again at his son. He was reading on the couch, which was the only thing the kid ever seemed to want to do. Oh yeah, except for the violin. He shook his head, wondering if the kid had gotten any of his genes at all. Not likely. He was a mama’s boy through and through. Beth’s son.
Beth . . .
Yeah, the marriage didn’t work. But there was still something between them. There always would be. She may have been preachy and opinionated, but he’d always watch out for her, not only because of Ben, but because she was surely the best-looking woman he’d ever slept with. Great-looking back then and somehow even better-looking now. Even better-looking than the coeds he’d seen today. Weird. Like she had reached an age that suited her perfectly and somehow stopped aging after that. He knew it wouldn’t last. Gravity would take its toll, but still, he couldn’t stop thinking about having a quick roll in the sack with her. One for old times’ sake, and to help him . . . unwind.
He supposed he could call Angie. Or Kate, for that matter. One was twenty and worked in the pet store; the other was a year older and cleaned toilets at the Stratford Inn. They both had nice little figures and were always dynamite when it came time for a little bit of . . . unwinding. He knew Ben wouldn’t care if he brought one of them over, but even so, he’d probably have to talk to them first. They’d been pretty angry at him the last time he’d seen either of them. He’d have to apologize and turn on the charm, and he wasn’t sure he was up to listening to them smack their chewing gum and chatter away about what they’d seen on MTV or read in the National Enquirer. Sometimes they were too much work.
So that was out. Searching for Thigh-bolt tonight was out. Looking for Thigh-bolt tomorrow was out, too, since Gramps wanted everyone over for brunch after church. Still, Thigh-bolt was walking, and with the dog and the backpack, it meant catching a ride was unlikely. How far could he get by tomorrow afternoon? Twenty miles? Thirty at the most? No more than that, which meant he was still in the vicinity. He’d make some calls to a couple of other departments in the surrounding counties, ask them to keep an eye out. There weren’t that many roads leading out of the county, and he figured that if he spent a few hours making phone calls to some of the businesses along those routes, someone would spot the guy. When that happened, he’d be on his way. Thigh-bolt never should have messed with Keith Clayton.
Lost in thought, Clayton barely heard the front door squeak open.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Someone’s on the phone.”
“Who is it?”
“Tony.”
“Of course it is.”
He rose from his seat, wondering what Tony wanted. Talk about a loser. Scrawny and pimpled, he was one of those hangers-on who sat near the deputies, trying to worm his way into pretending he was one of them. He was probably wondering where Clayton was and what he was doing later because he didn’t want to be left out. Lame.
He finished his beer on the way in and tossed it in the can, listening to it rattle. He grabbed the receiver from the counter.
“Yeah?”
In the background, he could hear the distorted chords of a country-western song playing on a jukebox and the dull roar of loud conversation. He wondered where the loser was calling from.
“Hey, I’m at Decker’s Pool Hall, and there’s this strange dude here that I think you should know about.”
His antenna went up. “Does he have a dog with him? Backpack? Kind of scruffy, like he’s been out in the woods for a while?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. He’s shooting pool in the back. But listen. I wanted to tell you he’s got a picture of your ex-wife.”
Caught off guard, Clayton tried to sound nonchalant. “So?” he said.
“I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Why would I give a holy crap about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t. Holler.”
He hung up the phone, thinking the guy must have potato salad where his brains should be, and ran an appraising gaze over the kitchen. Clean as could be. Kid did a great job, as usual. He almost shouted that out from where he stood, but instead, as he caught sight of Ben, he couldn’t help but notice again how small his son was. Granted,