Chương 8
"You always do."
He opened the truck door.
Maisie immediately asked, "Did you break his arm?"
"No."
"Did you punch him?"
"No."
"Did you kick him?"
"No."
"Then why did he fall?"
"He made several poor decisions in sequence."
Maisie considered that.
"That sounds like something my math teacher says."
"It applies broadly."
He started the engine.
June stepped back from the driveway.
"Frozen yogurt."
"I remember."
"Pistachio."
"Still unfortunate."
June pointed at him.
"Drive."
On the way home, Maisie asked twelve questions.
Gideon answered seven.
The other five received variations of "later," which she loudly identified as a parental conspiracy.
He stopped for frozen yogurt anyway.
She chose chocolate with gummy bears and something electric blue that claimed to be sour candy.
Gideon chose plain vanilla.
Maisie stared at his cup.
"You live like somebody punished you."
"It's yogurt."
"It's beige."
"Vanilla is white."
"Emotionally beige."
He nearly smiled.
They ate in the truck because the shop was closing.
Maisie swung her feet beneath the dashboard.
For a few minutes, the world narrowed to plastic spoons, fluorescent light, and a child complaining that blue candy had stained her tongue permanently.
Gideon let himself stay there.
Then his phone rang.
The screen showed an unfamiliar local number.
He almost ignored it.
Something made him answer.
"Ror."
"Mr. Ror, this is Dale Keegan."
Gideon's eyes shifted toward Maisie.
She was trying to photograph her tongue.
"Dale from Carver's?"
"Yeah."
His voice sounded thinner than it had in the restaurant.
"How'd you get my number?"
There was a pause.
"Briggs had it."
Gideon's hand tightened around the phone.
"How?"
"I don't know."
"That's not a great answer."
"I know."
"Where are you?"
"At home."
"You alone?"
Another pause.
"My wife and kid are here."
Gideon's gaze went to Maisie again.
"Then keep your voice down."
Dale did.
"Briggs is losing it."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"No, I mean worse."
Gideon set his yogurt down.
"What happened?"
"He came to my house."
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
"Why?"
"He wanted to know what I told the cops."
"And what did you tell them?"
"The truth."
Dale said it as though the word itself had consequences.
"I told them he took her keys and shoved you first."
"Good."
"He didn't think so."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Not exactly."
"What does not exactly mean?"
"He said people who forget who feeds them usually regret it."
Gideon looked through the windshield.
"That's a threat."
"Yeah."
"Call the police."
"I can't."
"You can."
"You don't understand."
"I understand your boss came to your home after you gave a witness statement."
Dale exhaled shakily.
"My brother works for him too."
"That complicates it."
"My mortgage complicates it."
"So does getting scared into silence."
"Easy for you to say."
Gideon closed his eyes for a second.
There it was.
The part nobody included in heroic videos.
Fear had rent.
Fear had health insurance.
Fear knew which company paid for a child's braces.
"I know," Gideon said.
Dale went quiet.
Then he said, "There's something else."
"What?"
"That fire."
Gideon straightened.
"What about it?"
"I saw Briggs before we went to Carver's."
"Where?"
"Job trailer off County Road Nine."
"What time?"
"Little after six."
"That's nowhere near the restaurant."
"No."
"Why was he there?"
"I don't know."
"Who was with him?"
"Travis."
"The guy you stopped from joining in?"
"Yeah."
Dale lowered his voice further.
"They were arguing."
"About what?"
"I couldn't hear everything."
"What did you hear?"
"Briggs said something about files."
Gideon felt the night contract around that word.
"Exact words."
"I don't remember exact."
"Try."
Dale was silent long enough that Gideon checked the screen to make sure the call hadn't dropped.
Then he spoke.
"He said, 'If those files come out, we all get buried.'"
Gideon's eyes stayed on the dark windshield.
"Who was he talking to?"
"Travis."
"Anybody else there?"
"I saw another car."
"What kind?"
"Silver sedan."
"Plate?"
"No."
"Driver?"
"No."
"Did Briggs see you?"
"I don't think so."
"Why didn't you tell the police this?"
"Because until ten minutes ago I didn't know the storage building burned."
Gideon looked at the time.
8:14.
"How'd you hear?"
"Travis called me."
"Why?"
"To tell me to keep my mouth shut."
That was more useful than everything Dale had said before it.
"What exactly did Travis say?"
"He said, 'Whatever you saw at the trailer, you didn't.'"
Maisie looked up from her yogurt.
Gideon lowered his voice.
"You need to document that call."
"How?"
"Screenshot the call log."
"Okay."
"Write down what he said while it's fresh."
"Okay."
"Don't delete anything."
"Okay."
"And call the officer who took your statement."
Dale breathed out.
"I told you I can't."
"Then call an attorney."
"With what money?"
"Some will talk before charging you."
"That's not how my life usually works."
Gideon had no good answer to that.
Dale continued.
"Do you know that woman?"
"Not really."
"She's Mercer."
"Yeah."
"I didn't know at dinner."
"Neither did I."
"You think Briggs knew?"
Gideon paused.
That question had been sitting somewhere in the back of his mind since Daniel arrived.
Briggs had acted like a bully picking on a stranger.
Maybe that was exactly what he was.
But after the fire, the location of the storage facility, and Briggs having Daniel's personal number, randomness had started to look less random.
"I don't know."
Dale whispered, "I think he did."
"Why?"
"He hates Mercer."
"He's working for them."
"That's why."
Gideon waited.
Dale continued.
"Harland's company was nearly bankrupt before that subcontract."
"So?"
"So Briggs said Mercer squeezed him on the bid and then kept adding compliance costs."
"That sounds like business."
"To you."
"To him?"
"He said they were setting him up to fail."
"Did he believe that?"
"Briggs believes anybody telling him no is attacking him."
Gideon rubbed the side of his jaw.
"Did he know Evelyn personally?"
"Maybe."
"That's not enough."
"I saw her picture once in his trailer."
Gideon stopped.
May you like
"What kind of picture?"
"Printed from the internet."
