had enough light to keep from tripping over brambles himself.
“Then you get out of here. You have him drive you back to the bar and you sober up, then get in your truck and you go home. You hear me, Sam?”
“Yessir.”
“You stay there. You go to work tomorrow and you go back home, you don’t do anything else. Nothing. No bar, no booze, no friend’s place, nothing unless Reggie or I say so. Got it?”
“Aw, c’mon.”
“No!” There was a loud thump, someone hitting something, though probably not Sam getting hit because he didn’t make a sound. “You’re a fuckup to end all fuckups. You want to get paid for Farris? Seriously? You and your stupid brush fire just about blew the whole game.”
“I didn’t think—”
“You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to obey orders. Well, that’s your new orders. Shut up and stay home.”
“It’s not fair.”
Nick reached the driveway with the flagpole. The lawn was an open, manicured stretch of grass, but there was a cedar hedge between it and the next property. He turned in beside the evergreen bushes and headed down toward the house in the deep line of shadow.
The boss guy said, “Get out of here, you moron. Tell your buddy Charlie about the brambles, and then you ditch him and go home and stay. And you toe the damned line from now on. Which means you never, ever come here again. Because if you do, you know what?”
“Yeah, what?” Sam’s bravado rang thin. “You’re gonna kill me?”
There was a long, long silence.
Nick edged down the property toward the house. No lights showed in the front, so the men must be in a room in the back. He hesitated, then dashed across the gap from the hedge to the house. No one shouted. No dog barked. With his shoulder inches from the siding, he eased his way along the side wall, squatting to duck below a tall window.
The deep voice came through the earbud flat and hard. “Can you follow orders? Or not.”
“Yessir.” Sam sounded cowed.
“Good. Now, get out.”
Nick heard the sound of the door, then what might be footsteps, a car door, and Charlie’s voice, cheerful and bland. “So, d’you get any money? ’Cause I sure could use another beer tonight.”
Sam muttered, “Got the fucking money for the fucking brambles, and can we get the fuck outta here?”
Nick heard Charlie’s car start up and saw a flicker of headlights behind the house. He ducked down behind a trash can as the lights swept up the side drive. Charlie’s car came past him, up toward the road, and was gone.
Nick heard Charlie and Sam exchange a few casual words about heading back to the bar as they drove. The reception began to crackle and break up. Charlie should be safe, though. Even with one arm out of commission, he could handle a drunk Sam. Nick holstered his weapon. Switching off the sound from the receiver, he tucked the ear bud in his pocket and turned his attention to the house. We need to know who’s in there.
One careful step at a time, he worked his way around the corner to the back. Two ground-floor windows spilled enough light to show a graveled yard fronting a garage, a shed, and some kind of carport over a big four-wheeler. One illuminated window was set high in the wall, possibly a kitchen. The other was larger and lower. Nick crept along the wall and was able to stand on his toes enough to peer in at the bottom corner.
A big man in gray sweats stood in front of a desk, turned away, holding his phone to his ear. Nick strained to hear, but the voice came through the glass as an undecipherable rumble. After a moment, the man paced a couple of steps and began to turn. Even as Nick quickly dropped out of sight, he felt that zing of a case coming together. McNaught. Nick had studied his picture and there was no doubt at all. Yes!
Nick huddled below the window, wishing he dared take another look. After a moment’s thought, he got out his phone, began video recording, and slipped it along the window frame until the camera lens cleared the sill. Inside the room, McNaught paced and gestured, talking on the phone. Nick kept filming for several minutes, until McNaught set his phone down, slammed the flat of his hand loudly on the desk, and strode out of the room, switching off the light as he went.