DIVISIBLE MAN--TEN KEYS WEST by Howard Seaborne

Author:Howard Seaborne [Seaborne, Howard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Trans World Data LLC

54

A small wooden sign by the road read Bickley Beach. The sign portrayed a faded tableau of sunbathers. Nothing else identified the property as belonging to the Newell Ministries. Calbert maneuvered the big truck onto a gravel driveway and horsed it back up through the gears. Behind the cab, the exhaust stacks thundered. There was nothing stealthy about the vehicle. Our arrival was well announced.

Broad weedy fields spread on either side of the long driveway. Decaying soccer goals and a leaning baseball backstop confirmed Hampton’s description of the property as a former summer camp, but it may have been decades since teams gathered on the fields.

The driveway passed into a stand of tall oaks. A light appeared ahead. Beyond it, I caught the glitter of water I took for a branch of Bull Shoals. Tucked under the trees were small cabins, uniformly dark. Calbert aimed for a long, low building dead ahead. A single vehicle nudged the building beside a set of steps that rose to a rustic porch.

Calbert focused on the vehicle. “That’s my truck. Fuck! That’s my truck!”

The black truck was a crew cab Ford F-250 on a jacked-up suspension. Like people with dogs, the muscular vehicle matched its owner. The front wore a heavy brush bar. The roof was topped with an extravagant rack of lights. Rust chewed the fringes of the tailgate and rear fenders. The truck looked rugged and well-worn.

“Stop.” Andy tensed. Calbert hit the brakes. “Did your ex drive the truck here?”

“Hell, no. Shelly wouldn’t know how, an’ she doesn’t have keys.” Calbert opened his door.

“Wait!” Calbert ignored her. Andy looked up and down the length of the single-story building. Interior lights glowed at the center. The ends were dark. There was no sign of movement, but at this hour I didn’t expect to see any. If anyone violated the peace and quiet, it was us. We stood a good chance of scaring the crap out of someone.

Calbert climbed down.

“Listen to me Reuben,” Andy snapped. “You follow my lead here. Got it? I won’t have you tearing into this place like a criminal.”

“Hell with that.”

“Reuben! Do you want to scare your daughter? Because charging in there and creating a scene is going to do more harm than good.”

About to close the driver’s door, he hesitated. Andy didn’t wait to advance her argument. She popped open the passenger door and jumped from the cab, landing lightly on her feet. I saw her slip her hand into the satchel on her hip and rest it there.

“Follow me,” she said without taking a vote.

I hopped down and fell in step behind her. Calbert didn’t. He hurried to his parked pickup truck. He opened the door and leaned in, then reached for and pulled something from the dash. Keys jangled in his hand. He dropped them in his pocket and closed the door.

Andy climbed the steps to a broad porch. Old boards creaked. I understood the idea of a camp maintaining a rustic appeal, but as a medical facility the ambiance inspired zero confidence.

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