Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Forty-three

“We ain’t heard nothin’ from any of them people you talked to,” he said. “The girl, the kid, uh, that car jockey-”

“They’d only call if they knew something,” I pointed out.

We didn’t go back into the casino right away, just stood there on the corner. The hookers called out to us but Jerry waved them away with a big hand.

“We should take a drive and check out the location,” I said.

“You never told me what you found out about the girl, back in Vegas,” Jerry said.

“She had a boyfriend who picked her up every day,” I said. “Anthony said he was in his late twenties with dark hair.”

“Big guy?”

“Average.”

“Good-lookin’?” he asked. “He’d have to be good-lookin’ ta get a dame like that.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Anthony didn’t say.”

“He know anything else, this Anthony?”

“No,” I said, “nothing helpful.”

“You’ll never see her again,” he said, “unless she’s at the meet.”

“How likely is that?” I said. “Her job was probably to get that note to me, and that’s it.”

“So they put her in the hotel just in case they had to use her?”

“Seems like it.”

“That means they were prepared for somethin’ ta go wrong.”

“And it did. Jerry, would that mean they were pros?”

“Naw,” he said, “this’s all been way too messy for pros. Just means they been thinkin’, plannin’.”

“Well, their plan seems to have a lot of flaws in it. Let’s hope this part of it goes right.”

Jerry didn’t look too convinced.

That made two of us.

Jerry read the directions while I drove. We left the Reno strip behind and drove out into the country. I wondered what it was that made the area so bad. It was a far cry from the warehouse where the first meet had been set.

Then we passed by homes badly in need of repair and I started to see what Jim had meant. This section was no doubt populated by people who kept rifles in their homes. I could feel them eyeing us with suspicion as we drove by.

Eventually, we reached a point where the street turned to gravel.

“Supposed to be at the end of this road,” Jerry said. We soon left gravel for a dirt road.

As we reached the end of the road we came to a freestanding barn, with the burnt-out remnants of a small house standing-if you could use that word-next to it.

I stopped the car in front of the barn and we got out.

“Plenty of cover here,” Jerry said, looking around. There was brush he could hide behind, as well as hills and dips.

“I’d have to drop you where the road begins,” I said, looking behind us. “The rest of this ride is in plain sight.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I can hike it.”

I looked at him. Jerry was a city guy, and this was rough terrain.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as if reading my mind, “I’m in shape for a hike.”

“Let’s go have a look,” I suggested.

The inside of the barn was empty, and had obviously been empty for a long time. There were rusted tools and dried-out bales of hay strewn about.

“I’ve got an idea,” Jerry said. “I’m gonna have a look at the house.”

“You mean what’s left of the house.”

“I think there’s enough.”

“Enough for what?” I called after him, but he left the barn.

I walked around for a few more minutes. The back doors of the barn were falling off their hinges. There was no way anybody could possibly get locked in.

I walked over to the house. There were only two walls left, and they faced the barn. One wall still held the front door, and Jerry came walking through it.

“I can stay in here,” he said.

I looked up at the sky.

“Unless there’s a lot of moonlight you’re gonna need a flashlight.”

“Somebody’ll see it.”

“How will you find your way to that house in the dark?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, “I’m sayin’ now. I can stay here now so that I’m already here tonight.”

“Jerry, that’s hours away. And what happens if they get the same idea, to put a man in that house?”

“It won’t be big enough for the both of us.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” I said. “I’m just sayin’ I don’t like it.”

“Mr. G., it’s the best way to go,” he said. “If somebody gets the same idea I’ll deal with it. But it’s your call.”

“I know it,” I said. “Just give me a minute.”

While he waited, Jerry walked completely around what was left of the small house.

“Jerry-”

“I’m good, Mr. G.,” he said. “I got my forty-five, and I just ate.”

I looked up at the sun, which was shining brightly.

“You have no water.”

“I won’t die,” he said. “The sun’ll go down soon.”

“And then it’ll get cold.”

“Cold don’t bother me.”

He was wearing a sports jacket over a short-sleeve shirt.

“You don’t know what cold is like in the desert,” I warned him.

“Let’s check the trunk of the car,” he said. “Maybe there’s a blanket.”

We walked to the car. As we approached it, we saw clouds of dust in the distance.

“A car,” he said, “comin’ fast.”

“I guess they got the same idea a few minutes after we did,” I said. “Let’s pull the car into the barn, just in case they haven’t spotted us, yet.”

“Let’s push it,” he suggested.

We put the Chevy in neutral and pushed it into the barn, then stayed in there with it while the car approached.

Jerry slid the.45 from his holster, and we waited-at least one of us with bated breath.