White River Burning полностью

“I know. This is a different question. I want to know if he’s ever owned any—or maybe just had a few in his possession, maybe holding them for someone else. Maybe just for a day.”

“I seriously doubt it. He hates guns.”

“I understand, but I still need to know if he’s ever had any sort of contact with any thirty-aught-six cartridges. And if so, what the circumstances were. Would you pass the question along to him?”

“I will.” There was an edge of annoyance in Coolidge’s cultured voice. “I’m just giving you a preview of the likely answer.”

Gurney forced himself to smile. He’d read somewhere that speaking through a smiling mouth made one sound friendlier, and he wanted to maintain the rector’s goodwill. “I really appreciate your help with this, Whit. Cory’s answer could make a big difference in the case.” He was tempted to add that the time factor was crucial, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

In fact, adding that note of urgency turned out to be unnecessary. Less than five minutes later, he received a call from Payne.

His tone was brusque. “I’m not sure I understand your question. I thought I explained that I don’t have a gun. You’re still asking if I have bullets?”

“Or if you ever did. Thirty-aught-sixes.”

“I’ve never owned a gun. I’ve never owned bullets of any kind.”

“Have you ever had any in your possession? Perhaps storing them for someone else. Or buying them and passing them along. Possibly as a favor for someone?”

“I’ve never done anything like that. Why?”

“Two cartridge casings were found with your fingerprints on them.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I’ve been told the prints are of good quality.”

“I said it’s impossible! I don’t own a gun. I don’t own bullets. I’ve never bought bullets, kept bullets in my apartment, or held bullets for anyone else. Period! End of story!” The words came racing out, his voice brittle with anger.

“Then there must be another explanation.”

“Obviously!”

“Okay, Cory. You think about it, I’ll think about it, maybe we’ll figure it out.”

Payne said nothing.

Gurney ended the call.

A minute later his phone rang. It was Payne. “I thought of something—something that happened two, three months ago.” He was still speaking rapidly, but the anger was gone. “My father was having one of his brief human periods. We were—”

“Human periods?”

“Every once in a while he’d act like a normal person, actually talk to me. It would only last a day, if even that, then he’d go back to being God.”

“Okay. Sorry, I interrupted what you were starting to say.”

“So the time I’m talking about, we had lunch. We managed to get through our burgers without him telling me what a waste I was. Then we drove out to his cabin. You know what reloading is?”

“You’re referring to custom-making ammunition?”

“Exactly. He’s a gun fanatic. Him and Turlock. In fact, they share that cabin. For hunting.”

“Why did he take you there?”

“His idea of a father-son thing? He said he wanted me to help him do some reloading. Like it was a privilege. Allowing me into the world of guns and hunting—murdering animals. So he’s got this contraption that funnels gunpowder into the brass part, and a thing that pushes the bullet part in. He’s got this intense look, like he loves doing this. How crazy is that?”

“He wanted you to help him?”

“He had some little boxes to put the reloaded ones in. He had me doing that.”

“So you were handling those cartridges?”

“Putting them in boxes. I didn’t think of it at first, when you were asking about having bullets in my possession. I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Do you know if they were thirty-aught-sixes?”

“I have no idea.”

“You say this happened two or three months ago?”

“Something like that. And you know what? Now that I think of it, that was the last time I saw him—until I saw him calling me a murderer on TV.”

“Where were you living at the time?”

“The apartment I still have. I heard the asshole cops tore it apart.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“A little over three years.”

“How did you find it?”

“When I first came to White River, I stayed at my father’s house for a couple of months. I started taking computer science courses at the community college in Larvaton, and I got a job at that computer repair shop in town. There was an apartment for rent upstairs in that same building. Living with my father and his sickening bitch of a wife wasn’t working. So I took the apartment. How does any of this matter?”

Gurney ignored the question. “You’ve been there ever since?”

“Yes.”

“Ever try going back to your father’s house?”

“No. I stayed over a few times. I could never stay more than one night. I’d rather sleep in the street.”

As Payne was speaking, Gurney slowed down and pulled into a gas station. He parked by the seedy-looking convenience store in back of the pumps.

“I have another question for you. How did you meet Blaze?”

Payne hesitated. “I met her through her half brother. Darwin. He owns the computer business where I work. Why are we talking about Blaze?”