The Scarecrow

FIFTEEN: The Farm

Carver sat in his office, studying the camera angles. Over one hundred views of the building and its surroundings. All at his command. At the moment, he was manipulating the exterior camera located on one of the top corners at the front of the building. By raising and turning the lens, and adjusting the focus, he could see up and down McKellips Road.

It didn’t take long to spot them. He knew they’d come back. He knew about thought processes.

McEvoy and Walling were parked next to the wall outside the Public Storage center. They were watching Western Data at the same time he was watching them. Only he wasn’t as obvious about it.

Carver toyed with the idea of letting them bake out there. Waiting longer to give them what they wanted. But then he decided to get things moving. He picked up his phone and punched in three numbers.

“Mizzou, come in here, please. It’s unlocked.”

He put the phone down and waited. Mizzou opened the door without a knock and stepped in.

“Close the door,” Carver said.

The young computer genius did as instructed and then approached Carver’s worktable.

“What’s up, boss?”

“I want you to take that box of Freddy’s belongings and deliver them to him.”

“I thought you said he blew town.”

Carver looked up at him. He thought that someday he would hire somebody who didn’t take issue with everything he said.

“I said he probably did. But that’s beside the point. Those people that were in here earlier today saw that box on his damn chair and realized we either had to fire somebody or we have a turnover problem. Either way, it doesn’t instill confidence in the prospective customer.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Then, take that box, strap it to the back of your motorcycle and take it to his warehouse. You know where that is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there.”

“Good, then go.”

“But Kurt and me were in the middle of breaking down thirty-seven to see where the heat buildup’s coming from. We got a flash on it.”

“Good, I am sure he can handle it from here. I want you to make that delivery.”

“And then come all the way back?”

Carver looked at his watch. He knew Mizzou was angling for the rest of the day off. Little did he know that Carver already knew that he wouldn’t be returning-not on this day, at least.

“Fine,” he said as though he were frustrated about being cornered. “Take the rest of the day. Just go. Now, before I change my mind.”

Mizzou left the office, closing the door behind him. Carver watched anxiously on the cameras, waiting to track him once he got on his beloved motorcycle in the parking lot. He seemed to be taking forever to get out there. Carver started humming. He went to his old standby, the song that had pervaded all corners of his life for as long as he could remember. Soon he quietly sang his two favorite lines and found himself repeating them faster and faster instead of continuing the lyrics of the song.

There’s a killer on the road; his brain is squirming like a toad

There’s a killer on the road; his brain is squirming like a toad

There’s a killer on the road; his brain is squirming like a toad

There’s a killer on the road; his brain is squirming like a toad…

If you give this man a ride…

Finally, Mizzou entered the camera frame and started securing the cardboard box to the small cargo rack behind the seat. He was smoking a cigarette and Carver saw it was almost burned down to the filter. This explained the delay. Mizzou had taken the time to go to the bench at the back of the plant and maybe visit with his fellow smokers.

Finally the box was secured on the motorcycle. Mizzou flicked away the butt of his cigarette and put on his helmet. He straddled the bike, started the engine and rode out through the open front gate.

Carver tracked him out the whole way and then turned the camera toward the Public Storage center down the street. He saw that McEvoy and Walling had seen the box and taken the bait. McEvoy was pulling out to follow.