Ask the Parrot

1

Parker saw the gray Volkswagen Jetta start out of Pooley after Tom Lindahl’s Ford SUV, and fell in line behind it, in the Infiniti he’d taken from Brian Hopwood’s gas station. The best opportunity to deal with the Jetta and the two inside it came just before the second roadblock, when the Jetta pulled off onto the apron of a closed gas station. Parker stopped beside them, planning to talk to them, see what he had to do to get rid of them, maybe shoot their tires out or shoot up their ignition, whatever it would take to scare them off, but before he got close enough to say anything, the idiot Cal was out of the Jetta and waving a handgun around and Parker put him down.

The other one got scared, all right, and skittered away from there like a drop of water on a hot frying pan, but Parker knew he’d be back. Cory’d made it his lifework to stand with his dumber crazier brother, so once the fright wore off, he’d have to come back.

The only problem was the body. Without the body, Cory would have nothing to say to the troopers down there at the roadblock, too far for them to have heard the flat crack of Parker’s single shot. The troopers were more bored tonight, less convinced they’d find anything useful out here, and they weren’t searching cars, not even cars with two males inside, so Parker threw the body into the trunk, went through the roadblock without a problem, flashing the Infiniti’s registration he’d found in the packet with the owner’s manual, plus William G. Dodd’s driver’s license, and a few miles later, at a silent dark empty stretch of road, no buildings in sight, he dumped the body off the road and down a slope toward a chattering little creek he could hear but not see.

Shortly after that, he overtook the SUV, still potting along ten miles below the speed limit. He passed it when he could, and went on to the track, leaving the Infiniti on the scrub ground outside the chain-link fence away to the left of the road, facing back toward the gate. Then he switched off the engine, buttoned the overhead light not to turn on when the door was opened, and waited.

It took longer than it should have for Tom to get there. Had he lost his nerve? If he was running, too spooked to think what best to do for himself, Parker would have no choice but to drive away from here and forget the track. He couldn’t get in without Tom’s keys and Tom’s knowledge.

Without Tom, he’d just drive south through the night. No profit from the bank in Massachusetts, and now no profit from this racetrack. In the morning, wherever he was, he’d phone Claire to drive out and get him, and that would be the end of it. It had been too long since he’d seen her.

But here was Tom. Parker saw the headlights coming down the dirt road and got out of the Infiniti. Walking toward the gate as the SUV drove to it and stopped, he saw Tom in the amber glow from the dashboard, his window open, Parker coming to him from that side.

Tom just sat there, not aware of Parker, but then at last he switched the ignition off, and in the darkness Parker said, “Time to get started.”