. “I’m here under protest. If you mean to kill the boy, I’m not sure why I’m here at all.”
“Fuck your protest,” said Alice Green, also of Opal. This was greeted by the kind of laughter—brittle, eager, a little crazy—that only came before an op where there was apt to be shooting.
“That’s enough,” Mrs. Sigsby said. “Doctor Evans, it’s possible that we can take the boy alive. Denny, you have a map of DuPray on your pad?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then this operation is now yours.”
“Very good. Gather round, people. You too, Doc, don’t be shy.”
They gathered around Denny Williams in the simmering late-day heat. Mrs. Sigsby checked her watch. Quarter past six. An hour from their destination, maybe a bit more. Slightly behind schedule, but acceptable, given the speed with which this had been put together.
“Here’s downtown DuPray, what there is of it,” Denny Williams said. “Just one main street. Halfway down it is the County Sheriff’s Department, right between the Town Office and the DuPray Mercantile Store.”
“What’s a mercantile store?” This was Josh Gottfried, of Opal.
“Like a department store,” Robin Lecks said.
“More like an old-time five-and-dime.” That was Tony Fizzale. “I spent about ten years in Alabama, most of it on MP duty, and I can tell you that these small southern towns, it’s like you went back fifty years in a time machine. Except for the Walmart. Most of em have one of those.”
“Stow the chatter,” Mrs. Sigsby said, and nodded for Denny to go on.
“Not much to it,” Denny said. “We park here, behind the town movieshow, which is closed down. We get confirmation from Mrs. Sigsby’s source that the target is still in the police station. Michelle and I